K., Erik, 1977– Falling and laughing Chicago: 2007. p. : ill. (some col.); imaginary dimensions. Coarse language sometimes used. Non-fiction, except for bits fabricated by author. SUMMARY: Music-, dog-, word-besotted Chicago man discovers he enjoys talking back to the internet. Fun times ensue. SEE ALSO: SUBJECTS OCCUPATION: Lapsed librarian, current designer, aspiring flâconteur (rare minotaur-like creature that is half flâneur, half raconteur).

SUBJECTS Falling and laughing 1. Thoughts--their shape. 2. Thoughts--ones had while walking dog. 3. Thoughts--ones that made me laugh. 4. Thoughts--the kind I’ve got. 5. Spleen--its venting. 6. Japery--assorted. 7. Words. 8. Music. 9. Books. 10. Obsessions--varied. 11. Animals--facts. 12. Animals--made-up things. 13. Dogs--beloved halfling Rottweiler. 14. Birds-- the bowerbird. 15. Birds--the great bustard. 16. Illinois--Chicago--residents--lives and customs. 17. Happiness--its pursuit.

Gold Soundz: A compendium of popular favorites from the annals of Falling and Laughing

Close Drawer

Chant down Babylon. Chant down February.

In northern climes, it is well known that February is the most vicious motherfucker of a month. Yes, it is short, but consequently it has a serious Napolean complex. It is the Joe- Pesci-in-a-Scorsese-film of months, the honey badger of months. It will fight dirty, kick you in the balls, punch you in the kidneys, basically do whatever it takes to extract its psychic toll of misery. It’s only the 3rd, and I already feel its sharp claws in me.

Which is why I am standing athwart the next 25 days, Gandalf stylee, wizarding stick planted resolutely in front of me, and shouting: NO. Not this time, February. You are strong but I am stonger. Here is how I am fighting you:

This song. Over and over again, so many times.
Thoughts of early April’s showgoing schedule, which saw the exciting addition of JOANNA FUCKING NEWSOM last night.
Thoughts of noted eels in London in April, eels which are succulent and of the best quality.
Smiling at people on the street for no fucking reason.
Gemma, always Gemma. You can’t get her down! Me neither!
Thinking about how good it’s going to feel to climb out the February-pit and feel the sun on my face in March. March, now there is a month. THINK THIS:

Saul Steinberg, my psychic Gandalf figure.