Now get off your churr! I mean "Chair."

Are you, like me, a fan of Bob Dylan? Then you should probably not go here and watch the video. Seriously, don't. You've been warned. (Via Ms. Cadigan.)*

Drinks Friday with Barth, who was in town for a conference. Good talking about starting out as a novelist (you have your copy of The Patron Saint of Plagues, right?) and other things. That, and a visit last week from my pal Keith and his wife Stacy, Semi-Os meeting, and dinner last night with Marianne (tapas and martinis--mmm), makes this past week just about the most social I've been in months. And this weekend is WFC. When I get back from Austin I'll probably have to hide in a hole for a week.

Meghan is worried about Lady Sovereign. I'm not, so much, but I don't want to miss the chance to mention her. Some English MCs get it twisted/ Start sayin' "cookie" 'stead of biscuit . . . Anyway.

Dead Girl. Mike Allred. Dr. Strange. Kraven the Hunter and Mysterio trying to come back from hell. Ant-Man, obsessed with cleaning the carpets of the underworld. Hemmorhoid jokes. 'Nuff said.

*Want context? Twyla Tharp is building a Broadway show around the songs of Bob Dylan. Frelling hell. I've been starting to develop an appreciation for musicals, but this . . . this . . .