Mark Phillips' Pages: Workbook: April 2024

April 30, 2024: sometimes I feel very sad
April 29, 2024: Let the day in.
April 28, 2024: The arrogance of incomplete discovery.
April 27, 2024: They're hard to work with.
April 26, 2024: "The old... now no longer present."
April 25, 2024: It's found language, or near-found:
April 24, 2024: Jagger Sings!
April 23, 2024: We saw Ladies and Gentlemen in the old University Theater, no longer present...
April 22, 2024: That band was ragged, even when they were blowing off the roof.
April 21, 2024: Greenfield postures at a cynicism he hasn't earned.
April 20, 2024: Triangulate, reader.
April 19, 2024: Infrastructure as initiation.
April 18, 2024: Bootlegs at The Black.
April 17, 2024: Now my pier is gone.
April 16, 2024: Althusser on the pier.
April 15, 2024: Bootlegs at The Black.
April 14, 2024: When did she stop laughing?
April 13, 2024: Market Street.
April 12, 2024: Insightful strategy, undercut by routine.
April 11, 2024: Hospitals.
April 10, 2024: Doctor Arrogance, MD.
April 9, 2024: Mark: Before you go, do you have time for a question?
April 8, 2024: Whole Foods, NPR, Davos-light.
April 7, 2024: Marin County mantra of the 1990s.
April 6, 2024: Hip length white hair, very straight, slumped in her waiting room chair.
April 5, 2024: Would I go there again?
April 4, 2024: Her box of cast-aside objects.
April 3, 2024: "I sincerely believed you had no sense of rhythm."
April 2, 2024: Would she have liked this music?
April 1, 2024: BoHo hipsters.