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Saturday, March 02, 2002

Just put The Bombast Transcripts up on a shelf, having finished the last chapters/sends/screeds on a sun-kissed morrning with a three-piece combo playing backup: birdsong, motorized garden apparatus, and (faintly - an aural afterimage) surf washing sand.

Red Shift Blues looks at such mornings, such birds, such lawns, and discerns "a dark and dangerous path;" "More dimensions. Greater life." Here, it is easy to believe vampires sprang anew from the imagination of Joss Wheedon. But the wisdom of Locke's advice to observe what is latched to one's own throat somehow does not diminish the sun and birds and surf; it sharpens them.

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