Sunday afternoon multiplication with the nephew
“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” - The Beatles, covered by Derek Webb
February 28, 1957, Same As It Ever Was: Buddy Holly tries to reason with his label boss. (via derekwebb)
INTERVIEWER: You’ve talked before about trying your hand at poetry in this period. In an essay on writing, you said, “My poetry had the same functional origin and the same formal configuration as teenage acne.”
UMBERTO ECO: I think that at a certain age, say fifteen or sixteen, poetry is like masturbation. But later in life good poets burn their early poetry, and bad poets publish it. Thankfully I gave up rather quickly.
[here]
What else is there to do on the last Saturday morning in January but sit in the sun and read?

