2018 -- Killing Floor


First entry of the year

Ray Thomas of the Moody Blues is now traveling Eternity Road. RIP, and thanks for all the great music.
12/29/41 - 1/4/18


Dave Toschi, the lead SF cop in the Zodiac case in the late sixties, has died.

I’m posting this for @WitchKing. Wish we could discuss it with D_M.


RIP Julius Lester (1/27/39 - 1/18/18) died peacefully today.

I don’t know much about his recent life except that he was a regular columnist at the Guardian for many years. He was also a musician who made several recordings I’ve not heard.

But I do remember his bravery and skill as a SNCC photographer recording the heady days in Mississippi and other parts of the Deep South. He had a gift for capturing ‘local people’ in a photo that spoke volumes to everyone.

He also wrote books, and the only one I am familiar with is To Be A Slave where he had gathered stories told by the last living slaves in their own words.



“Life throws lemons at you and they never add up to anything you can drink.” – Joe Frank





Heard that on the radio today. Sad. I always liked him.


RIP, man.


Ursula K. LeGuin, noted sci-fi author


Ouch. She was great.


Oh, wow. That sucks.


From 1987




Death is the universe’s way of throwing a wrench into the works.


"Long ago when I was Ursula

writing, but not “the writer,”

and not very plural yet,

and worked with the owls not the sparrows,

being young, scribbling at midnight:

I came to a place

where the road turned and divided,

it seemed like,

going different ways,

I was lost.

I didn’t know which way.

It looked like one roadsign said To Town

and the other didn’t say anything.

So I took the way that didn’t say.

I followed


“I don’t care,” I said,


“I don’t care if nobody ever reads it!

I’m going this way.”

And I found myself

in the dark forest, in silence.

You maybe have to find yourself,


in the dark forest.

Anyhow, I did then. And still now,

always. At the bad time.

When you find the hidden catch

in the secret drawer

behind the false panel

inside the concealed compartment

in the desk in the attic

of the house in the dark forest,

and press the spring firmly,

a door flies open to reveal

a bundle of old letters,

and in one of them

is a map

of the forest

that you drew yourself

before you ever went there."

—Ursula K. Le Guin, from “The Writer on, and at, Her Work”


The Archive Project - Ursula K. Le Guin.


Good luck getting his casket assembled in time for the funeral…