i’ve been reading up on wolves and the wolfman, as, for whatever reason, the wolfman has been making himself known to me: yesterday matt hallas brings home from the little store “music of the wolves (narrated by robert redford)”. i’ve been in two situations in the past week where people only listen to the first, wolf-related part of the dead prez album, and today, email from holmes: “In Italy you don’t say good luck you say “in the mouth of the wolf!” and you don’t say thanks back (that’s bad luck) you say “swallow!”.”. i can’t quite put my finger on the wolfman, but i have the feeling he’s the least pathetic of the universal monsters (and i mean universal in a cultural and a studio way).
