Thursday, April 17, 2014

Beloveds, What Do We Do but Keep Breathing as Best We Can This Minute Atmosphere





No, I didn't forget yesterday was Ian MacKaye's 52nd birthday, there was another post in the queue.

So, I did write the listserv re: goat-napping -
Hey, someone stole a life-size fiberglass goat from our frontyard. One of us is an elementary school art teacher, takes it in for classes occasionally, grazes it in our front-yard the rest of the time. We live on Saul across from KPES. If you've a child there you may have seen it. If you see our goat on any street but Saul across from KPES (our neighbors on Saul have a second of ours in theirs) please let me know so I can retrieve said goat while not pressing charges against the goat-kidnapper. No doubt if it's your jerk kid you know s/he's a jerk kid and thief, we just want the goat back.





  • One response to the listserv email so far: I have seen that goat in your front yard and I hope you get it back. These are hopefully pranks and nothing malicious as we used to steal our rival fraternities mascots, hijack them to Florida and take Polaroid’s of them on the beach in Lauderdale with ransom notes. Ended up mailing them back freight collect. Let’s hope that somebody has a goat sighting soon. Smiley on Oldfield.
  • Yes, I was all of these Fugazi shows.
  • The End of Employment.
  • Calling it an oligarchy isn't enough.
  • The ideology of focus.
  • The carcass of myself.
  • Millennial Rising.
  • Holiday weekend - Spring holiday weekend - upcoming, Dead Blegsylvania be even deader than usual, I no doubt will dedicate extra effort into blogposts that few will read.
  • Juliana Spahr.
  • Five questions for Juliana Spahr.
  • Prynne week (via).







DECEMBER 2, 2002

Juliana Spahr

As it happens every night, beloveds, while we turned in the night sleeping uneasily the world went on without us.

We live in our own time zone and there are only a small million of us in this time zone and the world as a result has a tendency to begin and end without us.

While we turned sleeping uneasily at least ten were injured in a bomb blast in Bombay and four killed in Palestine.

While we turned sleeping uneasily a warehouse of food aid was destroyed, stocks on upbeat sales soared, Australia threatened first strikes, there was heavy gunfire in the city of Man, the Belarus ambassador to Japan went missing, a cruise ship caught fire, on yet another cruise ship many got sick, and the pope made a statement against xenophobia.

While we turned sleeping uneasily perhaps J Lo gave Ben a prenuptial demand for sex four times a week.

While we turned sleeping uneasily Liam Gallagher brawled and irate fans complained that "Popstars: The Rivals" was fixed.

While we turned sleeping uneasily the Supreme Court agreed to hear the case of whether university admissions may favor racial minorities.

While we turned sleeping uneasily poachers caught sturgeon in the reed-filled Caspian, which shelters boar and wolves, and some of the residents on the space shuttle planned a return flight to the US.

Beloveds, our world is small and isolated.

We live our lives in six hundred square feet about a quarter mile from the shore on land that is seven hundred square miles and five thousand miles from the nearest land mass.

Despite our isolation, there is no escape from the news of how many days are left in the Iraq inspections.

The news poll for today was should we invade Iraq now or should we wait until the inspections are complete and we tried to laugh together at this question but our laughter was uneasy and we just decided to turn off the television that arrives to us from those other time zones.

Beloveds, we do not know how to live our lives with any agency outside of our bed.

It makes me angry that how we live in our bed—full of connected loving and full of isolated sleep and dreaming also—has no relevance to the rest of the world.

How can the power of our combination of intimacy and isolation have so little power outside the space of our bed?

Beloveds, the shuttle is set to return home and out the window of the shuttle one can see the earth.

"How massive the earth is; how minute the atmosphere," one of the astronauts notes.

Beloveds, what do we do but keep breathing as best we can this minute atmosphere.



Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Steal My Goat




Was a wonderful time with Planet in Ohio, pull up to the front yard, SOME MOTHERFUCKER(S) STOLE OUR GOAT! Earthgirl wants me to write to the neighborhood listserv, I started:

Hi All, someone(s) stole a life-size fiberglass white goat from our front yard, should your asshole kid have brought it home tell him to die a goat's worst enemy's death.*

* Yes, I know, but I never stole anyone's animal.






While this is playing (LOUD! yo):



Small Reprieves of Coffee and Birdsong




  • Was listening to a playlist of WFMU Marathon DJ premiums while driving through Glouster Ohio Monday with Earthgirl and Planet. The song is Hana No Kajimaya by Shoukichi Kina on Rich Hazleton's Floating Around the World with Inflatable Squirrel Carcass CD. 
  • Upon review, the rental car is actually a Ford Fusion, not a Ford Focus, but....
  • No long drives yesterday - Planet had classes. Went to dinner, hung out in the room after, was wonderful. Finished Jake's book (Jake (IOZ) interviewed) - no reviews here other than to say it had both the strengths and weaknesses of most first novels, and I encourage you to try it  - then link fished while Earthgirl read and Planet wrote a paper.
  • We leave to take Planet out for breakfast in minutes and then we abandon her. 





  
  • Was it ever so simple? Is an obsession with the past the sign of a morbid disposition? Obsession in the case meaning a constant rehashing of past occurrences and achievements – done for the sake of assuaging an anxious sense of stasis, degeneration, impasse, or reversion in the present. I find myself wondering this in recent months, as the news offers an incessant series of anniversaries – of this or that landmark legislation, historical milestone, technological innovation, tragic event or horrific massacre, etcetera etcetera etcetera. This, admittedly, might simply just another example of the news cycle doing what it does – filling news holes and broadcast time with whatever it can, especially if that whatever is easier to explain than (say) what's going on in Syria or Crimea.
  • Metaphors for an Age of Surveillance.
  • Power cannot be talked into giving itself up: If privilege is a relation between persons, then it will not go away until those relations are changed. It is unrealistic to expect those who have advantage to surrender it. They cannot be shamed. They will not be persuaded. No volume of study will present a factual enough case to change the thinking of those who use power and feel its many desirable effects. The more facts are presented, the more likely they will be suppressed. No amount of inspiring narrative or good will or forgiveness will cause hierarchies to dismantle themselves.
  • Food links
  • Two Carl Dennis poems.
  • Merrill, for those of you who do. There does seem to be a stirring of interest again after years of his fading from his once superstar status.
  • Like a honeymoon suite
  • Lifehacks with Doctor Turin Horse.
  • Yes, the above link logistically belongs farther up, but it made me think of Turin Brakes and songs go here:






I AM LEARNING TO ABANDON THE WORLD

Linda Pastan

I am learning to abandon the world
before it can abandon me.
Already I have given up the moon
and snow, closing my shades
against the claims of white.
And the world has taken
my father, my friends.
I have given up melodic lines of hills,
moving to a flat, tuneless landscape.
And every night I give my body up
limb by limb, working upwards
across bone, towards the heart.
But morning comes with small
reprieves of coffee and birdsong.
A tree outside the window
which was simply shadow moments ago
takes back its branches twig
by leafy twig.
And as I take my body back
the sun lays its warm muzzle on my lap
as if to make amends.