Thursday, December 9, 2010

When an Old Friend Came by to Reclaim an Old Wound, I Said to My Oldest Son: Go Dump Daddy's Ammo Boxes into the Fragrant River

I'm still working a cud about the Cold War v current gloom loogied-up by yesterday's Lennon-sparked nostalgia for lost idealism - I never suffered existential dread of nuclear annihilation, I'm far more frightened of (my daughter's) economic future than I ever was that I'd be vaporized - and I've lots more to say about the ramifications of Wikileaks, but my brother Elric, he of the dust-up mentioned in yesterday's post, has busted out his blog after long hibernation in response to my (and others') response to Wikileaks and requests I send eyes here.

Like I keep reiterating, the debate over Wikileaks is as if not more important than what Wikileaks reveals. And while many of you (including me) will disagree with some if not most of what Elric says, he and I agree on this: Wikileaks, regardless of motive, regardless of good, hastens the implementation of the digital panopticon that was already inevitable.


Linh Dinh

I was a caring husband. I bought socks for my family.

My swarthy wife liked to wear these thick woolen socks that came
up to her milky thighs.

I had a lover also. People could see me walking around each
evening carrying a walking stick.

My most vivid memory, looking back, is of a pink froth bubbling
out of my infant's mouth.

Not everything was going so well: one morning, malnourished
soldiers marched down our tiny street, bringing good news.

When good news arrives by mail, the cuckoo sang, tear up the
envelope. When good news arrives by e-mail, destroy the

When an old friend came by to reclaim an old wound, I said to my
oldest son: Go dump daddy's ammo boxes into the fragrant river.

To reduce drag, some of my neighbors were diving headfirst into a
shallow lake.

We were rich and then we were poor. A small dog or maybe a cat
now pulls our family wagon.


  1. he and I agree on this: Wikileaks, regardless of motive, regardless of good, hastens the implementation of the digital panopticon that was already inevitable.

    It also makes clear (as if cheerleading the war on Iraq did not already) which 'journalists' are mere government/corporate mouthpieces and which are the very few who are not.

  2. Once the omnipresent they figure out they can make money off of something, they'll make money off of something, may not happen today or tomorrow or next year, but it'll happen. That's kind of a given, like how the sun will rise and set and I'll get paid to not work all that hard.

  3. Thanks for the link.

    The only thing I really want to say about your brother is that I always think it's weird when people who write things on the internet and also do things in the real world assume that everyone else who writes things on the internet doesn't.

  4. Ethan,

    The 101st Fighting Keyboarders are the only people who have meat bodies too. Gawd.

  5. I've spread my pheromones elsewhere in our neighborhoods on the Elric thing, so I'm not going to contribute here, not even to...well, no. That would be contributing, so never mind.

    No link, dood...what happened to the Brick? It gone? I've done some of the happiest and most fun and stupidest things I've ever done either while drinking there or shortly after drinking there. Write your own narrative however you'd like--too many people who see this blog know who I am.

  6. In fact, now I think on it, I'd have to say that the Brick ranks as one of the top five reasons I no longer have more than about two drinks a month. Which makes it very sad that (I looked it up, because honestly, people on all sides of an issue? This is WAY the fuck more important than Assange or Leakyleaks or Elric, and I'd bet he'd agree) it may move to...RFD? Yecch.


  7. My bad; link fixed, but yeah it's closing. Haven't been in years - and I'm guessing 95% of the local American beer they had shipped in from all over the country isn't brewed anymore - but too bad.

    Ordering Pearl and drunkenly trying to solve the rebuses on the inside of the bottle lids. Good times.

  8. Scotch. Lots of it. People I shouldn't have been drinking with. Or hanging with. Or from, or onto. Good times indeed, at least when viewed through a lens of years and antibiotics. Speaking only for myself, of course.

  9. As always, thanks for the link. I still wonder how you keep up with so much stuff. I pretty much have to avoid blog reading if I want to get anything of my own posted. More power to you.

  10. The man is an electron sponge. He reads at the speed of any fifteen of us, comprehends all, and processes it with astonishing clarity. If not for his fatal flaw, he'd be legendary beyond the four walls of our computer screens.

    No, I'm not joking, and no, I'm not going to detail his fatal flaw.

  11. I hope his fatal flaw isn't actually fatal.

    I thought I was the only one mourning the Brickskeller, from the ancient of times. It is sad when touchstones disappear.

  12. It's not fatal but it is terminal.