What a fucking revolutionary endorsing a consumerist boycott of those tools that repress us! I also claim a certain trip to England in a week and wanting to travel light as justification, and that I can and will share it with Earthgirl during and after the trip, but what a fucking revolutionary. I'm buying a camera this afternoon.
Hey! Did you know Washington DC has a professional soccer team?
It's true! and there's a home game tonight! but there's horrible news:
D.C. United captain Dax McCarty has recovered from a groin ailment that sidelined him for both West Coast matches and is likely to start Saturday night against the San Jose Earthquakes at RFK Stadium.
GAH! Maybe they'll win anyway. A good time will be had regardless of result.
- Bleggalgazing of a sort.
- Perpetual warfare state.
- Our rulers: greedier than moronic, more moronic than greedy?
- Death to the either/or!
- Legacy parties.
- To use or not use non-violent forms of resistance.
- So long, and thanks for all the bombs.
- Love letter from one professional moderate to another.
- Beltway anonymity.
- Beltway speed cameras.
- Motherfucking pigs. Do you know that I live in a county that is the middle man for beer and wine and monopoly deal in liquor?
- Does this make you happier than sad or sadder than happy if true?
- Let's not talk about sex.
- On translations.
- Serendipitously, after commenting there that I'm squishy about poetry translations I see a new book of Ashbery translating Rimbaud is published. WANT!
- OK, you judge.
- Not kindlable! What a fucking old hehful of rube am I.
ON SEEING LARRY RIVER'S WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE RIVER AT THE MODERN MUSEUM OF ART
Now that our hero has come back to us in his white pants and we know his nose trembling like a flag under fire, we see the calm cold river is supporting our forces, the beautiful history. To be more revolutionary than a nun is our desire, to be secular and intimate as, when sighting a redcoat, you smile and pull the trigger. Anxieties and animosities, flaming and feeding on theoretical considerations and the jealous spiritualities of the abstract the robot? they're smoke, billows above the physical event. They have burned up. See how free we are! as a nation of persons. Dear father of our country, so alive you must have lied incessantly to be immediate, here are your bones crossed on my breast like a rusty flintlock, a pirate's flag, bravely specific and ever so light in the misty glare of a crossing by water in winter to a shore other than that the bridge reaches for. Don't shoot until, the white of freedom glinting on your gun barrel, you see the general fear.