That's from my drivers-seat looking out my cellophane-taped lack of window glass, the switch to the automated window upper/downer (we're such lazy fucks, fuck manually rolling up a car window, where's my electric toothbrush!) snapped off in my left hand with the glass down. Of course it thunderstormed this morning. Fine metaphors abound. I'm prodded, I'm having fun. I'm told by six people fuck yeah, half-dozen people stop. See this post's title.
- That's now BLCKDGRD - Theme Song 8, or would be, but fucking blooger won't let me rename it in the Me and Mine blogroll. Fine metaphors....
- UPDATE! Also too.
- UPDATE! Also too. That's four today, counting mine. CWCF.
- The noose is up.
- On the above.
- Power is poisonous.
- Who's responsible when robots kill? When I really want to freak myself out, I read articles on the technologies being developed to herd and control us. It occurs to me, at 52 years of age, this might be why I've resisted scifi. Doh.
- On banks and analog money, for instance.
- The new urban militarism of law enforcement.
- And then I think, the fucks that fucked up analog are the fucks in charge of digital. You don't the Rupert Murdoch is paying for the best cryogenics a billionaire psychopath can buy?
- Capitalism: A Ghost Story.
- Crimson Haze.
- Helping Wall Street collect your money.
- Motherfucking Obama.
- Six month anniversary.
- Bloomberg's Army.
- They'll never get near the motherfucking cracker. And if they really wanted to do this, they wouldn't have announced it until he was under citizens arrest.
- Kevin Drum gets the vapors! And it was remarkably sloppy that Axelrod would say "mittzkrieg." Wonder how much Romney paid him.
- Let's talk about sex (trafficking). Planet told me that Vount Mernin, the county seat of Bamgier County three miles from Yenkon, is renowned as the sex trafficking capital of east-central Ohio.
- Happy Birthday and Merry Bleggalgazing!
- Yes, I've posted the Gilbert poem below before.
- Sonnets Uncorseted.
FAILING AND FLYING
Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other side of the island while
love was fading out of her, the stars
burning so extravagantly those nights that
anyone could tell you they would never last.
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
Each afternoon I watched her coming back
through the hot stony field after swimming,
the sea light behind her and the huge sky
on the other side of that. Listened to her
while we ate lunch. How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.