- No, The Clash haven't aged well for me (and they were never in that stupidass game's inner-rotation circa then) but Joe Strummer was born 60 years ago today and respect will be paid in Egoslavia.
- Notebook (telescope).
- You have the right to be spied on.
- No accidents, comrade.
- Two Blegsylvanian stories from yesterday. Folk were asked about Blegsylvanian history, I know the answer but I can't provide it. I was asked why I don't use the word kayfabe as much as I used to, and my reflexive and facile response is if you're talking about kayfabe you've lost it. Plus I thought I was.
- Say Uncle.
- New kind of bleak.
- An ever dumber dinosaur.
- The return of Dr Strangelove.
- Occupy Tampa welcomes the GOP.
- Pastor Sanctimonious warns Romney that Trump is not a Villager.
- Palin endorses Bongino!
- Anyway, my apologies, this seems to be the format for now. It's odd, this need to stay in contact while not being able to relate anything of the four excellent if some fun some not storylines from real life I'm writing about in tablet and the fine and abounding metaphors they produce.
- World's greatest elk caller!
- Hatherley interview.
- But I've always been a relayer, a good one, but a relayer. Yes, all this for that.
- Freida checks in!
- FGaQ checks in!
- Blog friend reviews a blog friend's novel!
- Shortly after I posted yesterday and before he'd read this post Hamster sent out the glad news that another Audrey exists in this world, so I rescind the taunt he join me Wednesday as he need honor the priorities. Which means I have two tickets for tomorrow night's United game v Chicago. Probably three. If all are taken, and they won't be, and Hamster still wants to go, I'll buy his ticket in exchange for a beer.
- Shoot me.
- Shoot me.
- Speaking of Hamster, he sent along this Hilary Mantel travel piece.
- My complicity: fuck NPR. Listen to the new Swans on NPR.
- Bjork interviews Arvo Part.
DAY OF GRIEF
I was forcing a wasp to the top of a window
where there was some sky and there were tiger lilies
outside just to love him or maybe only
simply a kiss for he was hurrying home
to fight a broom and I was trying to open
a door with one hand while the other was swinging
tomatoes, and you could even smell the corn
for corn travels by wind and there was the first
hint of cold and dark though it was nothing
compared to what would come, and someone should mark
the day, I think it was August 20th, and
that should be the day of grief for grief
begins then and the corn man starts to shiver
and crows too and dogs who hate the wind
though grief would come later and it was a relief
to know I wasn't alone, but be as it may,
since it was cold and dark I found myself singing
the brilliant love songs of my other religion.