- John Cage centenary tomorrow. Requests solicited in comments or via email please and thanks. Provide links if possible, please.
- Reminder: I'm closing comments after they've laid moribund for a day or two: I'm getting major spammed - Hi! Mr Indonesia, Mr Bangladesh! - and as much as I hate the comment-squiggles I'd just as soon not impose them on you.
- Busy, have some linkages, songs, a poem.
- Not enough crackers.
- I'm going to try very hard not to bwah the Charlotte Bwah. Just failed.
- UPDATE! Of course they are. Pay no mind.
- Last call at the Playboy mansion.
- If the Republicans were interested in winning.
- Capitalism's ideological crutches.
- Shameless pandering to My Little Pony fetishists.
- Nietzsche, for those of you who do.
- Hey! Magnetic Fields playing DC Saturday and Sunday November 17, 18. Wasn't going to go: other than three songs, the new album bores me. Driving Planet back to Gambier she played some from all the earlier albums, bored me. I remembered the show we saw in Philly earlier this year, was lots of fun but Merritt's I hate you you fucking fucks and I hate being here act bored me. Still, Earthgirl and Planet said please and Sunday the 18th is when Planet flies in for Thanksgiving Break, so we're going. Will be fun just to go. Someone named Emma Straub, Novelist, is opening, what the fuck? What's an Emma Straub? Anyway, join us! Tickets are general admission, let's have dinner first!
- UPDATE! Handwritten Beefheart poem!
- What, you expect a Mag Fields' song before the poem. NO! Have new Bob Mould single first, then the poem, then Mag Fields.
The noun one keeps batting away
He says, I don’t want to be
Twenty-four was a handful:
meatflesh, best self, miraculous
leap/thump on the hardwood,
the twist and splash.
in the present tense,
the timebound blood pump
two throbbing lungs butt
in their bone cage
surges to bursting.
He does not perdure
in this internal defection:
so rare, and so heroic.