Monday, January 28, 2013
Gagging to Spit Them Out
Robert Wyatt is sixty-eight today. Thanks to Bleeding Edge (Pynchon allusion) for the above, Greyhoos for the last link in this paragraph and the video below. No slideshow of yesterday's Bamgier to Zanesville to Wheeling to Washington to Morgantown to Cumberland to Hancock to Hagerstown to Frederick to Kensington. After we abandoned Planet in Ohio in the morning Earthgirl took out her camera, sighed, put it away, sketched or knit the rest of the way, her call, I'm happy. Thought about the email re: episodic v serial blogging starting roughly from Martinsburg Ohio to the first pissstop in Cabela West Virginia (the first West Virginia west to east, the second West Virginia east to west). I'm pleased to find (and old-timers will be pleased too) that while I've lots to write about, I'm not going to write about it here - or at least not yet - and I promise not to explain another gag (five embedded in this post, including two in this sentence) until the next time. Reminder: Villagers. The placebo effect of law. The Handmaiden of Capitalism versus The Swamp Denizen of Detroit. Bashing the walrus. Srsly? David Harvey, anarchism, tightly-couple systems. Federici interview. Fracking. Wait, I thought frat boys were, in the majority, conservatives. Blogging as performance. Fumigation tents. Fire St Benny! Laugh at Juve! For my Western Pennsylvanian buds: Pittsburgh 1956. International Pynchon Week. I confess I've never got Seamus Heaney, I assume the fault is mine. Lip-synching the poetry of empire. Bowie and re-writing one's past. Nilsson cascade. Quartets ahoy. Dondestan.
ARS POETICA (COCOONS)
Six monarch butterfly cocoons
clinging to the back of your throat -
you could feel their gold wings trembling
You were alarmed. You felt infested.
In the downstairs bathroom of the family home,
gagging to spit them out -
and a voice saying Don't, don't -