Friday, April 12, 2013

The Owl Devours the Hour and Disregards the Rest

Friend Richard spread good news Thursday there's a new Barn Owl album out, to celebrate Thursday night I read out of a book and not off a screen while listening to Barn Owl, after playing outside Friday that's the plan for Friday night too, the reading of a book and listening to, say, this guy 

I then plan on playing outside Saturday afternoon then STANDING! on LOUD SIDE! Saturday night for United v Fucking Metros, then playing outside Sunday, but no, there was not a Thursday Night Pints last night, shame, we're all bursting with tangy toxic rumors re: Illtophay, a sentence a worrier told me I shouldn't type and publish. I can't say there are tangy toxic rumors swirling round Illtophay? I'm not typing and publishing any of the tangy toxic rumors. What am I going to write about, L texted me. See above and below. And drafts aren't done but are beyond turning back, this post is a down payment, you haven't won the bet yet, not that I don't already owe you all the ridiculously priced Nyquil not only to your death but am obligated to pour shots on your grave until 2046. Love. Oh yeah, Barn Owl:

Oh, OK, it's 730 in the morning as I type this segment (the rest was done last night), it's lovely and thunder-storming, I'm reading off a screen (I seem incapable of not) this obituary & this bleggalgaze & this bleggalgaze & this bleggalgaze & this history of licking things & how to turn conservatives to liberals with magic (and visa versa, presumably) & Reagan's death v Thatcher's death & resisting resilience & today's obligatory Motherfucking Obama & while Serpent Head's motives are always dishonorable he spoke the truth about Motherfucking Obama & how to blackmail progressives in office & blackmail & I've only just begun to check out Silliman's always generous litlinks & Six Sixty Six & now I'm off to read, today's outdoor plans on hold &


Wendy Videlock

Beneath her nest,
a shrew's head,
a finch's beak
and the bones
of a quail attest

the owl devours
the hour,
and disregards
the rest.

1 comment:

  1. Death is yesterday's paperboy. Gimme zombie fights instead, filmed 60s Godzilla style, rubber-suited Reagan and Thatcher stomping on little green army men.