Tuesday, July 23, 2013

8:53: I Think That. 8:54: I Don't

As of midnight this morning there are only 1173 days, 18,152 hours, 1,089120 minutes, 65,347,200 seconds until Election Day 2016. Kill me now. Or let me talk about the Washington Nationals. Three, four religions ago I was baseball devout. The ritual proclamations of proofs of faith aren't necessary here, remove whatever keywords of current faith in template and substitute keywords of baseball faith, it works. The Nats surprising success last season caught my attention. I remembered the cadence of a game catching myself listening at season's end, in the playoffs, I was listening live (I'd remembered, listen to the radio, don't watch baseball) and was thrilled at the call of this walk-off homer in the bottom of the ninth in a playoff game (Slowes and Jageler are really good, btw). But I talked myself down in the off-season, I renounced the rebirth before the Nationals sucked this season. Sometimes fine metaphors don't abound. Just to be clear, and to employ the baseball metaphor I always use, no matter whether the Red Sox or the Yankees win the pennant, the league wins. My anger at the Democrats in general and the president in particular is anger at myself because every time he or one of his advocates opens his mouth I'm reminded of how addicted to faith I am. Trying to stay sane in an insane world, part one and a viable leftist party in the US? and militarizing the Arctic and what about the hunger strikes and why the British monarchy doesn't exist and cats complain about authority to their diaries and what is a U.S. state? and earth, seen from Saturn and building public palaces and selling roots and an important distinction and does anyone know of the cartoonist C.F. and could you recommend where to start, please? and Booker longlist if you're interested in these games and of surf guitar and the East Side and Wallace Stevens' Rock and the death of Jerry Garcia - not sure why that was posted today, Garcia died on August 9th, more importantly, you'll hear some Garcia songs on August 1st, a Holy Day. Today though, Long Distance Poison.


Paul Legault

Despite itself,
the criticism is happening in time.

8:53: I think that.
8:54: I don't.
SPRING: Come get my chicken
DAZE: There is a difference

between waiting for the scenery to quit
looking at itself chewing on something

and not.
SEBASTIAN: What did you hide off into, Sebastian?

SEBASTIAN: And Elvis made entirely of pollen.
PINE: And an Elvis made of tissue paper

arm in arm
with the luminary.


  1. Didn't we just have an election? I'm so glad I don't have any friends.

  2. Powr Mastrs Vol 1 then 2 then 3 then 4 .... Lovely stuff.

  3. Also thank you for the piece about faith. Now at least it is comprehensible.

  4. Two unrelated (to this post) things for your notice:

    1) Faye Hunter, Let's Active bassist, committed suicide yesterday. Sad day.

    2) Just rented "Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me" on Comcast this weekend. See it.

    I knew Faye peripherally when she was Mitch's grlfrnd in Chapel Hill. Mitch, Chris, & Will are all interviewed in the Big Star movie. It's all terribly nostalgia-inducing. I mean those guys introduced me to BS in 1973, and I've always loved their music. But I'm not one much for nostalgia. Like you (oh wait, maybe it is relevant to this post), I pass through faiths retaining only those things that endure—like good music.

    So, query, what happens when we (you and I) lose faith in blogging?

    Too soon?

    Jim H.

  5. How about I challenge Phil Andrews for his County Council seat and bring the pain down on you much sooner?

    Sadly, it's a pay cut.