- I was called an emo-prog by a buddy last night. I said, coming from an obamasshole, that's a compliment. All in good fun, though he wasn't as amused as I'd hoped when he drank deep of the Coors Light pint I bought him when he thought I'd bought him a corporate Pale Ale. You and your fucking metaphors, he said.
- A reminder: the true value of the the Snowden affair isn't the revelations of the spying, it's the revelations of what puny petty frightened albeit powerful enough to squash me like a bug motherfuckers rule the world.
- And once the assholes realize there is no consequent loss of power for the unscheduled breaking of kayfabe.... (for instance).
- So yes, the net effect of, in this instance, the Snowden affair is to hasten the arrival of the state being revealed.
- A barely detectable sideways smile.
- Surveillance state and the end of freedom. One can argue that there never was freedom, though there does seem to be less of what never was these days.
- Too much information. For example, me.
- Repost: How to create a dictatorship.
- Grunwald and the Assange precedent problem.
- Greenwald v Grunwald.
- His dream.
- Obama's relentless creation of 2nd class citizens.
- RIP John Hollander.
- An archive of confessions, a genealogy of confessions.
- Cloud corporation.
- Whale song.
- Three hours of good music plus on-air interaction during mic-breaks between DJ and his eight year old daughter.
For 8 months he lay in bed over the
difference between “the bell rings” & “he rings
the bell.” Did those 2 “rings” SOUND
DIFFERENT? The invisible disturbance which
is the bell’s vibration beating at the air—a
FIELD EFFECT—does it shift with the
ringer’s will? This, he thought, was the
smallest difference between things which the
human mind could hold (or almost hold, the
thought-of-it falling away from the thinking,
a penny rolling to the horizon & so to
sleep . . .). He couldn’t get up. It became clear
that he was the murderer. Everyone knows. A
man standing at a podium reads from notes.
In the audience people nod in immaculate
suits, women & men. When I am done
someone will transcribe what I say into speech.
It will not resemble my notes. He is just THE
THING between his notes & his speech. This is
only fair, that he be the air. Some of the
women wear hats with feathers in them, wild,
candescent. In the audience is a boy named B,
not the letter, not the note. Another sound,
neither letter nor note—