Friday, June 6, 2014

These Tumblers Empty Themselves and Yet I Persist

I didn't remember until noon yesterday that June 5th is Richard Butler's birthday, yesterday his 57th. Fuck we are old. The above is my favorite Psychedelic Furs song, or is it this one? at least this very moment:

At least a half a dozen of the one of five best nights of my life revolved around Furs concerts.

Hey, I get mail:

I am writing to you today to inform you that Nuestar, the Registry Operator for the .US domain, will be increasing its annual registration price by $0.50 USD.   As a result of this notification, eNom must raise our pricing for this domain name extension. The purpose of this notice is to inform you of the upcoming price increase and give you advance notice should you want to renew any names ahead of the price change.

On July 1st, 2014 your price for .US will increase by $0.50

I thought about last summer's domain name dramafuck last night, thought I'd better check the email account I use for non-personal correspondence this morning, and shazam. I can spare the fifty cents, can't bare the aggravation of last summer this summer. I was assured last summer that there will be no repeat of the dramafuckery this summer. I have modest hope, massive dread. So: it's that time of year, if this blog goes dark without announcement like it did last summer the domain renewal is why. I know you know if I killed the blog there would be a loud melodramafuck production.


Mark Ford

Unwinding in a cavernous bodega he suddenly
Burst out:--Barman, these tumblers empty themselves
And yet I persist; I am wedged in the giant eye
Of an invisible needle. Walking through doors
Or into them, listening to anecdotes or myself spinning
A yarn, I realize my doom is never to forget
My lost bearings. In medias res we begin
And end: I was born, and then my body unfurled
As if to illustrate a few tiny but effective words--
But--oh my oh my--avaunt. I peered
Forth, stupefied, from the bushes as the sun set
Behind distant hills. A pair of hungry owls
Saluted the arrival of webby darkness; the dew
Descended upon the creeping ferns. At first
My sticky blood refused to flow, gathering instead
In wax-like drops and pools; mixed with water and a dram
Of colourless alcohol it thinned and reluctantly
Ebbed away. I lay emptied as a fallen
Leaf until startled awake by a blinding flash
Of dry lightning, and the onset of this terrible thirst.            


  1. Honestly, dedicating too much analysis to this bullshit after a year is perilously close to the disease itself.

    I can agree with that. Also, missing the forest for the trees.

    The problem isn't Snowden. Or Greenwald. It is our government.

    1. I think the point is that Snowden and Greenwald, whether by design or ignorance, ymmv, ARE working for the oligarchs both figuratively and literally.

  2. Yes, yes, yes to the Furs.

    And Yes, your loyal readers/Commenters are pretty darn sure that BLCKDGRD will not go unquietly into that good night. LOL as the youngfolks say.

    It's not that they're working for the oligarchs (in fact, they would claim quite the contrary); it's rather that the oligarchs make it seem as if they're working for the the oligarchs and thus take control of the discourse or, as someone much smarter than I once coined, manufacture consent. 'Co-opt' was the word we used in our youthfully exuberantly rebellious days.

    Also too: Thanks for noticing, quoth Eeyore.