Sunday, June 21, 2015

Always a Landfill of Labored Breaths

Bernie Kopell is 82 today. I loved Get Smart, especially in black and white. I yodel always, TV toggled to color when I was a kid - including Get Smart - a toggle that chimes me. Here is Siegfried's traditional Egoslavian High Holy Day decree, copied & pasted from last year's.

Siegfried has been this shitty blog's and my digital avatar since Blog Day One. Bernie Koppel, Siegfried on Get Smart (and Ann Marie's neighbor Jerry Bauman in That Girl and, unfortunately if more famously, Doc on Love Boat), was born 80 years ago today, his birthday noted every year here. 

Also too, woke up with this one minute Legendary Pink Dots song in my head.

  • Today in life lessons: here is my tweet (note the avatar) after seeing Jose Tabata purposely dive into Max Scherzer's pitch with two strikes and two outs and an almost perfect game: If I'm a Nats pitcher I drill Tabata every at-bat forever. Here is Max Scherzer's response: It was a slider that was in,” Scherzer said. “I kind of lost a little control over it; it backed up on me. I have no qualms about it whatever. That’s just baseball. He did what he needed to do. So kudos to him, actually.”
  • So, for today's yodeling from me see last post. 
  • Also too, see poem below.
  • Lemur lost (w Szymborska poem)
  • We nullify the the consciousness of others. We make their experiences unreal.
  • Heather Number One doesn't attend Left Forum.
  • Out of the frying pan and into the friar.
  • Notes from yesterday's protest to stop an asteroid colliding with earth
  • Coulrophobia.
  • The Anti-Gravity of the Island of Pal.
  • Down here below the tropopause.


Kyle Dargan

I imagine each enunciation, each syllable
pronounced—Mississippi—makes a noose
cinch somewhere, rope reduced
to arousal, tightening. The pull,
the hard-learned feel of vertebrae supple
within a neck's column, and marrow's juice
sucked clean until what remains are flutes
of bone, a wind section of rubble.

Whenever I meet Mississippi in a dream,
it is always a landfill of labored breaths
or a grand mammal crippled in morass.
What did you ever want of us? I ask. It beams,
The same you want for me—the subtle heft
of razors beneath the magnolia tongue's lash.

1 comment:

  1. Ouch. Didn't realize he dove into the pitch. That sucks for Scherzer & Nats fans. Actually attended 1 of MLB's 21 perfect games: David Wells v. Twins at Yankee Stadium. Its was the kids' Little League day. My seat was on the front row of upper deck b/w home and first. Saw the bizarre arcs on Wells's off-speed stuff. Foul ball after foul ball landing all around me. First realized what was happening in like 6th inning. Word spread. Tension grew until by the 9th it was unbearable. Standing O's for strikes. Resounding boos for close calls. Waves of relief at a good play at 2B. It was something I'll never forget. At the time, 1998, it was only the 15th ever Perfect Game.

    And, hey, I'm not even a Yankee fan. During the 90s, the hall at my law firm was neatly divided with Mets fans on the left of me & Yanks fans to the right. It was a great era to be a Braves fan—except for fucking Jim Leyritz. More than once, when ATL was in town, I got stopped on the street and asked if I was Greg Maddox. True story! Maybe it was the glasses.

    Still, all in all, tough night for Nats fans. And tho' they're our rivals, I'm sorry for Scherzer. We've taken two straight from the Mets. Putting it all together (i.e., bullpen improving) and are ridiculously close to the Nats who should've put us away by now. Baseball, man. Gotta' love it.