Sunday, June 4, 2017

I Will Still Be a Blizzard

  • Reminder: no one is happier about the most recent attacks in London than English Tories and American Republicans and especially American professional Democrats.
  • As are all oligarchal motherfuckers who run the above fuckers.
  • Every strategy to end terrorism is goad to more terrorism.
  • Terrorism helps Fucks steal your nickels.
  • The Great Unraveling: the crisis of post-war geopolitical order.
  • Learning to die in the Anthropocene. Read intro, parts of chapter one.
  • What we know about climate change.
  • After Capital's Revolt.
  • Hell is empty, Belaggio is fullDo you want to know what the world’s most high-priced investment talent is betting on now? Here, I can tell you: The end of the retail industry as we know it. The decline of shopping malls. Machine learning in every industry. Neural networks. A headlong rush into the roboticization of everything. Artificial intelligence. Self-driving cars. Commercial real estate is overpriced. Moderate macroeconomic growth continuing for the foreseeable future. Selling portions of the broadcast spectrum. Short Tesla. Long Sarepta Therapeutics. And buy the HMMJ ETF to capture a good portion of the marijuana market in Canada, though recreational weed in America is considered too risky of an investment for this crowd. At least one thing is still left for the little guy. For the moment
  • UPDATE! Life in the Epidemicocene.
  • The Cause of the Opiate Epidemic. There are no accidents around here.
  • UPDATE! Why won't you push the button?

  • Genocidal Culture Busker Haircut #8
  • Where the fuck is the DNC
  • UPDATE! Please read this and above link. 
  • UPDATE! If you see any DNC/StarFleet officer Lt Commander or above react appropriately angry and defiant to the two links above, please send me the link.
  • Please consider sending Arthur the coins in your pocket.
  • I've a friend who's certain it's a scam, and oh the fuck well if it is and I'm gullible.
  • Maggie's weekly links.
  • { feuilleton }'s weekly links.
  • I knew it was Xenakis' birthday last week, I usually post pieces, chose not to this year. It's not Xenakis, it's me.
  • The Golden Age of Dystopian Fiction? Dystopia used to be a fiction of resistance; it’s become a fiction of submission, the fiction of an untrusting, lonely, and sullen twenty-first century, the fiction of fake news and infowars, the fiction of helplessness and hopelessness. It cannot imagine a better future, and it doesn’t ask anyone to bother to make one. It nurses grievances and indulges resentments; it doesn’t call for courage; it finds that cowardice suffices. Its only admonition is: Despair more.
  • UPDATE! Dan on Coover's Huck
  • The above and below appeared within minutes on blogroll.
  • UPDATE! Coover short story.
  • Read Vollmann.
  • UPDATE! Once upon a time I read every Sewanee Review front to back poetry-wise the minute I found! it! in my mailbox. 
  • I'm starting Dream Two again.


Franz Wright

That glass was it filled with alcohol, water, or light
At ten
I turned you into a religion
The solitary
four-foot priest of you, I kept
the little manger candle
burning, I
kept your black half-inch of
in the hiding place
of the world
That empty
In which city was it, in fourth or fifth grade, Mother read in the newspaper you'd be appearing and dressed me up in suit
and little tie
and took me
I wanted to run to you—who were all these people?—
I sat alone beaming
at you who could not meet my eyes, and after
you shyly approached
and shook my hand
If I'm walking the streets of a city
covering every square inch of the continent
all its lights out
and empty of people,
even then
you are there
If I'm walking the streets
overwhelmed with this love for the living
I will still be a blizzard at sea
Since you left me at eight I have always been lonely
star-far from the person right next to me, but
closer to me than my bones you
you are there
It's 1963 again, the old Minneapolis airport so vast
        to me, and I am running
after the long flight alone I am running
into your huge arms—
I am forty-five now and I am dreaming
we are together again we are both forty-five
and I have you all to myself this time, and we are walking
together we're walking down a glowing-blue tunnel
we're on time for our flight, I can hardly believe it
we are traveling somewhere together alone
God knows where we are going, and who cares
we're together, walking
and happily talking
and laughing, and breathing.


  1. Even were it not on the up & up, the research & writing is worth more than whatever people put back through that pipeline. Seriously.

  2. To offer things as true when they're not, and then ask for money might be a scam. But, A.'s observations have been pretty much right, and are born out of a set of convictions that have remained consistent. To say he could be scamming reminds me of the urban legend of the Homeless, begging on Market Street, who own lakefront condos.

    Even if the reasons behind his asking were made-up (my intuition says they aren't; more's the pity), I'd still put something in the Tip Jar. Giving, after having received something of value freely offered, is fine. And, life can be manifestly unfair. And one way of saying fuck the unfairness; I'm going to try and make something turn out decently and well, for once is to put your money where your internal values are. No shame, either way.