We've identified four hikes from last year we must do again.
Three hikes we didn't get to last year. We'll do them first, starting Friday in Schoodic.
Reminder: all but two posts a year not tagged My Complicity.
Tomorrow is also one of Egoslavia's Highest Holy Days and the post is already in the tube.
I won't pretend to any intention of disconnecting from the clusterfuck on vacation.
- No, that Highest Egoslavian Holy Day, that's....
- My stupid McCain Worship trigger.
- Triggered my I Hate Motherfucking Democrats trigger.
- Still a fucking mark, I'm your obedient servant, etc.....
- A Guide to Facing the Ecocide.
- Trump and the Trumpists. (If you only read one, make it this one.)
- She will never fuck off to the sea.
- Exultant among the Drumpfjugend.
- The Age of Detesting Trump:
- Kamala Harris and The Oligarchs.
- An enemy of the sheeple.
- On the unbearable closeness of others.
WILL BUY ON TARMAC OF NATIONAL TOMORROW OR IN MAINE, DEPENDING ON WHEN THEY GO ON SALE!
WHO WANTS A TICKET?
- Adrift just off the Islets of Langerhans.
- My Three Ferals, starring Fred McBLCKDGRD.
- New Mark Ford poem.
- On Archie Ammons. who is one year older and sixteen years deader than tomorrow's 90th birthday.
DEAR SIR OR MADAM
After only a week of taking your pills
I confess I am seized with boundless energy:
My plate fills up even as I scarf vegetable fragments
from the lucent blue around us. My firmament,
as I see it, was never this impartial.
The body's discomfiture, bodies of moonlight beggars,
sex in all its strangeness: Everything conspires
to hide the mess of inner living, raze
the skyscraper of inching desire.
Kill the grandchildren, leave a trail
of paper over the long interesting paths in the wood.
Transgress. In a word, be other than yourself
in turning into your love-soaked opposite. Plant
his parterre with antlers, burping
status of when-was-the-last-time-you-saw Eros;
go get a job in the monument industry.