Sunday, October 8, 2017

One Minute We Were Up to Our Necks in Rebelliousness, and the Next, Peace Had Subdued the Ranks of Hellishness

  • His obsession with The Necks.
  • I know better than to post on weekends yet post on weekends. I know better than to post on the Sunday of a three-day weekend and usually don't.
  • Tomorrow is Lennon's birthday and I want to post The Necks because of that wonderful article above while I am spending the afternoon listening to my Necks CDs.
  • I don't want to wait until Tuesday to post Necks pieces and I can't post them Monday.
  • I don't listen to The Beatles anymore - I don't need to, I can hear any song - any Lennon solo song - in my head whenever I want and far too frequently when I don't.
  • I have stupid rules about what I can and can't do and judge myself on moral adherence to stupid rules.
  • Like what I can't write about here. Like what I can write about here but don't.
  • There will be at least one Lennon song here tomorrow.
  • Three new things I can't write about here the past two days.
  • Two I understand, one I don't, as in, The fuck?
  • Life in the Trollocene: new shit by the minute I can write about but won't.
  • Thus: a post on the Sunday of a three day weekend.


John Ashbery

Not the smoothness, not the insane clocks on the square,
the scent of manure in the municipal parterre,
not the fabrics, the sullen mockery of Tweety Bird,
not the fresh troops that needed freshening up. If it occurred
in real time, it was OK, and if it was time in a novel
that was OK too. From palace and hovel
the great parade flooded avenue and byway
and turnip fields became just another highway.
Leftover bonbons were thrown to the chickens
and geese, who squawked like the very dickens.
There was no peace in the bathroom, none in the china closet
or the banks, where no one came to make a deposit.
In short all hell broke loose that wide afternoon.
By evening all was calm again. A crescent moon
hung in the sky like a parrot on its perch.
Departing guests smiled and called, "See you in church!"
For night, as usual, knew what it was doing,
providing sleep to offset the great ungluing
that tomorrow again would surely bring.
As I gazed at the quiet rubble, one thing
puzzled me: What had happened, and why?
One minute we were up to our necks in rebelliousness,
and the next, peace had subdued the ranks of hellishness.

So often it happens that the time we turn around in
soon becomes the shoal our pathetic skiff will run aground in.
And just as waves are anchored to the bottom of the sea
we must reach the shallows before God cuts us free.

1 comment:

  1. Tnx agin!
    I can vouch for the take in the fittiN't'prYnT Necks piece. Though it is nothing new when it comes to music improvised from scratch (I was in a band for five years that taught ourselves to do it consistently well), I can say without reservation that they did it miraculously the first time I saw them perform here, now, hwut?, fifteen years ago. And this is really saying something because I was bitter and jealous at the time. Their recordings would seem to indicate the same adeptness at doing what the author of that article effectively expresses.