Tuesday, December 6, 2022

Poke Crayons and Felt Pens in the Vacant Tombs

More death, rest in peace Hamish Kilgour of The Clean

Love The Clean, posted many songs, almost all of them zeroed out on youtube for copyright violations, fine metaphors abound, as do all these people whose creations I loved for years, decades, dying. I haven't written in tablet in days, I can tell, all I want to do is give you the links that anger me or amuse me or save me and make self-portraits to honor and embrace the fuck it

Has the next Civil War already started?
Capital as a historic conceptBETRAYAL
Living throught the revenge of capital
Laugh, there will never be an American Labor Party
How capital has fucked Baltimore forever
Elite Capture: weaponizing identity politics
The difference between Republicans and Democrats in one tweetCollapse of simple societies
*This* motherfucker and neoliberal identity politics
How not to become an anarchist
Trump *has* to know he's dead meat, yes?
For some of these links whose paywalls you can't get through, if you want a scanned PDF and I like you, ask
Trump *has* to know he's dead meat, yes?
A theology of the present moment
Varieties of Vergangenheitsbewältigung
Maggie's weeklyFRESH HELL
And by *short swoon* he means the down seasons caused by the fallout over upperclass football players raping the JV team with broomstick handles, Helmetball devotees
New workplace surveillance, wOOt!
The Art of Namio HarukawaMANIFESTO
Gaithersburg and the "law of the conservation of urban change"
2022 December 2I have learned not to address my Mastodon superiors either
Two-thirds of the way through DeLillo's *The Names* and I just don't give a fuck, everybody talks the same exact way, smart idea or two paraphrases, repackaged, the fuck
{ feuilleton }'s weeklyI'm a hundred pages in, so far so good, jinxed


Simon Armitage

The frantic adding machine
   of a wasps’ nest
     in the eaves,

its fizzing pregnancy, thrilling
   to lay an ear
     to the plasterboard wall,

let its raving fusion
   blur with the mind.
     The waspman cometh

in T-shirt and shorts,
   pumps white dust
     under a roof tile

through an extendable wand.
   Insecticide clings to fine hairs
     on the legs and wings; panicked,

they ferry the powder
   deeper and deeper
     into the chambers and halls,

through cloisters
   and vaulted naves,
     all the way to the throne.

The collapsing sound
   and sinking heat
     of a city-state

as it empties and falls. On fire,
   an ambulance rolls to a halt
     on a soft verge;

the last Trojan child
   totters in wooden clogs
     through cobbled streets...

He takes the dead nests
   into schools; kids squeal
     at the monster’s skull

and the mausoleum
   of opened brain,
     poke crayons and felt pens

in the vacant tombs. I fit
   the quelled attic
     back on my head.

Friday, December 2, 2022

Whipped Gouache Just About Covers the Situation

People important in my formative years (real life, academic life, novelists & poets, musicians) dying faster and faster all the freaking time. I've been using fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck as a label, thinking I will add a Dead This Year blegroll on January 1, 2023 with links to the respective fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck post, would do one for this year but that would be research... This getting old shit. Dying so fast I forget who died yesterday because someone else just died five minutes ago, the fuck

Two more CMcV songs for RIP. I've always thought of her as Mac's George, especially in the B-N years, band-dynamically, and holyfuck, her songs, the deepcuts

In ominous news for you, when I opened the bag from the art store in Baltimore to get my new watercolor brushes and new jug of Mod Podge I discover L's new tubes of red, blue, and yellow gouache, I'd never gouached before, uh-oh & o my, just in time, I've used up most of my fountain pen ink, maybe I don't need to (wash my hands with pumice everytime I use my fountain pen ink and watercolor washes) buy any more, at least not now, laugh, my first and certainly not last gouache ever:

A black man was lynched this week in Missouri
Missouri couldn't wait to lynch Kevin Johnson
White Americans have voted majority GOP in the last fourteen presidential elections
A eulogy for the emperor penguin
How capitalism destroyed the internet
Does this dipshit actually believe Biden isn't a corporate henchman who is just "missing an opportunity"?
Bipartisanship, fellow mooksMotherfucking Democrats
It's imperialism, stupid, partONETWO
I wrote a twoot at my congressmotherfucker
Why America's railroads refuse to give workers sick leave
My state's two motherfucking Democratic senators voted to fuckover railworkers
The City of Blind Windows, partONETWO
We hike through pawpaw groves all the time, rarely find one, animals get them first when they fall
Dream housesFluke events of acts of dog?
Avedon Carol's occasional links
The trouble w moneyThe trouble w normal
I vouch for Durban Poison but recommend the Superboof
#1278MemoryIt's not about the money
On the new Kathy Acker biography
The weak novel is a performance
Neil Young embraces imperfection
My daughter did not tweet this though she has said it to me


Lyn Hejinian

A star screen shimmers under the moon over the urban center flashing on it red
         and green
I’ll have a suspension, mustard, topicality, glue
Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty
Whipped gouache just about covers the situation
In the Musée Unless there’s a fallen nest on display empty of an egg once
         belonging to a song bird, species unknown, which had sung
See style, see working late, see mismatched socks, see polyphony
It is the fate of logic infinitely to undo closure but that’s just to say that it’s the
         fate of logic infinitely to be logical
So like a man goes into a shop and there’s like this other man in there whom he
         thinks he recognizes and he says like do I know you
The fallen grass in winter sprawls its spring
Regulations state that the pier can accommodate no more than one troupe of
         acrobats, thirty fishermen, or fifty tourists
The child never gives up her secret, which—don’t tell—is that she has a secret,
         and her secret has a penis
We will lose another day from the inner picture—days are not ineradicable there
What is it that one is autobiographical about

Tuesday, November 29, 2022

Then You Are Left with an Idea of Yourself and the Feeling of Ascending Emptiness of the Afternoon

Mini-slump: splat-bottom not likely though possible, and hopeful today's later hour and a half in an oral surgeon's chair resolves most of the anxiety attending everything today. I hate it when anger's no fun and muffling. Anyway, filler-post of sorts (which means I rate it more than it is worth), get the last self-portrait off top of page, here are the weekend links I owe you, songs (and Ashbery) for my mood:

Who am I? What am I?Interwoven
Elite conservatives have *taken* an awfully weird turn?
Two years of the Fox News 2024 pre-primary
Look, I know why shitlords crank the crackers and remind you the harder shitlords crank the shittier shitlords see their future so crank the crackers harder, and I acknowledge my toolness in raging at cranked crackers, but these motherfuckers want to kill us and our shitlords will sanction much sooner than yinz thinkEmpathy & the economy
ACAB with the openly complicit aid of American media
Today in emmeffing Democrats: "Joe Biden—a self-described "pro-labor president"—urged Congress to pass legislation forcing unions to accept a contract agreement without any paid sick days, a step that would avert a looming nationwide strike and deliver a win for the profitable railroad industry"
How Did This 600-Year-Old English Coin End Up in Newfoundland?
What does it mean for a river to be free?
Emperor ElonicusRemembering Serge
They attempted Pinnacle Peak: on unfinished hikes
First FastgivingMaggie's weekly
Kathy Acker's Art of Identity Theft
{ feuilleton }'s weeklyMurnane's signposts


John Ashbery

These lacustrine cities grew out of loathing
Into something forgetful, although angry with history.
They are the product of an idea: that man is horrible, for instance,   
Though this is only one example.

They emerged until a tower
Controlled the sky, and with artifice dipped back
Into the past for swans and tapering branches,
Burning, until all that hate was transformed into useless love.

Then you are left with an idea of yourself
And the feeling of ascending emptiness of the afternoon   
Which must be charged to the embarrassment of others   
Who fly by you like beacons.

The night is a sentinel.
Much of your time has been occupied by creative games
Until now, but we have all-inclusive plans for you.
We had thought, for instance, of sending you to the middle of the desert,

To a violent sea, or of having the closeness of the others be air   
To you, pressing you back into a startled dream
As sea-breezes greet a child’s face.
But the past is already here, and you are nursing some private project.

The worst is not over, yet I know
You will be happy here. Because of the logic
Of your situation, which is something no climate can outsmart.   
Tender and insouciant by turns, you see

You have built a mountain of something,
Thoughtfully pouring all your energy into this single monument,   
Whose wind is desire starching a petal,
Whose disappointment broke into a rainbow of tears.

Friday, November 25, 2022

We Are Not Speaking Now, We Were Never Speaking

The End of American Thanksgiving: a Cause of Universal Rejoicing
"We were marked for extinction but we are still here"
Creating new rules on how they can hurt us
I'll tell you what's changed: crackers and christers have openly, boastingly, toggled to blaming the victims for what crackers and christers do to them, We warned you what will happen and you kept doing it anyway
Crackers are creepy as fuck (though the play here is to emasculate Fetterman, who they clearly see as a threat to their staked-out claim of Alphacracker, by tarring Fetterman as pussy-whipped)
My brother Elric bought a new bigass pickup truck which he explained was actually the smallest model he could find, when he pulled into the driveway of the family home yesterday my mind leaped to bigass pickup trucks in Michigan and needed to remind myself owning a pickup truck does not make the owner necessarily a cracker. I vouch that Elric is not a cracker.
Here's an oped by a Washington Post Senior Villager instructing you on the difference between being flogged by an ideologue versus whipped by a politician a matter of etiquette and tradition, authoritarianism is fine but totalitarianism is gauche. Crackers are fine, Trump is gauche. Either/Or: Washington Post Senior Villager *doesn't* know what's coming or knows what's coming and just doesn't want it to be gauche. Death to the Either/Or of course, politely
Cracker. Christer. I've been advised for years if I just euphemized those terms more more people would check back after looking once then, seeing Cracker this or Christer that, never return. Motherfucking in general too, motherfucking Obama once upon a time, early on, before most of yinz had your obamapostasy, and Motherfucking Democrats probably doesn't help either. I suspect in the already started Twitter Christer Cracker Revenge Tour 2022 I'm safe tapping motherfucking Obama and Democrats, will some twitter engineer write an algorithm searching *cracker* gain me a ban and/or cracker bots and trolls and troll bots. O, and mastodon still sucks, massively
Club Q massacre exposed police and queerphobes for who they really are
REMINDER: 2nd amendment doesn't apply to fags (update, the account suspended, tweet disappeared)
The clash of "civilizational states"
On twitter: a threadA class analysis of the twaater crisis
dril in the Washington Post talking about twaater?
Berlant: the inconvenience of other people
REMINDER: don't helmetball, beloved dipshits
San Francisco police to consider letting robots use deadly force
Why twitter has been marvelousLIGHTDevil's Theatre
The incredible shrinking future of college
Life in the Fap Lane: on John Barth
On New Directions new storybook editions
Bob Weir played the Kennedy Center this past October?
Maps and local history if you dig like me
More proof most humans are idiots


Bernadette Mayer

Art has lapsed we know since nothing's
happening but the poet's free dream
in the rich hands of exhaustion of who
to invite the lover or the lover?

This is not to speak
This is not said to speak
We are not speaking now, we were
never speaking

For what succeeds is silly maybe
For what succeeds is maybe silly
There might be nostalgia, emotion
There might be stuff unknown as death
Let something something something
Please, let something something something