Friday, July 1, 2011

I Am Becoming Weather and I Don't Plan on Doing It Alone

Four for Thursday Night Pints, the regulars and now promoted to semi-regular, K.

The first half hour was mine as the UK trip was discussed. All pitched in their thoughts and memories of their trips to Britain. D is from Newcastle; he stays with family when he visits, radiating out to the rest of Britain from there by train or rented car, mostly north to Scotland. Our bus drove around but not through Newcastle but we saw enough of the terraced housing to get a taste of its grittier contrast from the sections of London we saw. D confirmed Newcastle's grittiness saying he got out of Newcastle as soon as he could. (We also saw the Angel of the North on top of the hill before the descent to the River Tyne.)

Strike today in UK, teachers and other public workers, said K. You'd never see that here, said L, a country of rednecks cheering on their own dispossession. I said, I wrote at least three times in tablet while there about ugly couples, lots of them, holding hands to quaintly cuddling to making out in public, I rarely see that in America, at least the not-America I live and work in. The utter lack of self-consciousness or the utter awareness of self-consciousness, I wasn't sure which. The British are the ugliest people on the planet, said D, fully embracing the irony as he smiled his British teeth smile, and they fuck like starving rat terriers fighting over giblets, which won him a ridiculously priced scotch. What does that have to do with their striking, asked L. I just think, I said, America will have to be Britain first on America's descent to becoming Serbia.



Chris Martin

I was out interviewing clouds         amassing
                    the notes of a sky pornographer    while patches

                                             of the city subnormalized
by fear of fear            like a reef bleaching closed

                    I took to the streets
                              looking for a human velocity

              feeling                 disequilibrium

                                         heavy in the abundance
                             of summer light
                                                       the silent apathy
              of stars     which is neither
                                              silent nor apathetic
I             am       becoming                 weather
              I don't
                               plan on doing
                                                                      it alone


  1. Misanthropy, woo! If we're going to pupate into British folk, I'm busting out the bowler.

    Who says awesome is worn out, what a cock.

  2. I got plenty of bad things to say about Obama, but Mark Halperin has no standing whatsoever to be casting stones.

    Halperin is nothing but a hack.

  3. Thanks.

    The asterisks? Should I know? Inside info?

  4. K always asks about Blegsylvanian rituals of reciprocity. I told her last night I'd * today.

  5. The temptation to answer yesterday's comments here is overwhelming, but I'm keeping my shit together.

    I wonder how many times "Surrender Dorothy" has been painted over and reinstated. It's lots.

    Oh, and your Redscum link is busted, it points to the CA site.

  6. Yesterday's comments? What? The singing penis that's nsfw?

    Metros' link fixed.