Thursday, October 13, 2011

All That It Contains, Myself and Spinach in Particular

It's Parent Weekend at Planet's college in Bamgier. We're driving out today (taking the scenic, non-Turnpike route this time, stopping for staymans, driving through downtown Wheeling), maybe have dinner tonight w/Planet, see her Friday and Saturday, YAY US! I suspect it's what made me think of this past summer's UK trip, four months but seems like twenty-seven years ago, yesterday: expect photos and that stupidass travelogue I do the next few days as I document the glorious fall foliage of my full complicity. Here or elsewhere.

Hey, I got another email from typepad:

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Bulletpoints in blogging? How fucking lame is that.


John Ashbery

The first of the undecoded messages read: "Popeye sits 
   in thunder,
Unthought of. From that shoebox of an apartment,
From livid curtain's hue, a tangram emerges: a country."
Meanwhile the Sea Hag was relaxing on a green couch: "How 
To spend one's vacation en la casa de Popeye," she 
Her cleft chin's solitary hair. She remembered spinach

And was going to ask Wimpy if he had bought any spinach.
"M'love," he intercepted, "the plains are decked out 
   in thunder
Today, and it shall be as you wish." He scratched
The part of his head under his hat. The apartment
Seemed to grow smaller. "But what if no pleasant
Inspiration plunge us now to the stars? For this is my 

Suddenly they remembered how it was cheaper in the country.
Wimpy was thoughtfully cutting open a number 2 can of spinach
When the door opened and Swee'pea crept in. "How pleasant!"
But Swee'pea looked morose. A note was pinned to his bib. 
And tears are unavailing," it read. "Henceforth shall
   Popeye's apartment
Be but remembered space, toxic or salubrious, whole or 

Olive came hurtling through the window; its geraniums scratched
Her long thigh. "I have news!" she gasped. "Popeye, forced as 
   you know to flee the country
One musty gusty evening, by the schemes of his wizened, 
   duplicate father, jealous of the apartment
And all that it contains, myself and spinach
In particular, heaves bolts of loving thunder
At his own astonished becoming, rupturing the pleasant

Arpeggio of our years. No more shall pleasant
Rays of the sun refresh your sense of growing old, nor the 
Tree-trunks and mossy foliage, only immaculate darkness and 
She grabbed Swee'pea. "I'm taking the brat to the country."
"But you can't do that--he hasn't even finished his spinach,"
Urged the Sea Hag, looking fearfully around at the apartment.

But Olive was already out of earshot. Now the apartment
Succumbed to a strange new hush. "Actually it's quite pleasant
Here," thought the Sea Hag. "If this is all we need fear from 
Then I don't mind so much. Perhaps we could invite Alice the Goon 
   over"--she scratched
One dug pensively--"but Wimpy is such a country
Bumpkin, always burping like that." Minute at first, the thunder

Soon filled the apartment. It was domestic thunder,
The color of spinach. Popeye chuckled and scratched
His balls: it sure was pleasant to spend a day in the country.


  1. "Cannonfire" is right about corporate's response, and out to lunch on how the Occupants self-organize. Typical Dem leader fetishization.

  2. Yup, though that leader fetishization ain't limited to Dems. I'm fascinated by the response of those from across the spectrum that Occupy is invalid precisely because of its real or perceived lack of organization. When it sputters and peters-out (and that's why I posted that link, because it's the first post-mortem I'd seen in our Stringtown), its strength will be declared the fatal weakness.

  3. Perhaps refreshingly, Mr. Red, that declaration will be an act of self-blinding. The security apparat will be better prepared, of course - but not the commentariat, or the pols, who only know opportunity, and lacking history, not only repeat it, but fuck it up worse the next time.

  4. driving through downtown Wheeling

    You won't be driving fast! But the rest of it makes up for it. Especially the scenery.

    P.S. Pondering whether it's better to insult Milbank in his comments, or deny him pageviews. It's probably the latter that would sting the most.

  5. No more shall pleasant
    Rays of the sun refresh your sense of growing old, nor the
    Tree-trunks and mossy foliage, only immaculate darkness and

    Yikes, that skewers the cultural mindset nicely, eh?

    Thanks for strutting some of my musings in your space, I hope your passing along of things will bring someone something they enjoy or can make use of.

  6. "If for some reason you've lost your blogging mojo"

    Dear Typepad Team,
    I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamblogger today.

    such a country Bumpkin