Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Any Fool Can Get into an Ocean but It Takes a Goddess to Get Out of One

But K, I said exasperatedly last night at Thursday Night Pints, moved again to Tuesday cause I'm going to Bamgier Thursday (more about that tomorrow, or not), remember that Obama had total cover to go progressive if he'd wanted to. He could have said any cracker could summarily execute any brown person that cracker deemed dangerous and he'd still been called a Muslim sleeper by said cracker, he could have given bankers the right to take my house even if I was ahead on mortgage because the banks could sell it for more than I owed them and still been called a socialist by the Chamber of Commerce. This a digression from Occupy: L said Occupy will help Obama's reelection campaign, K added Occupy might help Obama regain his footing, I responded profanely then said the two sentences above.

I'm not not occupying because I know it will fail and how it will fail and not not occupying because my complicity and unwillingness to divest makes me a hypocrite. Or yes, too, but mostly I'm not occupying because my mithridatism is advanced, let the young dose themselves. You could go and keep you mouth shut, said L, winning her - if getting a free one every week one way or the other constitutes winning a particular night's contest - round of ridiculously priced Scotch.

Like the header? UPDATE: Too bad, it's gone - I was bored, then I was told it sucked, which hardened my determination to keep it, then I was told by two people it kept the motherfucking bleg from loading, so - That's a photo from Stratford-on-Avon where I was four months ago two weeks from now. That was weeks before rioters burned Tottenham, remember that, two months or so ago, feels like a decade? Yay or nay on the header if you feel like it, not if not. It'll be there until it isn't.

Hey, did you know Washington DC has a professional soccer team?


Jack Spicer

Any fool can get into an ocean   
But it takes a Goddess   
To get out of one.
What’s true of oceans is true, of course,
Of labyrinths and poems. When you start swimming   
Through riptide of rhythms and the metaphor’s seaweed
You need to be a good swimmer or a born Goddess
To get back out of them
Look at the sea otters bobbing wildly
Out in the middle of the poem
They look so eager and peaceful playing out there where the
    water hardly moves
You might get out through all the waves and rocks
Into the middle of the poem to touch them
But when you’ve tried the blessed water long
Enough to want to start backward
That’s when the fun starts
Unless you’re a poet or an otter or something supernatural
You’ll drown, dear. You’ll drown
Any Greek can get you into a labyrinth
But it takes a hero to get out of one
What’s true of labyrinths is true of course
Of love and memory. When you start remembering.


  1. I really like the Hysteriography piece. The best part is the usually untouched fact that there's no entity we can realistically think of as "The Founders." The documents were written by a bunch of haggling rich guys eager to prove de Tocqueville right before he was even born.

  2. A colossus of a stony foot about to boot the passer by off the blog. Now *that's* a greeting.

    When we strolled to the Clevelandia one, we violated the silence through copious amounts of subdued chuckling, then left to go back to work as a cog in the machine. I'll grant that the atmosphere was a wee bit less contentious than in Boston or New York, but loss is the likeliest outcome, but we're rooting for ya, just like we root for our doomed sports teams.

    Can say I made up for my failure as an anarchist by spending the afternoon zoning out to tunes.

    Bold prediction: DCU will not may the playoffs.

  3. What's all this, nattering nabobs of negativism?

    "Today your love, tomorrow the world!", he sang.

  4. UPDATE...then I was told it sucked, which hardened my determination to keep it, then I was told by two people it kept the motherfucking bleg from loading, so

    Leaving aside the utterly implausible proposition that you're not talking about me, I didn't tell you it sucked. I told you--and this is really much more finely tuned and far more to the actual metaphorical and artistic point--that it was an assrape. I stand by that characterization, metaphorically, at least.

    Also, per Ilse: "So, what, his whoredom overcame his martyrdom?"


  5. Why yes, the Hamilton *was* just for you.

    Three people told me it sucked, yours felt best!

    Yes, less than two-hours, Dave and Bowtie. I'll email.