in which history was made!
One of BFF's favorite stories to tell on me is that, years ago--Planet remembers it as being at a Maryland-Duke womens' basketball game, which puts her at about age 12 or 13--I was so deeply disturbed by Planet's stability, equanimity, poise, grace, and general goody-twoshoesedness that I offered her twenty bucks if she'd say "fuck," just once. She's faithfully refused ever since. Until tonight. A mere three months in the bower of liberal academia has changed our darling Planet profoundly. It'd make your head spin, how fast the little pottymouth said, "Baby needs a new pair of fuckin' shoes."
Mind, what happened was she had been talking about assholes running around drunk in the dorm at three in the morning at college, and I said, she's cursing now, I'm so proud, and Landru then took out the $20 bill. The conversation had turned to a need for winter shoes. She didn't remember the dare at first, so as Landru sat there tapping the $20 bill, behind his back I made eye-contact with Planet, glanced at the tapping hand on the bill, mouthed "fucking shoes," and - BANGO! - she connected, didn't hesitate saying the word or taking the money. Love. All around.
Mind, my favorite story to tell on Landru is that he was the first human not a doctor, not a nurse, not Earthgirl or me, to hold Planet. So, sorry, good mood, there's aargh in the links, but it's not heartfelt aargh, my apologies.
- Earthgirl couldn't join us as she prepares for her show. See above.
- Also, it's the slowest week of the year in Blegsylvania.
- More of this, please. A bud tells me somethings astir for Dec 2, not Franklin probably (he doesn't know specifics yet, says still in planning), but something.
- Why are you murdering yourselves?
- Body politics.
- Follow the argument.
- Our Occupiers.
- What now?
- You will be in danger the rest of our lives.
- Awesome motherfuckery (Young, not Fish).
- Things you might have missed.
- Keys' signage.
- First Thanksgiving.
- Home After Three Months Away.
- And that's pretty much it, getaway Wednesday starting Tuesday, dying Blegsylvania shutting down early the slowest week. Bleggalgazing tomorrow, the slowest day of the year in Blegsylvania, or not.
- O! woke up with this in my head. Be in yours.
- O! When I think of the below, I think of the below below.
In her room at the prow of the house Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden, My daughter is writing a story. I pause in the stairwell, hearing From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys Like a chain hauled over a gunwale. Young as she is, the stuff Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy: I wish her a lucky passage. But now it is she who pauses, As if to reject my thought and its easy figure. A stillness greatens, in which The whole house seems to be thinking, And then she is at it again with a bunched clamor Of strokes, and again is silent. I remember the dazed starling Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago; How we stole in, lifted a sash And retreated, not to affright it; And how for a helpless hour, through the crack of the door, We watched the sleek, wild, dark And iridescent creature Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove To the hard floor, or the desk-top, And wait then, humped and bloody, For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits Rose when, suddenly sure, It lifted off from a chair-back, Beating a smooth course for the right window And clearing the sill of the world. It is always a matter, my darling, Of life or death, as I had forgotten. I wish What I wished you before, but harder.