Feeling Utterly Evacuated, Yet Methodically Structured

• I do understand that my hobbyhorse vis a vis motherfucking Obama isn't everyone's. In case Obama's relentless expansion of the police and war state isn't yours, here, a reminder of Obama and the banksters.
• Also a reminder: it's almost time for Rohn Joberts to be hit by a bus forcing Obama to choose both another SCOTUS and Chief SCOTUS at the height of POTUS 12. Please please please please please.
• Engage or fail, part one, part two, part three.
• Sacred monsters.
• The varieties of pissing.
• Motherfucking Americans.
• One additional piece more or less at random that makes the same point about the pissing Marines as all the others.
• Occupy Oakland and the American Licorice strike.
• Swiftboating Occupy. (Yes, posted again in case you missed it.)
• Cooption or growth?
• Where Michelle Bachmann is better than Ben Cardin.
• UPDATE! Hi Ben's staffers monitoring google!
• Why do people oppose SOPA more than Patriot Act?
• Haley Barbour and the culture of death.
• Krugman doh. Not duh, doh.
• Selective stenography.
• Forget the future/the future of forgetting.
• As I type this sentence Saturday morning I'm drinking coffee in the breakfast lounge of a Holiday Inn Express in Zanesville Ohio while Earthgirl and Planet sleep in, and Fox & Friends is on the TV, and Tebow Romney Tebow Gingrich Tebow Paul Tebow Iranian speed boats harass American Navy ships in Gulf of Hormuz and Tebow and Tea Partiers on Romney and Tebow. Please please please please please Denver win Super Bowl.
• Russian lit quiz?
• New David Hockney paintings.
• "There's nothing more embarrassing than being a poet."
• Sassy Angel. The Wainwrights and Roches never moved my world, but the McGarrigles?
• I hadn't thought of This Heat in a couple of years - Bryce opened his show with them yesterday, I was listening to archives last night, went and got the embeds last night - but I woke up with them in my head this morning.

MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE DESIGN OF CITIES WILL BE THE DESIGN OF THEIR DECAY

Tessa Rumsey

                                      Where did you grow, before your roots took hold in the garden?
                          Curiouser and curiouser, this allegiance you seem to have with rocks.
                    Bluish blooms bathed in perfection, the moon shines fresh as you melt away.

                                                                      *

Loneliness is a laboratory; its territory is forever defined; for reasons beyond our conviction
It cannot be lessened; only redirected and made to resemble a crumbling heaven or the year’s 
Grand delusion: I shall no longer want for that which left me long ago—go slow, said the soul,
That you may know the streets of your abandoned city more intimately than any joy
Or cherished season. We were in collusion, this city and I, creating a mythology of desolation;
Feeling utterly evacuated; yet methodically structured; in a post-Roman Empire; previously
Doomed sort of way—and what did the soul say, but know it better, then in a fever, go deeper. 
There are days, I told the translator, when the veil drops and I am no longer inside the No-
Place most familiar, built by me long ago, and I walk through the world as if made real
By the existence of others and the casual way a crowd pauses together on a concrete curbside— 
Perhaps one of them is weeping, perhaps another will gently reach out and twist a knife 
Into my heart and we will lock eyes, and I will fall to my knees, and for a moment
He will hold me. What will I remember? The cold blade’s cruel demeanor? My body
As it seizures? Or the gesture of my destroyer, showing me that in this life, I was not alone.