Thursday, March 15, 2012

God's Vigorish

No, I do give a fuck it just need honor the what the fuck, I said at a Wednesday night TNP, changed at my request because Thursday night is Planet's last in town until - fuck - middle of May. I was asked by K about blogging, but I could have been talking about POTUS12 and the general clusterfuck or Hilltop gossip or a loved team that has a stupid red third kit or any of the other things I daily knead the yodel over here. For instance, I continued, I read how Little Danny Fucktard is angry at his fellow billionaire fucktards' sudden fetish with the rules of inside fucktard fucktardery - like there are rules in fucktardery, right? - and I read how Leon Panetta flew into Afghanistan today to rescue an American psychopath and mass-murderer from sovereign Afghan jurisprudence, because you know what just might fuck-up Obamalame's recoronation? An American soldier receiving righteous Afghan retribution on TV. Christ, you're in a bad mood, said L. No, I said, look at what should have just posted automatically if blooger worked when you get home, do it before eight tomorrow morning, I'm in as good and as pure-as-I'm-capable what-the-fuck mood at least half the time, even if it's the dark and unread half.


Jack Gilbert

He keeps the valley like this with his heart.
By paying attention, being capable, remembering.
Otherwise, there would be flies as big as dogs
in the vineyard, cows made entirely of maggots,
cruelty with machinery and canvas, sniggering
among the olive trees and sea grossly vast.
He struggles to hold it right, the eight feet
of heaven by the well with geraniums and basil.
He will rejoice even if the shepherd girl
does not pass anymore at evening. And whether
or not she ate her lamb at Easter. He knows
that loneliness is our craft, that death is
God's vigorish. He does not keep it fine
by innocence of leaving things out.


  1. Link thanks but save the double for good stuff like listening to Zizek drone (pun probably not intended ask again later) on about insert crap here. War, whatcha gonna do.

  2. Thanks for the linkage. Lomax is way more than blues. More later. Gotta' bounce.

  3. O, I'm very familiar with - and admire - Lomax. I was referring to the bulk of *your* blue's heavy playlist.

    I wish I had the blue's gene, but they bore me no end. Explains partially why I never got the Stones and Zeppelin even as a kid.

  4. The correct (partial) answer to your Jeremiad in the non-commentable-upon overnighter (not all of which do I get the chance to read) is contained in the post itself: FECEBOOK! [Love the expression] is the chief offender. Reddit, etc. Social media.

    The other part is TEXTING. This is what the kids are doing. This is how they communicate. Short. Curt. To the point. No wasted words. No discursion. No throughline.

    Nobody has time to blog. It's the same reason people are politically illiterate: they're too busy to pay attention to the details.

    re: the above comments: I go through blues phases. We had great friends in from Memphis this weekend. 'Nuff said. And for some strange reason, I find myself wanting barbecue, but I have to hold off until after this weekend's half-marathon. Then I'm slathering down a slab o' ribs, y'all!

    Best (as ever),
    Jim H.

  5. Double-tag comment on the overnight piece. Talked to a colleague - she says all is slowing down, calls it digital fatigue, suggests people have both temporarily had enough and are subconsciously bracing for the noise this summer and fall before the election.

  6. Thanks, and sure, if she wants to yap just let me know the night she's gonna be in town.

    Said bleggalgaze now here, where all the overnight's go. What a fucking rules rube.

  7. Bud! Princess!! Kitten!!!