You're not actually going to read Broch or Musil, L asked me at a Tuesday night version of Thursday Night Pints, changed at my request: Thursday night I'll be enjoying a walleye reuben at Muddy Misers in Zanesville before picking up Planet Friday morning and bringing her home for the summer. It's much better than you think it is, that walleye reuben. I said, no, though I might go to a baseball game, I've talked to Hamster and RC about going to a game, I'd like to go to at least one Nats game, I'd like to go back to Camden Yards, it's been at least twelve years [Hamster and RC, propose a game date in either or both locations, a night game, please, you'd each enjoy the others conversation, and other MOCOs are invited too!], but no, a friend reminded me of Good Soldier Schweik too, and I'd read that before the other two and I'm probably not rereading Schweik. Baseball was discussed, why L and D and I, once fervent fans, fell away. My bachelor party was Hamster and this guy taking me to an Orioles game against the Texas Rangers at Memorial Stadium, I said. Vile and justified nastiness was spit at Peter Angelos. On a flatscreen above the bar CNN said Lugar dead. D asked, you don't think you can not play POTUS 12, do you, and I said nope. You're going to post that Tony Hecht poem tomorrow, said L, and I said yup.
- The de-industrial revolution.
- The death of American secularism.
- Fruit of the boom.
- All the news that fits. The Hillary boomlet fascinates me.
- Good on twitter.
- Villager concerned Romney won't tame his crackers.
- Motherfucking crackers.
- What is capitalism? Take the poll!
- The predicament of culture.
- Influence and genre.
- More ducks.
- Waiting for Wotan, inside joke edition. I don't get it.
- Re: Broch and Musil - I will try MW/oQ just to see what happens, but I don't read like I used to for reasons undefined (though not for lack of effort in trying to define them - tablet is full of efforts), and I'm both very curious and slightly anxious to get to the new Mantel after finishing the reread of Vineland to see if it sings to me like all previous Mantel novels have.
- Some friends were debating the merits of Bob Mould on twitter few weeks ago, and while I always enjoyed Copper Blue, I'll not go see the revival.
- Have some Crispy Ambulance.
- Dark Star.
MORE LIGHT! MORE LIGHT!
Composed in the Tower before his execution
These moving verses, and being brought at that time
Painfully to the stake, submitted, declaring thus:
“I implore my God to witness that I have made no crime.”
Nor was he forsaken of courage, but the death was horrible,
The sack of gunpowder failing to ignite.
His legs were blistered sticks on which the black sap
Bubbled and burst as he howled for the Kindly Light.
And that was but one, and by no means one of the worst;
Permitted at least his pitiful dignity;
And such as were by made prayers in the name of Christ,
That shall judge all men, for his soul’s tranquillity.
We move now to outside a German wood.
Three men are there commanded to dig a hole
In which the two Jews are ordered to lie down
And be buried alive by the third, who is a Pole.
Not light from the shrine at Weimar beyond the hill
Nor light from heaven appeared. But he did refuse.
A Lüger settled back deeply in its glove.
He was ordered to change places with the Jews.
Much casual death had drained away their souls.
The thick dirt mounted toward the quivering chin.
When only the head was exposed the order came
To dig him out again and to get back in.
No light, no light in the blue Polish eye.
When he finished a riding boot packed down the earth.
The Lüger hovered lightly in its glove.
He was shot in the belly and in three hours bled to death.
No prayers or incense rose up in those hours
Which grew to be years, and every day came mute
Ghosts from the ovens, sifting through crisp air,
And settled upon his eyes in a black soot.