Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Eyes Missing, or Stuck Open or Closed

Oofdah, clobbered on multiple fronts (and may be the rest of the week), though I need ask, POTUS 12, tenor has changed past couple days, time for real shittiness, yes? Oh, and today's pukestorm, jesusfuck. Other than that links Yo La Tengo songs and a poem is all I got.

Opportunities. Hiatturd sees an opportunity. Romney and opportunismRyan and Rahm.  Karen Lewis. UPDATE! This. I'd forgot the unbump I get when I praise teachers as I did yesterday, admitting my biasGrowth is the problem. Politicopsychopathology. Great minds and allIlltophay only up 1? Woe on campus. On the USMNT v Jamaica game. On United's season possibly being over. Fuck Notre Dame, fuck the ACCSebald for those of you who do. Hymn to the Neck. Can visionary poetry be edited? Delia Derbyshire. Whale Season.


Amy Gerstler

Why so many senseless injuries? This one’s glass teeth
knocked out. Eyes missing, or stuck open or closed.
Limbs torn away. Sawdust dribbles onto the floor
like an hourglass running out. Fingerless hands, noses
chipped or bitten off. Many are bald or burnt. Some,
we learn, are victims of torture or amateur surgery.
Do dolls invite abuse, with their dent-able heads,
those tight little painted-on or stitched-in grins?
Hurt me, big botched being, they whine in a dialect
only puritans and the frequently punished can hear.
It’s what I was born for. I know my tiny white pantaloons
and sheer underskirts incite violation. Criers and crib-
wetters pursue us in dreams, till we wake sweat-
drenched but unrepentant, glad to have the order
by which we lord over them restored. Small soldiers
with no Geneva Conventions to protect them,
they endure gnawing, being drooled on, banishment
to attics. Stained by cough syrup, hot cocoa, and pee,
these “clean gallant souls” wear their wounds as martyrs’
garments. We owe them everything. How they suffer
for our sins, “splintered, bursted, crumbled . . .”
Every bed in the head replacement ward is occupied tonight.
Let’s sit by the legless Queen doll’s tiny wheelchair
and read to her awhile if she wishes it. In a faint
voice she requests a thimbleful of strong dark tea.


  1. Would be much cooler if Hawaii had joined. Plus it would Create Jobs.

  2. I let a whole lot of misguided stuff go by, I usually don't mention that printing instead of writing is a sign of disconnected thoughts, I ignore that silly word restructuring thing that you do but

    FUCK THE ACC??? You're kidding, right?

  3. Bring your stupidass helmetball team or take a flying fuck. Is that so hard?

  4. Well, that plus a need to splat something random in lieu of splatting something not random but potential job-costing.

  5. If the ACC is going to admit fucking Notre Dame, let alone do it while explicitly conceding that Notre Dame football is too good for us? Uhm...yeah, fuck the ACC, though I'd probably be more likely to say fuck John Swofford, myself.

    This is not the first time we've had occasion to utter thusly (see, for instance, every school admitted after Tech--and if you don't know which Tech is Tech, fuck you and go back to the Big East that you came from). It does not mean rejection of our way of life, in all its Terpish guises, it does not deprive us of our right to the pursuit of Fuck Duke, and while both the admission of Those People and the phrase "Fuck the ACC" do technically dishonor the memory of Juan Dixon Whose Babies I Would Still Gladly Have, he's a big boy and can probably handle it. And he'll still hate Duke too.

  6. And "fuck you and go back to the Big East where you came from" most assuredly does not apply to Sasha, who knows what Tech is and knows where she came from. Which wasn't the fucking Big East. In fact, I'd say only one person in this convo is tainted by the fucking Big East, but that's really kind of a low blow, so fuck me too.

  7. Snorfle, the rumor on campus is Ihhtophay? 16th ACC netball team, boyee! Heard folk saying - and by folk I mean suits - discussions have proceeded past the preliminary would you consider exchanging body fluids stage. Heh. I don't see it for a number of reasons, but heh nonetheless.

  8. I owe you a profound and true apology, BDR. I was under the impression that you had no genetic link to the ACC and that you were shooting at the ACC from atop a hill. I have been corrected by an intermediary. Now that I understand the closeness of your connection, the true ACC earwig that has burrowed into your consciousness, I will never again make such an error.