I Pay Five Cents for a Daily Synopsis of Current History, Two Bits and the Late Lowdown on Hollywood, Twist a Dial for Stardust or Shostakovich, and with Each Bleacher Stub I reserve the Right to Shout “Kill the Bum” at the Umpire—

Dmitri Shostakovich was born 106 years ago today. Have I mentioned I love his music? Today's pieces via requests from three friends, THANKS! I've been asked to tell stories of Blegsylvanian history, NO THANKS! I hear that NFL owners are willing to ruin the integrity of the game to save pennies against billions of dollars of profit to squash a union. Heh, integrity of the game. You're funny. Fine metaph.... o, fuck it.

• How do you take your poison?
• The rack of inequality.
• Bleggalgazing.
• 25 random things.
• OK, Blegsylvanian history: Stringtown's been dying for years. The King of Anarchists (who is a good guy, has been Kind to me and this blog, and understands the irony of the gig) in our stringtown hasn't posted in months, hastening the dying by millimeters. His resurrection if it occurs will set off hosannahs, and some not on his blegrells will compete in his comments for his attention to be Vice-King of Anarchists (though not all who comment there are necessarily competing). 
• The half-life of ephemera.
• Re: Dylan and Nobel - I apologize to me for letting those two words in the same sentence yoink me though the yoinking felt good. I don't hate Bob Dylan's music, it just bores me, that's on me. Dylan is Hemingway/Ashbery-like, one can agree and disagree of the merit of the original but hate the influence each cast, the many motherfuckingly awful decades of imitators their influence spawned.
• Stay hungry.
• Quartets 11, 12, 13.

SELF-PORTRAIT

Frank Marshall Davis

I would be

A painter with words

Creating sharp portraits

On the wide canvas of your mind   

Images of those things

Shaped through my eyes

That interest me;

But being a Tenth American   

In this democracy

I sometimes sketch a miniature   

Though I contract for a mural.

Of course

You understand this democracy;

One man as good as another,

From log cabin to White House,

Poor boy to corporation president,   

Hoover and Browder with one vote each,   

A free country,

Complete equality—

Yeah—

And the rich get tax refunds,

The poor get relief checks.

As for myself

I pay five cents for a daily synopsis of current history,

Two bits and the late lowdown on Hollywood,

Twist a dial for Stardust or Shostakovich,

And with each bleacher stub I reserve the right to shout “kill the bum” at the umpire—

Wherefore am I different

From nine other Americans?

But listen, you

Don’t worry about me

I rate!

I’m Convert 4711 at Beulah Baptist Church,   

I’m Social Security No. 337-16-3458 in Washington,

Thank you Mister God and Mister Roosevelt!

And another thing:—

No matter what happens

I too can always call in a policeman!