Tuesday, February 19, 2013

To Make Love, Turn to Page 121. To Die, Turn to Page 172

Got turned on to Foot Village last night by Bodah. I confess it's not a surprise that when I am actually capable of approaching not giving a fuck I rediscover not giving a fuck comes with its own baleful encumbrances, not that I am actually capable of approaching not giving a fuck. Here, one of many things I don't mind giving a fuck about that I don't write about on this blog: The Faculty Senate wishes to express its opposition to a cost reduction measure that puts the burden on staff (including AAPs) and non-tenureline faculty, and therefore on the most vulnerable members of the community, contrary to the values of the University. Austerity, bitches, >>delayed bleggalgazing<<. American exceptionalism. Police stateBanks win again. You win again. System of compromise. Control your local police. Day's workNote to self: when large-scale pot growing in house, don't call police to report burglary of home. Geospatial predictive analysis. The way we kill today. The art of warBleggalgazing comments. Marcus and Markson. Ricouer, for those of you who do. Eight ways to ensure your first novel sucksAshbery talking. Oh, the Rosie photos - we bought a three foot green cat tunnel, photo taken with an iPhone camera set to automatic, I didn't manipulate the image. Why classical music has to be sticky. Gyorgi Kurtag is eighty-seven today, piece below poem.


Bernadette Mayer

You jerk you didn't call me up
I haven't seen you in so long
You probably have a fucking tan
& besides that instead of making love tonight
You're drinking your parents to the airport
I'm through with you bourgeois boys
All you ever do is go back to ancestral comforts
Only money can get—even Catullus was rich but

Nowadays you guys settle for a couch
By a soporific color cable t.v. set
Instead of any arc of love, no wonder
The G.I. Joe team blows it every other time

Wake up! It's the middle of the night
You can either make love or die at the hands of the Cobra Commander


To make love, turn to page 121.
To die, turn to page 172.


  1. And of those comments, more than 20% come from a tiny percentage — the 0.0037% who try dominate the discussion and shout down every one else.

    Haha, I definitely have that problem.

  2. Long overdue that the publishing industry brings back the choose-your-own-adventure books. One wrong turn and you're back in the fifteenth century, getting shot by President Tyrannosaurus's arquebus.

    Fuck you, Jordi Savall and your 80 gajillion buck swankeries.