Friday, March 1, 2013
Keeping a Kind of Thieves' Kitchen for the Things Sequestered from the World
I read a post on Dangerous Minds, I said at Thursday Night Pints, it mocked Palin for saying something Palin stupid and then mocked Mark Levin (who I've never heard of, he's a rightwing radio host apparently) for saying (I told K and L, see you next week, hopefully, D, that I was going to quote directly from post): Law enforcement and national security agencies — they play out multiple scenarios. They simulate multiple scenarios. I’ll tell you what I think they’re simulating: the collapse of our financial system, the collapse of our society and the potential for widespread violence, looting, killing in the streets, because that’s what happens when an economy collapses. I love Dangerous Minds, I said, they provided a Peter Gabriel video I'll use as part of this gag, but who doesn't think, I asked K and L, that law enforcement and national security agencies are planning multiple scenarios in event of the inevitable collapse of our financial system, a system built on value that doesn't exist? Ironic, said L, Bradley Manning's trial starting the same day as your brother's birthday. I said, . , . K said and Aaron Swartz too. L said, , : . I said, there was never a chance Obama wouldn't win reelection. L said, the Obama Austerity Offensive... hey is that a fly or a mini-drone, waving a hands at what I think was fly but can't be sure over her needed to be refilled tumbler of ridiculously priced amber Nyquil.
Eliane Radigue is now the House Band of this shitty blog. Played lots here before, been a couple of months, holyfuck. Fabio played two Radigue pieces yesterday, hear them there, lots here as I find it, including rebroadcasts, my faith is indulged. Today is a High Egoslavian Holy Day. I can't improve on yesterday's post for today's celebration other than noting Nemerov was born on February 29, 1920, so I can only defer to March 1 three out of four years, and at that I respect Lowell, born 96 years ago today and admire and respect and love like an uncle Richard Wilbur, born 92 years ago today, and that if reading Nemerov, born 93 years ago today, reminds me more of the bridge he was to how I read today than of the poetry itself, I am blessed. In praise of minor writers. Joan Didion reads Bob Woodward. Motherfucking Obama: President Obama and a host of administration spokespersons have condemned the Sequestration, explaining how it will cause catastrophic damage to hundreds of vital government services. Those of us who teach economics, however, always stress “revealed preferences” – it’s not what you say that matters, it’s what you do that matters. Obama has revealed his preference by refusing to sponsor, or even support, a clean bill that would kill the sequestration threat to our Nation. Instead, he has nominated Jacob Lew, the author of the Sequestration provision, as his principal economic advisor. Lew is one of the strongest proponents of austerity and what he and Obama call the “Grand Bargain” – which would inflict large cuts in social programs and the safety net and some increases in revenues. Obama has made clear that he hopes this Grand Betrayal (my phrase) will be his legacy. Obama and Lew do not want to remove the Sequester because they view it as creating the leverage – over progressives – essential to induce them to vote for the Grand Betrayal. Just to reiterate the duh. Here's how cynical I am - it's not an accident Obama chose yesterday to do this, fellow rubes. Snark redux. We aren't the world. Offered for consideration, since the subject is out there amongst friends: Prayer of the Anarch. God's resignation letter. Choreographic, chiropractic. Capitalism and inequality. Is Brave New World actually here? Kristol Shrew Persuasion. Late afternoon of the academic elite. Re: the financial crisis at Illtophay - I said, . I agree, said K, but
. L said, , so fuck them all. Maggie's boatload of links. Melville, for those of you who do, or don't but should. Nocturnal resolutions. Knausgaard, for those of you who do. I hate the conceit of the novel, on multiple levels, forgive me, better bleggalgazing than novel-naveling, the first is poorer but honester. Josipovici, for those of you who do. Because you asked about the line between poetry and prose. Prunella's latest playlist. No, I said when K asked, no one will comment on yesterday's Nemerov/Wilbur/Lowell post, only a dozen will read the poems. I'll kill comments when I wake up Friday morning.
Are generally over or around
Erogenous zones, they seem to dive
In the direction of those
Dark places, and indeed
It is their nature to be dark
Themselves, keeping a kind
Of thieves' kitchen for the things
Sequestered from the world
For long of little while,
The keys, the handkerchiefs,
The said and vagrant little coins
That are really only passing through.
For all the locate closest to lust,
No pocket ever sees another;
There is in fact a certain sadness
To pockets, going in their lonesome ways
And snuffling up their sifting storms
Of dust, tobacco bits and lint.
A pocket with a hole in it
Drops out; from shame, is that, or pride?
What is a pocket but a hole?