- Aquarium Drunkard put Fugazi in my head last night, had been a while....
- Autism Awareness Day.
- I am blogblocked and unconcerned while catching myself thinking about going to a baseball game and reading the new Joyce Carol Oates novel. Excellent.
- But here's the thing, the never-ending argument: Can you imagine how far the Civil Rights Movement would have gotten, had it been run entirely by complainers for whom nothing was ever good enough? To hell with integrating the Montgomery public transit system when the problem was so much larger! Let me hasten to add, fuck you, then hasten to reiterate, fuck you. The oldest trope in my quiver full of self-justification is the tug-of-war trope (not that I'm claiming I climb down from my complicity to tug on any rope, yo, I'm lard), if it wasn't for fucking radicals the Rebecca Solnits would be delivering the same sermon from six counties to the right. But wait, there's more! You don’t have to participate in this system, but you do have to describe it and its complexities and contradictions accurately, and you do have to understand that when you choose not to participate, it better be for reasons more interesting than the cultivation of your own moral superiority, which is so often also the cultivation of recreational bitterness. Yeah, you fuckwit.
- The untrustworthy and the trustful.
- Today in Motherfucking Obama.
- Why we slobber over Žižek.
- Why Krugman was wrong. Actually, he likes Arcade Fucking Fire: that calls into question any and everything he says.
- When culture is the best explanation.
- On the occasion of the removal of my girlfriend's dog's balls.
- Essential design principles for felines.
- Technoscience and existentialism.
- The Painted Library.
- On (dis)location.
- New Gass reviewed. I'm about a third through the new Joyce Carol Oates, I've Anne Carson's Autobiography of Red on my desk (looks fascinating), so I'll get to Gass, though not soon.
- BTW, that review may require a subscription. If yes, let me know, if you've been blogtrusty I can get you in (and into LOTS of stuff) if you ask nice.
- It's National Poetry Month, I'm so sorry.
- Poet as condition, not profession.
THE END OF ANOTHER CREATURE
Starlings in the magnolia tree crackle, static, lightening; a helicopter floats overhead. Harvest brings dove-hunting season, a great migration. For six days I watch monarch butterflies scatter across the Metroplex, dream their carcasses onto the highway, dream black beetles biting my fingers in your clasped hands. I feel a pilot light at the back of my throat, while the helicopter groans a few blocks deeper down Ross Avenue. And the magnolia tree falls silent, and the season concludes.
The Market migrate; the Market scatters across the Metroplex.
The Market dreams my carcass onto the highway, groans
a few blocks deeper into my neighborhood.
In the liquidity of the late afternoon sun, a truck on the avenue clips branches from elms. What policy might we bring forth on a front-yard folding table? Deposit insurance? The return of Glass Steagall? Pull over. Price what you see. Privatize this rush-hour traffic. Look disappointed. The helicopter answers: pulse, pulse, pulse. The fences make a triangle, a shed of mostly shadow and quiet behind the boxwoods where someone left chemicals.
Gah, indeed. Or more like blegh.ReplyDelete
FEMALE PLAYGOER (to the playwright, in the theater lobby after the premier of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead): "I didn't understand that play. What is it about?"
STOPPARD (Beaming): "It's about to make me a pile of money."
Thanks for the linkage, as always. Also thanks for the Bittova.
j ust starting to look back a little , i've been away, of in , but away (like jacobb/io z/ but a girl ), more focused on putting together a bk that others have been wanting , asking for .. of seeing something more of .. for years now ,many ,of drawing diaries , and dancing films from stills , and of my , recorded only a little , voice in song , i've always said to them ..i will when i'm ready ,of voicing , and i will when i see that the need for ..is overwhelming ..,/ i have shown in little bits over the years , /this is an off line ..and will continue to be , but i have agreed to a showing in the fall of this year , here , still , of still ,but moving , of dance , drawings and a few words ,of voicing /i left a comment over with who ever grey hoos is , because he reminds me of something that has always been missing of in my relation ..not in ship with my father , the now retired painting , arch itect'ural drafts man , he reminds me with what i have looked at only in shorter ..will be longer looking .. of what he has gathered of liking i assume .. of some joy of built .. that arouses my mind in the way that bjork suggested at with her first out put /said the eau falling now \ fleabus in the lobbyReplyDelete