Thursday, June 13, 2013

Many Trophies Show Us Frozen

Yes, this is the second consecutive Meerkat Thursday, as long as Ken keeps posting meerkat gifs on his Wednesday morning radio show there will be Meercat Thursdays. So we didn't go to the US Open Cup game. One of Planet's uncles woke up with a grippe and bagged, logistics from work would have made making it by game-time iffy (fucking United even starts these games at 7:00, Germantown Maryland, a 7:00 start, cause there's no rush hour traffic in Montgomery County, like there aren't just two two-lane roads into SoccerPlex), and wicked thunderstorms were predicted to start by late game (as it turned out, that was a false concern). Fine metaphors abound, where once I wouldn't miss a United game in Germantown because United, the whole point of the evening was a family reunion. And United won, there will another game in Germantown in two weeks, though of course no one saw that coming when we decided not to go.

  • I'm not going to do the research, but I'm certain that the need for Sun Kil Moon cascades are often followed by the need of Mazzy Star cascades.
  • Story about a relative (a panopticon technician) who is thoroughly disgusted with me re: Manning/Snowden, I could tell you the story but won't because it's private .
  • Story about a friend (whose wife is a upper tier panopticon poobah) who is thoroughly disgusted with me re: Manning/Snowden, I could tell you the story but won't because it's private.
  • Overheard conversations about Snowden and fucking peasants by professors at work who couldn't give a flying fuck what I think,  they are influential motherfucking Grand Poobahs of the Royal Order of Buffalos (identify that allusion!) I could tell you what they said but won't because I'm just the hired help and I've two years left in the commitment I made 25 years ago. 
  • Fine metaphors abound.


Rodney Jones

From the first, I was too reluctant, achieving by dribs and drabs,   
Happy to linger in shallows while others jackknifed from cliffs, wrong
To exact perfection from a sad piece or add notes to a proven tune;   
But ever the classicist:
                                     in swimming lessons, slowest to learn;
In fights, tentative, preferring the hammerlock to the jab and hook; cautious
In the earliest romances, choking in the clutch, fumbling the caress; or shy
Among the crew-cut Cupids bristling at the armory’s weekend dances;   
But shifty in every game, keeping it close. Always holding still   
And adjuring others to go slow
                                              until we leapt forward that night out of control
And pinned to the seats of Tyler Wilson’s outlandishly unstock Ford   
While, from the opposite side of the valley, scalding in each curve, came the black din
And brunt of Sonny Walker’s highjacker Chevrolet, everyone screaming   
And bearing down to be first across the bridge at Hurricane Creek.

Many trophies show us frozen: a leg poised for the hurdle, an arm cocked for the unanswerable spike.
What I remember through the windshield’s splintering lens is time, a mailbox
Rushing by, the letters TURRENTINE,
                                                      then darkness rolling inside;
Though memory, at best, retrieves maybe six percent in studio light,   
So even now I think we might have turned:
                                                               smart with his hands,
There is a kind of savior who blusters through the South, good with animals and machines,
Who surely somehow would have found a gap, through an open gate   
Into a marshy cornfield

                                    or up a logging road into a hillside wood.   
At any rate, there is just a little while, shy of any bridge, just as judgment
Balances its two blind alternatives and a third accelerates head-on.   
I’ve made a careful study: things that can only be accomplished in deep space,
In another language, in far history, at an almost incalculable speed. Courage is not included, or much foolishness.
They spin the purest glass, they split the atom, they speak with God.

They make a sort of Teflon hip and attach it with metal screws,   
Only the threads upbone keep stripping
                                                          so they have to operate
Again and again, and what she’s accomplished is more of a gait, really,
Than a walk, so when she moves toward me, across any room,   
I think too much of my own will
                                                implicated in that dragging brace.   
Each step is obviously trained, and the whole earned motion full   
Of muscle, plastic, and bone
                                           is coordinated by nerves even the   
Strictest dance does not require. She has said there is no fault,   
But even in such talk,
                                  grace occurs as an accident someone caused.   
If what I require is a thing too certain, braided from probabilities,
There is another thing
                                  articulated in the scars that saved her face—   
And no right now in that night we were shaken and rolled like dice, no right to

Say this guilt to be alive is love, or the opposite of lucky is wrong. 


  1. The meta- around here is making my head spin.

    Meta- for meta-'s sake.

    Meta- for NSA meta-data mining?

    More meerkats!

  2. speaking of fraternal orders, i regularly drive by the knights of pythias chapter on game preserve road in my neck of the woods

    they are still open - they have bingo on tuesday nights, and a protestant congregation uses their facility on sunday morning

    may they live long and prosper

    1. Honk your horn before entering the one-way railroad tunnel.

      Have you hiked any of the Seneca Greenway? It's a 22 or so mile very cool path from near Woodfield all the way to the Aqueduct. Passes right behind the Knight's palace.

    2. Uhm, there are signs up now asking that you not honk your horn. Isn't that how that relative blew up that Gran Torino wagon?

      Snowden's self-martyrdom is no more impressive (or revelatory) than Manning's, or Adam Whatshisbucket. And it's equally pointless. That's not heroism, it's mental illness, and should be both recognized and treated medically and kindly, as such. Of course, unconditional love permits its lovers to masturbate freely and openly, so have at it and don't chafe, unless of course that's your thing.

      Yes, meerkat are awesome.

    3. Yes, I was hoping you'd make that connection.

      We profoundly disagree on multiple angles of these stories. Oh well. Tomorrow night lets argue whether Benny should be fired instead.

  3. there was some.. brewing ..of weathering,wuthering up here as well ..though nothing seemed to happen " ..or something of the heavy sky that would come by late after noon here , so heavy that my head that feels all was thu'd . " quote from part of my comment on if's on the water post , my head tells the weather like no other ,said just starting to look in to day

  4. If you need any fraternal paraphernalia I can get you good deals

  5. (Just kidding it's all overpriced crap and even if I could get you deals, which I doubt I could, it would mean talking to my coworkers WAY more than I'm willing to. Good thing you don't want any fraternal paraphernalia, is the moral of the story.)

  6. and of this from ..our god' is speed /grey hoos " .. have a listen what she has added on ..of her poems ..i assumed , /and if you come across any stream of relating to .. let me know if you can some how .. / .. not patti til something of this fielding now .. . " , to any one here looking in as well and you blackd' .. " .. hoos.. . , i was trying to ask you in that last part of my comment here , .. of in your very different than my own of viewing and taking in .. . bks ,et' , is there any thing that you could direct me towards looking at to do with patti 's add of wording to smells like teen spirit "

  7. Correction:
    From the town of Bedrock, it's a place right out of history...
    (as are they, I guess)

  8. From this angle the meerkat looks a bit like the GEICO gecko.

  9. Wasn't it the Loyal Order of Water Buffaloes?

    Glad I don't play games online.

    Sharing is Caring.
    -- Barney, the Panopticon's Youth Counselor

  10. this is all just a my space no longer mine .. cover up / france and over land will be un shining justin t.'s ass soon. / .. . i love you davidly .. .

  11. peop l e have the power .. in die

  12. and to nigh.. t .. with the meth daling sha k es - anne not meth .. gnod. (s,. thank you blackd'