The one of who asked in person, the four who asked via email, all recent friends and readers who weren't aware of certain Blegsylvanian history, have been answered re: yes, yes I did delete a comment yesterday because hate aimed at me is fine but leave my _________ out of it. Three friends who know Blegsylvanian history emailed to laugh, one dared me to write about this (Brooklyn Pilsner, please), one suggested enabling comment moderation, said this is precisely why he enabled his, and no, not yet, though who knows.
So, a Pere Ubu or Two Pale Boys or Rocket from the Tombs or some David Thomas production song a day for the month of June. This is an executive decision: you don't have a say.
- What's the matter with metadata.
- What metadata can do.
- Underestimating the surveillance state.
- PRISM and the Pentagon Papers.
- Drones and the quiet American.
- Who the fuck is David Simon and why should I care?
- Being rude to politicians.
- BroadSnark's things you might have missed.
- For in each of us there is a hidden realm.
- Extreme close-ups of dogs he walks.
- Lisa Robertson interview.
- Rae Armentrout reading and talking.
- Rogaine Bunny Sonnet.
- Juliana Barwick 2008.
- Yeah, I know I posted this within the past three months, I woke up with it in my head:
A REACTIONARY TALE
I was a caring husband. I bought socks for my family.
My swarthy wife liked to wear these thick woolen socks that came up to her milky thighs.
I had a lover also. People could see me walking around each evening carrying a walking stick.
My most vivid memory, looking back, is of a pink froth bubbling out of my infant's mouth.
Not everything was going so well: one morning, malnourished soldiers marched down our tiny street, bringing good news.
When good news arrives by mail, the cuckoo sang, tear up the envelope. When good news arrives by e-mail, destroy the computer.
When an old friend came by to reclaim an old wound, I said to my oldest son: Go dump daddy's ammo boxes into the fragrant river.
To reduce drag, some of my neighbors were diving headfirst into a shallow lake.
We were rich and then we were poor. A small dog or maybe a cat now pulls our family wagon.
blac'd', what is the first par agra ph a bout ? ..could you say more ? , curious because of all of the odd of comments and miss comma'd ..of what my writing /way that i .. s peak,of my so not s p ock , ..has cau sed ...on line in this way over the last less than nin e .. .ReplyDelete
just getting a moment to look back now ..and seeing that this may just be something of .. trot , i thought it was about something else ..oh never mind .. . sorryReplyDelete
No apologies needed, anne.... and your comments are always welcome here....ReplyDelete
would you like a tor. weatheri..ng re port as well, and a tell of the sta ges they set up be.. low 'er 'dow , and a tell on how barth passed a cig to vinny go gogh in the wee hours last , etc, .. now a look in on smut c. ,then ..out .. ,ish says i need more sun on my light ..just a littl'ReplyDelete