Thursday, September 26, 2013

Who Has Slipped from the Ferry or Leaped from the Bridge

Bryan Ferry is sixty-fucking-eight years old today. Christ, we're all old. High Egoslavian Holy Day, his music, solo too (some of it) but of course primarily Roxy Music, is in the inner circle of acts that rotate in and out of the two non-permanent spots in my Sillyass Deserted Island Game. Here's some kayfabe - I look back in archives at these birthday's to see the songs I want to repeat; a year ago today I was creeped out that Ferry looked too much like Mitt Romney. It wasn't fear of a Romney presidency - long-timers can vouch I bet pints in January 2009 that Obama would be reelected (and none took the bet) - I hated that any flavor asshole put music I loved in my head. If Obama looked like Kate Bush that would ruin a bit of her music for me too.

  • I survived, I got over it, I had forgot.
  • The Return of ScubaDog. I'd do that here if I could. Yes, I know it looks much better on a wide screen than a square screen. Fuck it.
  • Which way to heaven?
  • Swarovski Kristallnacht.
  • We like Ike, man.
  • This week in water.
  • BRT!
  • Purple Line! Of course Columbia Country Club won. It's only twelve feet, but fuck the Columbia Country Club.
  • I don't care.
  • Laytonsville! One of my vivid memories as a six year old was news of the fire that burned down the Laytonsville fire house - I was the kid who played fireman, who would take empty shoe boxes and make fire stations out of them. There was a photo of it on the front page of the Washington Sun that I saved, and Elric's father would drive us out every weekend to look at the ruins which smoldered for two months.
  • SeatSix, who wasn't born yet when Elric's father would drive us out to look at the smoldering ruins of the firehouse (and wouldn't be for another seven years), remembering Ligeti's metronome piece, posted here often, sends me metronomes.
  • UPDATE! Gaddis, for those of you who do.
  • On Nobel lit bettting.
  • Dear _______.
  • White out.


Marvin Bell

1. At the Walking Dunes, Eastern Long Island
That a bent piece of straw made a circle in the sand.   
That it represents the true direction of the wind.
Beach grass, tousled phragmite.
Bone-white dishes, scoops and bowls, glaring without seeing.   
An accordion of creases on the downhill, sand drapery.   
The cranberry bushes biting down to survive.
And the wind’s needlework athwart the eyeless Atlantic.   
And the earless roaring in the shape of a sphere.
A baritone wind, tuned to the breath of the clouds.   
Pushing sand that made a hilly prison of time.
For wind and water both move inland.
Abrading scrub — the stunted, the dwarfed, the bantam.   
A fine sandpaper, an eraser as wide as the horizon.
Itself made of galaxies, billions against the grain.
Sand: the mortal infinitude of a single rock.

2. Walking in the Drowning Forest

Pitch pine, thirty-five-foot oaks to their necks in sand.   
That the ocean signals the lighthouse.
Gull feathers call to the fox that left them behind.   
Impressions of deer feet, dog feet and gull claws.   
The piping plover in seclusion.
Somewhere the blind owl to be healed at sunset.   
Here is artistry beyond self-flattery.
A rootworks wiser than the ball of yarn we call the brain.   
A mindless, eyeless, earless skin-sense.
To which the crab comes sideways.
With which the sunken ship shares its secrets.
From which no harness can protect one, nor anchor fix one.   
He knows, who has paddled an hour with one oar.   
He knows, who has worn the whitecaps.
Who has slipped from the ferry or leaped from the bridge.   
To be spoken of, though no one knows.


  1. Best album cover of our adolescence, that's for damned sure. Or the most viewed, anyway.

    I'm down with BRT. I'm just not down with taking traffic lanes for it, and that's absolutely what Marc Elrich wants to do. Not that I think he's a bad person. In fact, he's probably most what I'd be like if I were in that job.

    Columbia Country Club is one of the three locations in MoCo I'd target for low-yield nuclear weaponry, if I were a low-yield nuclear weaponry targeter. The other two are, of course, nuclear-free zones. Don't worry, I'll give you advance notice if I get THAT job, since I'm not sure there's something low-yield enough to take out one of those targets and not touch your house.

    Holyfuck. 40 years, and I don't think I knew the Laytonsville VFD story. Leading to far too much inside baseball that we don't need to explore. Jeebus, we were rotten little adolescent fucks. And without being anywhere NEAR as rotten as it gets.

    1. Earthgirl's favorite restaurant is Lackbay Arketmay Istrobay right at the MARC station in Parrett Gark - and the mussels are fabulous, best we've ever and all, but please, give me an hour's warning then splat away.

      Whenever I drive through Laytonsville - admittedly not often and much less now that I don't seem to be taking long drives before United games - I look at the empty lot that's been empty since they removed the rubble (Barney).

    2. I think Ilse went to that place with some teacher buddies from the school Planet didn't go to, but I don't remember whether she liked it. She either liked it or said it was a one-too-many-ingredients place. I can't be bothered to remember things my wife thinks.

      Of course, the big bonus of the blast radius for that target would be that mall thingie. Which, I am given to understand, is a classic dying mall thingie.

      I did a long meander from Shady Grove westish to Redland to Muncaster to 108 to 27 to 270 (I had dawdled too long, or I'd have been more creative, but once 27 hits 355, creativity ends and I'm back in my usual world) to Shady Grove not long ago. It was weird.

  2. Okay you win! I clicked through to ScubaDog (great pic fo sho) without checking the status line. A foolma once, shame on...Won't get fooled again. Call me Traffic; drive me there.

    And yes to the previous Commenter, Landycakes, that was the most coveted album cover of my and my friends' adolescence as well—unless it was the Beatles' Dead Baby cover or the VU actual peeling banana cover, but the two latter for different reasons obviously.

    Thanks again and as always, BDog, for the linkage.

    1. I really would flip this to that in a nanosecond if I could.

  3. Thanks for the linkage the other day!