- The traditional New Year's Song at this shitty blog.
- New Year's plagiarism!
- Today's Maqroll precept: Is it true we forget most of what has happened to us? Isn't it more likely that a portion of the past serves as seed, an unnamed incentive for setting out again toward a destiny we had foolishly abandoned? A crude consolation. Yes, we do forget. And it's just as well.
- 2013: It was a very bad year.
- Surveillance is so 2013.
- 2014 predictions.
- New term: flexian web, as in this is how the Flexians maintain continuity and control of important political and economic nodes in our Upwards Redistribution Nation. One big happy Flexian Family, which does not include us except as units of rent extraction.
- Don Durito's origins plus a bleggalgaze.
- Thoughts on a budding literary obsession.
- Brad's 2013 reading list. I c/ped the Ruefle poem below from the post.
- HEY! Lee Ranaldo's new band:
he spider can barely walk, his legs are so scared –
he’s got to get from the bar of soap to the uppermost
showerstall tile that is his home, and he has suffered
a betrayal so great he’s lost in his own neighborhood,
crawling on his hands and knees, so to speak, in and out
of the shadows of other tiles he’s passed before but
barely recognizes, given his state of shock and disbelief.
Spiders don’t hear very well — he can’t hear the rain
as it falls and cools his flaming legs, the distant screams
of another’s crisis means nothing to him, he can’t hear
his own heartbeat, an alarm casting his skeleton straight
into hell, his blood ignited by the bellows of loss.
If the gods implore him to hold his saliva, he doesn’t
hear them, he goes on crawling toward the one safe spot,
which has become, in his mind, the destination of his life
and this night rolled into one, a wet bag at the bottom
of which, were it to fall, would lie his demise –
too awful to discuss.