Saturday, April 23, 2016

Our Flesh Is Not Widely Loved

  • I had ordered Youngs Inside the Future last year and then promptly misplaced the CD a day after it arrived, guess what I found last night.
  • I'm now in my cycle at the stage when a radio commercial (this one played each half inning on Nationals' baseball radio) becomes an overblown metaphor of everyone and everything pissing me off: Budweiser (says the over-baritoned masculine voiceover). Brewed the hard way, not the easy way. With twelve breweries across the country we're not small, we're large. Budweiser, the famous (baritone drops for emphasis) AMERICAN (enunciate) lager, not backing down since (whatever the fuck year they use), the Dutch-owned fucks.
  • I had never seen a Budweiser brewery until Planet went to college in Ohio and we were on the Columbus Beltway, north side, it's a fucking factory.
  • Hyperstitional Gazer of Futurity. I kinda agree.
  • Starhawking the privilege game.
  • Hillary's Courtiers: on Meritocracy.
  • Bill Clinton to Millennials: You are everything wrong with this country, vote for Hillary.
  • On the  Clintons as cyborgs.
  • Survive, resist, endure. Bringing Native Women's Struggle to Life on Stage.
  • Also too ▲ Changing the Law One Show at a Time.
  • Under the painted staircase.
  • The rhetoric of tweeting.
  • >> Deleted bleggalgaze re: why I value weekend posts / see post title <<
  • On Zeitgeist, postscript. Also too re: 80s by way of Prince.
  • This week in water.
  • It's Rockville, not Potomac, WaPo assholes.
  • The above and below Youngs songs are the only two I could find on youtube, the bottom song from an earlier album.
  • More Youngs' songs here.
  • >> Deleted bleggalgaze re: fine metaphors abounding as bleggal keystone <<
  • Cassandra Canary Weathervane Fool. I had to stop and think about it when I remembered something like that once. (See the last line of the Wright poem below to see what reminded me - hell, the whole poem.) No reunion tour planned.
  • >> Deleted bleggalgaze re: fuck me. <<
  • Just ordered Shallcross, C.D. Wright's first posthumous book of new poems submitted for pub before her death. I swear I only read about the new book today though I've been reading Wright the past six months (started before she died on me, Fuck 2016): the poem yesterday and one syllables was Wright-inspired. I haven't blossomed an infatuation with anyfuckingthing in I can't remember...
  • Ask me nice - if I like you I can turn you on to some Wright.


C.D. Wright

     I am the goat. Caroline by name. Nee 6, January. Domesticated
since the 6th century before Jesus, a goat himself.

     We have served as a source of meat, leather, milk, and hair.
Our flesh is not widely loved. Yet our younger, under parts
make fine gloves.

     Out of our hair - pretty sweaters, wigs for magistrates. Our
milk is good for cheese.

     We share these gifts with Richard Milhous Nixon, who gained
national prominence for his investigation of Mr Hiss.

     We're no sloth, full-time workers a the minimum wage,
We had an annual income last year of $6,968, a little less than
your average subway musician.

     Our horoscope assures - we will be a great success socially
and in some artistic calling.

     We are sure-footed, esp. on hills. We live on next-to-nothing.
This week's victuals: ironing board covers and swollen paperbacks.
Our small hills of filings fall under the heading of useful by-products.
This we call Industrial Poetry. Both of us being Bearded, Mystic,


  1. 1)the poet's assertion that the meat of the goat is not widely loved is one that could be qualified - the milk-fed kid - cabrito - has its enthusiasts - as is stated in an article by helen thompson from the september 1986 texas monthly

    For more than twenty years, the central Texas town of Brady has staged the World Championship Barbeque Goat Cook-off on Labor Day weekend. Cabrito is a delicacy that has its ardent admirers—and many detractors. To those who have failed to see the merit in a crunchy yet tender piece of goat meat, the blame must be placed squarely on the way it’s been cooked and on the fact that the goat you got probably wasn’t a ten-to-eighteen-pound, suckling kid slaughtered at thirty to forty days of age. Older goat is often passed off as cabrito, but once they start browsing on grass, goats develop an unmistakable mutton flavor. They are also tough. The best time to get real cabrito is May through October. After October, you should be skeptical.

    Cooking your own cabrito can be real simple—if you want to dig a hole in your backyard, as purists insist. All you need is a three-foot-deep pit with a mesquite or oak fire raging in it. Wrap a skinned cabrito in a gunnysack bound with wire and set the meat in the pit. Cover it with dirt to seal in the heat and let it cook all day. The cabrito will be smoke-seasoned and tender by nightfall. Apartment-dwellers might want to opt for the kitchen method of cooking cabrito: place half a cabrito in a roasting pan with salt, pepper, and two or three onions and baste with hot lard or shortening. Cook for an hour and 45 minutes in a 375-degree oven, turning every twenty minutes or so. Sure beats having to dig up the back yard.

    - See more at:

    2)also goat-related - a cartoon by mr fish from 2008, recently reposted at mongo, at the moments blog

    The caption says: Hillary Clinton hoping not to be outdone by Barack Obama's recent array of toughness. The dialog balloon says: "As President, not only will I never sit down to pee, but I will stand while defecating and I will defecate whenever and wherever I please, like a goat."

  2. Thanks for helping to spread the word about the VAWA play 'Sliver of a Full Moon." Next stop Stanford Law School.