Tuesday, August 23, 2016

White-Orange, White-Pink

  • Olive is walking around the house screaming, her human is gone. Doesn't come when called gone. Not Ohio, not Michigan, closer, 40 miles, Baltimore, but gone. The human's parents miss her too.
  • Olive's human's parents are sad that Olive misses her human (& really visa versa too). We are (sad for Planet but) glad Olive's human's partner is allergic to cats so Olive is still with us.
  • Olive likes Fleabus. Fleabus likes Olive when Olive is asleep.
  • Not in our news.
  • Needing to believe in goodness in a world of assholes.
  • It's all fun until someone loses an eye.
  • How Bill Clinton killed welfare.
  • Some have emailed that this shitty blog is acting shitty, not loading, the Egoslavian Flag not shrinking into its correct column width, blogrolls not expanding. I know. It's possibly if not probably related to all the youtubes, but who knows, and who knows how to fix or if fixing is an option. Damn my free blogging platform.
  • First great epic of modern sloth.
  • Square WaveWhereas Naipauline scenes of abuse and erotic degradation bespeak a deeper misanthropy and resignation, Square Wave is ultimately a novel about the possibility of intellectual uplift in a self-consciously global context. Its social dystopianism, for De Silva, seems almost like window-dressing for a rare and moving faith in the power of the trained mind. In this way, De Silva emerges as a rare voice committed to mapping the many tones of a hostile world. Maybe.
  • Re: ▼ any talk of American football puts the James Wright poem below in my head.
  • This Pitchfork article on new American Football (emo? shoegaze? math rock?) put this old American Football in my head:


James Wright

In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home,
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.

Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other’s bodies.


  1. From here the shrink's eventual, whenever slow. Blooggenerally speaking, it's not anywhere near as hang-upy as when it was reelly so.

  2. 1)in former times, when i was a child, we would drive - i.e. my father would drive with self, brother and mother as passengers - from the dc area up to the boston area and would typically have lunch at a howard johnson's along the new jersey turnpike - clam roll, for example, would be something i would eat in those days

    2)the regrettable turn for the worse of the family friend is almost certainly a product of brain deterioration - as someone is reported to have said, "forgive them - they don't know what they're doing" - that could be said of a great many people, in fact - it's still disturbing, of course - all part of the terror of the situation

    3) i'm once again reminded of my favorite philosophical joke

    a)how's x?
    b)compared to what?