There I Was: a Stinking Adult

Fleabus likes the replacement laser light I bought for Olive after the battery died in the last one. They burn out fast, Olive always screaming. Fleabus had zero interest in all the previous, loves the new. Olive spazzes as if the legendary pink dots are the same (or different, all spazzworthy), and the legendary pink dots look the same to me too. Fleabus, like me, is going blind, once she sees the legendary pink dot she can see it until it disappears then has trouble finding the legendary pink dot again.

• It's what I got. I'm... gagged and punchy, and though not related the former is fortunate because of the latter.
• Reverberation.
• Compare the media coverage of Mosul and Aleppo.
• Why he calls himself a Marxist.
• Participation is complicity.
• There are only three regular posts a year here not tagged My Complicity.
• Just plain nasty. I chalk up my disappointment in the second crushing of the Confederacy by noting that the Clinton machine took the cooperation of crackers for granted, I said to a Hillaryite Colleague, tell Mike I always liked him, it was only business. HC said, what? Killing Trump was shooting Tessio, just business, killing Sanders was garroting Carlo, personal. HC said, what?
• Elizabeth Drew writes Trump's obituary.
• Engagement pedometer.
• Stoneground spelt and millet flour.
• Czech out these forgotten composers.
• Angela Carter - I've never, for no good reason and without intent, start where?
• The new Krasznahorkai novellas arrived yesterday. Sweet.
• Matmos performed Robert Ashley's Perfect Lives live? WANT.
• 50 best shoegaze albums. With music. Sweet.

THE HISTORY OF MY LIFE

John Ashbery

Once upon a time there were two brothers.
Then there was only one: myself.

I grew up fast, before learning to drive,
even. There I was: a stinking adult.

I thought of developing interests
someone might take an interest in. No soap.

I became very weepy for what had seemed
like the pleasant early years. As I aged

increasingly, I also grew more charitable
with regard to my thoughts and ideas,

thinking them at least as good as the next man's.
Then a great devouring cloud

came and loitered on the horizon, drinking
it up, for what seemed like months or years.