Friday, December 23, 2016

My Complicity, or: I Expect Compensation for All I Don't Say

  • Revolution, fellowmofos. Call them motherfuckers, get $15 off your next bill!
  • Alternatively, ask one of yours on the account to stop sending videos, save $15 on your next bill.
  • Also a reminder, a percentage of what I pay to Verizon is used to pay for my surveillance.
  • This free blogging platform doesn't charge me to surveil me.
  • Reminder: there's a reason all post but three a year are tagged My Complicity.  
  • Huge wave.
  • Kill kill kill kill the poor.
  • Trump is just the next stage of the disease.
  • Why are you still talking about Hillary Clinton? If people who deserve blame refuse to accept it, and continue to occupy positions of power, then it’s rational to conclude that their pathologies will be left unchecked, and the inevitable result will be more failure. Nothing will change. That, in brief, is why we are still talking about Hillary.
  • She's running in 2020, yo.
  • Vich vay to the nuculer wessel? Today's sillyass Star Trek allusion, you're welcome.
  • Coetzee's description of his project explains in part why I don't get his fiction.
  • #621.
  • From Four Books.
  • Today in Blessed Serendipity, my Zappadan post of three days ago brought Adrian Belew into comments, today is Belew's birthday. Ask Hamster or Earthgirl about The Bears.


Rae Armantrout

The trees, good Seraphim,
begin to sing
at dawn
about making sugar
out of light
and the happy traffic
between high and low –
as if that were all


I expect compensation
for all I don’t
say –
for each time I stop
before coming
to an obvious conclusion
or an uncertain end –
for my discretion.


(Music needs silence
more than silence needs music.)


  1. Disgrace is one of the greatest novels of my lifetime.

    1. It's me. I actually was spurred a few months ago to look at Disgrace again, but the copies in Library all highlighted, underlined, and margin-filled, and fuck that. So I tried Elizabeth Costello and, forgive me, found it so fuckawful I learned it's not just me but him too.

  2. I have concluded that The Bears were terrible, except for "Complicated Potatoes" and "The Best Laid Plans." (Not sure about the title, too lazy to go fetch my iPod). I recognize that this may be just me.

    I bet you 15 bucks I can get you to call me a motherfucker for free.