Monday, July 3, 2017

Here We Are, on Top of the Utopian Arc

  • I dreamt that last night (wrote it five years ago); a friend's double-death watch reminded me of one of ours.
  • So yes, this is a bleggalgaze.
  • The colonial logic of Grenfell.
  • Mud-wrestling pigeon seeks chess-playing pig.
  • How's that for commenting - of sorts - on Trump's wrestling gif and Christie's private beach?
  • Bump again: the rise of the thought leader.
  • If only someone who used to post his shitty poems on his shitty blog had been yodeling that politics is professional wrestling his entire conscious political life.
  • Reminder: Every other word out of HRC's mouth during campaign was not SCOTUS or DOJ - that would have broke kayfabe.
  • When A Giant Dog covers Sparks:


Mary Jo Bang

Here we are, on top of the utopian arc. The water is shallow. An oil spill shimmers on the surface like a lens catches light and folds it in front of a mirror. If someone stands next to you, they are there, even when outside the picture. Which makes total obscurity relative to luck and such. Unlike the law, architecture lasts. A façade, like an ideal, can be oppressive unless balanced by a balcony on which you can stand and call down to those in the street, Come over here and look up at us. Aren’t we exactly what you wanted to believe in?