- The End of "Capitalist Realism?"
- Going back is the new going forward?
- Austerity and crisis?
- Race to the bottom?
- The rise of private government?
- Reasons for Corbyn?
- The Limits of Resistance?
- In the long run we're all dead?
- The handmaid of nativism is amnesia?
- Battle of the Brands?
- Hollywood promotes war for CIA/NSA?
- Self-subordinated and deeply confused?
- The Rise of the Internet's Dirtbag Left?
- Who wants to be Liberal anymore?
- The Hillarium will never fuck off to the sea.
- What replaces discourse?
- Stanley w Olive's paw?
- Above by Planet.
- Far above, me, recent. Seemed pertinent. Broke promise to self.
- I will say this about the Dirtbag Left - when I have initiated contact with My Dirtbag Left Overlords via tweeter, usually to either acknowledge an allusion one made or to make one I hope s/he gets, the Dirtbag Left Overlord usually graciously replies.
- We should be together.
- The Blog Days of Summer bring out the moribund and dead.
- Paleo 101, my dear Old Dirty Bama, was that you on my statcounter?
- Summer is forgotten digibuds blogroll crawling to see who's still alive.
- The bitter fish phish.
- Not here, but in Twooterville, a friend reappears and the wars start anew.
- We should be together.
- Some remember to tread water, remember treading water, fuck themselves off to the sea again.
- The trouble with reading James Tate is he hijacks my writing (more than, at this moment, Ashbery or Ammons), so haikus still yes, not meter exactly in others but....
I wish the stone lady would come to me.
Parakeet or no parakeet
the night is a vial of lighterfluid.
And I have been good, composing the perishable song
of my childhood: one dollar, one frond
meekly but loyally exploding the oath of circles.
I have been the best wound a diamond ever knew.
But what can I do for you? Write an encyclopedia
to which the least gnat could gain entrance?
I love you and I do not love you, perambulating utensils,
street names. An old man is giving mirrors
to a young girl. The meek have inherited the flypaper.
The past is more present than this moment.
I am drinking at a spring, my skin
is red and white. A little burning sensation,
a little joy I leave forever.
Oh well, I keep singing: I sing the song
of utensils, and there is one of street names,
and one of the names of dead pets.
The next day I am giving mirrors to a young girl.
I give free shoes for life to a stone lady.
She walks on air, she walks near the earth
in a region called the cryptosphere.
Intelligence is the repetition of the broken record of syntax that constantly repeats itself.ReplyDelete
When Hillary proclaims she's of the resistance that says it all.
Beware of people urging you to revolt against a murderous well armed state. It's okay with them if you die. They won't.
After the death of Mr. Bebe the Cat I saved another cat from the local animal shelter, possibly the most depressing place on the planet. His name is Teddy. On the first day Teddy was trembling with fear, he'd been abused by his former owners who left him to fend for himself after they moved away. The shelter said Teddy was two or three years old. I took Teddy to the vet and Teddy had rotten teeth which were so bad it caused his lower jaw to chatter. Teddy had fleas, and ear mites. His rotten teeth were so bad you could smell his bad breath from a few feet away. We got rid of his fleas and the ear mites. The vet ended up having to pull most of Teddy's teeth, they couldn't be saved but he is much happier now with the pain gone. My vet said Teddy was probably more like eight years old considering the state of his teeth. I also noticed Teddy wasn't walking right. Mr. Bebe the Cat was a very large male, so large that when he walked he moved the same way you see a panther walk. Teddy walked different so I had x-rays taken. He has severe arthritis in his back and rear legs. I suspect from a former injury, but it's not possible to know for sure. Teddy also has dry eye, a painful condition that I control through medication which I apply to his eyes three times a day plus numerous applications of artificial tears. I also give him some stuff for his arthritis every other day to control the pain. It must be good stuff, wish I could take it too. My doctor won't give me anything for my arthritis. Teddy is a much happier cat than when I first picked him up from the shelter. He helped me with the loss of Mr. Bebe the Cat and I like to think I've made his life better as well. Teddy is my little chatter box. He has a huge vocabulary of various attenuated meows, chirps and squeaks. Teddy loves to play now that I've gotten him feeling better. He's very affectionate and a very sweet cat. I reassure him that I won't leave him to die alone like his former asshole moronic owners. He seems to trust me now and loves to curl up and snuggle with me every night. I don't trust anyone who hates cats.
The trouble with revolutions is they merely replace one set of assholes with another set of assholes and a lot of people die a bloody death for this. I've got better things to do like taking care of Teddy.
You are lucky for Teddy, Teddy lucky for you. Send a photo blckdgrd @ gmail dot com and I'll post!Delete
your arthritis may well be more troublesome than mine but i find some pain relief by using an over-the-counter nsaid - specifically aspirin (with an orange enteric coating - i get it at costco)Delete
the song of utensilsReplyDelete
could tate mean this, which also includes domestic animals?
the video adds a second verse apparently of their own devising
Our Catzilla is about to walk free of this veil of tears. We are going to spend the rest of the day in bed getting brushed.ReplyDelete
Damn. Best to you, Catzilla, and Old Salty.Delete
Gonna be in Acadia again first week of August. You gonna be within a hundred miles or so?
Ping me on the gmail. It is certainly possible, would love to chat in person for a change! Now that I am sufficiently aged we can shake our fists at clouds together! It has been nine years. That is too long.ReplyDelete
the cryptozoa and cryptosphere to which tate refers are depicted inReplyDelete
which is a painting by jean buffett
which is cited in the rather interesting blog post