Sunday, March 18, 2018

See, Leech, the Light!

My friend P died of massive stroke this past Tuesday. None of you knew her. She was 54. She smoked two packs of Marlboro Lights a day for forty years, drank a dozen diet cokes a day, drank tequila everyday for six months, not for six months, everyday for six months, not for six months....

Doing monthly blogroll maintenance - the fuck does blogroll maintenance even among the fuck who keeps a blog? - I clicked on Red, a poet I digitally met via T, a poet I knew of before we met digitally, and Red's blog's dead. Red too, I asked T, who replied, Wait ten/fifteen years and you'll understand. You'll be cowboy Red. W/o the 10 gallon stetson. Stuff happens, That's the Murica part of murica. Get away from that Grey Ocean sometime, you'll know what I mean.

I just finished my first re-read of Crime and Punishment in at least thirty years. I loved it, loved it while all the while wanting to brain Raskolnikov with an, um, ax, the vacillating fuck, so yes, I think I might know what Tom means, but not all of it.

  • Olive got a box yesterday.
  • UPDATE! Red's OK, I think. As for his blog, see update below.
  • The crisis of modern masculinity
  • LO, the mighty bulwarks of ephemera v the graffiti of the commentary despoiling its pristine surfaces.
  • Running to a sunken place.
  • Maggie's weekly links.
  • (no subject), or: you are world/
  • { feuilleton }'s weekly links.
  • Something odd going on in Digitalstan, I am telling you three times. 
  • UPDATE! O, the bacefook thing.
  • UPDATE! Still, Red's blog, for instance. The feed had stopped, he'd dropped to bottom of a blogroll, and when I clicked on the link I was asked by some company if I wanted to buy the domain name. In email from T today he sent a link to Red's latest. I removed the dead link from the blogroll, installed the new.....
  • October.
  • Below stolen from a Sunday morning tweet by David Hayden @seventydys

Jack Spicer



  1. Sorry about your fiend. Sorry about Vietnam, more as time passes. Sorry about our species' general tendency toward self-destruction, the worm at the heart of the rose, which (despite having seen it in action and having discovered some of the best metaphors for it) I acknowledge but have never, ever understood. Louise Glück is right: death cannot harm me / more than you have harmed me, / my beloved life.

  2. 0)that's a good looking cat, and a very satisfactory box

    1)when tom clark tells you to "get away from that grey ocean sometime" - what does he mean by "grey ocean"?

    2)over the weekend missus charley and i went to a musical event that included a performance of "lift every voice and sing" -

    1. Olive, I've never before an all white cat, half canvas, half model.

      T is a handful I'm forever grateful to know.