- Iggy's 71 today.
- So Powers' Overstory broke the sweet run of reading focus, and I remember everything I don't like about Powers which reminds me too much of a few things I don't like about me.
- Too much undergirding with short cuts in service of ideas so self-evident to me I can't be bothered with honest but boring joist buttressing, for instance.
- See, a young woman, stoned and naked, electrocutes herself on a shoddy light switch and dies for two minutes, when she revives she's anew, knows her past life a sham, and tree spirits talk to her now!
- Also too: the hero of the novel are trees and trees are going to lose and I can't take it, another thing I don't like about me.
- Horrible writing dialogue, Powers and also too me, and I'm better, for fuck's sake.
- I miss writing dialogue, but not as much as I miss Thursday Night Pints.
- Gist: joist.
- Here's Olive last night:
- The above bigger at other place.
- Coexistence III.
- War profiteers v people of the United States.
- Law is a flag, and gold the wind that makes it wave.
- You can't handle the truth.
- So, I'll set Overstory aside and perhaps pick it up again, though I can't ever imagine doing so.
- Picked up Murnane again, me and my addictions.
- UPDATE! Murnane, too soon. I remember everything I don't like about Murnane which reminds me too much of a few things I don't like about me.
- Too much undergirding with faith that the image of books on the Hungarian Revolution on a bookshelf I can see from under the bed in the downstairs basement of my maternal grandparents house in 1968 while my grandmother, who doesn't know I'm under the bed, curses out my crippled grandfather for his uselessness resonates as much as life defining moment to you in the millionth gong as it does to me in my billionth.
- In good news, it only took 58 and a half years but Dickinson finally sings to me, her Dark helping unDark me. Better yet: Dark me.
- Robert Smith 59 today.
SAFE IN THEIR ALABASTER CHAMBERS
Safe in their Alabaster Chambers -
Untouched by Morning -
and untouched by noon -
Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection,
Rafter of Satin and Roof of Stone -
Grand go the Years,
In the Crescent above them -
Worlds scoop their Arcs -
and Firmaments - row -
Diadems - drop -
And Doges surrender -
Soundless as Dots,On a Disk of Snow.