Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Touches a Bush in Which Birds Are Singing

  • While Landru was commenting I should go hike with my wife I was hiking with my wife on the AT!
  • All I want to do is hike with Earthgirl.
  • After the hike I voted in Maryland primary:

  • Earthgirl, a public school teacher in MOCO, asks me to vote for particular BoE candidates, and of course.
  • I also wanted to vote against a motherfucking rich Blair - motherfucking rich Blairs are a legacy MOCO curse - for County Executive.
  • To be honest, I don't know this motherfucking rich Blair is an heir of motherfucking rich MOCO Blairs, but he is rich and he is a motherfucker and he's trying to buy the job.
  • That race too close to call, and MVA fucked up ballots, there are 80K provisional ballets yet to be counted, may not know if motherfucking rich Blair lost or not for a month.
  • Fuck Ben Cardin, D-Fort Meade.
  • Baal bless Ocasio-Cortez, get ready for the hate from motherfucking Democrats.
  • (Credit to Crowley for graciousness in defeat.)
  • One upset is all you needBut what mattered the most is that Ocasio-Cortez embodies the future of the Democratic Party. An ideologically confident, multi-cultural, female, poised, powerful, and yes, socialist, future. It’s a politics of inspiration that matches uplifting words with actual policies to ameliorate the long dark night of the soul we’ve been going through for too long. And in the face of that, the old guard, which had bolted the door, just gave way.
  • I am telling you three times, the motherfucking professional Democratic establishments sees Ocasio-Cortez' election victory in 2018 as far more dangerous than Donald Trump's victory in 2016.
  • When motherfucking Democrats turn on former motherfucking Democrat.
  • For the record, all credit to whoever killed Deter Paou and hijacked his twitter account.
  • Trapped.
  • A brief (fascist) history of "I don't care."
  • It's still not about the sex.
  • Guided by Voices playing DC Friday October Friday October 19, WHO'S NOT JOINING ME!


Dean Young

Is everything a field of energy caused
by human projection? From the crib bars
hang the teething tools. Above the finger-drummed   
desk, a bit lip. The cyclone fence of buts
surrounds the soccer field of what if.
Sometimes it seems like a world where no one   
knows what he or she is doing, eight lanes   
both directions. How about a polymer
that contracts in response to electrical
charge? A swimming pool on the 18th floor?   
King Lear done by sock puppets? Anyone
who has traveled here knows the discrepancies
between idea and fact. The idea is the worm   
in the tequila and the next day is the fact.   
In between may be the sacred—real blood   
from the wooden virgin’s eyes, and the hoax—
landing sites in cornfields. Maybe ideas
are best sprung from actions like the children   
of Zeus. One gives us elastic and the omelette,   
another nightmares and SUVs. There’s considerable
wobble in the system, and the fan belt screams,   
waking the baby. Swaying in the darkened   
nursery, kissing the baby-smelling head:   
good idea! But also sadness looking at the sea.
The stranded whale, guided out of the cove   
by tugboats, turns and swims back in.   
The violinist will not let go her violin   
which is 200 years old and still on the train
thus she is dragged down the track. By what
manner is the soul joined to the body?   
Answer: an arm connecting a violin
to a violinist. According to Freud,
there are no accidents. Astrologists
and Presbyterians agree for different reasons.   
You fall down the stairs with a birthday cake.   
You try to fit a blunderbuss into a laptop.
Human consciousness: is it the projector
or the screen? They come in orange jumpsuits   
and spray the grass so everything dies
but the grass. It is too late to ask Kafka
what he thinks. Sometimes they give you   
a box of ash, a handshake, and the rest   
is your problem. In one version,
the beggar turns out to be a king and grants
the poor couple a castle and a moat and two   
silver horses said to be sired by the wind.
That was before dentistry, which might have been   
a better gift. You did not want to get sick   
in the 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th or 18th centuries.
So too the 19th and 20th were to be avoided
but the doctor coming to bleed you is the master   
of the short story. After the kiss from whom   
he will never know, the lieutenant, going home,
touches a bush in which birds are singing.

1 comment:

  1. 0)w regard to moco, i was undecided on county executive until i saw the rating of candidates put out by The Owners - they rated rose krasnow first, their real candidate blair second, and elrich last - i liked leventhal's sense of humor in his campaign material, but the Owners rating convinced me to vote for elrich - possibly he'll win

    for governor i voted for ben jealous, as bernie advised me - he probably won't beat hogan but sometimes surprising things happen

    1)looking for more dean young, i found the following at the poetry foundation -

    Belief in Magic
    By Dean Young

    How could I not?
    Have seen a man walk up to a piano
    and both survive.
    Have turned the exterminator away.
    Seen lipstick on a wine glass not shatter the wine.
    Seen rainbows in puddles.
    Been recognized by stray dogs.
    I believe reality is approximately 65% if.
    All rivers are full of sky.
    Waterfalls are in the mind.
    We all come from slime.
    Even alpacas.
    I believe we’re surrounded by crystals.
    Not just Alexander Vvedensky.
    Maybe dysentery, maybe a guard’s bullet did him in.
    I believe there are many kingdoms left.
    The Declaration of Independence was written with a feather.
    A single gem has throbbed in my chest my whole life
    even though
    even though this is my second heart.
    Because the first failed,
    such was its opportunity.
    Was cut out in pieces and incinerated.
    I asked.
    And so was denied the chance to regard my own heart
    in a jar.
    Strange tangled imp.
    Wee sleekit in red brambles.
    You know what it feels like to hold
    a burning piece of paper, maybe even
    trying to read it as the flames get close
    to your fingers until all you’re holding
    is a curl of ash by its white ear tip
    yet the words still hover in the air?
    That’s how I feel now.