Colin Newman, 65 today, the above Theme Song of a Month and one of the three songs posted most here.
What was here yesterday was first and is still at the other place.
Email address has changed - blckdgrd (at) protonmail.com please (though old one will still be checked, it's hip-attached to work email, more the reason for this, a taint-free space, than any delusions I can quit google, see (a) bullet below, (b) this shitty blog).
- I get on a bus with Lynn at 730 soon and go to Manhattan.
- Dropped off at Penn Station, I plan to walk blocks north to MOMA then blocks south after, with wander.
- I just created a protonmail account for no reason sillier than impulse, I read headline and first two paragraphs on newly revealed google evil, I....
- Ingored but current moleskin and Sarasa pen in backpack for tomorrow, both are thrilled,
- I haven't told them it's not surveillance but convenience, fuck me.
- If I write something I like I'll scan it into incrimination and post here.
Under Duress (from Our Death)ReplyDelete
by Sean Bonney
Whatever with that fascist shit Bannon. He can have Darth Vader. He can have that whatever-its-called from Lord of the Rings. But he can keep his paws off Satan. Satan is one of ours. Always has been. But having said that, it is very boring to write a poem about Satan. Baudelaire did it, and it was great. Milton too. And Blake. It is very boring to write a poem about Bannon. Like, for example, I’m speeding like fuck right now, and earlier on I was in a bar, and I was hanging out with friends and they are all complicated and wonderful and I love them, and all of our worlds are falling apart, and I guess I’d like to talk about that, but instead I feel that I should be talking about Bannon. Imagine doing drugs with him. I can keep going for five days at a stretch. Monsters appear and ghosts and that, and they are uglier than Bannon. Except they are not, because their conversation is interesting. Like there we’d be, chatting away for days and Bannon like he would just be dead on the floor. No-one would notice. You know, he’d just be dead. We’d have to dump his body somewhere. Like in one of the new developments or something. How annoying. How tedious this all is. I guess this has something to do with the sun, that solar bastard. I guess this poem is lame and I feel kind of lonely and blah but. Remember this. Our word for Satan is not their word for Satan. Our word for Evil is not their word for Evil. Our word for Death is not their word for Death. I hate the word ‘kill’. Will continue to use it.