Wednesday, November 7, 2018

I Won't Tell You Where It Is, So Why Do I Tell You Anything?

  • Fleabus two nights ago, above life-sized at other place.
  • Theory: Now Trump has an actual foil instead of making foils up, we only think we've seen shitty Trump, and it'll work.
  • UPDATE! Today's Trump takeover of Justice, for instance.
  • Grim irony: This midterm result was the worst possible one for the Democrats, and thus for the United States.  They did just enough to be able to continue to claim that the Clintonista methodology - the 'donor' model - is a successful, winning one, and so they won't have to change it.  They won't be able to gum up Trump's agenda completely - enough of them are really covert Republicans and will vote for many of his policies - and they will make fools of themselves with Russiagate and similar guaranteed losing attacks on Trump personally, which will ensure Trump's reelection.  Still, as usual the voters did their job as best they could, with the wonderful first-past-the-post voting system allowing their collective wisdom exactly the choice they wanted, the best choice available to them when one of the parties has thrown in the towel, reining in Trump while not emasculating him.
  • A short take on last night.
  • The elite have decided you cost too much to maintain, yo, your return-on-investment not worth it.
  • American Fundamentalists and Trump, a excellent concise primer from an ex-insider.
  • Driving home from Catoctin past Sunday, car radio tuned to WTOP for 270 traffic on the eights, I heard top of the hours ABC News, sound clips, Trump bullhorning hate, Joe Biden whispering a sermon on motherfucking civility.
  • Elrich beat Floreen, by a lot, three times the votes, so mine wasn't important,
  • I can summon one fuck more than no fuck on the above.
  • Now for the Clinton v Biden 2020 duel for the soul of the Democratic Party.


Adrienne Rich

There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill
and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted
who disappeared into those shadows.
I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled
this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.
I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods
meeting the unmarked strip of light—
ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:
I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.
And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you
anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it's necessary
to talk about trees.

1 comment:

  1. 0)that's a good-looking photo of a good-looking cat

    1)i too voted for the next montgomery county executive - wtop radio said there was a "bitter end" to the bitter county executive race - personally, though, i am at peace with it

    2)as i am at peace with the way the national elections turned out - coulda been better, coulda been worse

    3)i look forward to paying less attention to the aaargh - i have other pastimes, fortunately, and each day i have more mistakes behind me and less time ahead of me

    4)here's something by james tate - the line breaks may not be in the places he intended - i copied it without explicit permission, and i don't think i am the first to have done so


    It wasn’t the door I was looking for, but I opened it anyway. I started walking down a long hallway. There was no one in it. There was a series of offices which seemed to be empty. The only noise anywhere was my footsteps.

    At the farthest end of the hall a man suddenly appeared. He started walking toward me and my instinct told me to run, but I didn’t. I stopped and waited for him. When he finally reached me, he said, “We’ve been waiting for you. You are warmly welcomed.” “Thank you,” I said, “I am most eager to join you.” “Follow me, kind sir,” he said. We walked down the long hall. “In here,” he said.

    We entered an office. Twelve men, all formally dressed, stood and gave me an ovation. I bowed to them. “You see,” said my guide, “they all love you.” “I’m deeply flattered,” I said. The truth was I was baffled and certain this was one big mistake. “We want you to become one of us, to become a member of the Holy Alliance. What do you say, will you do it?” he said. All the members were smiling at me. “But I don’t really know what the Holy Alliance is,” I said. “Well, we believe we have been chosen by God to bring order and justice to the community, and every now and then we have a party,” he said. “I need to step outside and think about it,” I said. I moved rather quickly to the door and started running down the hallway. I made it to the door and stepped outside.

    There were crowds of people on the sidewalk and I wove in and out of them as quickly as I could. A man in a wheelchair grabbed my hand as I tried to pass him. “Have you seen my canary? He flew out my window this morning,” he said. “No, I haven’t seen your canary, but I will keep an eye out for him and try to catch him if I do. I’ll bring him back to you, you can count on that,” I said. “I knew I could trust you. God bless you,” he said. I wrenched my hand free and raced on. A while later, I did spot a canary, but it was perched on the top branch of a tall maple, too far from me. I stared at it and tried to hypnotize it. It was looking right at me. I took a step toward it, then another.

    A man walked by and grabbed it right off the bush and stuck it in his pocket. “Hey, that’s my bird,” I said. He was walking fast and didn’t even look back at me.

    5)"the wrong door" is from tate's collection "the ghost soldiers" - an associative link to adrienne rich's phrase "ghost-ridden crossroads"

    5a)and speaking of the necessity "to talk about trees" - how does the canary get from the "top branch of a tall maple" to a "bush" where a passerby can grab it?