Monday, March 4, 2019

The Yolk Went Down My Leg Like a Beautiful Snail Without a Shell

  • We bagged NYC, potential weather, both need be a work early Monday, the thought of a Tripper driver obsessed by staying on schedule on icy night roads
  • The Washington Post noticed the shittiness of the American Right, asks, when did this happen?
  • Trump is a idiot savant: “You know, I don’t know, maybe you know. You know, I’m totally off script right?” Trump said at the outset of his speech. “This is how I got elected, by being off script . . . and if we don’t go off script, our country is in big trouble, folks. 
  • Democrats eviler, motherfucking script-keepers
  • Three days ago Chief Villager Jester noticed the shittiness of the American Right, asked...
  • I guarantee Democrats will do whatever it takes to not take the Senate in 2020
  • How (and how not to) beat a smear campaign.
  • Motherfucking Democrats are the enemy.
  • I am telling you three times reminder: judiciary news is only sausaged when judiciary news needs sausaging re: guarantee Democrats will do whatever it takes to not take the Senate in 2020 
  • Kill the rich.
  • Twilight Zone, America: new Silber.
  • Twilight of the Elites.
  • The future of the radical Left in America.
  • There will never be Purple Line to Tyson's Corners, nor should there be I type when I checked ESPN for baseball news (fuck me) saw a live feed to the local football team I once swore eternal devotion to's season-opener
  • watched for three minutes, raining, sleeting, a night I'd once consider an attendance badge
  • this'd be worth 30 pages to Proust, but 
  • nope me (in the three minutes I did see what people see in Acosta)
  • Maggie's weekly links.
  • { feuilleton }'s weekly links.
  • I hadn't though of Built to Spill in eons, this morning, woke up with in head
  • Frank Stanford is always in my head
  • I mutilated the book for the bus ride and daypacking Manhattan for nothing but
  • something I can't stop thinking about


Frank Stanford

The yolk went down my leg
Like a beautiful snail without a shell,
Went down the hill
To the skillet of water, to the nymphflies,
Into the lips of pond minnows,
Down the long belly of the gar – the hellbenders
Having dived and lost, then into
The paw of the lame panther
Who loped back to her lair with it.
As for the white, it stayed with me,
Mark of the beast, birth, and trade.


  1. The DC Uniteds do appear to have our Uniteds' number, esp. in DC.

  2. I liked this performance of a Gershwin song