Sunday, June 30, 2019

Or an Assassin Bug Squatting Over Us

  • Too tired to read and staring at wittertay on my pleapay onephay to stay awake for not here
  • I see Sanders must be leading in both party's internal polling so wetworked Bernie ordered
  • Nothing raises Sanders more in my esteem than everybody who I hate hating him 
  • UPDATE! I got Doctor Sevrin ears
  • (it's a new flavor of my seething, seasoned by what won't be here of course but more by the abolition of Kayfabe by fucks fuckers and fuckees and simultaneous enforcement of Kayfabe for anyone fucks fuckers and fuckees hate, an old song, true, I know the lyrics by heart, bark)
  • puts my favorite Cohen song in my head every time, Sanders assassins will interview with a celebrating Hannity on air, neerapodesta office parties everywhere


Dean Young

My books are full of mistakes
but not the ones Tony’s always pointing out
as if correct spelling is what could stop the conveyor belt
the new kid caught his arm in.
Three weeks on the job and he’s already six hundred
legal pages, lawyers haggling in an office
with an ignored view of the river
pretending to be asleep, pretending
to have insight into its muddy self.
You think that’s a fucked-up, drawn-out metaphor,
try this: if you feel you’re writhing like a worm
in a bottle of tequila, you don’t know
it’s the quickness of its death that reveals
the quality of the product, its proof.
I don’t know what I’m talking about either.
Do you think the dictionary ever says to itself
I’ve got these words that mean completely
different things inside myself
and it’s tearing me apart?
My errors are even bigger than that.
You start taking down the walls of your house,
sooner or later it’ll collapse
but not before you can walk around
with your eyes closed, rolled backwards
and staring straight into the amygdala’s meatlocker
and your own damn self hanging there.
Do that for awhile and it’s easier to delight
in snow that lasts about twenty minutes
longer than a life held together
by the twisted silver baling wire
of deception and stealth.
But I ain’t confessing nothing.
On mornings when I hope you forget my name,
I walk through the high wet weeds
that don’t have names either.
I do not remember the word dew.
I do not remember what I told you
with your ear in my teeth.
Further and further into the weeds.
We have absolutely no proof
god isn’t an insect
rubbing her hind legs together to sing.
Or boring into us like a yellow jacket
into a fallen, overripe pear.
Or an assassin bug squatting over us,
shoving a proboscis right through
our breast plate then sipping.
How wonderful our poisons don’t kill her.


  1. i'm sorry to read about the tickpocalypse

    i recommend the video of tulsi gabbard refuting tim ryan's confusion about whether the united states should keep killing afghanis

    even paleoconservative pat buchanan liked it

    i gave money to tim ryan before - but from now on i won't
    i might give again to tulsi, however

    i'm feeling pressed for time today - one piece pointed to here that i want to mark as one that i might read thoughtfully later is that by john steppling - ineffable but fake frontier

    i note he quotes

    “The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge.”
    Daniel Boorstin

    in 19th century america josh billings put it It ain't what a man don't know that makes him a fool; it's the things he does know, that ain't so.

    steppling quotes himself:

    “If Dracula and Frankenstein arose out of the Industrial Revolution, as somehow also the avatars for a receding mythology of Dionysian disfigurement, the fictional monsters of today are the avatars of financial capital. The age of finance capital seems to be the age of Zombies, or the walking dead. Dracula of course was a venture capitalist in his later incarnations, but of an older order of entrepreneurship . Now the vampire figure is always seen as modern or at least modernist, because it lives forever. Like capital. Like inheritance and interest. Vampires are there to collect the vig.”

    and steppling has a one-line paragraph that reminds me of a korean historical drama that missus charley and i are watching - steppling states Side bar: What did cavemen dream? (that’s sort of rhetorical).

    missus charley and i are on episode 20 of horse doctor/the king's doctor

    one engine of the drama is the shocking effrontery of the low-class 'horse quack' - as the captions put it - not only aspiring to learn to treat humans, but daring to apply his knowledge from treating animals to the king's illness - as if the king were an animal!

    likewise, steppling's rhetorical question could be broadened to 'what do animals dream? - because it's obvious they do

    a number of the pieces pointed to today - and dean young's poem - have to do with religion and god - at the risk of seeming too simple, i suggest pondering matthew 22: 36-40

    for something more subtle, look at leloup's book on the gospel of thomas - although admittedly heidegger is not quoted there either


  2. my mistake - it turns out heidegger IS quoted in leloup's book on the gospel of thomas - the discussion of logion 107, the parable of the lost sheep, ends

    Finally, a more metaphysical reading reminds us that when we stray, we lose awareness of the One, the Self, and of our highest potential. We lose our center, which alone can bring about a harmony of our different levels of being, our multiplicity, as represented by the other sheep....As Heidegger might say, the Shepherd of Being will rejoice.

    i found this passage quoting heidegger not by flipping through the physical book, although i have it, but by using the within-book search feature at amazon - who knows if it's good or bad?