Wednesday, December 9, 2020

Must Be a Napkin Salesmen's Convention

  • Napoleon still loves his sardines even syruped now in painkiller for his hips and antibiotic for his still-not totally healed neck wound, the earliest cardiologist appointment I can get is March
  • and helmetball fans don't like when I rag on helmetball and call out their complicity of helmetball, helmetball the greatest finest metaphor abounding for motherfucking America, I understand why you watch, I don't watch but I watch you watch, we're both weird
  • Reminder: DMV is a Washington Helmetball Team town, always was, could be again, fuck the Nats, fuck the Bullets, fuck whatever the ice-soccer team is called, it's a Helmetball Team town, people can vouch, for giggles I houred DC's sports radio stations the day after the Exslurs beat the previously undefeated Yinzers, Super Bowl is not out of the realm of possibility of a sudden, mouth-breathed the radio yakkers, fine metaphors abound
  • I read Uni-Watch every day. RIP, Dick Allen (when my step-father-in-law died I lost a good guy and the last guy I could call Dick to his face and he'd smile), who should be in the Hall of Fame, fine metaphors abound re Dick Allen re my reading Uni-Watch every day
  • It comes down to this: yes HOA, no buy / no HOA, yes buy
  • Rest in Peace Harold Budd 



James Tate

My little finger’s stuck in a
Coca-Cola bottle and I’ve got three
red checkers lodged in my watchpocket.
In a rush to meet my angel, now
I don’t even know who my angel was.
I can see seven crimson jeeps lined up
outside Pigboy’s Barbecue Shack—
must be a napkin salesmen’s convention.
I don’t care what cargo as long as

their hats are back on by eleven.
The thing I’m trying to avoid
is talking to my mule about glue futures.
What’s a fellow going to do? I must
have a ceiling fan, I can’t postpone
twirling blades. And my one stuffed chair
was owned by a hunchback for a hundred years
before I came along. I need some new
knickknacks to suggest an air of cleanliness
to this sluggish pit of extinct sweet potatoes.
Ah, trickery, you sassy lark, withered black pearl,
unfetter me from these latches, make me
the Director at every meatball’s burial,
lacerate this too, too static air
I’ve been eating my way through.
I lunch on eels and larks in lemonade, Lord,
I’m so happy I woke up in my right mind today.
And those kleptomaniacs, Smitty and Bob,
stole peanuts from a hunchback, snuff from an angel.
My knees click, I won’t budge, like a wind-up toy
unwound, my guitar held tightly between my thighs.
Last night a clam fell from the stars:
a festive, if slippery occasion, a vibrating blob
entered our midst—I say “ours” out of some need—
I was alone when it hit me.


  1. 0)may napoleon enjoy many more sardines

    1)the washington capitals - the logo incorporates part of the dc flag and the t in capitals is the shape of a hockey stick

    2)of the novels he's read this year mentioned in robert minto's 'throat clearing', one has several copies available at my local public library system, whereas another - with more than twice as many copies held - has a waiting list of 102

    3)tate's mention of pigboy's barbecue shack reminded me of a restaurant in the town where i went to high school - it is closed now but its sibling operation continues in the city across the appomattox river - a couple months ago someone wrote

    I have been going to K___'s Famous Barbecue since I was little and I am 66 years old now. My parents used to take us to eat there since I was a little girl. We would go there to eat for special occasions or whenever we were in Petersburg. This is the only Barbeque I will eat and I prefer their barbecue sauce to any bought in a store.

    3.5)tate's mention of burial reminds me that the last meal i ate in petersburg and vicinity was over a decade ago after my father's interment - it was not at k___'s famous barbecue but at "an American casual dining restaurant chain specializing in Italian-American cuisine"

  2. Oh, I thought about you, Yinzer.