| Fleabus, best cat ever, now in shrinking, constant cuddling stage | ||||
| America's hidden gulag | Abusive narcissist | Murder spike | Silvia Federici once | Silvia Federici twice |
| Historians traumatized by history | By "domestic terrorist" they mean YOU | The 'transition' of the Elites | I had to reboot the new modem for the first time and blinking orange light turned Jesus has risen white, but now my laptop is sworn to a fuck named Jeff and can't log on to the wifi at work, wifi's allegiance to Jeff, Jeff Xfinity aka Jeff Comcast real name Jeff Finemetaphorsabound | KILL ME! |
| Maggie's weekly links | I own property in this goddamn state | and we have an address, it came with our property tax bill, either Lima Township numbers its property numbers in increments of four or we'll have to walk across someone's property to get to the other part of ours | 9 rules for the woke birdwatcher | My North Face heavy duty right sling, I think of it as left since I only see it from behind the backpack, ripped 4/5ths off, saw it before the 1/5th broke and backpack flung I need a new laptop. Weeded essentials and nice-to-haves from garbage out of broken North Face's guts, transferred organs to grey-red Timbuk2, not a backpack backpack but a laptop backpack that can double as a briefcase, it's great those five unique minutes every four years when I don't want a backpack backpack because my backpack backpack I had to put to sleep. I've beem resorting the same baseball cards fifty-five years |
| { feuilleton } 's weekly links | Paul McCarthy | An Other Mystery | Traumatized by history | |
| I found my lost collected Weldon Kees searching what organs I'd left last time I abandoned Timbuk2 because while a great laptop backpack it doesn't even pretend to be a backpack backpack, I found my beloved and thought lost (I did look for it, I did!) then tweeted out a photo of the book then tweeted out his short poem *Turtle* | Chess pieces in different languages | Reading John Gray in war | Texas froze by design | Top cop confirms they'd have been in riot gear if the protesters were black |
| ISHIGURO | I get the new Ishiguro next week, I guarantee I'll fail it and will be unable to tell with anywhere near certainty how much of it will be my fault and how much the novel's. His last novel, Buried Giant, read when I always had a novel working, mehhed me, I pretend to have a novel always working now but in truth I fail every novel I start. My eyes, my head, my concentration, my damn, I'm old yes but there's more. Calls into question my current wonderfully bountiful poem readings, my eyes, my head, my concentration, my damn, my performance of myself for myself. And now something to look forward to in these days of not looking forward to anything fills me with dread because I don't trust nothing to look forward to that I will sabotage by filled grids like this one.... I want to be slayed right know I'll be slayed wrong | |||
| Bleggalgaze: grid forever until not, if I lost the cloud, medumbmotherfucker ... | Have some horny meta-pop | Read Moby Dick with Ed! | 2021 February 23 | SPARKS |
| KEES | KEES | KEES | I am completely stupid for Kees if you'd like a collected and you ask nice and I like you... | KEES |
THE END OF THE LIBRARY
Weldon Kees
When the coal
Gave out, we began
Burning the books, one by one;
First the set
Of Bulwer-Lytton
And then the Walter Scott.
They gave a lot of warmth.
Toward the end, in
February, flames
Consumed the Greek
Tragedians and Baudelaire,
Proust, Robert Burton
And the Po-Chu-i. Ice
Thickened on the sills.
More for the sake of the cat,
We said, than for ourselves,
Who huddled, shivering,
Against the stove
All winter long.
that's a good looking cat and one who deserves to be kept warm all winter long
ReplyDeletefrom wikipedia - Meijer was founded as Meijer's in Greenville, Michigan, in 1934, by Hendrik Meijer, a Dutch immigrant.
one of the kees poems you point to - 'crime club' - reminds me of louise penny's inspector armand gamache mystery novels set in quebec, which missus charley used to read when she commuted to her job on the metro - now penny has cowritten a novel with hillary clinton - as i remarked at the daily mail
my wife has been a fan of the inspector armand gamache books so there is a chance she will read this too - she has a less negative opinion of hillary than i do and if she thinks it's very good and recommends i read it i might do so - we will get it from the library, however, not buy it
reading kees about his daughter that didn't exist, i wondered about his biographical details and read the wikipedia bio
i would have liked to read the full 'report of the meeting' with the lion and the scientists but various attempts at a workaround didn't get me to page 323
wandering associatively i eventually came to my own rewording of saying 7 of the gospel of thomas:
Blessed is the lion that the human eats, so that the lion's energy nourishes the human being.
And cursed is the human consumed by the lion, so that the human's spirit is lowered to the animal's level.
Got a large laugh at the Woke Birdwatcher. Thanks for linking to my own waking bird watch, as well (will be the opening image of novel #5 whenever I start drafting, despite being factual). Later that same day, on a walk through the woods behind my house, saw and heard a fat (un-PC term, I know [a weight-challenged?]) red-shouldered hawk swoop through the trees and settle on a high tree branch. Then another! But the second turned out not to be a r-s hawk, but a peregrine. And it was angry, my friends. Territorially offended. It shrieked, spiked straight up into the air, turned, folded its wings, and kamikaze'ed (un-PC, too [dive bombed?]) the hawk just as its smaller, male mate (yes, the male, the tiercel, is the smaller of a peregrine pair, check your patriarchal privilege and re-assess your sexist, prejudices, all) arrived with shrieks of its own. They pestered the hawk, mobbing it (no anti-Italianism or coastal elitism implied), until eventually relocated on a lower, less accessible from the air branch. Quite a stroll, replete with wheeling, shrieking avian airshow. Then last night, as I was grilling fish on the deck out back, I spied the silhouettes of two (not one) barred owls (a nesting pair who roost nearby) eyeing my every spatula move. Raptor week hereabouts.
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