It Hoped to Say Nothing Further and Then Was Disappointed

Seneca Greenway yesterday, woods've toggled
The value of nothing: Capital v Growth
▲	Strange days confirmed when I can't read a novel but now find myself reading economic theory and monetary policy and not precisely liking it and certainly not understanding much of it but feeling compelled to finish, the one above is worth your time, some duh is better than others						▲
I might as well type that I've started a novel and not farted out yet and thought don't type that but too late
▼	Beloved Seneca (@ Berryville Road on Greenway)						▼

America's economic divide in two stories
Crackerstan
I blurpt re: Kagan's "The Crackers Are Coming!" column, I blurpt "Their Shitlords Are Shittier Than Our Shitlords," my blurpts, things erode on inexorably incremental but compounding pace, trot to canter, I've been blurpting about crackers since the seventh grade, I've been blurpting about shitlords since the tenth, our shitlords and their Villagers long plan to beat the blurpt out of blurpters slowly eroding my will to blurpt
Latest chapter in shitlords laundering money via European soccer teams
Shitlord embodies dystopian future!
Fresh hell		Real cancel culture			Murakami & the Nobel
What if emotions aren't universal?
Maggie's weekly links
{ feuilleton }'s weekend links
Jean Giono, another novelist I never heard of, another novelist I can fail!
On Franzen, another novelist I of course have heard of, I've no recollection of The Corrections except that I did read and finish it but have not read a single word since; I can could take a smart scold writing bad duh and can could take a dumb scold writing good duh but a dumb scold writing bad duh, no
Fine metaphors abound					GRAYSCALE
Prikryl interviews Lerner
Mongo	Lennon born 81 years ago yesterday						Me
The 18 most memorable trees in literature
Been on a listen to every album Sea and Cake bender

GEODES OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE

Jana Prikryl

The earth has feelings

some killed others in its mud and it has lots of mud

The earth builds a scrapyard, a sequence of them to tell

of this, a seam on its embalmed glabella future galaxies caress

The earth knows André Breton,

compiles ingenuous personalities in its fevered correspondence

Out of its winding sheet rolodex the earth erodes another name,

your name

Beware, the earth prepares to say one final time, construction

eclipses

It hoped to say nothing further and then was disappointed, its hope

misplaced it knew deep down

Say more,

you say, the earth had hoped you would

Express as little as possible with your furniture, find the little that is

as near to nothing as can be

The monuments unpictured drift up like watermarks through the odor

of the lens

You make things happen all the time, says the earth, take my advice

look the other way