We Thank You For Destroying the Destroyers of the World

Today's most important news: Destroyer has released another song from his upcoming album, released March 25

Trumping the bleggalgaze below, new Destroyer does
My favorite post ever
Idaho crackers and christers, by a large margin, vote to make your supporting your trans kid a felony with a life sentence, and too if you move your kid to another state to provide support
Related to above: Trans Assimilation and Cringe
WHO'S NOT SEEING DESTROYER WITH ME AT BLACK CAT ON MAY 7?
Ecofeminism				Yes I think this a war of choice for all involved but we set that bait and are glad Putin bit			⬇
Revenge of the Putin-Nazis					⬅	Reminder: all true shitlords are equally amoral sociopaths
Reminder: I've not a first crush rush over a song like I did the above Destroyer since the last and I think it was this song a half year ago, I've a dozen and a half of Bejar's
Yes, and in my mother's case when she was fourteen she lived in a house two miles from 1948 Donora, ate meat and dairy and vegetables watered by heavy metal rain, I know it's in my genes
What is your per gallon breaking point price of gasoline before you toggle to fuck it, it's later than you think, I want to go to, say, Maine? open up the Arctic for oil (*that's* in play in this war of choice) (in this war on behalf of Exxon)
Believe me, price point pain and peasant herding heavily researched, equalariums debated to the point of war
My local helmetball team beclowned itself today (or *was* beclowned, opinions differ) to tell from my twitter feed, the local helmetball team beclowning itself a local joy and eternal tradition whether you love or hate helmetball in general and the local helmetball team in particular
There's more to the fake urban crime panic than copaganda
WHO'S NOT SEEING SPIRITUALIZED WITH ME AT 930 ON SEPTEMBER 8?
New SPIRITUALIZED!

BEES OF ELEUSIS

Franz Wright

Unless a grain of wheat goes into the ground and dies, it remains nothing but a grain of wheat.

          —John 12:24

The ingredients gathered, a few small red tufts of the dream spoor per sheaf of Demeter’s blonde wheat, reaped in mourning, in silence, ground up with the pollen and mixed into white wine and honey. These stored forms of light taken under the ground. Taken by mouth. First those who by birth hold in secret the word; then placed on the tongues of the new ones, into whose ears it is meant to be whispered. Word murdered, forgotten so long ago, placed as a kiss on the lips of the soon-to-be-no-longer breathing who mean to enter death with open eyes, with mouths saying Death, what death? We have no word for it in our country where the bride of a brighter oblivion reigns. Not the purple-haired god but the child queen, the raped girl, come back from the dead hand in hand with the child she conceived there, returned in a resurrected virginity, wind through green wheat. Present-day site of a minor refinery in Christ. Although by the tenth generation already the children of light (“in their dark garments”) had trampled and smashed and generally raped the two thousand years of this precinct and its holy meal, intolerable mirror. Men who’d designed and bowed down to a law derived from the sayings of one who appeared here to say that the law is abolished, it is too late, all that is over with. Men who bungled their way through the next eighteen centuries before finally descending into the earth themselves, and what they found there they used, and we thank you for destroying the destroyers of the world. And here at the end this is as good as any other entrance to the underplace, journey of the fallen leaf back to the branch, to the bees of Eleusis among olive blossoms, untroubled among crimson wildflowers. Four thousand years later: same flowers, same bees.