Tuesday, December 20, 2022

Rides Him Down in Canyons of Sex and Hides in Teetering Ghost Towns

Catjeff, posted before I fuck it up colourfielding the head, the body a happy accident, posted from a dying stringtown where the phone rarely rings in Dead Blegsylvania, because:

Always unofficial (people can vouch) now official bleggalgazing anthem for this shitty blog
Year of Death continues: RIP Terry Hall
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Today in the U.S., corporations will steal $137 million in wages, rich people will steal $2.75 billion in taxes, and 1,300 people will die from poverty, air pollution, and medical error
Elite capture and epistemic deference
Rene Girard and the Rise of Victim Power
The code behind the Far Right's success
Trumpism and the American political tradition
The mirrored hypocrisies of Musk and anti-Musk forces
Extractivism in the anthropocene
Philosophy as life-making struggle
Lexicon for Disaster: United States of Assholes
Ten terms and phrases that defined our sweltering climate in 2022
Maggie's weeklyThe World & the Left
The most popular people names for dogs
Truth in literatureHow we used Saint Etienne to live
Year of Death continues: RIP Terry Hall
Always unofficial (people can vouch) now official Theme Song for *me* and now for this shitty blog


Lisel Mueller

In the America of the dream
the first rise of the moon
swings free of the ocean,
and she reigns in her shining flesh
over a good, great valley
of plumped, untrampled grasses
and beasts with solemn eyes,
of lovers infallibly pitched
in their ascendant phase.
In this America, death
is virginal also, roaming
the good, great valley
in his huge boots, his shadow
steady and lean, his pistol
silver, his greeting clear
and courteous as a stranger’s
who looks for another, a mind
to share his peaceable evenings.
Dreaming, we are another
race than the one which wakes
in the cold sweat of fear,
fires wild shots at death.,
builds slippery towers of glass
to head him off, waylays him
with alcohol traps, rides him down
in canyons of sex, and hides
in teetering ghost towns.
Dreaming, we are the mad
who swear by the blood of trees
and speak with the tongues of streams
through props of steel and sawdust,
a colony of souls
ravaged by visions, bound
to some wild, secret cove
not yet possessed, a place
still innocent of us.


  1. 'v'liked 'em all (like, literally) hark! the surplus of an unfine metaverb)).
    'v'n't twatrendered of not so late, less for the musky odor and more as it occurs most abundantly here, it/they can nigh simply nor tediously be contextualized, certainly not buttered, and thus though worthy of more than an abundance of metaverbs, must send themselves sufficient on their own merit (meaning most orious).

  2. 1/i followed the link to fun boy three's 'the telephone always rings' - i was glad to see that there were closed captions, too

    the anachronism of the line "when you come home to answer your phone" also struck me

    2/another video i watched recently - which also has lyric captions, in this case translations since the performance is mostly in korean, is billlie's "RING ma Bell (what a wonderful world)"