Monday, December 4, 2023

Coming Through the Sidedoors: Can We Synchronize Our Souls?

Five day truce, America's Red Hour of gluttony, helmetball, and shopping orgies into debt, the restart of genocide and our and Zionists' genocide and Americans be like, so what, old news, a gazillion media cycles ago, stop the fuck hammering it, wham wham wham, and just *how* fucked up is the college helmetball tournament, answer me! WHAT ABOUT FLORIDA STATE! the true outrage in America, the fuck is wrong with people. Hear, the only American Football I like:

This blog, the fuck am I doing. Do you know that Frank Zappa died thirty years ago today so today is the start of Zappadan, once a major Blegsylvanian holiday (I only know since years ago I followed @zappadan on twatter), can you name any others? Here's one, Blogroll Amnesty Day, February 1 each year, the fuck is a blogroll. I don't like Zappa's music, have Beefheart instead

That's either this shitty blog's Theme Song 8, 9, or 10, maybe even 11, fuck if I remember. The fuck am I doing here. Both still have them but I don't play either of the two musicians who occupy the two permanent seats in My Sillyass Deserted Island Five Game nor do I keep in my head which three musicians or bands currently hold the three rotating seats in My Sillyass Deserted Island Five Game. My tax dollars pay for the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians and wholesale land theft of Palestinian land and Zionists went bonkers when three actors in Australia appeared onstage for a curtain call in keffiyehs and are the true evil in the world, the fuck am I doing here, at least I'm doing it less (also too reading less, writing less, painting less, hiking less, discing less, laughing less, sleeping less, eating less), once a week it seems, and as I type this I haven't looked at my stats since I last posted, if you are still here, thank you, a reminder that this shitty blog's Bleggalgazing Anthem in now paywalled by Worldwide Pants, this is this shitty blog's Theme Song 4 or 5 or 6, I don't remember

Hope you played that, if you played that, which 90% of yinz didn't I'd bet a pint, loud, and this post's title taken from this song not per usual from the poem at bottom, revolution, motherfuckers, sigh
Is this an existential crisis for democracy or not?
What ‘tunnels’ and ‘hostages’ mean in Gaza
The signs of American collapse are everywhere
U.S. Sends Israel 2,000-Pound Bunker Buster Bombs for Gaza War
All the Times Israel Has Rejected Peace With Palestinians
Israel Plans For Long War And The Expulsion Of People From Gaza
DystopiaBasic Principles of Humanity
A mass assassination factory’: Inside Israel’s calculated bombing of Gaza
The Stranglehold of Silence: Suppression of Free Speech in the Israel/Palestine Conflict
On the death of world-class criminal, Henry Kissinger
Crank Profiles # 4is responsible for Catherine Wheel song below grid
Obama was the most destructive political figure of his lifetime
Meanwhile, the coming resource wars because we're killing our habitat
Maggie's weeklyOrdinary crying
100 Fun Facts About the State of Maryland
Bluesky has sent me three more tickets of entry, want one, email me
Why the existence of things precedes their possibility{ feuilleton }'s weekly
Postcards from Elizabeth Bishop
I *do* remember that this is this shitty blog's Theme Song One:


Diane Seuss

Do you think your suffering is exceptional?
Maybe. Maybe not.
The times are strange, no doubt.
In the heat of it, what I believed
was the heat of it, I shouted like a dockworker
that I was unafraid. Come at me,

I hollered, you can only kill me
once. There is nothing left
to take. I’ve said that before. I still hear
the echo from when the flames
licked my feet,
my fearlessness a cabaret.

Of course, there is more to take.
I’m copious and so are you.
My pipe. My roses. My stubborn
mule. My burbling
brook which must be traversed
to get to the island of blue lawn chairs.

My loaded apple trees,
raspberry bushes, and prefab on a slab,
and memories of Petra, with three
teeth, who made a salsa just for me
when she saw me coming toward her
diner, Petra’s. My high school drama

teacher, Jim, his hair bronze, his pallor
ruddy, his gait exceptional. I believe
we should marry, he said to me one night,
blowing smoke rings, driving me home
from play practice. I was Mary Warren
in The Crucible. I’d just learned

to insert a tampon. There were no
boundaries then, and Jim was queer.
His real love was the boy who played
The Boy in The Fantasticks.
I could feel my blood let down
like breast milk into the fabric

of his car seat. I loved the theater.
What luxury, putting on plays
in the middle of a cornfield.
The witch I played giving me
license to go into fits
in front of the student body.

Jim was fired, and died.
Petra’s dead.
The berry bushes are a dream.
The island is a pipe dream.
The pipe is a hallucination.
Still, I’m copious, and so are you.


  1. 1/i listened to 'have a heart' - looked up the artist - and read about the lead singer

    Carol van Dijk was born in Canada to Dutch parents. Her native language is English. Her family moved to Holland in 1969, and van Dijk struggled with the subsequent language barrier, in particular the Amsterdam variation of the Dutch language. Her voice has been praised for its beauty and clarity, as well as its unusual pronunciations.

    2/a couple of lines from that song:

    Can we synchronize our souls?
    I know you will be fine

    reminded me that i recently learned about the fate of my first fiancee - via websearching - we had not communicated for three decades, but i discovered in comments posted about herself to a local community organization that she

    a/after recently retiring, had moved to the gulf coast of florida
    b/was living there with a cat and with 'the love of her life'

    our souls did not synchronize as we once thought they might [we had an intermittent relationship over the span of a decade, but never married] - but she is apparently fine - may she be well, happy, and at peace

    3/i watched the video of archers of loaf 'screaming undercover'

    4/i looked at an article about the extinct giant armadillo, the glyptodon, apparently wiped out by human hunting about ten thousand years ago

  2. Now that "Our Leaders" have come out, again, very proudly, as enthusiastic mass Murderers on a genocidal scale (that is, at the extreme end of the homicidal maniac spectrum), are we ready to see them as world class Liars, too? Think back, think back... what else have they been lying about, everytime they killed, and why were we so trusting, so easily duped? Question regarding current etiquette: should we all now say "Thank you for your service" to members of the IDF, too?