We Dry and Die in the Sun While the Seascape Arranges Old Fruit

Yes, this thing is still on. Every late August I apologize here for lack of content, it's the end of the Blog Days of Summer, I'm in the middle of the three busiest, hardest weeks of my work year and between lack of time and drained damn I don't type here, and every late August is occurs to free-agent agnostic me that the only two proofs of Gods I can offer is that I, who always has music on and obsesses over music, have the worse singing voice Gods gave to humans, and that my birthday, for the 36th year in a row, falls on one of the shittiest days of my work year



Someone twaated a photo from the DNC of a statement by King Gizz in support of the Democratic ticket and for a brief moment I felt ever-so-slight warmth for my long-divorced-from team, but then someone twaated Elizabeth Warren making a vance couch joke which got fools in stupidass glittery-blue comboy hats ecstatic with laughter and ick, so icky, so-much for the ever-so-slight warmth for my long-divorced-from team. Is Joe's genocide still on-going? In any case, I'm reminded:

Yes, Republicans are weird but Democrats & shitlibs are freaking creepy, yo
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Inside the Turbulent, Secret World of an American Militia
The People’s Court of New Normal Germany (Part Three)
Catastrophe Bonds				British pogromism
The government’s efforts to regulate hactivists out of existence
Public Ownership of Public Goods
Maggie's		Beloved Alexa Alarum checks-in
THOUGHTS he HAD WHILE WORKING ON BiGGER THOUGHTS
An Ode to Old Bay, the Great American Condiment
ɔhɔfuɡul		the poetry of our existence			{ feuilleton }
When Emily Dickenson mailed it in
"Disjunction, simultaneity, irrationalism, anti-illusionism, self-reflexiveness, medium-as-message, political olympianism, and a moral pluralism approaching moral entropy"
Reissue of the Week: Throbbing Gristle’s The Third Mind Movements

THE BEACH IN AUGUST

Weldon Kees

The day the fat woman

In the bright blue bathing suit

Walked into the water and died,

I thought about the human

Condition. Pieces of old fruit

Came in and were left by the tide.

What I thought about the human

Condition was this: old fruit

Comes in and is left, and dries

In the sun. Another fat woman

In a dull green bathing suit

Dives into the water and dies.

The pulmotors glisten. It is noon.

We dry and die in the sun

While the seascape arranges old fruit,

Coming in and the tide, glistening

At noon. A woman, moderately stout,

In a nondescript bathing suit,

Swims to a pier. A tall woman

Steps toward the sea. One thinks about the human

Condition. The tide goes in and goes out.