As if I had broken the natural order of things in that swampland; disturbed some rhythm, old and of vast importance, by pulling off flesh from the living planet; as if I had committed, against the whole scheme of life, a desecration

I'm disturbed I'm not more disturbed by my descent (or ascent) into the non-verbal, it's speeding up, both my descent (or ascent) and my being disturbed I'm not more disturbed. Life in a world without kayfabe where kayfabe is constantly broadcast, winkless, constantly understood as breaking itself, it makes me write horrible sentences like the first two in this paragraph. Here, let me put it this way:



This is a blog which exists to talk to itself, to me, and is worth no more than any vanity project, including art created in lieu of verbalizing the thought. I'm disturbed I'm not more disturbed by my dwindling interest in monologues here while quickly acknowledging that this joint still vitally assists me  processing life in a dangerous and weirdass world without kayfabe where kayfabe is constantly broadcast, winkless, and constantly understood as breaking itself in the act of reestablishing itself, hence the sanity-salving side-effects of the grids, the (other people's) poems, the music, but barking as if there is kayfabe that needs breaking? Getting if not gotten old. What I mean to say is


This the eleventh attempt at a monologue for this post, since I no longer write in my paper tablets, since I no longer type in my digital tablet, since I only type here and delete the proceeding draft when starting the next, what existed in the first ten attempts are archived in my increasingly non-verbal brain and may or not appear on this page in the future in their original form and may arise not from memory but as new thoughts, a good (or bad) thing: I'm disturbed I'm not more disturbed by such content for disorder and chaos. Here, last and bottom third of the self-portrait posted as alternative monologue to this post's typed monologue, you didn't go look at it when I posted a link to it in the last post

Deus in Machina: AI and Divine Rhetoric
There are no psychopaths?
Democrats won’t rule out giving Trump more money for Middle East war
Sovereign is he who does whatever the hell he wants
The Question of Whether this War is Legal is the Wrong Question
A Topography of the New Dollar Imperialism
We have reached the Triskalians betting quatloos on when and how you will die stage of empire
The Nihilism of Trump’s War Games
The Long March of Presidential Power That Led to War on Iran
We have reached the Triskalians betting quatloos on when and how you will die stage of empire
Obama Made the Legal Case That Trump Could Use to Attack Iran
We have reached the Triskalians betting quatloos on when and how you will die stage of empire
Techno‑Authoritarianism and the Death of Counterculture
We have reached the Triskalians betting quatloos on when and how you will die stage of empire
The NYT Style Guide				All the Ways Big Tech Fuels ICE and CBP
We have reached the Triskalians betting quatloos on when and how you will die stage of empire
The Right-Wing Nonprofit Serving A.I. Slop for America’s Birthday
We have reached the Triskalians betting quatloos on when and how you will die stage of empire
Cockblocking Anthropic			On Redistribution		You can just do things
Starting wars and spying at home
The part where we are fucked					Fool's errands
Proton Mail payment data helped FBI identify ‘Stop Cop City’ account holder
Faux discounts			Main character syndrome in wartime
The dry and the wet burn together
The rhetoric of freedom and the oldest swindle in the imperial playbook
Albanese, Gaza, and the Military-Propaganda Nexus Behind the US-Israeli War on Iran
Fourteen ways of looking at white
He heard the news today				Hollow opposition
Common ground			He saw his Marianne walking away
How Christianity Was Used By the Powerful and the Marginalized to Shape Post-Civil War America
Avedon Carol			THEC and the ISPR against THE UULFer
People I work with at both GW and American (especially) tell me trustworthy bosses up their chain of command are advising they look where to jump before the imminent push is delivered
For the Fossil Record				Joy Williams on Rilke
{ feuilleton }			A Bolivarian Republic of Letters?
William H. Gass’ *Order of Insects*
Henri Cole’s Bestiary				Almost no one makes it out
I'd forgot about american football and had no idea they were considered major and influential
Discombobulated			Alice's astral plane adventures
Seefeel Reveal First New Album in 15 Years!						Out in May, one song released now	☟

MOSS-GATHERING

Theodore Roethke

To loosen with all ten fingers held wide and limber

And lift up a patch, dark-green, the kind for lining cemetery baskets,

Thick and cushiony, like an old-fashioned doormat, 

The crumbling small hollow sticks on the underside mixed with roots, 

And wintergreen berries and leaves still stuck to the top, —

That was moss-gathering. 

But something always went out of me when I dug loose those carpets 

Of green, or plunged to my elbows in the spongy yellowish moss of the marshes:

And afterwards I always felt mean, jogging back over the logging road, 

As if I had broken the natural order of things in that swampland;

Disturbed some rhythm, old and of vast importance,

By pulling off flesh from the living planet;

As if I had committed, against the whole scheme of life, a desecration.