Tuesday, September 15, 2026

I See: It’s Not You Who Is Not Requiting Me, It’s Something In You Over Which You Have No Say Says No to Me

Blooger IS fucked-up, this from reddit last evening:



And others have confirmed via email, thank you. Glad that I didn't break mine, capable though I am even when I've made no attempt to change a thing about the blog except add more people to the blogrolls to make my daily rounds easier and more fulfilling. I did, in a pathetically panicky effort to fix the current fuck-up I knew was blooger's fault and not mine, delete the two cemetery blogrolls, many of those had been dead more than a decade, thinking if any rss codes are constipating the blogrolls it'd be these. If you are still reading here and know your dead blog was interned in the Blogrolls of the Dead and you Rise again to bloglife please let me know, I'll add you to the blogrolls where you will not show up until blooger fixes the feed problem and I bet you unlimited digital pints blooger won't fix the feed problem. Wait, there's new Arab Strap?



Google sheets and forms in my work life and real life sketchy now too, it's not just blooger. Meanwhile, the director of the FBI is defending the hiring of ICE agents with a known history of bestiality while the hick-larping GOP senator from Louisiana demands to know if the animals (whether the dogs were the fucked or the fucker or both is not stated) were disqualified if the agents weren't. Patel assures hick-larper the doggos are good boys. Where I would type the preceding sentence if blooger dies I haven't yet considered beyond knowing it will not be substack and I really don't want to teach myself wordpress though I have an account - a few of you have clicked through to it when I embedded links in the grid - and could replace this blog there. Does wordpress even have blogrolls much less blogrolls that use a feed to self-update? Grids will continue for now, there's a workaround until blooger dies, grids help me process and cope, I do them for me. Have some old Arab Strap




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THE CONSOLATIONS OF SOCIOBIOLOGY

Bill Knott

Those scars rooted me. Stigmata stalagmite
I sat at a drive-in and watched the stars
Through a straw while the Coke in my lap went
Waterier and waterier. For days on end or

Nights no end I crawled on all fours or in
My case no fours to worship you: Amoeba Behemoth.
—Then you explained your DNA calls for
Meaner genes than mine and since you are merely

So to speak its external expression etcet
Ergo among your lovers I’ll never be ...
Ah that movie was so faraway the stars melting

Made my thighs icy. I see: it’s not you
Who is not requiting me, it’s something in you
Over which you have no say says no to me.

5 comments:

  1. 1/whether or not AI might kill all humans, it seems very probable to me that techno-industrial civilization - even without hyper intelligent agentic AGI that leaps its guardrails - is already, in the words of recovering astrophysicist Tom Murphy, "metastic modernity" - in his YouTube series under that title, he reassures us that humanity might well keep going even after most of the modernity is gone - how much change, how quickly, how well adapted to, will shape what happens

    2/I no longer think it would have been possible to avoid the already-in-process catastrophe - talking apes are the way we are. the Maximum Power Principle is the way it is

    3/I read the essay at the New Left Review linked to in the grid above by a question it poses, What does it mean to say we are in a poly crisis? - not a word about what the biosphere is going through except a reference to 'heat related deaths'

    4/act justly, love tenderly, don't get too puffed up - and keep your doors of perception open for moments of beauty - if anyone asked me for advice, and usually they don't, I might say something like that - you know the parable about the Zen strawberry - "how sweet it tasted"

    5/happy trails to you, 'til we meet again

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  2. Hick-larping (hehe) reminds me his bug eyes are to come across as inbred. I used to use WP as backup when I imagined mine to be too valuable to lose. Now I think I'd have to purge it entirely and do a complete export or import move to avoid double posts throughout, though I seem to recall other unwieldy features that make it unattractive.

    ReplyDelete
  3. 1/while the bill knott poem presents itself as a response to unrequited attraction to a particular person, to me it also seems to work as a general complaint about life its own self

    a search on the term "the consolations of Buddhist philosophy" finds

    Buddhist philosophy offers consolation by shifting attention from what cannot be held—certainty, permanence, and control—to what can be cultivated: awareness, compassion, and freedom from attachment. It teaches that suffering is part of life, but not meaningless; by understanding its causes and seeing that all things change, a person can stop clinging to what passes and find a steadier peace. That consolation is not reassurance that life will be easy, but the promise that suffering can be met with insight, discipline, and kindness.

    2/https://www.visitmaryland.org/article/outdoor-movies

    ReplyDelete
  4. I understand the political and religious Right feel they have a gott-given, constitutionally-protected Right to have sex with animals, since it is not prohibited in the biblebook. Which is the most serious support for this position -- "Silence gives consent", as They say, and since the biblebook says nothing about it that's good enough for me. Extending this logic, which has been debated by far far more intelligent and important white guys than me, the biblebook also says nothing about drawing porno / graphic novels, smoking dope, retiring at age 62, voting Communist, or jumping out of an airplane at 7,000 feet with a parasail. Ergo, all such things are not only permitted but encouraged. So there you have it.

    ReplyDelete
  5. There is a Spirit that I Feel

    Can I, imprisoned, body-bounded, touch
    The starry garment of the Oversoul,
    Reach from my tiny part to the great Whole,
    And spread my Little to the infinite Much,
    When Truth forever slips from out my clutch,
    And what I take indeed, I do but dole
    In cupfuls from a rimless ocean-bowl
    That holds a million million million such?

    And yet, some Thing that moves among the stars,
    And holds the cosmos in a web of law,
    Moves too in me: a hunger, a quick thaw
    Of soul that liquifies the ancient bars,
    As I, a member of creation, sing
    The burning one-ness binding everything.

    — Kenneth Boulding, 1939
    Quaker economist, academic, and poet

    ReplyDelete