Soon I'll Be Left With Nothing But Stars, Some of Them Fake, Space Filling With Satellites While the Blazing Bodies Drift Farther Away and the Moon Trails Hopelessly After Them, Crying For Love
Currently on chrome and firefox on both windows on my work PC and chrome on my personal chromebook this blog's blogrolls and feeds are broken and disordered and in a strange font and clicking on a site brings up nothing but code so (fuck me) all the links in the grid of anger are at least a day old, fine metaphors abound, enshittification-wise, today's mood the same as yesterday's the same as tomorrow's:
I'm trying to be cold but too-hot wins. Work bloweth now also, my busiest hardest month of the year, the month when my two core responsibilities peak, and here, as in everywhere, the assholiest people are assholier than ever. You know, shitlords are tuning us to be meaner angrier, more selfish, less kind, it's part of their extermination plan for us, to make us so busy being angry and assholes to each other so we are less assholes to them while they openly endeavor to kill us. It works: look at my grids of anger. You do know that shitlords think you are capable of enjoyable evil equal to them? It's their magic power. I was briefly saved yesterday when I heard this song on Daniel's show, I love Lon Fin Killie but I love Bows more and the song below the grid and this song especially
Everyone's trying to figure out where to go next. California was good until some of it was swept into a furnace, the rest suspended next to a target over a carnival dunk tank. Nothing is good forever, not even a thing of beauty, no matter what Keats said about joy in that really long poem I could never finish. Chocolate was good, especially dark, now they've found cadmium and lead. Eggs were cheap, then pricey, then astronomical, as in probably cheaper on Mars where no one wants to go except one megarich clodpole. New Orleans was good but then it snowed in New Orleans and those levees won't last forever, either. Today the White House announced reality was canceled once again, maybe to be reinstated when the Styx freezes over. I spent the day alone in my friend's house in the Arizona desert. Wandering from room to room, asking the mountains, Are you my mother? I wonder where she went after hospice care, if she joined the few souls flitting from that armless saguaro to the dying mesquite tree by my friend's pretty pool she never swims in, fluffing their wings as they settle and coo. Detroit is supposed to be good in fifty years but I'll be dead then and if I lived there now, I might want to be dead. Everyone wants to breathe but it's getting more difficult, all those boots crushing everyone's tracheas, all those trolls under the bridges trying to devour us as we bleat our alarm. Baaa! I'm bleating now. The mountains reassure me but the sun's going down. Soon I'll be left with nothing but stars, some of them fake, space filling with satellites while the blazing bodies drift farther away and the moon trails hopelessly after them, crying for love.
I remember how much Work would Blow, but I'm retired now and miss only the regularity of contact with three or four people. The work itself I don't miss. Noticed today that the angle of the sun has already begun, just perceptibly, to turn towards Fall: Autumn, or Downfall or Slip and Fall, or Der Fall, The Case or Plan, who knows. I think about the future - not with optimism, exactly, but a dark sense of irony. I think about how to meet it; do they shake hands where It comes from? Do I need to bring a traditional gift, flowers, bottle of wine; envelope of cash? And with all the unstructured time I now have in life, I consider that the Current Dilemma is certainly current and a really good description of How We Live Now. If Trollope had seen how we worked the Future from his place in Victorian England of the 1860's, 70's and Eighties, he might not have been that surprised. Hope this finds you well.
1/i like the artwork made by hand, a 21st century Maryland mandala - the sequence of the words in this comment has also been specified by meat-based processes
2/addonizio frames the current dilemma as 'where to go next' - a picture at the blog 'the collapse of industrial civilization: finding the truth behind the american hologram' shows two smiling travelers, garbed in space suits but not wearing their helmets, ascending the stairs into the capsule but turning around to say goodbye - jeff b. is waving with his left hand with a wineglass in his right, elon m. is taking a selfie with his phone - in the near distance we see flooded city streets, in the far distance skyscrapers glowing with electric light, and also tenements burning in the same cityscape
3/my mental jukebox plays neil young's 'don't let it bring you down', from the 'after the gold rush' album - a vinyl copy of which has been in my garage for a quarter of a century - that piece of plastic that once sang to me is here, i am here typing away with arthritic fingers, as far as i know neil is still around even though we have never been in the same room and probably won't be - although you never know when something surprising might happen
1/"are you my mother?" is a line of dialog from one of my favorite kdrama series - "one spring night", on Netflix - spoken by a preschool boy who was left with his father and grandparents by his unwed mother, who ran away when he was an infant and hasn't been in contact since - he meets the young woman librarian his father is interested in at the library and she asks him to guess who she is - the story reveals it is not so much the young boy, well cared for by his grandparents, who is crying for love, but his father
the young woman librarian feels trapped in a relationship hemmed in by convention, and in which she is not seen - the young couple find the love they seek, and the seeming inpediment of a bastard child becomes part of the link between them - I like stories with someone to root for, ideally meeting oscar wilde's "miss prism's" definition of what fiction is for - particularly when the series is sixteen hour-long episodes
2/with regard to "where to go next?" - in the 18th century some of my ancestors went to nova scotia - there they took the place of displaced people – Acadians and L’nu – although my ancestors did not personally do the displacing, which was done by his majesty's soldiers – and those displaced people may well have been descendants of displacers in their turn –
we are all talking apes, jabbering with our skin showing, helping and harming, lying and telling the truth, killing and eating the animals and birds and fish without worrying too much about the future, burning the fossil carbon — quite a story – i have long known I was a time traveler, one day at a time, from the first half of the twentieth century, but imaginally I am now also a visitor from the future, seeing the efflorescence before the sharp contraction of an entire panoply of ways of organizing the ecosystem to make a living
I remember how much Work would Blow, but I'm retired now and miss only the regularity of contact with three or four people. The work itself I don't miss. Noticed today that the angle of the sun has already begun, just perceptibly, to turn towards Fall: Autumn, or Downfall or Slip and Fall, or Der Fall, The Case or Plan, who knows. I think about the future - not with optimism, exactly, but a dark sense of irony. I think about how to meet it; do they shake hands where It comes from? Do I need to bring a traditional gift, flowers, bottle of wine; envelope of cash? And with all the unstructured time I now have in life, I consider that the Current Dilemma is certainly current and a really good description of How We Live Now. If Trollope had seen how we worked the Future from his place in Victorian England of the 1860's, 70's and Eighties, he might not have been that surprised. Hope this finds you well.
ReplyDelete1/i like the artwork made by hand, a 21st century Maryland mandala - the sequence of the words in this comment has also been specified by meat-based processes
ReplyDelete2/addonizio frames the current dilemma as 'where to go next' - a picture at the blog 'the collapse of industrial civilization: finding the truth behind the american hologram' shows two smiling travelers, garbed in space suits but not wearing their helmets, ascending the stairs into the capsule but turning around to say goodbye - jeff b. is waving with his left hand with a wineglass in his right, elon m. is taking a selfie with his phone - in the near distance we see flooded city streets, in the far distance skyscrapers glowing with electric light, and also tenements burning in the same cityscape
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/55509180924_d66fbff094_b.jpg
3/my mental jukebox plays neil young's 'don't let it bring you down', from the 'after the gold rush' album - a vinyl copy of which has been in my garage for a quarter of a century - that piece of plastic that once sang to me is here, i am here typing away with arthritic fingers, as far as i know neil is still around even though we have never been in the same room and probably won't be - although you never know when something surprising might happen
1/"are you my mother?" is a line of dialog from one of my favorite kdrama series - "one spring night", on Netflix - spoken by a preschool boy who was left with his father and grandparents by his unwed mother, who ran away when he was an infant and hasn't been in contact since - he meets the young woman librarian his father is interested in at the library and she asks him to guess who she is - the story reveals it is not so much the young boy, well cared for by his grandparents, who is crying for love, but his father
ReplyDeletethe young woman librarian feels trapped in a relationship hemmed in by convention, and in which she is not seen - the young couple find the love they seek, and the seeming inpediment of a bastard child becomes part of the link between them - I like stories with someone to root for, ideally meeting oscar wilde's "miss prism's" definition of what fiction is for - particularly when the series is sixteen hour-long episodes
2/with regard to "where to go next?" - in the 18th century some of my ancestors went to nova scotia - there they took the place of displaced people – Acadians and L’nu – although my ancestors did not personally do the displacing, which was done by his majesty's soldiers – and those displaced people may well have been descendants of displacers in their turn –
we are all talking apes, jabbering with our skin showing, helping and harming, lying and telling the truth, killing and eating the animals and birds and fish without worrying too much about the future, burning the fossil carbon — quite a story – i have long known I was a time traveler, one day at a time, from the first half of the twentieth century, but imaginally I am now also a visitor from the future, seeing the efflorescence before the sharp contraction of an entire panoply of ways of organizing the ecosystem to make a living