What I Had Discovered Is That Every Space Contains More Space Than the Space It Contains

Now back where I sit and type I sit and type my confession I bought one day before the end of vacation two dozen of the pens I currently adore, a 0.4 MM Pentel Arts Hybrid Technica, black ink, fully aware that I won't have two hours a day every day in Maine to write in tablet while L paints wherever she wants in the middle of a hike for fifty-one weeks. If I'd wrote that sentence in tablet I would have had to type it here anyway, it made sense in Maine woods, not where I sit and type this, fuck me

Two weeks in a not-our house too much for the two of us who were not too much for the two of us for the two weeks it was just the two of us, Momcat welcomed us home, screaming her silent meow

Going on vacation my third favorite thing, being on vacation my favorite thing, getting home from vacation my second favorite thing
A useful and thoughtful duh on why Conservatives have always and will always hate public education, posted on behalf of my wife and daughter who are public school teachers, my mother and father and the aunts and uncles who were public school teachers, my friends who are public school teachers, you if you're a public school teacher, and all public school teachers
Maine hiking: hot, as in heat and humidity, especially on bald granite, harder for that, but my eyes - every post but two a year tagged My Blindness for real not just metaphorical gagging - steep rocky downhill scrambles now scare the fuck out of me and are no fun, I have lost vision yes in both eyes' lower periphery, but it's fucked with my balance enough to scare the fuck out of me on steep rocky downhill scrambles. L helped, sticks didn't
We spent Saturday in New Hampshire at L's friends house on a pond sorta halfway between Corcord and Keene, I had three hours by myself to drive by myself roads I'd never driven, swoon, while they had three hours together, for those following, New Hampshire - at least where we were and where I've been in the past - not Maine, I'd like to spend two weeks just the two of us in not-our house in Sally's house for a fair comparison, Maine light better, New Hampshire's vibe major better, I vote light usually but
BLEGGALGAZE (not mine)		AMERICAN DEMOCRATIC SOCIALISM?			CONDITION OF SECRECY		MORE DUH
ODE TO ANY UNHINGED			COPAGANDA!		ELITES VERSUS THE RICH?
FOG OF WAR		NEW ARMANTROUT!		MODERN HERETIC		CRITIC'S PROGRESS
JERRY GARCIA		◀	Birthdays I didn't post		▶	WILLIAM GASS
Tried audio books, including Gaddis' *JR,* on long drive to and from and no, it's me, not Audible, not because Audible's Amazon, mind, my complicity is documented every post but two a year, but because it'd be a waste of my money, even more than all the books I buy I don't read (not Amazon when possible, I virtue-signal)
Bud-wise? Michigan > Maine > DC, though Michigan and Maine competitive, DC dead fucking last
I skipped middle age in my head and went straight to old, I was young before the plague and rusted during, the fuck

EXCERPT (THE TUNNEL)

William Gass

The other large carton unpacked in the same way - box into box - but the feeling it gave me was the opposite of that suggested b the endless nest of Russians dollies it otherwise resembled, for what I was opening was a den of spaces which now covered the floor near my feet. It was plain that every ten-by-ten-by eight container contained cubes which were nine by nine by seven, and eight by eight by six, and seven by seven by five, and so on down to three by three by two, as well as many smaller, thinly sided one at every interval in between, so that out of one box a million more might multiply, confirming Zeno's view, although at that age, with an unfurnished mind, I couldn't have known of his paradoxes let alone have been able to describe one with any succinctness. What I had discovered is that every space contains more space than the space it contains.

The Rearview Mirror Swam with Mirage

This year's Maine worry stones, life-size, yo, I swear by them even if I lose most of them in the course of the year, if you'd like one let me know, I'll hand it to you if I can, mail it to you if I can't, laugh, last year I gave my colleagues at work one each, each colleague underwhelmed, the stone quickly buried in a desk drawer if not slipped into a pocket and thrown away on way home

Not these two though (twice life-size), they be mine, I love the big toe, and the other chimes

Last day today. We stop in New Hampshire tomorrow so L can visit a friend, they want time alone in the afternoon, will research disc golf courses near Hillsboro NH tonight. Tomorrow also Kate Bush's birthday, a student worker asked me earlier this month if I'd ever heard of her, her *Running Up That Hill,* made famous again because of some television show. I did not tell the student that Kate Bush is one of two charter and permanent members of My Sillyass Deserted Island Five Game nor did I tell her I never need play a Kate Bush song again since I can hear whichever one I want in my head any time I want much less tell the student I can no longer remember all the rotating bands and musicians who have occupied Seats Three thru Five and, more than that, don't know who the current Three thru Five are. Fuck me, abandoning shit left and right. There will be a Kate Bush song or two tomorrow

Haven't read a thing. Nothing. The two novels and two poetry collections in my backpack have not left the backpack. I have not used google sheets for link-farming or evernote for digital tablet once. Analog tablet, used mostly while L painted for two hours on each of our hikes, filled, some of what's been typed here the last two weeks started in tablet and written in ink. The death of Napoleon eliminated *that* anxiety on vacation and the retirement of Bookkeeper eliminated *that* anxiety from my life, I had no idea how much those anxieties' cessation, especially the latter, opened vast new spaces for new anxieties or, rather anxieties that were entertainment are now like gigantic GMC pick-up trucks with Maine plates and bumperstickers that say *I'm Not on Vacation, I Live here* driven by bearded white males approaching in the rear view mirror that pass me then dramatically slow beneath the speed limit and dare me to react facially, I can watch the white guy watching me in his rear view mirror. Do you need me to tell you how deeply, hopelessly, irreversibly fucked this trip has made me realize we are? I've pages of hand-written notes. The disc golf has been good, almost had my first ace, bounced out of the chains on hole seventeen at Habana, and there's an excellent organic craft cannabis store in Bangor. I can't wait to be home. I'm pretty sure Lambchop has held one of the three rotation seats in MSADI5G at least once





WHAT GRIEVING WAS

Lynn Emanuel

That was not the summer of aspic

and cold veal. It was so hot

the car seat stung my thighs

and the rearview mirror swam

with mirage. In the back seat

the leather grip was noosed by twine.

We were not poor but we had

the troubles of the poor.

She who had been that soft snore

beside the Nytol, open-mouthed,

was gone, somewhere, somewhere

there was a bay, there was a boat,

there was a scold in mother’s mouth.

What I remember best

is the way everything came and went

in the window of my brief attention.

At the wake I was beguiled

by the chromium yellow lemon pies.

The grandfather clock’s pendant

of unaffordable gold told the quarter hour.

The hearse rolled forward over the O’s

of its own surprise.

2022 July 25

I type this at 6:27 PM EDT on Sunday evening July 24 2022 and am timing it to publish at 6:00 AM EDT Monday July 25 there are goldenrods, this shitty blog's Official Flower, blooming in the backyard of the house we stay when in Seal Cove Maine AT MIDNIGHT TONIGHT my domain name will renew or not, what not means I don't know, I'm almost certain and bet you digital pints whichever card google charged the ten dollars this idiot pays for fuck me vanity not to have blogspot in my shitty blog's address last year will be renewed see you later or/and don't get me started on elsewhere

UPDATE! 

Your domain name, blckdgrd.com, was successfully renewed with enom for one year. You can now continue using blckdgrd.com with Domain Registration through July 18, 2023 and your account will soon be charged for the purchase.

Please do not reply to this email; replies are not monitored.

THIS MORNING AT 6:27 Wordpress emailed (I can screenshot it if you insist)

Hi Jeff,

You're getting closer to your WordPress.com anniversary — congrats! I wanted to thank you for being a valuable member of our community and remind you that your WordPress.com Personal plan and domain name "blckdgrd.me" will renew in 30 days. Don't worry, you don't have to do anything; your renewals happen automatically

You will be charged $48 for your WordPress.com Personal plan renewal and $25 for your domain name "blckdgrd.me" on August 24, 2022. This price does not include any applicable taxes which will vary based on your billing address.

Laugh, I pay $73 a year for a site exactly three of you visit regularly, rest of you won't no matter how often I bump it here, fine metaphors abound! Renewing!

Please You Must Forgive Me, I Am Old but Still a Child

If this was a week's vacation instead of two, at the time I type this sentence (7:07 AM EST, Saturday July 23rd), if we left the house at 5AM, we'd be approaching the Maine - New Hampshire border on our 102 to 3 to 1A to 95 to 495 to 290 to 90 to 84 to 81 to 83 to 695 to 95 to 495 journey home. I do not miss work, I look forward to seven more days of hikes and sunsets w L, I do miss our house, cats, and I will not miss once home the sun breaching my bedroom's windows despite sturdy window blinds at five in the morning here, my clock is sideways

I have not touched my paints and have no plans to currently (and no plans NOT to currently). Tablet getting worked but disordered and scrambled, coherent but disconnected one paragraph from the next. When Biden dies of covid tomorrow who does Harris name as her VPOTUS and imagine the noise. I don't know how much is me now versus Maine now as compared to me then and Michigan then a month ago, but the percentage of white males' pick-up trucks in Maine that have Flag Punisher bumperstickers and decals far higher than Michigan, and the hate radiating from locals towards the tourists whose tax dollars float the local economy far more prevalent and open. One guy I disced with on Thursday said locals like to pass cars with out-of-state tags (especially Subarus) then slam on the brakes and crawl as a Fuck You! and I've had it done once though we're in L's Mazda. I had no plans to link-farm on vacation (and had - and have - no plans to NOT link-farm on vacation, I haven't yet and am not today). I currently have no plans to make any plans about anything this vacation (and no plans NOT to). Excellent but strangest vacation ever, I'm happier than sideways but more sideways than normal and not just because it sucks to be woken at 5AM. The evening light here though, this from last night's sunset too

This is a live post until I abandon it unless I've abandoned it already. I didn't forget - Brian May turned 75 on the 19th, this is the greatest Queen song ever, fight me

Waituntil Owait, There's Nountil

L gives me access to her gouaches

might try tonight if I overcome my hesitancy towards disloyalty to my watercolors and inks, and the fuck?

I'm writing in tablet? I'm halfway through a novel I don't enjoy but think important re: our endtime and collective sociopathic descent into, I grabbed a novel by an author the cool kids yabber about, an internal dialogue by the author about the author's inability to start a life's writing project (as opposed to Gass's gass who can't finish a project). The first accuses me of full complicit participant in our shared approaching apocalypse, the second accuses me of full complicit participant in my own approaching apocalypse. Do I want to read the duh, no matter what an achievement duh's depiction is, on clusterfuck's duh or a wannabe author's self-loathing duhful murnane-ing exploration of his inadequacy? You guess. O! Then there's Maine

Happy 90th birthday to my dad! 

I only wear red in the woods and only wear red in the woods for L

2022 JULY 19

Jeff Popovich

I’ve beenwriting intablet with notfountain pens
Whatever I’ve been doing to my body’s kicking in
I amthe metaphorborn nineteenfiftynine
I’mslothrup I keptup pace
Waituntil owait, there’s nountil

First 5am from Bedroom Window of This Year's Maine

the archer, the oink angel, angel of ten dollar bills found in the dryer or the one who welcomes you in work gloves and says if you’re caught eating a single peach, even windfall, you’ll be executed

1. Saturday July 16 3AM to 3PM, traffic willing: 495 to 95 to 695 to 83 to 81 to 84 to 90 to 290 to 495 to 95 to 1A to 3 to 102 to Pretty Marsh Road to Tremont Road to Seal Cove
2. Found pens I love - the second of four frames in flag below the ink of that pen - and rediscovered, cleaned, reloaded six fountain pens which can only be used on jeffflags, my always has been and always will be rule I made two minutes ago
3. Forced by the always has been and always will be rule I make while typing this sentence, I need create new categories both at this shitty blog and the other shitty blog, not a problem there and not a problem here but do you see the motherfucking lawyer I need to deal with to get a simple paradigm shifted?
4. The snide watercolor teacher in the Fall 2019 Glen Echo class I took w L and SeatSix told me I made interesting place-mats but the reason I only use primary colors on palette a result of his suggestion to the class that the best way to make grays and (my phrase) transitional bridges, I vouch
5. Five disc bag, you didn't ask, from long-range to putter, Beast, Roadrunner, Leopard, Roc, Aviar (the pink one with the Missing Low Is Lame sticker), a vintage circa 2006 cutting-edge bag
6. The hiring committee I'm on for my next boss voted unanimously for one candidate as expected but unexpected was one member's utter dismissal of my ex-colleague's candidacy and the overall NO from all members so I am not solely responsible for affecting the life path of the ex-colleague
7. Halfway through Blake Butler's brilliant *300,000,000,* it's like brushing my teeth with SOS pads
8. I feel obligated to finish it and know beyond doubt if I don't take it to Maine my current self-bylaws say if I pick it up again I must start at the beginning so I will never finish it (at one time not reading it but having it the day-backpack sufficed and I'm taking it with me but if I'm on the same page in August...)
9. L packing gouache for me, I'm hesitant, and not just because I'm just relearning my watercolor hand

The American Century is over, gone, goodbye

The empire knows kayfabe is broke, and loves it

American president supports Israeli apartheid state and the genocide of Palestinians

What the Democratic center has failed to learn over the past three decades

All cops are bastards, always and forever

College students increasingly despise reading

Life in parlous wartime (with breaks for music)

The life and death of the American mall

Meet the ex-CIA agents deciding Facebook's content policies

Every day is fund-raising time!

Delegitimizing the administrative state

There are dopes who don't realize motherfucking professional Democrats LOVE their man chin and who won't recognize Democrats - under donor orders - lost Senate races in 2020 they could have easily won if they weren't so busy deliberately losing them

I have never read a Jean Stafford novel, early because Lowell was to poetry for me what The Fucking Doors still are for me in music, later because I forgot about her, if I was to walk up two flights of stairs and pick any of her novels off the library shelves to test drive in Maine, suggestions?

As w the Michigan vacation weeks ago, I have neither plans to or not at this shitty blog the next two weeks in Maine, I will what I want, won't what I don't, and I make no promises to ME jeffflag-wise one medium and/or any other

First ARCHERS OF LOAF album in 24 years, new single below, who's not seeing them with me at Ottobar in Bawlmer Merlin in October

PEACH FARM

Dean Young

I’m thinking it’s time to go back

to the peach farm or rather

the peach farm seems to be wanting me back

even though the work of picking, sorting,

the sticky perils and sudden swarms are done.

Okay, full disclosure, I’ve never

been on a peach farm, just glimpsed

from a car squat trees I assumed

were peach and knew a couple in school

who went off one summer, so they said,

to work on a peach farm. She was pregnant,

he didn’t have much intention, canvases

of crushed lightbulbs and screws in paste.

He’d gotten fired from the lunch counter

for putting too much meat

on the sandwiches of his friends

then ended up in Macy’s in New York

selling caviar and she went home

I think to Scranton, two more versions

of never hearing from someone again.

I’d like to say the most important fruits

are within but that’s the very sort of bullshit

one goes to the peach farm to avoid,

not just flight from quadratic equations,

waiting for the plumber,

finding out your insurance won’t pay.

Everyone wants out of the spider’s stomach.

Everyone wants to be part of some harvest

and stop coughing to death and cursing

at nothing and waking up nowhere near

an orchard. Look at these baskets,

bashed about, nearly ruined with good employ.

Often, after you’ve spent a day on a ladder,

you dream of angels, the one with the trumpet

and free subscriptions to the New Yorker

or the archer, the oink angel, angel

of ten dollar bills found in the dryer

or the one who welcomes you in work gloves

and says if you’re caught eating a single peach,

even windfall, you’ll be executed.

Then laughs. It’s okay, kiddo,

long as you’re here, you’re one of us.