Saturday, August 31, 2013
Friday, August 30, 2013
stepping in to lift the coffins
of dead relations.
They had been laid out
their eyelids glistening,
their dough-white hands
shackled in rosary beads.
had unwrinkled, the nails
were darkened, the wrists
the quilted satin cribs:
I knelt courteously
admiting it all
and veined the candles,
the flames hovering
to the women hovering
And always, in a corner,
the coffin lid,
its nail-heads dressed
Dear soapstone masks,
kissing their igloo brows
had to suffice
and the black glacier
of each funeral
of each neighbourly murder
we pine for ceremony,
of a cortège, winding past
each blinded home.
I would restore
prepare a sepulchre
under the cupmarked stones.
Out of side-streets and bye-roads
nose into line,
the whole country tunes
to the muffled drumming
left behind, move
through emptied kitchens
towards the mounds.
Quiet as a serpent
in its grassy boulevard
out of the Gap of the North
as its head already enters
the megalithic doorway.
back in its mouth
we will drive north again
past Strang and Carling fjords
allayed for once, arbitration
of the feud placated,
imagining those under the hill
who lay beautiful
inside his burial mound,
though dead by violence
men said that he was chanting
verses about honour
and that four lights burned
which opened then, as he turned
with a joyful face
to look at the moon.
The man who replaced all the photos of his mother with Samuel L. Jackson!
How does that make him a hero, you may ask...
Well, why not? It's my blog.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
I figure if I never have to go back inside again, life would be perfect. Except for the weather. I always forget that I am not weatherproof. Well, nothing really is. Some things are "weather resistant." Everything fades, collapses, crumbles, or washes away at some point. That is guaranteed. Again, this is yet again a celebration of those who bring it out of the galleries and museums and make my world, and yours, worth slowing down and looking at. I bow to all of you.
But it really, really does. God forgive me.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. ~ Matthew 24: 6
Um... Maybe Bob Dylan said it better, at least for me, because maybe this isn't the end. Maybe this doesn't forebode the end of the world. Then it just begs the questions, why not and how soon?
Don't even pretend to be doing this in MY best interest.
It's a valid question. The 12-year old in me definitely perked up when I saw it.
But I'm not 12, am I?
It's still kind of cool. Is it waterproof? Is it shockproof? Will it take a licking and keep on ticking? Will the potential market for this gadget even be old enough to remember these references?
There is a presumption in fine art (and yes I've said this before) that it will be preserved in some way as a timeless statement or record. It is different when your environment is your canvas. There is no presumption that anything will last. It is created in the moment for the moment and the very act of creating is as important, if not more so, than the outcome.
That is where the true nobility in creation lies.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Take the test!
I'm assuming I passed but I could very well be wrong.
|These scores indicate that you are a progressive; this is the political profile one might associate with a university professor. It appears that you are skeptical towards religion, and have a pragmatic attitude towards humanity in general.|
Your attitudes towards economics appear communist, and combined with your social attitudes this creates the picture of someone who would generally be described as left-wing.
To round out the picture you appear to be, political preference aside, a centrist with many strong opinions.
This concludes our analysis; we hope you found your results accurate, useful, and interesting.
|Unlike many other political tests found on the Internet which base themselves on untested (and usually ideologically motivated) ideas, this inventory is adapted from Hans Eysenck's own political inventory which was developed after extensive empirical investigations in the 20th Century.|
The single exception to the rule, apparently, was 20th Century actor, Mickey Rooney, a sexually prolific, priapic dwarf. Wealth and fame might have accounted for the manual override of evolution's bias against the physically unpleasant.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Nuclear power IS dangerous!
Furthermore we can't really count on the people in charge to tell the truth, can we?
It's pretty clear now that many of us are not going to die natural deaths.
And Karen Silkwood was murdered.
I thought maybe I would be able to listen to this song again and not miss you. Surprise, surprise. Old habits die hard. Though maybe harder for me than for you. But you remember when we thought this song was written just for us, right? It was like Robert Earl Keen Jr. had jumped inside our heads and written a song just for us. Right?
I can still see it like it was yesterday. We're sitting in our underwear in the kitchen on 23rd Street drinking coffee and smashing out Marlboro Lights in the greasy takeout containers from last night. We could finish each other's sentences. We didn't really need to talk at all, and yes I know that I always did anyway. I had a way of killing a moment by talking too much. Thinking too much. Worrying too much. Needing too much.
I'd like to say that's changed but here I am writing to you again. Needing you again. After all this time. It's funny how that works. Not haha funny or anything like that. It's just that time passes and I think I'm over it. It's years ago. That's right. Years ago. You would think I would be done with it by now. People got sick of my talking about it years ago. My friends announced a moratorium. No more talking about it. You are allowed one third the cumulative time of a relationship to grieve a relationship.
Certainly no more. Not a minute more.
So I put on the other song last night. Dreadful Selfish Crime. Just to see how it felt after a year or so. You were right there before the first verse was done. You were back. You were smiling. No, okay. Half-smiling.
"You get way to much pleasure out of this song, baby," is what you always said. "Way too much."
And you would smile that half smile, and shake your head, and your hair would fall down over one eye and through the hair and the cigarette smoke you would watch me for a minute and turn away. And that would twist my heart because I knew what you were thinking. I knew what you were thinking from that first time you asked the question.
"Why are you so angry, baby? You have so much."
But I was caught up in it and didn't know how to get out. From the moment you asked that question it was clear that it was all on borrowed time. I was caught up in it. I wanted it to be different but couldn't slow down the train. Too much momentum.
You never told me to get help. The words, if memory serves were, "there are people to talk to." It's clear now that it was fear that kept me away from those "people." I still didn't understand why I couldn't just talk to you. You "got" me. You understood.
But I know that's an awful lot to put on one person, isn't it? And there was that last time. I remember it as the last time anyway. You were hanging on the side of the bathroom door crying while I sat on the tiles unable to move. There was no half-smile. Just a case of the sads.
There is no sadder feeling in the whole world than going to bed and crawling around the sheets sniffing about for the place someone laid their head. Or maybe there is, but nothing I know of personally anyway. I kept all our favorite records on repeat for months. Pathetic, right? Or worse that I still drag them out and play the songs in the same order that I used to? I'm supposed to be grown.
I'm supposed to be grown, Beatriz, but I don't know if I will ever stop missing you. What's done is done, sure, and I can smile about it now, but wow...
So maybe this is the strangest love song every written, but it seemed to make sense back then. Some days it still does. Does it to you too? Or were you only ever just indulging me?
Strange love songs.
Strange love letters left unsent.
.... just to mess with the stylishly glum. Then I realize that my motivation is just to extend the reach of my misanthropy into an otherwise unreachable audience. My loathing appears to be genuine. The jury is still out, but all evidence indicates that... well... whatever.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Maybe this is why Universal All-Day Pre-K and Mandatory Kindergarten get so much lip service in the political arena. God knows what could happen with the kids gone all day. It can't be all about chai at the tea house, yoga and trips to Trader Joe's.
Odds are it's not going to end up on the Mommy Blogs though.
Yes, this is a list of a lot of things that piss God right off, but think of what is NOT on the list. For example, marihuana and LSD are just out. No can do. But it says nothing at all about cocaine, heroin, rohypnal, ecstasy, liquor of any variety...
Yes, fornication is mentioned but it never says anything specifically about other... um... alternative thing-a-ma-jigs, if you catch my drift.
So cheer up. Seems to me the hoop that you have to jump through is pretty wide.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
In case you were wondering what it looks like, I've included this image here, which looks suspiciously like a tee-shirt design you would see at a Phish show.
I would rather have a walloping case of West Nile than attend a Phish show, but apparently it is not a choice.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Monday, August 19, 2013
I don't know what's more frightening about this Instagram Social Media Gun Bust: That there are heavily armed people running about that are stupid enough to be busted because they posted photos on Instagram -- or that the first comments on the article are from self-professed 2nd Amendment crusaders claiming that Constitutional rights were violated in this case -- or that Hizzoner Michael Bloomberg and his dickhead police commissioner will add these 254 guns into their raw numbers when they claim their un-Constitutional harassment of the civil rights of young people of color has taken such-and-such amount of weapons off the streets.
Do I sound misanthropic? Read the article.
I want to go live in the woods.
It could be said with some degree of accuracy that I walk that tightrope between Nihiism and Zen with my head planted somewhere up there, so to speak.
Thanks to Kurt Vonnegut, by the way, for his anatomical sketch that I've misappropriated for this blog post.
"That's why self-interest terrifies us. Civilization itself is based on the idea that we can set aside self-interest and instead act according to collective rules designed to preserve others." And this last quote pretty much says it all. Why are we so eager to set ourselves apart as separate and distinct from the animal kingdom when all evidence gathered clearly shows the opposite to be at least mostly true most of the time.
I came to believe that the right thing was simply what was convenient for the most people. It was whatever accommodated their needs most at that particular time. It wasn't necessarily the most moral or ethical thing. It just suited a bunch of people based on what they were feeling they needed at that moment. Whether they really needed it remains to be seen. Whether or not anyone else suffered for it remains to be seen. My guess is that someone somewhere suffered for everything he did that made everyone call him a stand-up guy. Would they have suffered had he not done the "right" thing? Or would they have just done without or had to figure out something else?
The stand-up guy was never really tested as being a stand-up guy. It doesn't seem to me that he ever made any moral judgments. I never witnessed him making any real value judgments. Granted he was always the first to jump in and lend a hand to achieve what everyone else wanted, but that doesn't make it right, does it? Especially if it suited what he thought he needed at any given moment too. Moral relativity never made anyone right.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Why the hell not? The Wild Bunch
Because sometimes the last big score comes down to evening the score. Not like revenge or anything, but you paint yourself into these moral corners sometimes and the only way out is to walk back over everything you've done up to that point and it can get a little messy. Most people never even get the chance to put things right and do one single thing that isn't about self-centered bullshit. Sometimes you just have that one window of opportunity, and so as Warren Oates says right before the last scene:
Why the hell not?
It's kind of funny too. Watch the Mexican soldiers as the fateful four walk into the village square. There is a pronounced WTF reaction as they stir from the stupor and slowly realize that something very different is happening, or about to happen.
People will react that way to you too.
via Street Art News
Saturday, August 17, 2013
I swear I get more from a tuft of grass pushing up through a crack in the sidewalk than from a whole rural landscape. Whatever we can will to happen, God will take back. Just like that. Fast or slow, this whole illusion we have built will be gone one day. Trust.
Stalled subway trains.
Awkward first dates.
Interminable Family Crap.
Patterns you keep repeating.
Friday, August 16, 2013
3) The one that you saw once 10 years ago that is the only one on the entire planet that fits the bolts holding together the sofa you need out moved from your parlor to the curb. Like a lock, every sofa has one unique wrench.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
This Charming Charlie
Smiths lyrics put to Peanuts comic strips. It makes so much sense. It's so obvious. Yet it required a much sharper mind than my own to see it and bring it to life.
What else is there to say? I could move on to dry commentary on news stories, but it all seems so empty now.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Electing someone to political office is like loaning them your favorite possession. The longer they have it, the more they feel that it actually belongs to them, and that they are entitled do do whatever they please with it. They may even get really indignant if you suggest that perhaps they are abusing the privilege of having it with them.
This is it, motherfucker!
IT IS NOT YOURS. I AM JUST LETTING YOU HOLD ONTO IT FOR A BIT!
Now they look like this.
So as it turns out, America has more internet porn than any other country. Nice to see people making good use of the 1st Amendment, especially at a time when every item on the Bill of Rights is under attack (except for the 2nd, of course)
Uh-Murikka! Hell yeah!!!
This article is nothing more than horrid, shit-heeled sleazery. It's cynical race-baiting and an egregious offense against common decency.
I'm calling out The New York Post on this one. They have a history of this sort of garbage. They are saying, in no uncertain terms, that hundreds of thousands of violations of Constitutional rights yearly are all that is keeping us from being overrun by hordes of armed blacks. New Jim Crow? No sir. Jim Crow never ended in some corners of New York City. You rotten bastards. Shame!
And it may or may not be intentional that homeboy here is busting a move straight out of a Beyonce video. Look at him go!
DC Comics worked him for... one issue. I'm not quite sure what happened to him after that.
Rehab? Jail? N.A.?
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
A group of officious Kiwis at a company called Martin Aircraft have announced that the first "practical" jetpack could be on sale to the consumer market in as little as 2 years.
This might have been good news, say... when I was 11 and still thought that I might be an astronaut and thought Lost In Space was quality television (actually, it was).
Then I saw the smug nerds who went out and bought Segways and motored around like extras in a Devo music video. Look! They bordered on sanctimonious on their nerdmobiles. Can you imagine how insufferable they will be when they can fly? Please don't do this.