Divine was born sixty-six years ago today. There's a reason I give all praise and awe to Serendipity, Serendipity again providing the perfect trope for the particular day, plus I'm busy, burned-out, stuff to do before tonight's game - the ticket is still available (game is at 800, not 730, btw, and you must let me know by 200) - so for today just links, poem, music, and this:
- Walmart Derangement Syndrome. Look for updates and follow-ups.
- Blogging is a system of control. You've no idea how much I repress the urge to bleggalgaze on a minute by minute basis. This second.
- Baby, we're all anarchists now.
- The strange success of Occupy.
- Noam Chomsky, anarchist, on the impossibility of anarchism.
- The guy in blue.
- The World's Second Shittiest Human is grateful for Occupy.
- The World's Second Shittiest Human is grateful for Occupy.
- On the above.
- The Roman rigor of Obama's death squads.
- Fight for the conch.
- I'll bump plans with you, brother.
- All right, two bits of bleggalgazing - both regarding additions to blegrells, logistical and regarding Kind, and.... fuck it.
- Friday!
- Hey, I slept in Zanesville three nights three days ago! Coincidence?
- Purple Line!
- Lit-links.
- What makes a book great?
- New Mazzy Star in two weeks?
- Stone Roses reunite?
- Why he doesn't hate Pink Floyd. My issue w/Floyd is you couldn't go to a party w/o hearing Dark Side of the Moon four times.
- The Kinks never worked for me, but if for you, have three hours.
- How about a Kristen Hersh live set?
A LOCKED HOUSE
W.D. Snodgrass
As we drove back, crossing the hill,
The house still
Hidden in the trees, I always thought—
A fool’s fear—that it might have caught
Fire, someone could have broken in.
As if things must have been
Too good here. Still, we always found
It locked tight, safe and sound.
I mentioned that, once, as a joke;
No doubt we spoke
Of the absurdity
To fear some dour god’s jealousy
Of our good fortune. From the farm
Next door, our neighbors saw no harm
Came to the things we cared for here.
What did we have to fear?
Maybe I should have thought: all
Such things rot, fall—
Barns, houses, furniture.
We two are stronger than we were
Apart; we’ve grown
Together. Everything we own
Can burn; we know what counts—some such
Idea. We said as much.
We’d watched friends driven to betray;
Felt that love drained away
Some self they need.
We’d said love, like a growth, can feed
On hate we turn in and disguise;
We warned ourselves. That you might despise
Me—hate all we both loved best—
None of us ever guessed.
The house still stands, locked, as it stood
Untouched a good
Two years after you went.
Some things passed in the settlement;
Some things slipped away. Enough’s left
That I come back sometimes. The theft
And vandalism were our own.
Maybe we should have known.
