25 min: Benzema, to the left of the area, is being shepherded away from goal, but suddenly sends a cracking reverse pass back inside to Ronaldo, who with only Valdes to beat, shanks a hellish effort miles wide right. That should have been a second goal, especially as Di Maria was also unmarked, and in an even better position, just to his right. Ronaldo does a lot of shouting, using the Portuguese words for EFF and CEE.
EFF and CEE? Here, have three more sentences of good:
29 min: Dani Alves cries murder after Marcelo clatters into him. The referee sighs wearily. There's an edge now.
- Holyfuck.
- Current Standings: I'd root for Barca to beat England's traditional big four (and City if City didn't have Why Always Me), any Italian side (though I love Fiorentina's violet), and Madrid; there's no team on the planet I'd root for Madrid to beat.
- Mailing it in again? What's this pen's significance? I don't know!
- Irony alert.
- Graeber interview.
- Why Occupy?
- OMFG!
- The initial thought was to comment on how any profile piece on a Republican wannabe-POTUS in the NYT or YFWP will infuriate predictable people (once and hopefully now much less reflexively me) if it isn't a savaging and it's never been a savaging and will never be a savaging, but what caught my attention is this sentence: “I don’t think George ever forgot that,” said Walter DeVries, a longtime friend and colleague, all praise to Serendipity, yesterday morning before seeing the linked article I was looking for something else, and I found Peter De Vries' Slouching to Kalamazoo, and thought, I haven't thought about Peter De Vries in at least a decade. I think of Thomas Berger when I think of De Vries, though I think of Thomas Berger all the time.
- The dematerialization of the art object.
- Reality B.
- Copland and the Republicans.
- Obscure Sound's AWESOME Top 50 with lots of glorious sound. I LOVE Destroyer, I have every Destroyer album, I didn't even know about this one, I don't have enough ears, eyes, how the fuck did this happen?
- Holyfuck.
- Best Bryan Ferry homage ever:
GLASS
A.R. Ammons
The song
sparrow puts all his
saying
into one
repeated song:
what
variations, subtleties
he manages,
to encompass denser
meanings, I’m
too coarse
to catch: it’s
one song, an over-reach
from which
all possibilities,
like filaments,
depend:
killing,
nesting, dying,
sun or cloud,
figure up
and become
song—simple, hard:
removed.
