Blegsylvania is still dying its slow geriatric death, and Blegsylvania, even in its more robust days, always slowed between Thanksgiving and Giftmas as it's slowing now, but this slowdown seems sadder, more exhausted, depressing, forlorn, feels like surrender to inevitabilites. Did anyone doubt how Occupy would - will - play out, does anyone doubt how shitful POTUS12 will look and sound and feel like as it readies the populace for POTUS16 and on and on? Yes, space travel is boring. Yes, I project my aargh across Blegsylvania, broadcast my resignation before late capitalism's inexorable track to all Blegsylvanians. Also, that stoplight, two, three times a day.
- Which isn't to suggest giving-up.
- Who rules Oakland?
- Occupy, unions, NGOs and the peril of DC activism.
- Giving the people what they want.
- We're being heard, but who's listening?
- Occupy now part of the lexicon?
- What I was saying. And they pass on the price of the panopticon plus profit to you!
- Panopticon!
- The right way to engage.
- Grifter-on-grifter food-fight.
- Also, motherfucking Obama.
- Also, one motherfucking ambitious cracker.
- Also, motherfucking christers.
- Thank you for the Kind words.
- CCT!
- For the record, I want both Branko DeRossario and Dwayne Boskovic, I'm curious to see if it could work, cause I think it would.
- Unsurprisingly, predictably even, having written the paragraph above last night, I woke up with Mark Kozelek songs in my head.
CALLED INTO PLAY
A.R. Ammons
Fall fell: so that's it for the leaf poetry:
some flurries have whitened the edges of roads
and lawns: time for that, the snow stuff: &
turkeys and old St. Nick: where am I going to
find something to write about I haven't already
written away: I will have to stop short, look
down, look up, look close, think, think, think:
but in what range should I think: should I
figure colors and outlines, given forms, say
mailboxes, or should I try to plumb what is
behind what and what behind that, deep down
where the surface has lost its semblance: or
should I think personally, such as, this week
seems to have been crafted in hell: what: is
something going on: something besides this
diddledeediddle everyday matter-of-fact: I
could draw up an ancient memory which would
wipe this whole presence away: or I could fill
out my dreams with high syntheses turned into
concrete visionary forms: Lucre could lust
for Luster: bad angels could roar out of perdition
and kill the AIDS vaccine not quite
perfected yet: the gods could get down on
each other; the big gods could fly in from
nebulae unknown: but I'm only me: I have 4
interests--money, poetry, sex, death: I guess
I can jostle those. . . .