Whenever the Script Says *Dances,* Whatever the Actor Does Next Is Dance

Yes, there was overnight bleggalgazing here, but because of the sillyass rules on rulelessness I impose on myself, once I tagged the post WTF12HRMAX I was required to delete the post from here though I clownishly keep it - and all WTF12HRMAX posts - there. Because of the sillyass rules on rulelessness I impose on myself, since two friends tagged the post in the comments field of the prior post - because of the sillyass rules on rulelessness I impose on myself I don't enable comments for WTF12HRMAX posts - I am required to make mention of the WTF12HRMAX post in this post.  Yes, I've said all this before, no doubt will say it all again. Also too, news about United's new lease agreement with DC, including the tarping of the entire upper bowl. Also too, I am never eating at Fucking Founding Frauders again after last night's clusterfuck with Planet, Earthgirl, SeatSix, Planet's grandparents, holyshit, did it suck. Suck. Also too, I dropped Planet off at BWI three hours ago, damn. Also too, busy, I'll try to add some of the sparser than normal links (see said bleggalgaze) around lunchtime, or not, but have another Jack Gilbert poem and a song I hadn't though about in at least a decade that was in my head when I woke up this morning.


TO SEE IF SOMETHING COMES NEXT

Jack Gilbert

There is nothing here at the top of the valley.
Sky and morning, silence and the dry smell
of heavy sunlight on the stone everywhere.
Goats occasionally, and the sounds of roosters
in the bright heat where he lives with the dead
woman and purity. Trying to see if something
comes next. Wondering whether he has stalled.
Maybe, he thinks, it is like the No-.: whenever
the script says dances, whatever the actor does next
is dance. If he stands still he is dancing.