Poem via Sasha. I am very serious in my begging - send me poems, songs, requests, playlists, I am happy to share. Meanwhile, busy (the stories I can't tell you about asshole brother-in-law and asshole step-family-in-laws, hoo-wee, would be my favorite blog-posts ever), not even time for me to type out an Ishiguro paragraph (the Ishiguro is working, my head is rebooting) cause I didn't have time to read past where I'd stopped, have songs, a few links, a poem, back soon.
- The above is via me, the two below via Prunella.
- The vicious lie of isolated good deeds.
- The psychopathology of bleggalgazing subject/object/object/subject/subjest/object/subject/etc. The bleggalgazing spills over into comments. By the way, the count on OOOists (as opposed to SUNN O)))) clocking a single second and/or clicking home remains consistent at zero.
- UPDATE! Re: Bleggalgazing - there are four dudes in Amman, Jordan, two in Beirut, and three in Tbilisi who've been googling the shit out of this post for the past three days. Creepy.
- Are we grammar Nazis? NO! We are grammar Marxist-Leninists!
- Police state.
- Muddling towards the next crisis.
- Krugman's obamapostasy will never be ready.
- UPDATE! Video of Obama's furious reaction to news of new Israeli settlements on West Bank.
- Both sides do it!
- Along came Fox.
- Silliman's always generous litlinks.
- Hey, it's been almost a month since Mark posted at ::wood s lot:: You OK, dude?
- Virginia Woolf, for those of you who do.
- Feminine writing.a
- Trouble.
- Eno, for those of you who do.
- Zappadan!
HOW TO BE A SURREALIST
Dean Young
Sleep well. A gland in the command
center releases its yellow hornet
to tell you you're missing the point,
the point being that getting smacked
by a board, gored by umbrellas, tongue-
lashed by cardiologists, bush-wacked
by push-up bras is a learning experience.
Sure, you're about learned up. Weren't
we promised the thieves would be punished?
Promised jet-packs and fleshy gardenias
and wine to get the dust out of our mouths?
And endless forgiveness? A floral rot
comes out of the closet, the old teacher's
voice comes out of the ravine, red-wings
in rushes never forget their rusty-hinged
song. Moon-song, dread-song, hardly-a-song
at all song. Let's ignore that call,
let someone else stop Mary from herself
for the 80th time. It's never really dark
anyway, not even inside the skull. Take
my hand, fellow figment. Every spring
we'll meet, definite as swarms of stars,
insects over glazed puddles, your eyes
green even though your driver's license
says otherwise. And yes, mortal knells
in sleepless hours, hollow knocks of empty
boats against a dock but still the mind
is a meadow, the heart an ocean even though
it burns. As long as there's a sky, someone
will be falling from it. After molting,
eat your own shucked skin for strength,
keep changing the subject in hopes
that the subject will change you.
center releases its yellow hornet
to tell you you're missing the point,
the point being that getting smacked
by a board, gored by umbrellas, tongue-
lashed by cardiologists, bush-wacked
by push-up bras is a learning experience.
Sure, you're about learned up. Weren't
we promised the thieves would be punished?
Promised jet-packs and fleshy gardenias
and wine to get the dust out of our mouths?
And endless forgiveness? A floral rot
comes out of the closet, the old teacher's
voice comes out of the ravine, red-wings
in rushes never forget their rusty-hinged
song. Moon-song, dread-song, hardly-a-song
at all song. Let's ignore that call,
let someone else stop Mary from herself
for the 80th time. It's never really dark
anyway, not even inside the skull. Take
my hand, fellow figment. Every spring
we'll meet, definite as swarms of stars,
insects over glazed puddles, your eyes
green even though your driver's license
says otherwise. And yes, mortal knells
in sleepless hours, hollow knocks of empty
boats against a dock but still the mind
is a meadow, the heart an ocean even though
it burns. As long as there's a sky, someone
will be falling from it. After molting,
eat your own shucked skin for strength,
keep changing the subject in hopes
that the subject will change you.
