Seefeel occurred to me yesterday, at 3:47 PM, our of nowhere, two, three, four years it must have been since last. Looked for my CDs last night, can't find them, if I loaned them to you - and I'm pretty sure I loaned them to one of you, or someone who used to be one of you - please send them back, email me, I'll give you my home address. Meanwhile, here's today's bleggalgaze:
- Heartbreaking poem that I can't find a line that fits this post to lift for title but I want you to read right away.
- I'm often taunted, so what are you gonna do, you hypocritical complicit bastard? Not much, admittedly, and what I do has slight effect, but shopping and eating more conscientiously is a start, yes? See here.
- The space you take up.
- The five stages of collapse.
- Compression and oppression.
- Deleuze, Occupy, and the Actuality of Revolution.
- Federici, for those of you who do.
- No escape, at least on Day Two, from the gout and goat of bleggalthatcheritus: The Queen Mother of Austerity, Thatcher's Legacy, Blair's Thatcher, Thatcher's Blair, Red Skies at Night, Don't Imagine It's Over.
- First person, Corporate.
- 100 years of American soccer. (h/t Hamster).
- The slow death of the American author? My heart bleeds for Scott Fucking Turow.
- But yes, be warned, pens and tablets are talking again. Why they weren't are addressed in their above collaboration, sort of.
- Not that you want to, but go here to be able to enlarge that tablet jpg - why it works on that blooger and not this blooger, well, fuck blooger.
- Oh, if you go there, click mosaic, yo. Then click it again.
- Also too, rigor samsa.
- Knausgaard, for those of you who do (or, in my case, intend to do).
- But yes, the slump is easing. That pens and tablets are talking again too is not a coincidence.
- Beckett, for those of you who do.
- Messages from underground.
- On the new The Knife.
- How did I miss this new Future Bible Heroes song?
CHANCE
Molly Peacock
may favor obscure brainy aptitudes in you
and a a love of the past so blind your would
venture, always securing permission,
into the back library stacks, without food
or water because you have a mission:
to find yourself, in the regulated light,
holding a volume in your hands as you
yourself might like to be held. Mostly your life
will be voices and images. Information. You
may go a long way alone, and travel much
to open a book to renew your touch.
