Don't Try This at Home. On Second Thought, Come In, Your Tumbling Face Ungladden

A friend who knows my love for George sent me that song as greetings last night. Read his latest post and work backwards. Also, keep it in front of you. Check the Terms of Service agreement. Eleven things he tries to do to achieve a marginally productive relationship with the internet. On not making a living. I don't think this means the rebirth of Old Dirty Bama's blog, though here's hoping.  Proust, for those of you who do. Beckett, for those of you who do. A collapsing sign. You choose: debut novelist or garage rocker? A slideshow from yesterday. Fourteen Joy Division songs for Ian Curtis' birthday. Aargh-noise returns tomorrow, or not. Yes, I post this all the time, the best Traveling Wilbury's song, a George song:





SUBURBAN BURMA

John Ashbery

Don't try this at home. On second thought, come in,
your tumbling face ungladden. And see what happens.

The boy said, I have the look of two
through the other side of the shower. And how do we
get that, except by adding it up
in one long, fateful column.
The others are with you. Space occurs. Naturally. Not every
impulse makes it through to. You have you.
Are you a big person in the morning.

Angels of the New Year winnow followers.
We go through the motions
again. And breezes come in.
Those who remember the past are doomed to repeat it.
Plus, it's part of history.
We, however, have no such druthers.
We'll build a higher vandalism, "with the look of ending."
We were both trying to hide.

A hotel is not a big clay window
stepfathered in,
resists any effort to change the subject.
Be calm and get your stuff.