Listen as the Fireflies Organize

I've no idea why Jeff Bezos bought the Washington Post nor do I know what it means. I'm guessing (a) that not much will happen short term while Bezos' management teams figure out what's broken and how they think they can fix it and (b) I doubt Bezos guillotines every fucker on Fred Hiatt's scribble page which I would pay to see. I post this particular article about it because, if you scroll to the bottom and look at the author photo, there seems to be a consistency in Andrews' face-mullets. OK, here's another one, the column's key bullet: Bezos has enormous political interests in Washington. How much will the Post’s editorial operations become a megaphone for his libertarian views and for Amazon’s business interests? Oh dear. Oh, have another theory why Bezos bought the Post, the most logical I've seen. In the meantime, Fuckface Hiatt says the Disposition Matrix and Tuesday Kill Lists prove Obama isn't serious about the War on Terror. Frank Rich has his obamapostasy? No, though he's angry, gosh darn it. He also bumps the Elizabeth Warren as savior meme. I earnestly hope Elizabeth Warren gains enough power by disobeying/fighting the Democratic establishment to seriously frightened the Democratic establishment into trying to break/demonize/demolish Warren and she continues to fight back. I can't see it happening though it would please me to be wrong, to watch the carnage. (UPDATE: Cilizza jumps on Warren train.) And Rich once bumped the Obama as savior meme too. But look, I don't have a solution. I'm told I need restate my Tug-of-War Theory: I don't buy my Tug-of-War Theory anymore, or I buy it but refuse to tug, I'm expected to tug, my tugging is built into my tugging's defeat as I'm tugging my double not the puppeteers. The blimps of Aberdeen. The vote was 6 yay, 0 nay, on the new header. I confess I like the way it seems to bleed and soften a line I never liked. Still, Momcat will return now and then, sometimes but hopefully not often when I need activate the Momcat Emergency Signal. All three ferals now are always in the yard we when pull up, there's construction in the neighborhood nearby so there are strangers and loud noises so they are often spooked, but they also need more food in the summer while they bake and sleep all day than they do in dead winter when it's below freezing, seems counter-intuitive, oh well. SeatSix sends me word that DC United is raising our ticket prices 15% for a team with three wins. United is raising prices on all LOUD SIDE! seats except for the supporters groups. United must be sure the stadium deal is sealed, it's starting before shovels hit the ground to destroy LOUD SIDE! - the supporters groups will be shunted to an end zone in a new stadium, the sections currently behind the supporters groups will be the highest priced in a new stadium, this is the beginning of the weeding out of those who won't pay. It once would have saddened me that I wasn't more anguished at how easy this choice will be. Oh, and Fuck United. Early indications from Landru and SeatSix suggest they will adopt the Fuck United. Also, I should mention MLS' contribution to my growing Fuck United sentiment. Actual drunkenposten (as opposed to this which reads as if drunkenposten but isn't). But since I'm here, in the battle between fuck it and fuck this, fuck this is pushing out to a lead (readers may concur), though the aim of this post's format is to give each equal opportunity. If you're happy and you know it kick some butt. Also, PTOOFF! A reminder that the proposed Purple Line pisses off the Columbia Country Club. Half a mile from the house I grew up in. I've read six of the books on this list of modern technology and fiction, which I post mostly to ask, has anyone heard of anything new in the pipeline from Richard Powers? An autistic perspective in novels?  Confidently inept at blackjack. And what about Sopwith Camel? No one has yet claimed my second copy of Vollmann's Fathers and Crows so those few of you who have claimed books recently can now put in your claim. American fiction's racial landscape? Hamster emailed, Bonnie Prince Billy tickets for Rams Head in Annapolis on sale today! I read he doesn't get poetry in an essay by him Poetry Magazine. Pascal Dusapin etude. I never got the Elliott Smith bug but some of you did so have some songs for his birthday. I am enraptured with the collected Ceravolo, I know myself, I know it's not an accident I write a paragraph like this in response to his spare, taut lines.

   




SPRING IN THIS WORLD OF POOR MUTTS

Joseph Ceravolo

I kiss your lips
on a grain: the forest

the fifth, how many do
you want on here?
This is the same you
I kiss, you hear
me, you help:

I'm thirty years old.
I want to think in summer now.
Here is goes, here it's summer

(A disintegrated robot)
over us.
We are mortal. We ride
the merry-go-round. A drummer like
this is together.
Let's go feel the water.
                   Here it goes!

Again and it's morning "boom"
                             autumn
"boom" autumn
and the corn is sleeping.
It is sleeping and sweating
and draws the beautiful
soft green sky.

Walk home with the
animal on my shoulder
to the river, the river gets
deeper, the Esso gets
deeper; morning,
              morning,
              cigarette,
family and animal
and parents along the river.
Oh imagination. That's how I need you.

A flying duck or an antler refrains.
The small deer at the
animal farm walks up
to us.

A waterbug comes into
the bathroom.
The north sky is frozen over
like a river.
Like a pimple a waterbug
comes into us
and our lives are full
of rivers. Heavy waterbug!

This is the robot and he
continues across the street.
Looking at a bird
his penis is hanging down;
a wind for
its emotions.
      I don't want to sleep.
The cold around my arms.
Like an iron lung.
As sleep comes closer to the robot's
emotion. Iron.

Spring. Spring. Spring....
                      Spring!
Spring down! come down!
There is goes! There it goes!
Arm belly strike.
Press friend push.
Teeth cruel arrow. I cannot
do without,
without do I cannot, Spring.

Chrome gladly press.
Between me, my wings. Listen as
the fireflies organize.
O save me, the Spring, please!
Before I hurt here
             I hurt her only life
             too much
and it carries in this
iron bug crawling all around.
             Is this Spring?
and it carries me,
iron bug, through the Spring.