Siouxsie born fifty-seven years ago today. She was on the daily soundtrack of my twenties. I think the music has aged well, but then I think I've aged well, so take that into consideration.
For the few of you following along: We did the two-car tandem and the eight miles on the Appalachian Trail this past Sunday. It was admittedly the easier north-south down to the Potomac than the south-to-north climb to South Mountain's ridge above the Potomac. Combined with Friday's five miler around Blockhouse and yesterday's six miler finishing up Little Bennett's twenty-three miles of hikes (we've just two miles left to do) that makes nineteen miles for the three day weekend. We'll go for the same or more in two days this coming weekend.
Other than this photo meditation on a Robert Creeley poem and this meditation (with songs) on Queen and this article on what to name my future hell (I vote NoBeSoRo if it's not to be called Rockville, which is what it is) you get nothing else but more Siouxsie and two poems because (I needed to get that Gregg Popovich gif off the top of the page) because.
BRAND NEW PRODUCTS
Linh Dinh
A vigilant gun that always picks out
The right target—even if it’s you—
No matter who you’re aiming at.
A computer that listens and blows you,
As you blow it, to your favorite tune.
Meat that cleans your teeth
As you’re masticating it.
A truck so awesome, only the President
Of the United States of America’s allowed
To careen in it, to his own beat.
A dictionary with positive adjectives only.
A dictionary with no wet verbs.
A dictionary with negotiable definitions.
A dictionary that defines words by their antonyms.
All the greatest hits from the last millennium
Performed live, on stage, on the inside
Of your state of the art, acoustically-enhanced skull.
A complete set of nude photos
Of you, taken by you and sold
Back to you—at a discount.
A sex doll with a mirror for a face.
A sex doll with a Ph.D.
A sex doll with adjustable skin tone.
A sensitive sex doll that just wants
To be friends—a Platonic sex doll.
Rain water in a bottle, sunshine in a box
And ambience sounds from a bus stop
Down the street, recorded on a CD.
A 24-hour video of what you did yesterday.
A 24-hour video of what you’ll do tomorrow.
A super realistic photo of what’s outside
Your window, pasted to your window.
A baseball game that never ends,
To be played simultaneously with
A football game that never ends.
Cluster bombs that scatter copies of Leaves of Grass
Over a thousand mile radius, for a thousand years.
Landmines made with dough,
Topped with mozzarella and all
Your favorite toppings.
An airplane that never lands.
And, finally, your favorite fairy tale
Painted on your new plastic limbs.
SOFT MONEY
Rae Armantrout
They’re sexy
because they’re needy,
which degrades them.
They’re sexy because
they don’t need you.
They’re sexy because they pretend
not to need you,
but they’re lying,
which degrades them.
They’re beneath you
and it’s hot.
They’re across the border,
rhymes with dancer—
they don’t need
to understand.
They’re content to be
(not mean),
which degrades them
and is sweet.
They want to be
the thing-in-itself
and the thing-for-you—
Miss Thing—
but can’t.
They want to be you,
but can’t,
which is so hot.
