a band called Buzz Aldrin’s Relentless Tears
I like what Claire Evans said about Neil Armstrong’s passing.
In the Roman Triumph it was customary for the general, man of the hour, to have in his chariot a slave bearing a large gold wreath, whose job it was to whisper in the general’s ear that he would some day not be alive, like a buzzing mosquito, a little memo, so that his ego would not lift the chariot to the moon. Wikipedia says that popular belief says this is where we get our memento mori, which literally means “remember (that you have) to die.” Seems a lot like our comedy roasts, a quintessentially American tradition begun at the New York Friars’ club, informed by the attitudes of Jewish comedy, which is obviously where American comedy gets its attitude. Eight of the first ten roasted were Jewish, beginning in 1950, just a few years after the second World War wrapped the human condition in a cloud of dust.
Reynard Seifert—
“. . .in August in Mississippi there’s a few days somewhere about the middle of the month when suddenly there’s a foretaste of fall, it’s cool, there’s a lambence, a soft, a luminous quality to the light, as though it came not from just today but from back in the old classic times. It might have fauns and satyrs and the gods and — from Greece, from Olympus in it somewhere. It lasts just for a day or two, then it’s gone. . .the title reminded me of that time, of a luminosity older than our Christian civilization.”
— William Faulkner
7
Literature as Commentary on Grammer
I like to think there is no substitute for space but I kind of don’t know how true anything is. If you don’t have space, you don’t have a place to unpack your shit. I can’t remember what I’ve read unless I look up and see the spine on its shelf.
This sentence: a painting of Alfred Korzybski reading Hamlet in the shower, as he drops the soap. We either do or do not look away. I’m taking care of my neighbor’s chickens. They are famous. Mostly in the gay community. A couple want their butts shaken. After this is done now and then they strut away, content. And you can’t really help but gawk at these dinosaurs as they till millions of years into the soil with an awkward scratch, arching their skinny necks, ruffling dirty feathers. If the soil is watered, or tilled, they gaze into the brown as if it were the very very meaning of life.
a howling bird brings all the cats to yr yard
Illustrations for Melville's Pierre by Maurice Sendak
195
well) here’s looking at ourselves
two solids in(all
one it)
solution(of course you must shake well)
indolently dreaming puzzling
over that one
oh just thinking it over
(at that just supposing
we had met and just
but you know
supposing we READ MORE >
“I tell them, ‘You never had the chance to make 7,000 women happy in one day.'”
It’s weird how the 1,364th story about Amazon sucks mentions my favorite book, Everyone Poops & a lady getting screwed by Amazon when she tried to buy books for my old school district, which I feel was a terrible place; in fact my principle retired & was arrested for soliciting sex in a public park where he told the cop he’d been with all sorts of young bods. Coincidence? I think not.
I was thinking the other day how the cycle of literature : how we burn oil for the light of life lived long ago :: paper pressed down as hard as possible : a blood diamond shines light like everyone deserves to know the truth but at what cost to whom. I don’t know. What do you think. When will small literary presses give Amazon the proverbial bird call? Would anyone care or would it be like when a kid throws a rock in a pond & people just glance & think, “Cute.” But imagine if there were like a thousand kids throwing rocks in a pond. I feel like people would notice that. Have we talked about this 782 times or 783? But if you whore it out someone will write about it maybe? Again? Worth a shot. Just like cage-free eggs. THIS BOOK SOLD WITHOUT AMAZON. Give some good Ra Ra’s & record yourself on VHS kicking an elephant in the junk. So why haven’t you? What are we going to do. Does anyone even care about the weather anymore or was that just something to talk about because the clouds looked like a chorus for a second.
Reynard Seifert—
Why do you guys even read this garbage that talks about National Poetry Month enough to annoy you into annoying me with all your jokes that would maybe be funny if I read this garbage? There is a whole world of actual people doing things to each other out there. It is spring, fornication is everywhere. Get fucked.
432 tongues breaking wind like bread & butter
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnPix6cunzo
READ MORE >
α language having a cΩω
Rembrandt, "Landscape with a Cow" (1650)