the day the farmers market of self-expression through the commodification of physical love is open
in the park down the street
i want to blame D.H. Lawrence
but i’ve never read any of his books and
haven’t got the slightest idea what they could about other than coming at the same time
another poem. things are getting serious around here.
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this is called: and then he kissed me
ideologically coherent gender-wide rearguard action
(it’s versus women)
usage and tradition are drifting, which is fine
it’s totally fine
but just so you know
i might engage in tasteful, values-oriented warfare against women
not in a mean way
whatever ok ok ok
i’m starting a band to facilitate a lot of this
think off-brand jonas brothers
can i borrow that money we talked about earlier
my name isn’t merle as it turns out
i’m not sure what a fleshpot is, but
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also, friday sincerity corner episode 22:
A long time ago, one of the first times i was ever in NY, I saw a woman editing a manuscript riding on the subway, and I had a weird discussion with myself about whether or not that was all I ever really wanted to do (use public transportation and get paid to read). and i concluded that this roughly stated was in fact all i really wanted to do, at least outside “visual drama” involving “genitalia” pace C Onstad 2008.
and then today, i did some work reading while on the F train, and i realized that it was still mostly true, but i’m not getting paid enough and that the F Train smells i dunno, Robocop’s urine or something. still, great, whatever, golf clap.
Wednesday August 06th 2008, 8:26 am
Filed under: just the tip
1) will be naturalized alien of Prospect Heightzz Brooklyn in approx 10 days. Get your guns out.
2) someone made a book out of this Web site. worth a candle: the nos 2 and 3 search results for Hot C’s with D’s are Stuff White People Like and then Tucker Max’s book. Everything that dies baby someday comes back.
7) KELLY SHOPPACH
Wednesday July 30th 2008, 8:53 am
Filed under: deportes
homemade mario lemieux t-shirt. what is up. the family that this dude was part of featured also a carolina panthers hat and a commemorative USA-themed texas rangers hat.
banana nutriment battle rap #7 has been released. it’s called: available position: busty woman with infinite patience
and it goes: also philosophically indifferent to my failings
tasteful sweatiness would not be objected to
one of those very small nose piercings, diamond or fake diamond
eyebrows of sharp definition but not at all overplucked. no big scraggly eyebrows please
also has several thousand dollars to loan me at present
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boarding school kleptocracy –>kennedy’s brain trust –> The Best and the Brightest –> David Halberstam < — The Education of a Coach <— bill belichick <— boarding school kleptocracy
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STUDS LONIGAN: i am still hammering out why i loved this book so much, other than A) chicago nostalgia B) conceptual nostalgia for things that you only get in chicago, such as an all encompassing feeling of ownership-lust C) the interplay of wanton sin and crushing guilt D) seemed like a good idea at the time.
our great benefactor Moacir has been telling me how well, crushing and powerful this trilogy is; it’s not such that i didn’t believe him as that i expected he meant that it was in part melodramatic–a thumbnail sketch (say, the back jacket copy) certainly reads as melodramatic, but it’s anything but, unless you want to go ahead and admit that the whole great depression era was a bit maudlin and embarrassing by the end.
one very superficial realization that i had, Studs compared to other chicago-canon novels: the space of Chicago, as it is written in Augie March, is mostly a question of people–each phase that Augie moves through, from West Side to dog-washing in Evanston to furtive abortions in Hyde Park to Mexico (which reads like an extension of Chicago — their journey to and from is all but unmentioned). Chicago in Sister Carrie, or The Jungle, is a wilderness. Chicago in 47th Street Black is,.. well I have to go read 47th Street Black. In Native Son, I can’t remember. In Joshua Ferris, it’s a cubicle farm and could be anywhere. In Studs, in particular on the eve of SL’s death, as Old Man Lonigan looks over his old neighborhood in Bridgeport, has his hubcaps swiped and watches a parade of socialists, he and I realize that all of the forced-march relocations that happen in the book mirror the plague-like ravishment that Chicago represents. It’s not growing, it’s rotting, in some sense. Anyway I haven’t written or thought through this, but if any of you out there wrote off Studs Lonigan as either Bullshevicky 30s agitprop lit or stale naturalism or just tin pan alley, you’re missing out: get wise to J Farrell, get live.
MY HEART LEAPS UP WHEN I BEHOLD
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
Monday July 21st 2008, 10:31 am
Filed under: just the tip
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“in which the city is at once an endless text always promising meaning but ultimately offering only hints and signs of a possible and final reality”
— idea mostly inspired by kids in the hall: everytime you use the word ‘city’ stop yourself and replace it with the words ’sausage factory’
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“in which the sausage factory is at once an endless text always promising meaning but ultimately offering only hints and signs of a possible and final reality”
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