Saudi Arabia and three other nations broke diplomatic relations with Gulf Arab state Qatar on Monday, pointing to Doha's ties to terrorism and the need to maintain national security.-- not enough
I am working on a fantasy short story instead of my non-paying jobber, but this is fine. I am beating the jobber in the back of my head while my colon writhes-- which reminds me. I started a bit of a fracas on a Washington Times story slanted against right to die laws, and a progressive took my right to die stance as a liberal position. I may quote the progressive and tell them to go fuck themselves at a future time; another respondent replied "False! If you really wanted to die (yada...) and I may also quote that and tell them to go fuck themselves. My point had nothing to do with suicides per see. My point was no one ever asks is quadriplegia tolerable to the quadriplegic, and we too, just as terminally ill patients in Portland, should have the right to go to sleep and not wake up. I part company, as an atheistic Catholic defender, with the Church on the matter, as most American Catholics disagree with the Church on something. I am closing in on my 56 year, destitute, living on 624 a month and family graft, ready to go to prison for assaulting, harming, after explosively denigrating my building manager who has humiliated me for the ten years she has been on the job, and in order to avoid a jacket for attempting to split the skull of southern descendants of subsistence farmers, I am letting go where I live; no small dilemma. If a once male friend with spina bifida once told me "there are hundreds of Linda's," such as my former manager, there are thousands of Trudy's who'd gladly continue to trample the soul of a superior ability. It is the way of humanity. I am barely able to scarf for penny posts, shouldn't have to; I also cannot beat my biological clock, even if I cannot afford to retire, and the longer I linger and weaken, the greater the chance of more abuse, and I'm chewing grass over a fantasy genre which may go up as a kindle single, merely as an experiment with my first attempt at digital vanity: yes Twitter hawks, you've advised me wonderfully, thank you. I do not like fantasy mainly, yet this took off, and I have alternate endings for it, know what I want to happen, and queried merely one non-responding editor, which was fine. It wasn't ready and may take me another month: I am not an expert on our Bush family Iraq wars, and think the 43rd president had his head stuck up his ass. Our real enemy is Saudi Arabia. It is responsible for Al Qaida, not the Ba'ath of Hussein, and Nato simply doesn't have the balls to propose to Putin and Xi that the House of Saud be deposed, and the charming desert kingdom of Lawrence be partitioned between the three global powers. I have the balls. It is time to hold Mecca hostage, and I will continue to beat this drum, taking a page from Flynn's sensibility to reorient the battleship. The only way to stop Islamic radicalism is to sever its head, and once Arabia is under occupation, threaten Iran. Persia would fold like piss.
Showing posts with label iraq war. Show all posts
Showing posts with label iraq war. Show all posts
Monday, June 5, 2017
Monday, October 17, 2016
One wearies of the rise of the Irish
"I did it; I beat the system."-- Ellen Muth
Beneath its supernatural elements, (I don't like the term mythology, which Wiki uses) Dead Like Me is slightly too courageous, too honest, about the perplexing transitory nature of being alive and dead alive, and our lust for experience, with certain contingencies outside of that, oddball clubs of all sorts, like Trek conventions. It was always disconcerting to me that Roddenberry arguably created a cult as well as science fiction for television. One may enjoy the adventures of the Enterprise, or guffaw, but people who dress up as Klingons no doubt fantasize about the permanent removal of pubic hair through electrolysis, and need a life, though this is how they get it, thinking of bizarre formulas, or rather, appreciating that people like Fuller make them work, and yet, some of the reaping episodes, particularly Callum's, are poorly directed, maudlin, and at the same time, the most disconcerting (what the fuck was that with the gay couple, jesus, one aspirates) I obviously didn't like that scene, though I'm not sure what got edited after Showtime leased its rights for public syndication. Mason always is on the receiving end of the take down; no wonder he zones it out. The birthday party father was particularly risible, and if his scorn was meant to be affecting, it worked. I would have stolen a quarter pint of Jack Daniels from a drunkard too, forcing myself to pay attention, as I may never get near this level of quality in the near term, and it's almost over, as we're in season two, past the pet reaper.
Take out the Protestant elements, overlooking the constraints of my palsy and the abuse I and my sister sustained (she got the brunt of it physically from my mother's post-divorce trash, and I carry guilt I couldn't protect Stephanie. I already know what her therapy sessions amount to even if I scoffed at what she hinted), I was Ellen's Georgia coming of age, and not getting to do what normal 18 year olds do, always on the outside, manipulating teachers. I might have had more courage after a certain point. You'd like it if I was more life affirming. I did strike out on my own, brave, stupid, obstinate girl, worked, traveled, secretly pissed on hotel carpeting in Hershey, survived date rape, fucked drug addicts and conflicted, wounded married men who fought my mockery and kept coming back until they won, and I still lost, penniless poet whose transfer skills turn inward to fear of irreversible injury. In the modern era, losing children is a microcosm of survivor's guilt, very much part of my father's retreat. I never had his love, try as hard as I might, particularly after he lost his son, the psycho boy he fought so hard to save. It is the closest entry I have into the insulating grief of the Khans, their coping mechanism being a scorched earth policy towards the lightning rod that Trump is. I stayed away from the brawl, partially due to my lack of comprehension as to why it gained such a high profile, and who started it-- but if you're a Muslim American going into the front lines of an irrational ideologically driven Iraqi war to show what a patriot you are in the face of a corrupted jihad, then you can expect to lose your progeny; to then use the media to lick your wounds is unseemly, even if Donald is a juvenile delinquent who has elevated narcissism as deserving of executive authority. If, on the seventh, I drive downstairs and wait in line to vote in the social services room on the ground floor, I may throw that vote away on Harambe, who became a manufactured news item: dead apes don't poll five percent on their own initiative. Someone put the gorrilla in the question-- then split the ticket to keep Toomey ensconced in incumbency, or throw it away to a slightly more deserving Johnson. Samuelson, Wapo's economic columnist, once suggested the US is increasingly more like Europe. I'd say Mexico, instead.
Beneath its supernatural elements, (I don't like the term mythology, which Wiki uses) Dead Like Me is slightly too courageous, too honest, about the perplexing transitory nature of being alive and dead alive, and our lust for experience, with certain contingencies outside of that, oddball clubs of all sorts, like Trek conventions. It was always disconcerting to me that Roddenberry arguably created a cult as well as science fiction for television. One may enjoy the adventures of the Enterprise, or guffaw, but people who dress up as Klingons no doubt fantasize about the permanent removal of pubic hair through electrolysis, and need a life, though this is how they get it, thinking of bizarre formulas, or rather, appreciating that people like Fuller make them work, and yet, some of the reaping episodes, particularly Callum's, are poorly directed, maudlin, and at the same time, the most disconcerting (what the fuck was that with the gay couple, jesus, one aspirates) I obviously didn't like that scene, though I'm not sure what got edited after Showtime leased its rights for public syndication. Mason always is on the receiving end of the take down; no wonder he zones it out. The birthday party father was particularly risible, and if his scorn was meant to be affecting, it worked. I would have stolen a quarter pint of Jack Daniels from a drunkard too, forcing myself to pay attention, as I may never get near this level of quality in the near term, and it's almost over, as we're in season two, past the pet reaper.
Take out the Protestant elements, overlooking the constraints of my palsy and the abuse I and my sister sustained (she got the brunt of it physically from my mother's post-divorce trash, and I carry guilt I couldn't protect Stephanie. I already know what her therapy sessions amount to even if I scoffed at what she hinted), I was Ellen's Georgia coming of age, and not getting to do what normal 18 year olds do, always on the outside, manipulating teachers. I might have had more courage after a certain point. You'd like it if I was more life affirming. I did strike out on my own, brave, stupid, obstinate girl, worked, traveled, secretly pissed on hotel carpeting in Hershey, survived date rape, fucked drug addicts and conflicted, wounded married men who fought my mockery and kept coming back until they won, and I still lost, penniless poet whose transfer skills turn inward to fear of irreversible injury. In the modern era, losing children is a microcosm of survivor's guilt, very much part of my father's retreat. I never had his love, try as hard as I might, particularly after he lost his son, the psycho boy he fought so hard to save. It is the closest entry I have into the insulating grief of the Khans, their coping mechanism being a scorched earth policy towards the lightning rod that Trump is. I stayed away from the brawl, partially due to my lack of comprehension as to why it gained such a high profile, and who started it-- but if you're a Muslim American going into the front lines of an irrational ideologically driven Iraqi war to show what a patriot you are in the face of a corrupted jihad, then you can expect to lose your progeny; to then use the media to lick your wounds is unseemly, even if Donald is a juvenile delinquent who has elevated narcissism as deserving of executive authority. If, on the seventh, I drive downstairs and wait in line to vote in the social services room on the ground floor, I may throw that vote away on Harambe, who became a manufactured news item: dead apes don't poll five percent on their own initiative. Someone put the gorrilla in the question-- then split the ticket to keep Toomey ensconced in incumbency, or throw it away to a slightly more deserving Johnson. Samuelson, Wapo's economic columnist, once suggested the US is increasingly more like Europe. I'd say Mexico, instead.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
The Ellsberg Anarchism
"Crimson and Clover"-- The Shondells
Normally, I automatically delete the majority of chapbook contests Allison Joseph transmits, but Brain Mill caught my eye, despite that it apparently overflows with generational neo-liberalism. I logged on to check the site for fees and to look for its open poetry series for the month of June, only there seems to be a contradiction between what the email instructs and the links on the site. My lack of sympathy for the five zillion MFA programs within the college of arts academies may be construed as my lack of success within it, but only in part. I am increasingly conservative, with more than trace elements of libertarian sentiment (despite free press antagonism to Peter Thiel) and most writing programs have wallflower multicultural codes already implanted within them-- not that they don't produce good writers, but, with varying exceptions, like David Mitchell, they're all the same, variations in style, technique, notwithstanding.
I have not had a good Monday, and left my key rope on the table because I became distracted, got back to Riverside, plowshared the office like an enemy combatant, exhaustively plopped on mattress sinkhole, today succeeded with my odd trick of getting up exactly on time for a program, and casually measured my emotional pain as self-mutilating, easing, mildly, with chili, burrowing in on the last of my usage before an overage.
It is not a good time to be me, the angry, race baiting militant. You might ask me what I want, within my episodic battles with the Presbyterian modus operandi I now mostly have what I want, being left alone, cleaning up after my dead Vinnie, battling kimmy's stubborn temperament, all apartment dwellings have tenant frictions, and before I inducted myself in Presby's sandpit, I was in Marie's row home, dirty and straggling as reverted to form in my fifties, dumping my commode stool in her back alley. The chip on my shoulder is over my lack of choice. I was this close to getting my own mortgage in 1994, and now, my only options are grin, bear it, or give my notice, then ask myself how I'm supposed to defecate when push comes to shove, if I turn myself out, hence Brain Mill's "Love & Mercy" theme caught my eye, in the turmoil of my own scourge:
I am going to write this, twitter and Google be damned: FBI director James Comey, the swarming liberal apologia for law enforcement's lack of willingness to behave like a police state with Mateen, can go fuck itself, royally. It behaves like a police state with me. I cannot move, and I've been stuck here thirty years, with a near insurmountable ability to restore my economic freedom.
If The Pentagon Papers changed public perception to the extent Ellsberg's vindication would have it, we would have never fought the Iraq War.
Normally, I automatically delete the majority of chapbook contests Allison Joseph transmits, but Brain Mill caught my eye, despite that it apparently overflows with generational neo-liberalism. I logged on to check the site for fees and to look for its open poetry series for the month of June, only there seems to be a contradiction between what the email instructs and the links on the site. My lack of sympathy for the five zillion MFA programs within the college of arts academies may be construed as my lack of success within it, but only in part. I am increasingly conservative, with more than trace elements of libertarian sentiment (despite free press antagonism to Peter Thiel) and most writing programs have wallflower multicultural codes already implanted within them-- not that they don't produce good writers, but, with varying exceptions, like David Mitchell, they're all the same, variations in style, technique, notwithstanding.
I have not had a good Monday, and left my key rope on the table because I became distracted, got back to Riverside, plowshared the office like an enemy combatant, exhaustively plopped on mattress sinkhole, today succeeded with my odd trick of getting up exactly on time for a program, and casually measured my emotional pain as self-mutilating, easing, mildly, with chili, burrowing in on the last of my usage before an overage.
It is not a good time to be me, the angry, race baiting militant. You might ask me what I want, within my episodic battles with the Presbyterian modus operandi I now mostly have what I want, being left alone, cleaning up after my dead Vinnie, battling kimmy's stubborn temperament, all apartment dwellings have tenant frictions, and before I inducted myself in Presby's sandpit, I was in Marie's row home, dirty and straggling as reverted to form in my fifties, dumping my commode stool in her back alley. The chip on my shoulder is over my lack of choice. I was this close to getting my own mortgage in 1994, and now, my only options are grin, bear it, or give my notice, then ask myself how I'm supposed to defecate when push comes to shove, if I turn myself out, hence Brain Mill's "Love & Mercy" theme caught my eye, in the turmoil of my own scourge:
I am going to write this, twitter and Google be damned: FBI director James Comey, the swarming liberal apologia for law enforcement's lack of willingness to behave like a police state with Mateen, can go fuck itself, royally. It behaves like a police state with me. I cannot move, and I've been stuck here thirty years, with a near insurmountable ability to restore my economic freedom.
If The Pentagon Papers changed public perception to the extent Ellsberg's vindication would have it, we would have never fought the Iraq War.
Friday, October 9, 2015
Closer Look at the Fault Lines
In this great tradition of the eminence of detail, all the minutiae of Christian education, of scholastic or military pedagogy, all forms of 'training' found their place easily enough.-- Michel Foucault. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, p 140
It is difficult to remember how frightened we all were in the year after 9/11, and most analysts believed, at least before the timeline became cogent, that Muhammad and his protege signaled the dawn of a new era. As far as mass murders go, Muhammad was atypical, not an impulse spree killer like the Aura shooter. The discipline he displayed was true anarchy against the state, at least initially, and biography is a bit disingenuous with its quick facts. Muhammad was a solder first and foremost, and then a domestic terrorist in the last months of his life, and probably has more affinity with Lee Harvey Oswald than we would care to credit. Both men were molded for the sake of the national defense, and both the assassin and the serial sniper had a degree of temerity rare when it comes to treasonous behavior, if one accepts that Oswald was a lone actor.
This is the price we pay for being the sole animal able to manipulate biology and body to the aerodynamic extent that we do, as Foucault's analysis explores, a homosexual so fascinated with control and assembly, ironically to pay an exorbitant price, perhaps unwittingly, for his own sexual desire.
The digital age has made us aware, conversely, of how rapidly we're superseding our own bipedal engineering, toppled in hubris by complex financial instruments and proxy conflicts which could trigger global aggression of some sort, especially as Turkish destabilization is not a headache NATO needs on its plate. Not that anyone cares what an impoverished spastic thinks, but it might be time for NATO to close ranks against Putin's recidivist incursions. Russia is hardly in a position to re-establish its Soviet empire, and could be stopped with a firm display of unity and muscle. Let Isis have what it wants. The US made Iraq ungovernable in an ideological argument with extremism that it failed to win, hence, let the new Islamists create their modern caliphate. They'll evolve. Everything does.
It is difficult to remember how frightened we all were in the year after 9/11, and most analysts believed, at least before the timeline became cogent, that Muhammad and his protege signaled the dawn of a new era. As far as mass murders go, Muhammad was atypical, not an impulse spree killer like the Aura shooter. The discipline he displayed was true anarchy against the state, at least initially, and biography is a bit disingenuous with its quick facts. Muhammad was a solder first and foremost, and then a domestic terrorist in the last months of his life, and probably has more affinity with Lee Harvey Oswald than we would care to credit. Both men were molded for the sake of the national defense, and both the assassin and the serial sniper had a degree of temerity rare when it comes to treasonous behavior, if one accepts that Oswald was a lone actor.
This is the price we pay for being the sole animal able to manipulate biology and body to the aerodynamic extent that we do, as Foucault's analysis explores, a homosexual so fascinated with control and assembly, ironically to pay an exorbitant price, perhaps unwittingly, for his own sexual desire.
The digital age has made us aware, conversely, of how rapidly we're superseding our own bipedal engineering, toppled in hubris by complex financial instruments and proxy conflicts which could trigger global aggression of some sort, especially as Turkish destabilization is not a headache NATO needs on its plate. Not that anyone cares what an impoverished spastic thinks, but it might be time for NATO to close ranks against Putin's recidivist incursions. Russia is hardly in a position to re-establish its Soviet empire, and could be stopped with a firm display of unity and muscle. Let Isis have what it wants. The US made Iraq ungovernable in an ideological argument with extremism that it failed to win, hence, let the new Islamists create their modern caliphate. They'll evolve. Everything does.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Wheelchair Basketball
Not a day passes over the earth, but men and women of no note do great deeds, speak great words, and suffer noble sorrows. Of these obscure heroes, philosophers, and martyrs, the greater part will never be known till that hour, when many that are great shall be small, and the small great; but of others the world's knowledge may be said to sleep: their lives and characters lie hidden from nations in the annals that record them. The general reader cannot feel them, they are presented so curtly and coldly: they are not like breathing stories appealing to his heart, but little historic hail-stones striking him but to glance off his bosom: nor can he understand them; for epitomes are not narratives, as skeletons are not human figures.--Charles Reade, The Cloister and the Hearth
Ah Charles, the five minutes to midnight conservative psychiatrist to whom I've edged ideologically closer. I could be making coffee, nursing my monoxide inflicted lungs, eating my Snickers bar watching the younger Alec Baldwin before his unseemly disgrace put grappling hooks on the God complex, and instead I am asking myself why European Antisemitism is necessarily a congenital defect. For you, apocalyptic scenarios are easy because everyone apparently has it in for the descendants of the Hebrews. It is a polite matter of degree: The Catholic Protestant West forced conversions, and then it tried Fascism, and the East, having lost Constantinople a long time ago, never got its chance at global dominion, so here we are, doomed in the modern world because of Resolution 181 and Albert Einstein's unwillingness to hose nuclear technology off his sidewalk when he was teased, and the Persians are more wily than we expected.
The Iraqi state might have fallen to the Shi'ite minority without the considerable interference of the Bush family of course, and Jimmy Carter could have taken a page from his brother and supported SAVAK with our considerable American resources. How is the contemporary Revolutionary Guard any different? But Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi died somewhere in exile after being treated for cancer. History being what it is, you're goading Obama, who is basically out of gas, or scolding Hillary, should she win and give her husband a third term, but simply as a matter of geopolitical reality, the modern state of Israel cannot survive into perpetuity on the guarantee of the US military, but beneath these macro niceties, la bonne docteur, lie the petty details of what makes people what they become. History isn't made by analysts, but by backlashes, and paradigm shifts, misery and discontent, reactions against the status quot.
I am not winning any popularity contests on Blogger with some of my posts, my clever veiled strategisms to admit.to belligerent attitudes after a lifetime spent as a discarded lab animal. but the Holocaust isn't going to repeat along the lines of Auschwitz due to the imposition of post-war borders. The petrol states fuel extremism to shield wealth and privilege, and Americans then wonder about fractious Arabic peoples like puppies dumbfounded by a coiled newspaper. I've branded myself as a bigot, to use a softer term this evening, because a good chunk of my prime career years have wafted up in smoke due to disingenuous assurances, duplicity, prevarication, lack of caution around caviler Jewish princesses, and if I was still physically resilient enough, perhaps virulence wouldn't have taken a toll on the ability to rebound.
Remonstration from the graveyard has minuscule reverberations, but humanity will not yield to the destructiveness of its nuclear capability, despite my lack of optimism from my simian bleachers. It is too simple, but the recognition that a Jewish state with an exceptional covenant is a contradiction in terms is not. Another thousand years, demographics will prove that point.
Ah Charles, the five minutes to midnight conservative psychiatrist to whom I've edged ideologically closer. I could be making coffee, nursing my monoxide inflicted lungs, eating my Snickers bar watching the younger Alec Baldwin before his unseemly disgrace put grappling hooks on the God complex, and instead I am asking myself why European Antisemitism is necessarily a congenital defect. For you, apocalyptic scenarios are easy because everyone apparently has it in for the descendants of the Hebrews. It is a polite matter of degree: The Catholic Protestant West forced conversions, and then it tried Fascism, and the East, having lost Constantinople a long time ago, never got its chance at global dominion, so here we are, doomed in the modern world because of Resolution 181 and Albert Einstein's unwillingness to hose nuclear technology off his sidewalk when he was teased, and the Persians are more wily than we expected.
The Iraqi state might have fallen to the Shi'ite minority without the considerable interference of the Bush family of course, and Jimmy Carter could have taken a page from his brother and supported SAVAK with our considerable American resources. How is the contemporary Revolutionary Guard any different? But Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi died somewhere in exile after being treated for cancer. History being what it is, you're goading Obama, who is basically out of gas, or scolding Hillary, should she win and give her husband a third term, but simply as a matter of geopolitical reality, the modern state of Israel cannot survive into perpetuity on the guarantee of the US military, but beneath these macro niceties, la bonne docteur, lie the petty details of what makes people what they become. History isn't made by analysts, but by backlashes, and paradigm shifts, misery and discontent, reactions against the status quot.
I am not winning any popularity contests on Blogger with some of my posts, my clever veiled strategisms to admit.to belligerent attitudes after a lifetime spent as a discarded lab animal. but the Holocaust isn't going to repeat along the lines of Auschwitz due to the imposition of post-war borders. The petrol states fuel extremism to shield wealth and privilege, and Americans then wonder about fractious Arabic peoples like puppies dumbfounded by a coiled newspaper. I've branded myself as a bigot, to use a softer term this evening, because a good chunk of my prime career years have wafted up in smoke due to disingenuous assurances, duplicity, prevarication, lack of caution around caviler Jewish princesses, and if I was still physically resilient enough, perhaps virulence wouldn't have taken a toll on the ability to rebound.
Remonstration from the graveyard has minuscule reverberations, but humanity will not yield to the destructiveness of its nuclear capability, despite my lack of optimism from my simian bleachers. It is too simple, but the recognition that a Jewish state with an exceptional covenant is a contradiction in terms is not. Another thousand years, demographics will prove that point.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Transference, a Response to Charles Krauthammer
I remember certain things about the Bush Administration's response in the immediate aftermath of 9/11. Any administration would deserve some slack in the face of such chaos, but should it remain buried as a neo-conservative footnote that administration officials loaded bin Laden's Saudi relatives onto a plane without so much as even a brief interview on what they knew about Osama and his whereabouts?
We're busy relitigating the Iraqi War, flinging mud at the administration which started it, blaming the administration which ended combat operations, while Frontline's investigation into the Saudi royal family and its attempt to export its Sunni extremists is conveniently overlooked, because consumption of fossil fuel drives foreign policy. No established media outlet, to my recollection, ever investigated why the Bush foreign policy team was so closely aligned with the Saudi foreign ministry once the invasion of Iraq commenced.
The Saudi's get scolded by liberals, ignored by the right, while only one non-profit media outlet dares to connect the dots on the igniting sparks of Sunni radicalism. I am not attempting to insinuate that a declaration of war against an insecure monarchy with which we've had a long alliance, touted up by correspondents with weapons deals long before my university enrollment, would have been better than up routing Baathist Iraq, or destroying Muammar's grip on power in Libya; I will also concede Krauthammer has a point about the current administration's soft underbelly, but is the global oil conglomerate so powerful that it is worth the hundreds of thousands of Muslims dead, the reverberating psychic trauma to Americans and Europeans? Removing or reinforcing the al-Maliki regime is moot if the executive branch has been barking up the wrong tree for over a decade.
We're busy relitigating the Iraqi War, flinging mud at the administration which started it, blaming the administration which ended combat operations, while Frontline's investigation into the Saudi royal family and its attempt to export its Sunni extremists is conveniently overlooked, because consumption of fossil fuel drives foreign policy. No established media outlet, to my recollection, ever investigated why the Bush foreign policy team was so closely aligned with the Saudi foreign ministry once the invasion of Iraq commenced.
The Saudi's get scolded by liberals, ignored by the right, while only one non-profit media outlet dares to connect the dots on the igniting sparks of Sunni radicalism. I am not attempting to insinuate that a declaration of war against an insecure monarchy with which we've had a long alliance, touted up by correspondents with weapons deals long before my university enrollment, would have been better than up routing Baathist Iraq, or destroying Muammar's grip on power in Libya; I will also concede Krauthammer has a point about the current administration's soft underbelly, but is the global oil conglomerate so powerful that it is worth the hundreds of thousands of Muslims dead, the reverberating psychic trauma to Americans and Europeans? Removing or reinforcing the al-Maliki regime is moot if the executive branch has been barking up the wrong tree for over a decade.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Indelible Banana Peels
I really have you going, don't I? Well, bemusement may be a small consolation for beggars, but what I was straining to remember in Stardust is why I would not offer Jayne Anne any further appreciative missive, or need the mentorship somewhat glazed over by her meritorious caste. She and I appear together in Oxford Magazine, some years ago now. She is transcribed addressing the freshman class, in a rhetorical tropism with angels, why I don't know. Her address opens the issue. My byline closes the issue because the graduate department telephoned me, appreciated my acid pouring forth against the Iraq war, shredding American materialism, and to the extent that this creates a dialogue with a financially secure feminine has been from the south, and a feminine has been who was a has been arriving for departure since she started, it is enough. Perhaps she is a catty embrace your inner bitch type, or has a fragility I cannot hear in my ringing ears. I no longer have praise to offer, nor the power to be moved by her output, nor anyone with which to share. I told myself to stop engaging with my aunt Marie, but I am worried she is going to die, and so returned her call yesterday; the sheer inanity of provincialism never ceases to amaze me. This is why I want to go home to Rome, I ask myself, to listen to histrionic crows screeching in sound and fury?
I cannot live with her again. I can't stay here. Adoption along Rittenhouse Square seems unlikely, and all I wanted to do was watch a movie.
As to the letter I mailed to Ms. Phillips, all I remember is an exuberant gush of the sort I have received from bush babies-- the strange psychology of fandom which may not have reached her, as I sent it in care of a publisher. The only thing I remember about experiencing Black Tickets was the edginess of the authorial voice had its appeal.
I cannot live with her again. I can't stay here. Adoption along Rittenhouse Square seems unlikely, and all I wanted to do was watch a movie.
As to the letter I mailed to Ms. Phillips, all I remember is an exuberant gush of the sort I have received from bush babies-- the strange psychology of fandom which may not have reached her, as I sent it in care of a publisher. The only thing I remember about experiencing Black Tickets was the edginess of the authorial voice had its appeal.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Firebrand Dissidence
"The US is not a third world country!" -- a victim of superstorm Sandy on Staten Island
If I had my health, my former strength, I would be ramming my power chair tires against Chuck Hagel's door to become one of his political operatives, and Senator, I have no qualms about putting my foot to the pedal: I salute you. I salute you for the courage to oppose a war which spelt the beginning of the end of global dominion for the U.S. I salute you for having the courage to oppose homosexual equality, and I understand why you issued an apology to the "aggressively gay" ambassador, but you should not have had to do that to reignite your political career as a possible Principal in Obama's second term, and I am, in fact, going to badger both of my Senators in support of your nomination should it become a reality and you make it out of committee for a full floor vote. I salute you for the courage to see that the state of Israel does not have the sacrosanct right to do whatever it damn well pleases for the sake of its existence, and I can promise you I am going to research your voting record and come up with a more succinct analytical praise than I can do off the top the of my head in this post.
We may be too late to save our republic in accordance with its Enlightenment ideal, but I, who have absolutely no power, am quite willing to raise my doomed voice for those of you who can still grasp it. You were a man of great courage in your active legislative years, and I deeply regret not having paid more attention, written with all the thirst and desire for real leadership I can muster, regretting that I did not go into some kind of political arena so that I could solicit you for for employment. Please hold firm.
If I had my health, my former strength, I would be ramming my power chair tires against Chuck Hagel's door to become one of his political operatives, and Senator, I have no qualms about putting my foot to the pedal: I salute you. I salute you for the courage to oppose a war which spelt the beginning of the end of global dominion for the U.S. I salute you for having the courage to oppose homosexual equality, and I understand why you issued an apology to the "aggressively gay" ambassador, but you should not have had to do that to reignite your political career as a possible Principal in Obama's second term, and I am, in fact, going to badger both of my Senators in support of your nomination should it become a reality and you make it out of committee for a full floor vote. I salute you for the courage to see that the state of Israel does not have the sacrosanct right to do whatever it damn well pleases for the sake of its existence, and I can promise you I am going to research your voting record and come up with a more succinct analytical praise than I can do off the top the of my head in this post.
We may be too late to save our republic in accordance with its Enlightenment ideal, but I, who have absolutely no power, am quite willing to raise my doomed voice for those of you who can still grasp it. You were a man of great courage in your active legislative years, and I deeply regret not having paid more attention, written with all the thirst and desire for real leadership I can muster, regretting that I did not go into some kind of political arena so that I could solicit you for for employment. Please hold firm.
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