that became a pretty bad (i.e painful) upper respiratory infection ... so on a day when i should have been laying around sick-like ... i wasn't ... i was to mass ... and then i was to the acute care place for whatever acute care they might give ... and then to the big nearby target store for the prescription and otc stuff ... i got the zithromax z-pak ... i got the coricidin hbp ... i got the mucinex dm and the chloroseptic and the halls lozenges ... i got the good cheap hand sanitizer ... then i got the cat food ... but my throat still hurts real bad ... i want my mommy ...

that was the morning ... the afternoon was a trip to o'hare to collect bob back from germany ... but by then the coricidin had kicked in & i was feeling kind of woozy kind of drowsy ... so i asked dom to come along and keep me awake & on the road & he did ... back home i crashed for two hours then had some soup & a look at the second show of the current west wing season ... manic campaign stuff ... now here & ... now off to early bed for whatever monday brings ... chapter 12 (at last!) of invisible man ... and a handful of romantic poems (the firesides) ... but what to do with them ... what to do (without much a voice)

we'll see ...

out this morning to fetch a new remote for the tv ... all this past week we've been kneeling before the great god to move from one stinking station to the next ... now we're back in the 21st century ... but the volume control doesn't work ... blow up yr tv ... also went in search of medicine for a minor bit of congestion that's settled painfully in my throat stolen my voice and handed me a nice little cough .... found said medicine but have no faith in it ... in a few minutes i'm off to supervise our homecoming dance until 11 ... sad for the broke-wing dove outside our dining room window who smashed heavily into the glass and dropped ... and now huddles pathetically there in the grass waiting for the inevitable

Bob Dylan And A Possible UFO Connection ... thanks Pat!

THE END OF SUBURBIA

alrighty! ... jordan is tex files poet of the week

THE HERPETOLOGY OF HERMAN MELVILLE'S MOBY-DICK

Ironic Times

Dylan is the best songwriter who ever lived, on lyrics alone; his melodies rank with the best, too. ... EVER! ...the joy of hyperbole

Wallins Elementary School teacher Judith Hensley will discuss the role her students played in preventing the removal of Black Mountain, Kentucky's highest point, by coal companies. ... gotta love them coal companies

funny stupid me ... last may at a nudge from nick piombino i submitted a quick pome (of the found variety) to tom beckett's issue of MiPOesias ... and heard nothing back ... and forgot about it ...

then tonight i find a note from the publisher wondering if i still want in on the project ... seems mr. beckett sent me an acceptance way back in may (feels like a thousand years off) which i never got ... or ... more likely ... dumped with the spam ... so i quickly tossed together what was required ... fair copy, bio, and photo (yikes) ... & i guess we'll see what comes of it all

Woodland Pattern Book Center on 720 East Locust Street, Milwaukee

NOTES FROM A FELLOW TRAVELLER

Hazelden - Resources for those in recovery

Mary Reynolds Collection--Book Bindings ... via the bottomless trunk of wood s lot

Irregular Webcomic!

Fugu

A self-respecting man is a man without a country. A fatherland is birdlime . . .

wrestling with a number of odd elements ... return from retreat ... weird spirit week pressures ... unsettling dreams of students and cats ... the knee the back the eyes ... all unresolved ... end of first quarter on the horizon ... other things ... and so coming into class each day ready to blast away at material that students have not read ... or that some students have read and others have not ... is very disorienting ... makes me an unwilling surrealist who puts a foot down and it disappears

He proposes a noble work for the novel. It is to protect us, afflicted by the global electronic racket and a crudely reductionist post-Cartesian rationalism, from 'the forgetting of being'. From Cervantes on, the novel has become our most subtle tool of ontological inquiry. Every novel says to the reader: 'Things are not as simple as you think.' And Kundera paraphrases his master Hermann Broch to add: 'The sole raison d'etre of a novel is to discover what can only be discovered by a novel.'

In the Kafkan world, the file takes on the role of a Platonic idea. It represents true reality, whereas man's physical existence is only a shadow cast on the screen of illusion. Indeed, both the Land-Surveyor K. and the prague engineer are but the shadows of their file cards; and they are even much less than that: they are the shadows of a mistake in the file, shadows without even the right to exist as shadows. ... milan kundera ... from "Somewhere Beyond" in The Art of the Novel

this poem ... Supply ... by jordan stempleman ... seems just right ... dream thought language ... an opening full of correct steps ... what has been set out in light ... i'm stretching for a way to say what this poem does ... to my brain ... but that seems really stupid now ... just read the poem ... in which "getting it" is not the point ... but "letting it" just might be ... typical of many of jordan's wonderful small structures ...

The Historical Development of the Meep

Billy Budd