Sunday, February 19, 2006
been reading student papers ... and
took some time to finish a short book i've been reading slow to
savor ... frank x walker's Bufffalo Dance: The Journey of York
... a series of poems as the journal/thoughts of york, slave to
clark of lewis& ... working the magic that turns small things
big ... rich as any good novel ... does some simple fresh things
with dialect that makes it live ... all around good stuff ...
I picks up a few Shoshoni words
from the foreign man's squaw.
She point to the men an say "daiboo"
an then at me an say "duu daiboo"
I figures the duu is for my blackness
I sees her rub her cheek.
seem like her Frenchman speak to her
his nose sometimes.
His tongue got more flowers
than Capt. Clark's, but fetch my supper,
make my bed and bend over
the same in any language.
and i still need more book-space ...
and yesterday i cleaned up a bit in
the bedroom ... under-the-bed was the trickiest spot ...there
the beast spends much time ... and has laid down a sur-carpet
of catfuzz that got me to comb the floor before i vacuumed it
... and behold ... i retrieved enough catfuzz to fashion a new
cat only a bit smaller than the old cat ... there were some other
moderately disgusting discoveries, too ... but now we're all right
... cleanly enough ... if not quite godly enough
These ways of marriage, kinship,
friendship, and neighborhood surround us with forbiddings; they
are forms of bondage, and involved in our humanity is always the
wish to escape. We may be obliged to look on this wish as necessary,
for, as I have just implied, these unions are partly shaped by
internal pressure. But involved in our humanity also is the warning
that we can escape only into loneliness and meaninglessness. Our
choice may be between a small, human-sized meaning and a vast
meaninglessness, or between the freedom of our virtues and the
freedom of our vices. It is only in these bonds that our individuality
has a use and a worth; it is only to the people who know us, love
us, and depend on us that we are indispensable as the persons
we uniquely are.
... wendell berry in "Men and Women
in Search of Common Ground" in Home Economics
Saturday, February 18, 2006
popping the pill down cat's throat is
going better or just luckier ... but there's always a price ..
man ... those teeth are ... efficient
to prove that i never win anything ... i'm linking to Archie
McPhee: Toys, Gifts &
... because they've got this really crass advertising
contest going ... where if you link to them and tell them you
linked and they pick yr address out of some digital gaboon and
send you a gift certificate ... you lucky winner ... you ... but
i don't feel too polluted by this ploy because i've always liked
... have very fond memories of my first rubber
chicken and the cat still drags out my silver and gold (plastic)
baseball guys ... as if they were some kind of fresh kill and
other odd plastic bits ... but you can be sure that if i win this
stinking contest i'll spend my winnings [[here]]
... because it would generally lift the cultural tone of my over-all
decor ... & that's all i got to say
... henry gould on some delightful poetical degrees
of connection ...
Friday, February 17, 2006
tiny white pills don't go down so well
when you got to jam them down a throat defended by pointy sharp
teeth they dissolve on yr fingers and you get bit
Thursday, February 16, 2006
forghet the spagetti
forghot the spagetti
so appealing about this transposition of the h ...
ih chould gho onh andh onh
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
word on the cat is h y p e r t h y r
o i d i s m ...
is a n e m i a ...
also the third anniversary of finish
... and we're having a great time over here in
the cchs parking lot just off route 176 in far east mundelein
... just down from libertyville ... giving away all kinds of gorgeous
birthday prizes to passers-by: i.e. FYP teething rings and FYP
glo-in-the-dark brtom skulls ... stuff like that ...
please note: the first line i wrote on saturday
(my public's loading ... my shotgun ...)
was an accident
... i didn't know it was loaded ... & anyhow fyp don't carry topical
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
who forgot monday ...
took the cat in yesterday where the vet took poop
and pee and blood ... and sold me a bottle of flagyl (sp?) this
weird white stuff that dries to the consistency of superglue ...
which the cat of course hates hates hates and spits out ... lab
results tomorrow ... but how could it be anything other than bad
hates so much in fact
that she's hiding right now under the bed ... knows what's coming
... the struggle ...
t j b l
u g archive
finish your phrase