The Gulf oil spill has delivered unto Earthgirl her obamapostasy. She is not cynical; she takes no pleasure in her anger and disillusionment like you and I do ours.
A Category 5 hurricane, the biggest, fiercest in recorded history, will surely strike the Gulf, its forty foot storm surges of raw crude destroying for a century the coasts of Texas and Louisiana, the sheer force of the storm toppling dozens of other oil rigs, releasing millions more barrels a day of crude to wait for the second Category 5 hurricane to finish off Mississippi and Alabama and Florida. We know this. We know someone will blow up a U-haul in New York and Obama will bomb women and children in Pakistan first and then Iran. We know those who profit from chaos, have insurance that rewards in the event of disasters, who call Obama a socialist for even suggesting their rights to create more chaos should be minutely more regulated, are creating more chaos.
Earthgirl does not believe this, but she doesn't not believe it now. What can we do, she asks.
As I write this first in tablet we're here
on a cliff above the Potomac ten miles from our house, fifteen miles upstream from DC, we've hiked three miles in and haven't seen another human. Click, yo.
Earthgirl is painting. I'm scribbling. It's the best I can do.
- The reason for the slaughter.
- Fuckson Diehl in today's YFWP harangues Obama on Human Rights, doesn't mention Israeli treatment of Palestinians.
- UPDATE! Memorial Day.
- Memorial Day.
- UPDATE! How can I remember if you won't go away?
- One trillion dollars.
- What in the hell... is communization?
- The spaces in between.
- Do something, Superpresident!
- End of the world as we know it.
- Angry old white men. (h/t)
- Jeebusfuck, look what I dreamed about last night.
- Landru, reporting on the USMNT v Turkey game, w/photos, properly capitalizes a pronoun.
- Darkblack's Sunday Overnight.
- The book to come in 2666.
- Does poetry have the power to change more peoples' lives than psychotherapy?
- Oates. I haven't read any new stuff since Middle Age: I'm not as interested in what she's fascinated by to work through the nuances any longer, but I've liked a bunch of her novels.
- Ths s Mmrl Dy Wknd nd 'm n f fw dps blggng, s I bnchd th lnks tgthr, k?
Water in its ruins I would surely sponge what I could.
But leaving out the differences on Friday there is some sense
General or particular, you choose, dear, I have to sit down
in the wounded operating sound of this breathing.
You ask, "Can you look into the eyes of a cornered rat
and listen to its chitter as you pick up a stone
without yourself becoming something small and terrified?"
Today, anyway, let me rest like metal strings softening to
of a clavichord's bing bung, so reminiscent, don't you think
of musical glasses, in their "plaintive, disembodied, melancholy"
Yet even if breathing's a pile in sequence, like rain,
shouldn't one try to connect up extremes in a mention like
when, suddenly, the mast leans down and gulps salt
water without considering a single person's feelings?
I have an ache of excellent bits of many things, like a letter
for all the family, also days when no boat approaches to signal
your particular beauty on a background so purely unbreathing.
Richard's comment Saturday reminded my of this band, which I unaccountably hadn't thought about in a year or so: