BLCKDGRD

HEY! There's a new front-runner in Planet's latest college rankings!

Drove up there Saturday, info session at ten, tour at eleven.

Gettysburg encourages incoming freshman to take a first semester seminar. Professors develop classes that are within their scope but beyond their regular classes, and housing is assigned by who's in each individual class. The admissions officer claimed Gettysburg has found this a better way to match up like students as opposed to the standard questionnaires: we were told at least three times that sloppy kids would say they were neat freaks so they'd get a neat freak roommate who'd do all the cleaning.

The tour guide won Planet, who beamed the whole time. Kid just like Planet, out-going and shy, goofy and brilliant, who happened to be interested in the same things Planet is. Planet beamed the whole time.

Yo, if she wants to go to a school 80 miles from home, that's sweet with me.

Dickinson Friday, hopefully. I've friends who tell me wonderful things.

Memehme

Lordy, autoblegging, bleg-reevaluation, blegfriends telling me they actually like what I'd always wished they wanted but told myself they wouldn't, so I didn't.

I've a push-me/pull-you relationship with me, a push-you/pull-me relationship with you. Did you know there's been a link to first drafts of some of my poems on my blegrell for the past sixteen months that's not been pinged once?

All Fleabus photos by Planet. Click, yo.

Saturday Blegging: Since No One Is Reading, Have Personal History

This morning Earthgirl and I went to visit the marina house in Deale where we first learned if we could live together.

Dear family friend George, our first landlord, who encouraged us to try 23 years ago and rented us that house at below market price, invited us down. It'd been at least five years, probably closer to ten since I'd been down there.

Deale's the south. We once had a major incident when our friends Henry (big black guy) and his wife Donna (small white girl) stayed with us. I was told after they left to keep my nigger and his race-traitor bitch away from their town by the good-old-boys living on the boats. Living at a marina also meant no privacy, and raucous drunken Friday and Saturday nights with lots of gunshots at the moon. I don't use the word "cracker" lightly or without personal experience.

Still, I wouldn't be in this house typing this post unless we had lived in that house. And to be fair, in the winter, when the creek was frozen and no one was on their boats and the marina was deserted except for us (and Katie the dog and Clover the best cat ever until Fleabus), it was beautiful and wonderful.

What Hamster Gave Me For My Birthday (Which isn't until august, but she was in DC last night)

At the Warner Theater! Lordy, the memories. I even saw a ghost. Best concert I ever saw, Peter Gabriel, 1983's Security tour, Warner Theater.

Harvey/Parish's band incredibly tight.

They opened with this (PJ, barefoot, wearing this dress, that color lipstick):

Thanks and love, Hamster, and thanks and love from Planet and Earthgirl too.

Sixteen

It doesn't Matter what you think

A good friend aimed me at that Saturday Night Live skit, remembering I once spoke highly of The Rock's mic skills:

The irony of the Saturday Night Live skit: it was as wussy in using the skills of The Rock to criticize a wussy Obama as Obama is wussy as president.

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• Obamagulag? Happiest days of Glenn Beck's life.
• Dean of Asshats. But I told you so. Related.
  
• Bart LaChappel Morningstar.
• Blog Against Theology.
• Discommodating Meghan McCain. More.
• In moment of honesty, pig says Fuck the minorities. More.
• Ababil Babble.
• Purple Line WAAH!

Taken any silly-ass political profiling tests lately?

335. But I'm grumpy. (h/t)

• Saving The Senator? Hamster comments on Senator.
  
• Chance to see Diana Rigg!
• Thoughts on the collected Jack Spicer.
• Listening to poetry. (h/t)
• Chance to hear another new Bonnie Prince Billy song!
• Please don't reunite.
• Today's listening assignment.

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My head, your head

Autoblogography

Back on Super Bowl Sunday I was sitting around a table with this guy and this guy, yapping, playing this game, yapping. Sasha and I had recently resigned from this bleg for various and individual reasons that I don't care to remember or recite in detail; I'm glad I'm out is sufficient.

So we were talking blegging. I said, my traffic is going up; knowing me, I'm certain to get weirder and drive people away. Viola!

I love the quieter blegs, the thorougher, more focused, more angular, scholarly blegs, blegs interested in investigating the distinctions between subject and subject's subjects, but I am not quiet, I've never been quiet, I consider myself thorough within my own private shorthand, I've no interest in writing theory, and I find focus in the world I live in to be artificial at best and personally - as in me regarding me - dishonest.

Oddest, most dissonant, most disassociated, scariest, most energetic, enervating, most exciting, most deliciously and frighteningly disorienting days of my life. Sheeyit, this bleg is only going to get weirder.

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• The Bureaucratic Sublime is another version of my .06% Less Shitty Theorum.
• No one is pussier than Pastor Gerson, who can explain to me how this is socialism.
• The Great Recession.
• Girl singing in the wreckage.
• The Rush Apology Widget.
• I think this is my favorite blog I've yet found.
• When does a band sell out, one of my favorite gnaws. (ht this guy - other good links there too.)
• Speaking of shameless selling out.
• Robert Creeley reconsidered here and here.

Updates later. Or not.

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My head, your head

My 103 Degree Fever

Autoblogography

I put a brand new still shrink-sealed tablet in my new bought for London backpack, the current moleskin just a quarter used. I'm a rube for rituals and rules, my ritual and rules' rubery why I think you're a rube too. I'll carry new shrink-wrapped tablet in new backpack until the moleskin is finished, a policy already harming the quality of what I write in moleskin.

Honestly, who but the complicit can save us from the complicit?

I work in a profession that's as stick-up-assed as any other except other professions laugh at librarians like surgeons laugh at pediatricians (the killer interview question for a librarian seeking a job is, English major, Art History major, Philosophy major, ....?). Librarians, smart librarians, know they're obsolete (I'm not a librarian as librarians enjoy telling me, I'm stupid, my masters is in English, I work for librarians), ten more years, fifteen more years, museum pieces.

(Librarians as porters, all of us as porters, The Porter Dance in The Unconsoled. Details to follow (or not)).

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• The two-progressivisms, and a response.

 

• An anarchist syllabus.
• Top Ten Emperors.
• Shock Doctrine: The Movie. (h/t 10%)
• The answer is Yes.
• Obama Whiplash Syndrome.
• OK, this:

• Guide to "conservative movie" watching.
• Ed's next Roundtable Discussion. I confess, I've never heard of Eric Kraft. Fortunately, I have a library at my disposal, so any suggestion on which Peter Leroy novel to start with, please?
• Kleinzahler once, twice, three times, four.

Updates later. Or not.

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My head, your head:

Fifty-Nine Today

I've said it before, the best show I ever saw was Gabriel at the Warner in 1983, the Security tour. Elric, were you there?