ourowndamnself loves the game... 3.31
of basketball (and we wish the NBA would pay us to be saying that but ennyway...) despite the awful things that go on these days in the pro & collegiate games. This time of year usually a fine time for ourowndarnself as the NCAAs take place, both menz & womenz, along w/the NIT and local high school championship stuff (and yessss, we'll watch a few of those too) and so it has been many years that we've happily filled out our brackets and watched plenty of hoops, live & televised, and rooted for various underdogs (Go Zags! Go Tigers !!!) and just sort of indulged this minor vice of ours. On plane ride home to
d'monquis environs recently we chanced upon copy of Sports Illustrated that somebody left behind from previous flight
where we discovered a Rick Reilly essay on Coach Dean Smith, which we hoped we'd be able to locate on line. Huzzah! there are a lotofthings that l'Marquis is not going to forgive el residente for and one of them is putting us into such a deep funk during this time of year that for the first time in well over a dozen years we've not participated in our usual bracket filling/tournament loving version of march madness. A pox on the house of gwb and his minions...
yourstruly wanted to open on a positive note...
on this last day of March, and lost in all the hubbub &
nastiness that our government is tirelessly promoting is
that we've also reached the final day of Women's History Month so we toss that your way (ahh, that first link there a timely reminder...)
and, oh... what else?-- Oh yah! Attention Coach Suzy L: tried emailing you this news but yourstruly undoubtedly has your address wrong, so here goes: SUBARU '99 Forrester L, AT, all pwr, CD, 56k, clean $8900. 415-***-**** pgr
SUBARU '98 Outback Ltd, wht, 5sp, 89K, $10,500. 650-747-****/ ***-**** Coach Suzy got her car stolen, and that's a bitch as we all know...
okay, now then, thanks to the fine minds at Boing Boing for the reminder re J. Haldman's The Forever War, and yesssssss, we heartily concur, oh yessss we do, find it and read it, send it to a friend.
uhhhh, okay, guess that is it for now, ourowndamnself's tryin' to maintain that even strain, over pleasant dinner last night up in the Oak-town hills, pal & ourself were
upping our frustration quotient (no, it did not involve sex with clothes on) by discussing the stupidities of the you know what by the you know who, and man, sure glad we ate dinner first, 'cause it was enough to make one lose one's appetite, but we bet you know all about that, eh Binky?
ohhhh man... 3.30 i love that picture...
thanks for sharing to the lovely Gordy C., passing along the drat finky goodness; to the dancing sausage for the heads up re Iraq Peace Team (we wish el residente a lifetime of nightmares that teem with dead women & children...)
and we're not at all certain where we came across Strike the Root & that might be due to our doing little else over the weekend but playing music really L O U D L Y and, uh, well, uhhhhh... oh yah...
enjoying that pause that refresheth every now & again...
tryin' to end the friday monkeybiz... 3.28
on an upbeat note, so here goes...
l'Marquis likes redheads, and this one always been a fave;
and if you left it up to l'Marquis, we'd rather spend $40 Mil doing this,
than wasting it on the kind of stupidity the current administration is intent upon:
the IPAC 2MASS site,
more on the Two Micron All Sky Survey
just returned from the desert southwest ancestral home... and man oh man, are things different out there. Perhaps we'll go into some greater detail of the dismaying experiences we had whilst visiting the two most beloved folk in l'Marquis' troubled existence but for now we prefer to concentrate on the positive side of things and if ourowndamnself is to spend any time recalling events of the
last 72 hours or so, we'd prefer to make them pleasant recollections. We would like to mention though, one thing in particular, one of the more memorable experiences yourstruly brought home with him was viewing The Pianist alongside that previously mentioned pair of beloved individuals. We say to Thee, with great emphasis and encouragement, please hie thyselves off to view it, if you've not done so yet, and if you should feel your
eyes begin to brim with tears, your throat tighten and catch yourself on the verge of sobbing, well, we say unto you, let it happen, let this marvelous work of art have its way with you, surrender to it, and allow yourself to
feel every heartbreaking moment. Roman, l'Marquis' would've had his way with that young lass too, and in our mind, you remain the artist we always thought you to be. "Merci Boucoup!" for giving us an opportunity to viscerally experience the horror and cruelty we humans continue to be capable of, despite our aspirations towards things grander & finer.
someone's out of the hospital... 3.24 that vocalized in a perverse sing songy style...
no, not the mental hospital (that was years ago...)
easy now, you old dog you,
and thanks for Typophiles for Peace;
which reminds me that Melanie's having a contest (Aaron Charles, you take heed now...) and thyowndamnselves
can see some entries here.
oh, wethinks it was on/about 3.13... 3.23
that we mentioned visit to
bookstore and purchase of two books, one title we went into a little detail
about, the other is one we've been intending to mention, but something (now
what could that be?) sort of got in our way and messed up our mind, ahhhhhh,
but anyway, a little perspective first. Way back in the early dumbmonkey
days, we mentioned Marc Reisner's Cadillac Desert & the effect it
had on us, then in July of that same year noted his passing from this vale of tears and the book we just
finished is one he had been working on up until his untimely demise (he was
only 51) entitled A Dangerous Place. It is quite likely Mr. Reisner
intended something a lot more along the lines of Cadillac Desert as
while reading it, well, it does seem truncated and somewhat of a patched
together effort, but nonetheless, extremely thought provoking & nerve
rattling. We recall reading Part III whilst laying on the living room sofa
and becoming perceptibly nervous and disturbed while reading his
fictionalized depiction of a major earthquake taking place in February of
2005 along the Hayward Fault in the East Bay, said fault passing very close
to chez d'monquis in Albany. Yourstruly hadn't recalled seeing any reviews
of the book and was rather surprised to discover it on the New Release table
at the bookstore we visited that day, so we sought out a couple of reviews
and will mention one by David Kipen, Waiting for the Big One...
REALITY BREAK- what you see above was actually written on Friday afternoon,
just after yourstruly had a glance at the Chronicle Sunday magazine (always
printed EARLY and available for the early editions of the Sunday Chron just
not available on-line until the "day" of publication) and again, some small
measure of krazey kosmik konfluenze goin' on hereabouts, it being just a little
over a week ago that ourowndamnself found M. Reisner's book at Pegasus, and
had been planning something to post hereabouts since then, then discovering
he's made the cover of the Sun. Chron mag, well, that's enough backround, here
is link to the story: Voice of the West, and if you happen to be a resident of the left coast, and ensconced nearby one of the major
urban centers (either N. or S.) or even anywhere in between, nearby, within the borders of the Golden State,
well, it is a must read, if for no other reason than to come face to face with the reality that there is very
little one can do, other the simplest suggestions for disaster preparation (the office of homeland security would have you believe that it's terrorists we should be concerned about, but around here, it is something closer to home and a great deal more palpable a danger) for oneself, one's family, perhaps one's neighbors/neighborhood. Had a bunch of links we had gone a-mining for that related to this issue, maybe later we'll come back (HEY!, we're still waiting for some clue to that "How Big Was King Kong?" thing you talked about before!) and provide
that relatedchewylinkygoodness, but for now, the day calls, and adventures await...
krazey kozmik konfluenze... 3.22
in between various & sundry chores & the real business of recreating on a weekend & trying to maximize
the pleasure quotient of every available minute (yahhh... right...) post watching Cal get dismantled & pre the pleasure of watching the Zags put a scare into Lute Olsen, well, we chanced upon film broadcast on cable called 'Empire Records', and not only does it turn out the cast is made up of familiar faces, one of 'em happens to be oscar co-nominee this year for her role in a musical, and 'Empire Records' might likely be where
we first see her singing & dancing, but that is not the krazey kozmik konfluenze, what was truly wierd about the
experience was Gwar was in this movie, and in this little bit of video you get to watch in the movie, they are
performing number called Saddam A Go-Go completely uninteresting aside here: oncet upon a time there was a romantic liaison that came l'Marquis' way, fetching lass she was too, but fate cruelly decided to make her high regard for Gwar a hurdle that was much too high for l'Marquis to leap, oh alas, alas, if only he'd known then what he knows now, themz some politically astute muthafukkas, no?
hi there! or earlier that same day...
an overcast Am, great, we are thinking, as it fits our mood perfectly.
just a little bit here for now, got some things to do 'round the estate,
this first mentioned hereabouts & linked to on 10.19.02, courtesy RALPH of that season, Important Investment Advice In Time of War which is what appears to be happening, no?;
from todays Daily Bleed (always worth a visit...)
attributed to Goethe, who (according to the Daily Bleed) died on this day, 1832,
Nothing is more revolting than the majority; for it consists of few vigorous predecessors, of knaves who accomodate themselves, of weak people who assimilate themselves, & the mass that toddles after them without knowing the least what it wants.
and then, to close this out for now, something from d'monquis of december '02,
now that (thanks to our moronic head of state) we're right in the midst of it, We Need a War With Iraq, by Derrick Jensen
c'est vendredi, merci, merci, merci...
yes, thanks to pals satellite jockey & Janey-Kakes for
their messages of good news (well, relative good news) &
concern, thanks to those sterling individuals who called
last night to make sure yourstruly got home in one piece,
it wasn't the war zone media coverage made it out to be, but
it was a bit dicey here & there, and S.F.'s boys in blue were out in force and not thinking twice about putting the cuffs on one. This item on weblogging caught our eyes this Am,
but what we'd REALLY like to see, is some big-time newspaper/news media outlet feature the work of our esteemed amigos Craig 'Booknotes' Jensen, Steve 'Ethel the Blog' Baum, Mark 'wood s lot' Woods (just to name a few); actually, mention
of many of the folks allied here would be lovely too, and yessss, there have been some very minor changes in that group, & this weekend we intend to add a number of recently conscripted fellow un-indicted co-conspirators to that wild bunch of weblogging folk, but for now, we just gonna try to maintain an even strain...
sick, sick, sick... 3.20
yah, referring to yourstruly as at this writing (1:37PM PST), SF Gate
has a headline that reads "U.S. Bombs Rock Baghdad",
and ourowndamnself keeps seeing it as:
U.S. Bombs Rock The Casbah... mea culpa, mea maxima culpa...
UPDATE: aawwwshit, dat headline all gone now...
no, it's not original...
but right now, yourstruly could care less... Political Science, by Randy Newman No one likes us-I don't know why
We may not be perfect, but heaven knows we try
But all around, even our old friends put us down
Let's drop the big one and see what happens
We give them money-but are they grateful?
No, they're spiteful and they're hateful
They don't respect us-so let's surprise them
We'll drop the big one and pulverize them
Asia's crowded and Europe's too old
Africa is far too hot
And Canada's too cold
And South America stole our name
Let's drop the big one
There'll be no one left to blame us
We'll save Australia
Don't wanna hurt no kangaroo
We'll build an All American amusement park there
They got surfin', too
Boom goes London and boom Paree
More room for you and more room for me
And every city the whole world round
Will just be another American town
Oh, how peaceful it will be
We'll set everybody free
You'll wear a Japanese kimono
And there'll be Italian shoes for me
They all hate us anyhow
So let's drop the big one now
Let's drop the big one now
crippled by a sense of utter powerlessness...
outside the Chron building at Fifth & Mission streets, hundreds of concerned citizens are sitting and lying in the intersection, stopping traffic, some have been taken into custody for blocking employee access to the building, yourstruly arrives at dark thirty (6:40 or so) so we were
able to get here without incident, although our inclination would have been to absentee ourself and lie down with our
concerned neighbors, here we are at the desk, wondering what to do next. For ourowndamnself it feels like we are slowly going crazy, don't know what to do next & we've this feeling of being on the verge of tears, on the edge of some horrible misplaced rage...
thanks to esteemed co-worker W.T. who brought in flyer being passed out by the concerned citizenry outside, only
wish we could scan and make available to you (big black headline on it: CHRONICLE THIS! No More Business As Usual)
but we'll point you to their web presence: www.actagainstwar.org.
some additional info/update material at sfindymedia;
also some "cautiously edited" update & info avail at sfgate.com
whew... 3.19 that was close, but don't believe for a moment
that this'll keep the bastards from trying again & again...
we keep a link off to the side referring to le mot juste,
from there, today...
There have been periods of history in which episodes of terrible violence occurred but for which the word violence was never used... Violence is shrouded in justifying myths that lend it moral legitimacy, and these myths for the most part kept people from recognizing the violence for what it was. The people who burned witches at the stake never for one moment thought of their act as violence; rather they though of it as an act of divinely mandated righteousness. The same can be said of most of the violence we humans have ever committed.
credited to Gil Bailie
wearing the hell out of our coping mechanisms...
& barely hangin in, now there's some more trouble at the fishwrap; let's wager upon how many management positions might be involved, or
whether or not across the board salary cuts for management have yet been discussed...
oh, but some small measure of joy is discovered when we learn: Stumpy D and Dante O's got buttons for us to collect & share;
Ms HaHa-No Serious has some nice stuff for gift giving. hmmmmm, mebbe we'll open up a button & jewelry kiosk on telegraph ave...
various coping mechanisms are being utilized... 3.18
playing zwan at very loud volume seems to help,
so does a couple of whiskey & sodas, still it is difficult
for us to turn a blind eye to it all, last nights Frontline,
for example, The Long Road to War followed by Bill Moyers
none of which really helped make us feel any better, you know,
as we've long been aware of the deficiencies of the present head of state. better make sure we lay in a substantial supply of anesthetic...
only a 30-40 minute stroll... 3.17
from chez d'monquis to a rock with a view. come on out sometime and we take ya there...
and speaking of Berkeley, or, more appropriately, CAL,
from U.C. Berkeley News Center, Conflict with Iraq
warmongerbush gets his fuckin' war on...
& if you haven't marched, or sent a few letters in protest,
or added your name to a few lists of those in diagreement,
well, shame on you, binkie, shame on you... Get Your War On #21
yourstruly in a somewhat deep funque...
grim days ahead, yesssirrreee, and we tryin', oh yesssss,
(a few reasons to be blue: #1, #2, #3, well, why go on....)
tryin' VERY hard to make sure we can keep it together.
perhaps then, this might be worth looking forward to: Healdsburg Guitar Festival, Aug. 14th-17th; Big Shout Out to Steve L., Craig J. & any other guitar lovers,
you got futon rights w/rides to & fro if you wanna make it out here...
later that same saturday... 3.15
somebody send us Maureen Dowd's phone number, please. we want to buy her dinner and flowers...
oh yah, almos' forgot...
the latest on what walter & donald been up to lately...
damn! hope the halibut yourstruly had for dinner last night wasn't John Lennon...
hello dere katz & kitteez... 3.13
it's yourstruly again, and yesssssss... we'll have that true story numero dos for ya a little later on, got
an evening of basic html/page layout mentorship ahead of us tonight when pal Dawn (who is creating a neighborhood
site/weblog) shows up and we've intentions of utilizing that opportunity to put together the story. Now, we can hear many of you mumbling "wha'? she's going to dat dumbmonkey to get some design/html instruction. Hey, he don't know shite! just look at that crapola he passes off as a weblog, hell, he ain't even got permalinks!" Whoa dere, l'il fella, we sez, we gotz your permalinkz hangin'...
oh, but now, to more important matters: yesterday we indulged in one of our favorite great ape pastimes, hanging
out in local indy book emporium, and managed to avoid buying more than half a dozen (our usual average) new titles, and there is one we brought home, part of a series we had not been aware of heretofore, entitled The No-Nonsense Guide to The Arms Trade. The bright minds at New Internationalist are responsible for providing us with this wonderful series of books on several extremely timely & relevant issues for the modern thinking great ape and important to mention the distribution
and sale of these books is in alliance with Verso Books, another publisher who deserves our support in their efforts to provide us opportunity to become more fully informed and not remain blessedly ignorant, like the present head of state in this country.
Yourstruly will also get around to describing another of the books we brought home yesterday, once we've completed digesting it, but for now, in a sense a companion item to the picture there on the left, a clue to the subject matter of True Story Numero Dos:
How big was King Kong?
bah, some java script devilishness makes it impossible to link directly
to newint.org No Nonsense Guides page without first routing you thru their Sales Entry page, NOT visitor friendly, no no no it is not...
oncet upon a time... 3.12
even before el residente became governor of texass, yourstruly had fallen in love with a curly
haired woman he'd met whilst managing one of the bay area's finest little indy video emporiums.
In their blissful infatuation they'd happened upon the idea of living together, he joining her
and her two children, Lauren Jane and Aaron Charles, then pounced upon it like ravenously hungry
wolves upon an unsuspecting triple cheeseburger and fries...
it was a messy kind of love affair, tempestuously passionate, each of us with our infernal insecurities yet undeniably fond of and attracted to one another. Those kids though, those are two marvelous kids, and now,
as many years have gone by since those halcyon only in the memory of them days, well, they be adults now,
Lauren Jane in chicago attending university, and likely a drama major. A.C., well, that handsome young lad
pictured next to l'Marquis when he was younger & studlier, he has accomplished a lot in his time. An accomplished
musician, he's been a key figure in bay area band Link Eighty, currently in the midst of forming a new musical aggregation named Desa; always possessed a critcal & fine eye and
talented hand, whether pencil, brush, whatever; has added the delicate skills of tattoo artist to his already
formidable talents (well, he is the son of Paul Nagel and the aforementioned Beauty Spied from Across the Room); now (we is SO proud of the l'il shitfer) l'Marquis' learned of his efforts to utilize his artistic talent as some means to survival and success in this material world.
In the Talky part of his site, he makes a simple request, which we humbly pass along to those of you
who have become acquainted w/ourself through our comradeship on the weblogging frontier, particularly any of
you whom are working professionals in graphic design and artistic endeavors in general, pass along a few words
of hard acquired wisdom (GET THE MONEY UP FRONT AARON!!!) and perhaps some of you know someone who can send some
work his way. Consider this an unqualified positive reference for my friend, A.C. dat krazzzeeee Momz o'yers mus' be awfully proud o'dah both a'yazz
oh yeah, there was a little music show we attended last night
(& by the way, if you are in Seattle, check them out,
says Sold Out on Fri, but CGT site shows a Sat Show),
also, just in passing, the initial thought yourstruly imagined using
to headline this post was Two True Stories; we get to all of that a bit later, Okay?
early Am mention of a few things... 3.10 most of us noted the untimely death of Joe Strummer recently; yourstruly just learned that The Clash are being inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame today. Ahhhhh, Joe, if only you was here to savor the moment.
cully, jake and l'Marquis... 3.9 have been having as good a time as three doggz on the town could possibly be havin', the neighborhood
now reverberates with Woof Woof Woof Woof Woof... WOOF... on a pretty regular basis.
why we love Maureen Dowd... The Xanax Cowboy;
why we luvz S. Baum's Ethel;
from her Tues 3.4 column, why we luvz Leah Garchik,
see item re Hitchens & Michael Ignatieff of Harvard in debate w/Mark Danner & Robert Scheer, link
to Commonwealth Club info on event here.
S.J. Green does it again... 3.7
esteemed wizard behind the curtain of Plep has provided us
with linkage to something ourowndamnself mentioned on 2.19,
(w/link to PDF file) that Esquire article by Thomas P.M. Barnett, The Pentagon's New Map, complete w/maps we didn't include...
not actually a sore tailbone...
more of a nicely strained lower back, making an adventure of rising from the horizontal to the
vertical or from a comfortably (uhhhhh, yah, right...) seated position to upright & ambulatory. How did such a thing come to pass (some of you may be asking whilst the rest of you could give a fig)? well, one of the nicest
surprises yourstruly has experienced of late was getting a note from Coach S. letting me know how much she'd
enjoy working in a garden, particularly as she's not got access to one or anything resembling one at her rental
and goodness knows, yes it does, how badly l'Marquis needs assistance & inspiration at times, so we all spent
Wednesday out in the back 40, performing all manner of physical labor, and with the additional assist from hired
hand JMac, we got both the front & rear pastures looking pretty spiffy, while Coach S. did a great job of clearing
out the planting areas, whoooo hoooo, tomatoes, lettuce, peas & ???, here we come. Also had the opportunity to
have two fine examples of dog-dom around, Cully (Coach's longtime companion) & Jake (companion to Coach's roommate), and it was really really nice to have a couple of poochsters around, made me mindful of how much we
miss the Camdogg's companionship. Once the day's labors had been completed we fired up the barby and had a couple of steaks, a leisurely dinner, nothing fancy or too time consuming, all of us feeling that marvelous minor exhaustion that comes along after a long afternoon full of physical endeavour. The late news is ourowndamnself's
gonna be dog-sitting Cully & Jake for the weekend, which will be welcome opportunity to visit many places that
the Camdogg & ourself used to frequent, and the local cats, some of whom have become entirely too comfortable on
l'Marquis' estate, will experience some degree of surprise when they discover their larger canine brethren hanging
out in jp's backyard. Woof Woof Woof Woof Woof
oh, one other thing, new in your local video emporium this week, The Ring, domestic remake of Japanese horror/mystery film (more mystery than horror really, whereas the domestic version tends more towards your
typical amurrikhan horror stuff). Ask your video drone if they've also brought in the Japanese film Ringu,
which if they know what they're doing, they will have, as it is very availabe since the Dreamworks folks (studio
behind The Ring) are also distributing the domestic video release of Ringu. Again here, we've an
instance where the original is so vastly superior to the silly ass domestic remake (we'll avoid going into
chapter & verse, scene by scene criticism here although very few of you are going to be as weirdly motivated as
yourstruly to sit thru both Ringu and The Ring to contrast and compare the two), you'll just have
to take our word for it. Rent the film, accomodate yourself to dealing with the subtitles, and if you want
to enhance the horror aspects of the experience, be sure to watch it at night, lights down low, turn off the phone, just don't blame yourstruly if you spot your pants, okay?
trying to find a ray of sunshine... 3.5
so, in the spirit of sharing real & practical ways to access some joyful moments, coming to that fine little Mill Valley venue, The Sweetwater, Tuesday 3.11, California Guitar Trio: l'Marquis & friends will be in attendence, you should be too; Pegasus & Pendragon Books is having a warehouse sale, March 29 & 30, 1228 8th St, Berkeley (even if
the website hasn't mentioned anything about it yet); In Song & Struggle benefit concert for Copwatch, many Folk Diva artists on the bill, special guest J. Butterfly Hill. and wouldn't you know yourstuly would screw up and miss Louise Erdrich at Cody's, Berkeley, last nite but you all still have a chance to catch her (just barely), today, 1PM (!!!) Book Passage, 51 Tamal Vista Blvd., Corte Madera; Thursday in S.F., Noon, Clean, Well-Lighted Place for Books, 601 Van Ness.
This morning he decided... 3.4
to ride the train again, although the bus rides of late have been pleasant, particularly when passing over the Bay Bridge, passing Treasure Island, enjoying the view of the Gate & the city in the earliest light of dawn. On his way onto the platform is the black woman he has often spied there at this time of morning, tall, svelte, rather elegant in her dress, and
who always greets him with a smile and a spoken "Good Morning". He imagines that perhaps he should sometime introduce himself, perhaps there is something besides neighborliness in her greeting, as any kind of acknowledgement of ones existence at this time of day at the BART station is certainly a rare thing. Once aboard and enroute, he's plugged himself into the walkthing, listening to Keith Jarrett, reading the Louise Erdrich story in the New Yorker, and remembering that she'll be in the Bay area that week, appearing at several bookstores, he thinks that (perhaps) he'll catch her at Cody's in Berkeley, that maybe she'll sign a book that he'll make a gift of to a friend on the eastern shore. The train stops at the West Oakland station, and these days pauses a little longer than usual, while BART police walk the length of the train peering thru the windows and open doors, another reminder of how local affairs have changed since the events of September more than a year ago. The train resumes its progress into the transbay tunnel; he's finished reading the reviews of two films in the magazine then turns to the last page, where he discovers a poem by C.K. Williams entitled The Hearth, written in two parts, and he discovers himself less than surprised, when, reading the lines of the second part with the wonderful
music of Jarrett in his ears & tears filling his eyes, he realizes how weary he's become of this threat of war, the constancy of the noise emanating from Washington D.C., that clarion call towards another horrible & unnecessary conflict, so weary of stupidity, so tired of that maladroit incompetent brazenly leading us into the madness of war, cloaked in his confidence that his one true god has appointed him to this destiny. Removing his glasses, he wipes his eyes, the car he rides in has only a few other passengers, all at the opposite end, no one has noticed his momentary distress, then he reads
the last few stanzas again, that entire second part of the poem:
There was dying here tonight, after
dusk, by the road: an owl,
eyes fixed and flared, breast
so winter-white he seemed to shine
a searchlight on himself, helicoptered
near a wire fence, then suddenly
banked, plunged, and vanished
into the swallowing dark with his prey.
Such an uncomplicated departure;
no detonation, nothing to mourn;
if the creature being torn from its life
made a sound, I didn’t hear it.
But in truth I wasn’t listening, I was thinking,
as I often do these days, of war;
I was thinking of my children, and their children,
of the more than fear I feel for them,
and then of radar, rockets, shrapnel,
cities razed, soil poisoned
for a thousand generations; of suffering
so vast it nullifies everything else.
I stood in the wind in the raw cold
wondering how those with power over us
can effect such things, and by what
cynical reasoning pardon themselves.
The fire’s ablaze now, its glow
on the windows makes the night even darker,
but it barely keeps the room warm.
I stoke it again, and crouch closer.
then, as he's arrived at his designated stop, he
returns the magazine to his satchel and leaves the
car on his way to exit the station, up the escalator onto
Market Street, downtown San Francisco, as the sun begins
to break over the eastern horizon, the sky above dense with
clouds, and he finds himself hoping it will rain.
captivating in its ghastliness... el residente's nose thanks to Mark @ wood s lot for that frightful sight,
hie thyselves there now for more chewy linky goodness...
yourstruly kinda fuzzy headed at the present moment...
heard some distressing news from pla of mine (intentionally
mispelled), wishing we could do more to help...
just a couple of quickbits here for now,
from the L.A. Times, Seeking Poetic Justice;
some interesting items in Sunday Chronicle Insight;
Jon Carroll, Outrage fatigue and its discontents. that must be what we feeling, outrage fatique or some variation thereof...
d a m n ! if only... 3.1
just think of the possibilities of a world without stupidity:
no ignorant & uninformed electorate, no reality TV, no dubya... uh ohhh, wait a minnit... no dumbmonkey?
& by the way, the Very Early Spring Ralph is here.
the tawdry & yet unrequited romance that was February
ohhhh man... 3.30
like the present head of state in this country.
unsuspecting triple cheeseburger and fries...
have been having as good a time as
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