I wonder. . . did the Coronavirus kill off the blog's readership, or was it me? Well. . . we know the answer to that one.
I finished perusing the Stephen Shore book. Why do I buy these things sight unseen? Ah, that's not fair. It was o.k. Too many dirty bathrooms for me, though. One shitty toilet is enough, I say. But who am I to judge?
I am awaiting another new release by him in a few days. Signed edition, no less. Me and Stephen are tight.
I worked with the 4x5 again today. Worked for hours. Fucked everything up. The pictures keep coming out blurry. I think it is me, though and not the equipment. I will do some more tests tomorrow. What else do I have to do? It is ridiculous, and I might tire of it soon, but for now, I'll keep plugging away. Hell, I might make something I like.
I learned the word "sheeple" today. That is what the conspiracy theory secretary of my ex-boss calls people who go along with the liberal media. She is reportedly posting on Facebook every five minutes if my source is to be believed. They'll never make her take a vaccine.
I'm with her. . . you know? Next thing, they'll be telling you what side of the street to drive on or how fast you can go. If I can't call somebody a nigger, is this really a free country? I'll tell you, if we were truly free, I could. . . well, we won't go there.
And Fox is all over Fauci. I think they are right. Who elected him, they complain? Their viewers (my mother) don't think beyond that fact. I mean, who elected the Supreme Court? Who elected Barr? These people (but not my mom) are morons. However, they are close to a majority. I'm sick of arguing (I don't) with people who have no credentials or achievements under their belts. Why would we listen to scientists? They can't even prove that there is no Loch Ness monster. Yea. Fuck doctors. Who elected them? All you need is a pocket full of magic rocks and a head full of opinions.
What once looked like an avenue for talented people to get noticed has turned into a shit show of idiots. Selavy.
This statue stands outside City Hall in my own hometown. Surely soon they will take it down. Why is it there? What does it mean? Why do we support public nudity?
The past is bad. Old people are perverted. Lust and desire have ruined the world. A new generation wishes to fix all that. Part of the cure is partying in bars on the weekend and going to see their grandparents. The Boomer Cleanser. Fuck all these hideous old Parrot Heads.
You can have my virus when you take it from my cold, dead hand.
So, it now seems that Covid-19 is going to fuck them royally. They won't die, but they may have long term effects that will get them when they are old. And the economic fallout is going to make them bottom feeders.
O.K. Boomer.
I wouldn't bet against Trump, though. He's a real winner amongst a certain part of the crowd. Not the scientist, you know, but real people.
O.K. I'm drunk, obviously, and should let this alone til morning. So. . . .
Have you ever read “Diana, the Goddess who Hunts Alone” by Carlos Fuente. Your indecent statue reminded me of that novel. I prefer it to “The Old Gringo,” but that might be because I like Jean Seberg and the novel is a thinly disguised autobiography of their time together in the turbulent 1960s. Seberg made the mistake of being too overtly on the side of oppressed and made French movies when they blacklisted her in the United States. I have watched “Breathless” dozens of times. The FBI fixed her good and proper though. The same people we expect to save us from Trump. Ha ha.
ReplyDeleteTrump is we, and we are Trump. I will not hear any nonsense that we all didn’t have this coming. Nixon, Reagan and Bush were just the warm up fascists for the main event. Several centuries of unbridled capitalism, imperialism, slavery, and genocide does not come without deadly receipts. I have lived all my life among the people. The people are an ugly bunch.
I include all of the right sort of people, too. Cosmo swilling liberals in McMansions having save the whale parties and #metoo celebrities having twitter spats over who is the rapier rapist. Until we are willing to drag people like Bezos and Gates out of their mansion and into the streets to beat them and their family members with rubber truncheons until they bleed out of their ears, things will not change.
Most people are too engrained with fine manners and lessons in civility and Sunday school pieties to bother themselves over trivial matters like four centuries of genocide. My baby needs a pony for Christmas and my internet stream is running slow, so the rest of y’all can go fuck yourselves. That is the rallying cry of what’s left of the left.
ReplyDeleteI woke up early.
Had a 1/2 cup of joe and it was gray. The house was quiet - so quiet. I did a little reading (to report on later) and then decided to take a couple of hits from a joint and return to repose until such time as my mother would eventually trundle over and wake me up. Scaring the hell out of me - in a half sleep - me - thinking there is something wrong.
Anyway - prior to that happening, I cued this up:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uKVI6_Fm4g
Debussy piano. An hour and a half. In that time - the dogs decided it was okay not to runwalkplay and found spots to join me for a truly delicious Time of Corona Languor Session.
I got there via Barthes - started first with Debussy's only finished opera - Pelleas et Melisande. But opera was too much for my ears at this time - though I did listen to for a bit.
I don't know who Trump is. But it sounds like I should say "Fuck Trump" - I've managed to mostly - really mostly excise "that" with the continued sweet ruination of lisa via art, reading, music, thinking.
Okay you can add cabinet organization and cooking. Also - I am a driver - for stress release. There are other things I'd prefer but I utilize the tools in front of me - I have done so much cruising during TOC - I need my oil changed and I feel like I just had it done. I do every 3K miles but still. I live on a peninsula that is 63 Miles from Bridge to Provincetown.
From Barthes "A Lover's Discourse: Fragments"
The Intractable
"affirmation"* / affirmation
Against and in spite of everything, the subject affirms love as "value."*
The world subjects every enterprise to an alternative; that of success or failure, of victory or defeat. I protest by another logic: I am simultaneously and contradictorily happy and wretched; to "succeed" or "to fail" have for me only contingent, provisional meanings (which doesn't keep my sufferings and my desires from being violent); what inspires me, secretly and stubbornly, is not a tactic: I accept and I affirm, beyond truth and falsehood, beyond success and failure; I have withdrawn from all finality, I live according to chance (as is evidenced by the fact that the figures of my discourse occur to me like so many dice casts). Flouted in my enterprise (as it happens), I emerge from it neither victor nor vanquished: I am tragic.
(Someone tells me: this kind of love is not viable. But how can you evaluate viability? Why is the viable a Good Thing? Why is it better to last than to burn?)*
*The use of italics here are substituted (poorly) for italics.
* *Of course - that question Mr. Barthes poses - to himself? is moot - he chose to Write it Down. He choose - to last.
Am I right there? Chime in anyone - these are interactive sessions meant to enrich our time together during these - what is the word they keep using - "Uncertain" - that is it - uncertain times.
The sun has come out. I have been a sloth in the apricot rhubarb department but today is the day. Momentarily I will begin the first recipe - Apricot Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble. I have to do something with the dogs. But don't feel like it. My spice steps arrived last night - i've finished getting rid of the old dried spices and have redone that cabinet.
c.c. you had a part in the ruination and I'm so thankful.
Oh - speaking of German borned I read this quote yesterday - loved it.
Herman Hesse// "My story isn't pleasant, it's not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves."
I thought of you c.c.
Maybe it was me. And all my dribble. But they don't have to read me to read you - so you are right - it is probably you. x
ReplyDeletePelleas: "What's the matter? You don't seem happy." "Oh yes, I am happy, but I am sad."
What lies beneath the surface of things? Here, underground, is the Shadow Blog. It is like a David Lynch movie.
ReplyDelete