On the River Styx, I am so Sick for Your Love

The morning after and it’s tough – even the dogs are frazzled – Josh rolls over in the top bunk and asks – anyone stirring out there – No, I reply – and he rolls back over and goes back to sleep. I had been up for an hour and a half. Ellen is up and out on a run. Said something about taking the first left and winding up in a dead end – I told her how to get around all the dead ends and make the connections to circumnavigate the lake and mostly avoid the busy roads. I did at least three shot-skiis and I know Jerry did at least six – but I was first up on the keg-stand, it wasn’ the greatest time and I felt like I might puke and besides everyone else is young and they are still asleep and I’m walked the dogs and had two cups of coffee and still have a cotton mouth. Someone else just got up. She’s says she’ll join me as soon as she brushes her teeth. My sister was up. I said good morning. She said, I’m not up – just getting some water. So, I say, you have a cottonmouth too? We tried to get Tom to do a keg-stand. He baulked. Wanted to watch someone else. See what it was all about. Then the keg ran out. But he did at least one shot-ski. I was leading the cheer for an all girl shot-ski team and was told only if you do and wound up in the middle of the all girl team. Tom said that he’d seen the longhaired dude over here a lot in the last couple of years (meaning me) and wondered who I was. His wife wondered what I was reading. We talked about you a lot, he said. The day before yesterday was his last day at work. He's now officially retired. Welcome, I said. Thank, he replied.

Snakes and spiders
      Are just alike
Every goddamn one
      Of them is carnivorous
And some are even
       Poisonous
Let me get my fangs
       Into your neck
And make you sick
       For my obsessions

That’s really the life, not having to break your balls for someone else – Richard Sennett – The Hidden Injuries of Class, 1972 p38

Ticks – picking ticks off of myself and off of the dog – the dog’s collar got rid of most of his – they abandoned him for me – The stuff they put into those collars is related to nerve gas – the antidote is atropine. I’ll stick with DEET, thank you very much. Would such a collar work with vampires, I wonder? Have I been bothered by any vampires? No! So why am  I worrying about them? But neither have I been personally threatened by suicide bombers or carjackers. But who would want to steal that old piece of junk that you are driving and I stay away from tall building and military installatons - who's going to carbomb a campground?. Yeah, I know and I don't really worry, not a lot. And  I leave the old truck unlocked with the keys in the ignition and no one will take it. If I didn’t spend my time worrying about remote possibilities I might have to hold myself accountable for something that I could actually do something about. I’ll just sit here and pick ticks off of the dog, thank you very much and dream about an all girl shot-ski team.

Threat reports that focus on ideology instead of criminal activity are threatening to civil liberties and a wholly ineffective use of federal security resources – Michael German

It rained last night, I got up and shone the light out the back window of the tent – was the creek rising, was I about to be swept away – it sure sound like it – I could hearing the rushing of waters but couldn’t see any flood tide. Would they have built a campground next to a stream susceptible to flooding? Would they leave a dead tree standing that fall and crush you? You can never be sure – you can’t be sure of anything, can you? I turned off the light and went back to sleep.

I shall saw / wood saw I / see the beach of windy feet / so feel / wool / had grown on / last sweater until / he had heard // summer – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 p78

You cannot become innocent of the painting you know – John Berger – Selected Essays, 2001 p226 You cannot not unknown the way to San Jose once you get there

That which is usurped, tends also to destroy he who usurped

Dissipation is actually much worse than cataclysm – Tracy Letts – August: Osage Country, 2007

63% of Americans believe that there are no limits to economic growth (J Madrick – The End of Affluence, 1995)

A bard can get through / to someone like Kissinger once, / but not twice – Edward Sanders – The Poetry and Life of Allen Ginsberg, 2000 p112

On Average an American born in the 1990s will in his/her lifetime produce:
      1,000,000 kilograms of atmospheric waste
    10,000,000 kilograms of liquid wastes
      1,000,000 kilograms of solid wastes

He/she will  also consume in the process:
        700,000 kilograms of minerals
     1,000,000 kilograms of energy (BTU equlivants of oil)
          25,000 kilograms of plant food
          28,000 kilograms of animal products (7,000 animals)

Everything that passes through the body of the poet must be subjected to the greatest possible amount of his heart – Vicente Huidobro – The Selected Poetry of, 1981 p5

When absolute power is an offer, talent fights to get in – James p287 - The power offered does not have to be absolute in order for the talent to queue up

At bottom, population growth and resource consumption are the problem – Brian Czech -  But neo-classical Economics has redefined them to be our solutions

Force first
Land second
Thus is constituted
      The State

[Political violence] strips bare the social body – Leslie Manigat

The saint is to religion what
      The hero is to the nation
But sometimes we get them confused
As they get confused themselves
      Not sure of their causes
      Hence – St George the Dragon slayer
And a glass encased mummy of Lenin
      Lain in state

These people, the people of power, turn their lives into theater… subordinated their behavior to rituals and ceremonies – Alenander Sokurov

Global “identity machine”: a planet-wide apparatus of institutions and assumptions that has over the last decade or so, effectively informed the earth’s inhabitants… that, since all debates about the nature of political or economic possibilities are now over, the only way one can now make a political claim is by asserting some group identity, while all the assumptions about what identity is… established in advance – Graeber p101 -- This same “Idenity Machine” is called by Paul Gilroy the “over-developed world”

There had been a big flood on the Green River (was that the flood that inundated Nashville?) – not today, sometime is the recent past – the encrusted silt clay is still wet – covering the path, caking on the vegetation – the ferry churns back and forth – mostly one car at a time – I did not cross over – I will do that tomorrow. Dog and I hiked to Echo Spring which a silt encrusted mud hole. Today I hiked the Styx Springs trail and returned via the bluff train back to the natural opening of the cave.

Outside of a track an field event, it does not make sense to throw iron balls into empty space – not even in wartime – Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht – In Praise of Athletic Beauty, 2006 p77

Dogwood Petals Litter the Forest Floor

Dave's big party is today - he says he walked off the end of the pier last night, after I had noticed that he was limping. Did you delibertly walk off? It was sometime between the last drink he remembered taking and hitting the water and he thinks be may have been fishing and got pulled in by a really big fish - and that, I reminded him, may have been just a dream seeking to explain a gap in rememberence. The tent is up, they began arriving yesterday afternoon (someone had to go to the hospital for stiches - also last night, after he had gotten  hit over the head in a barroom brawl - it wasn't his fault, he was just a bystander - it was only collateral damage)  and it is promising  to be a great day - all sunshine without any chance of showers today.

I watch her, carefully, impatiently. Have you finished your crossword yet, I ask? Yes, she finally with a sigh replies. Then you will listen to my reading? She relents with a another sight. I read her the part form today about unlearning (she had already heard me reading that part about the Good Doctor from Minnesota. That last part is not bad she said. Where did that take place? And I gave her the details on the Doctor of Internal Medicine who was in town for a convention and had gotten all caught up in Mark’s story of ravishing young Filipino girls. The doctor had wanted to be twenty again. No you don’t , I had told him. Yes I do, he assures be. You mean that you want to have the body of a twenty year old. You don’t want the angst, the questioning, the stupidity of being a twenty year old do you? Oh No, good God no. I want to know what I know now and be twenty again. You would be the ultimate nerd, I told him. You would be arrogant and aloft from all those adolescent games. No one would have anything to do with you . You would be a social pariah. Yeah, you are probably right, he admitted.

When Mark had first engaged him in talk of young pussy, he had asked what he did to protect himself from HIV infection. I had nudged him and said, “You’re professionalism is showing”.

Mark had originally said that he had seven kids and now he is saying that he only has five. The Good Doctor had two. The each rattled off the ages of their offspring. Neither had (or at least they did not offer to show) any wallet photos.

The Good Doctor is now ogling the barmaid in black. “Look at her”, he says, “her name is Esmeralda”. I agreed that that was a good name for her. You know, I told him, intellectuals have more sex. Really, he asks incredulously? Well not physically, I admitted. You are probably right and her name is probably Susan and she has the self conciet of  bitch. I agreed  (although I knew it to be untrue) and replied “But the fantasy was titillating was it not?”

A mine unfettered by authorities is sometimes capable of making interesting and accurate observations – Boris Akunin – Murder on the Leviathan, 2004 p39

Links (both  hot and cold) pop up
In each text – connecting
One with another – this is
What Benjamin was trying for
      Where the Arcades Project was going
             I think
Each instance is different
But a trained sniper can spot them
A spider web of meanings
       Awaiting a vibrating string
       The violinist and his bow

My prey this time is
       Bonnard or more specifically
       It was Mme Bonnard who had been snaged


“A Bonnard interior, lacking only
       The cat, the curving armoire
Or perhaps Mme Bonnard sponging
       Herself in the bathroom”
“Most of his nudes are directly or indirectly
      Of a girl whom he met when she was sixteen
      And with whom he spent the rest of his life
The girl became a tragically neurasthenic woman:
      A frightened recluse…with an obsession about
      Constantly washing and bathing.”


First it was Berger and the former by Barnes
      That picked up the theme of Mme Bonnard
This happens over and over
       It’s the unconscious way that we construct
       Reality – Politicians and marketers know this
It is hard to conceive of them as other than messages
      From the past – My reading plan is on some
      Universal track
I can control destiny by properly choosing what
      I read

Like a pimple, a waterbug / comes into us / and our lives are full / of rivers. Heavy wagterbugs – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 p41

These apocalyptic visions
      Are not warnings
There is nothing to do
      But turn out the lights
      (if there is any energy left)
The day’s work is done
But the apprehensions get worst
Fill time with busy activity
      It’s the only answer
      As you await in the gloom

The power of terrorism is its ability to provoke counter productive and irrational state responses – The Nation (Jan 23, 2010) p3

The second time is the charm – this time I (we) made it all the way to the top – to the junction with the Appalachian Trail – yesterday I turned back less than a quarter of a mile from the ridge – the steepest part, my knee was giving out. It’s only two miles but mostly up (down if going back) but without any switchbacks (or at least very few)

IN MY CRIB (1): Autumn is very wild through / not like you you hear / autumn is / coming O seasons / Are you like the crib? / Can I understand what I / don’t like? Loneliness in my crib – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994o p60

I think greed is healthy. You can be greedy and still feel good about yourself – Ivan Boesky – the real question is can you be both greedy and healthy and still feel good about yourself?

The privacy of production
      And power the only
Two things in our social lives
      That matter
And they are done behind
      Curtains where the wizard
      Is pulling the levers
You can’t just click your
      Heels three times
      And expect to go home
Everything you are allowed
       To see – permitted
To watch on a web camera
Is performance – everything
       Except for production
       And power
If you are allowed to see it
       It’s not important


Listen for what you don’t hear
Look for what you don’s see
Go where you are not supposed to go

At a time when many others of the states’ social promises went unfulfilled, leisure and leisure-time activities took on a mediating function by allowing members of the middle class to believe they had become what they had always wanted (and had been promised) to be equal members of society – Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht – In Praise of Athletic Beauty, 2006 p78

The leaves are a tender young
       Green – pale, yellowish, fresh
Not yet insect eaten and leathery
Still translucent as they will be again
       Before the drop from the trees
       In the fall
While dogwood petals litter the
       Forest floor

Unconscious manifold igneous / summer, / and the flies on the pillow sheet, / and the cactus colored window / buzz the chandelier great white weather – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 p92

Micro Fiber the new Polyester - Pink Camoulage and the Chameleon

Up early to walk the dog – even if you stayed up late drinking with the kids. The Duck (that another new name for him – ark ark urgle – we also call him Gismo, The Flying Monkey and Slick Rich –rhymes with Nick Nick which is what he was called when I inherited him) is quacking. He likes all the other dogs – they are all girls (the three of them), but much much bigger then himself. When they’re around his attention is focused and I can let him loose, but other wise he wanders off. Even with a hangover you have responsibility – you gotta walk and feed the dog. Big party tomorrow – the tent is up, the kegs are on ice, signs about the parking have been posted. Forgot the toothpicks for the Jell-O shots – have to lick the rim and pop it into the open gullet with the head held back – too many and you’ll fall over backwards. I don’t do shots – last time I did I regretted it – that was in Portugal. But go ahead – silly activity, getting silly – putting silly bandz where they don’t belong.

To understand evil, one must speak its language, and to speak its language is inherently compromising – Stacey D’Erasmo – New York Times Book Review (Jan 17, 2010) p15

Ah, to talk admiringly
     And with and intensity
           To elicit collaboration
About that which
     One detests
How else is one to connect
      With any sense of reality
Knowledge needs to override
      Our base emotions
      To survive
In the case of passions for
       Motor sports - varoom, varoom
If could just as well be
        Dog grooming or even scrapbooking
There is a degree of self-importance
That will turn its back upon you
        If you persist or even hint
        At any contrariness

He remembers being born somewhere, having believed in native errors, having proposed principles and preached inflammatory stupidities. He blushes for it.. and strives to abjure his past, his real or imaginary fatherlands, the truth generated in his very marrow. He will find peace only after having annihilated in himself the last reflex to the citizen, the last inherited enthusiasm – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 p61

The clack of the locomotive and the hum of the steam driven press – but soundless is the paddle wheel on the horizon trailing its plume of smoke – but now you can’t escape the racketing mechanical clatter of mankind – there is no distant horizon for noise anymore.

We are going the park. / There are swings. / There are rocks. a sand bed. / The flowers rest / the bed. The flowers / rise. We are fatigued – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 p53

You gonna marry that Thai girl. Mark asked Tom. Tom got up and went to the other side of the bar. Tom is easly put off by Mark. Last time I had to listen to Tom tell me about what an asshole Mark was. It’s one of the problems with being a regular. I just asked if he was going to marry the girl. His conscious must be bothering him. He goes off to Thailand to fuck that young pussy and he won’t even marry her. She loves you, you know Tom. How many kids have you got, Mark asks me? None, I tell him, and don’t want any either. I’ve got seven he slurs, been married… Oh…times don’t matter. Damn Tom. I was just being honest. He can’t stand it.

Mark buys me a round - another Doppel Weisen. I just won two thousand dollars, he says. It’s the least that I can do. Them that want the least, win. Noise, noise, noise and blues - blues melds with the bar babble to form a rhythm. The two are complementary, adaptive, synergistic like television without sound. I love to drink, Tom says, but I hate the drunks. What is this that I’m drinking? An Albatross?. Not me. The guy at the end of the bar. He’s been gone to Tijuana since December. He’s just back. Did it hurt Hellboy to have his horns clipped?

To be young and horney - Pulling braids, kicking lamp posts and hunched over in laughter. Tilda, tilda, tilda…hey hay, hay and an occasional voice rises above the din. It’s that song by the spade in green - Neanderthals wondering by - tida, tida, tida … with that jerky jerky hippness. And we are all pinks here. Tida, tida, tida and on and on endlessly on until the track ends … tida, tida, tida…fade out. Fat tourists with shit faced grins wonder in. Mark says that in thrity days “In thirty days,” he says, “I’m off to the Philippines to get me some of that young pussy.”

The advantage we have over the younger generation is that we have had to unlearn more than they have ever learned. The disadvantage is the we have to go to Thailand or the Philippines. One learns from one’s mistakes but you have to unlearn methodically

18 Buddhist monks in brown with recently shaven heads - a Sunday morning ritual? And two more, making twenty in all. And two more with placards around their necks. They are not all male. This you can only tell when you hear them speak. Oh, to be young monkish and in love. They are all gone now. There is not a brown robe or bald head in sight. Then an occasional straggler. And then an older monk dressed in crimson and gold walked by in the opposite direction. He was wearing brown street shoes rather than brown sandals like all the rest

At stake is a language that does not aspire to germinate meaning – Michael Tuassig

Money is endlessly
     Vulgar
Creating the unnecessary
     And tasteless
Domineering, defensive
     And inauthentic
But certainly not
     Inarticulate


Drink Coca-cola
     It blinked
     On and off
            On and on

Human identity is no longer defined by what one does, but by what one owns – Pres. Jimmy Carter (1979)

So much of the theater
      Of modern life is denial
There is no roaming the factory floor, the
      Soldiers barracks or the office cubicle
      - Authorized Users Only
All of this (power and production) is backstage
      Opened only for the video camera
      Crews of reality TV
      And only after being properly staged

Well, while I’m here I’ll / do the work - / and what’s the work? / To ease the pain of living / Everything else, drunken dumbshow – Allen Ginsberg

Proust viewed photographs the same way that Socrates read texts

God created his image. / I love him like the door/ / Speak to me now. / Without god there is no god – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 o p33

I picked two ticks off of the dog today – he howls in pain sometime when I pick him up but I can’t locate the source – he doesn’t limp and scampers about like normal – maybe its an insect bite. He ahs been spending a lot of time in the tent napping as of late, maybe it is the insects. He overheats quickly – he spread-eagles on the path, he just stops and flops down. Sometimes I just pick him up and carry him along. Other than the heat, his endurance is better than mine. Hold it Trail Dog. Hold it – and I take a break especially when ascending.

Man’s strongest emotion is, without any doubt, fear. It is endemic, constantly gnawing at him. Some say that it is greed – man is naturally greedy (I disagree, I think that greed is natural but socially re-enforced). Greed is just another manifestation of fear (fear of want, fear of power, fear of not being loved, fear of anominity, fear of fear).

The professional appears when it is necessary for the craftsman to leave his class and ‘emigrate’ to the ruling class, whose standards of judgment are different – John Berger – Selected Essays, 2001 p295

A professional is someone who has been trained to cater to the taste of the ruling class. An expert is a professional intellectual.

The longer you spend with them, the more mysterious all visual images become – John Berger – Selected Essays, 2001 p210

And the less time you spend with an image – well that is the objective of advertising, the more subconscious it becomes

He stopped me to explain
How good the herring (kippers) were
      With crackers
He was counting the cans that he held
       In his hand. There were
       At least eight, maybe ten
There are only so many items
       That can be counted without
       Enumerating them
This is also true of concepts

So this couple get on the bus. He was wearing a pair of desert camouflage pants and she was wearing the same only in shades of pink. I understand the utility of his garb, but urban camouflage should imitate litter, but I could not understand under what circumstances she was going to blend into any background. I was reminded of the time that I saw the blind man on Fillmore, tapping along with his cane - his entire ensemble include back pack was camouflage. Except for his cane which was government-issue red and white. How would he know if he was invisible and who was he supposed to be hiding from? Some mysteries are just not meant to be comprehensible. Then their was Chameleon lady crossing Van Ness in the rain with humming bird metallic glitter of an iridescent blue shimmering into green as it reflected the ambient light. She was outfitted head to tow in this iridescent rainwear - not only cap and coat but also a modularly designed back pack. I was not able to see her footwear. And what is anyway about coordinated backpacks?

Walter says, there you go Linda, you need to sell pink camouflage. We sell everything else, she says. Camouflage double knit jump-suits might be a good idea – both retro and forward looking - - pink camouflage double knit jumpsuits. Do they still make double knit apparel? Maybe at Goodwill, she says. But you know, she add, polyester is back in only now we call it micro fiber these days.

Minerva's Owl Flies Low and Slow - Too Much Money Makes You Stupid She Hoots in Derision

The timeth it approaches – mother is busy cleaning, dad is watering the lawn (trying to get the grass to cover the bare spots) and he got well water on the boy’s car – that well water it makes spots and I just had it professionally cleaned and I asked you not to do that – the girls are sunbathing on the boat dock, the dogs are all napping – a breeze is blowing, keeping the temperature mild as it comes off of the lake or tempers would really have boiled. Is the grass ready for the big party – will it survive? You do what you can – it’s the dream of the castle keeper – green, green lawns – dad’s job – just as mother’s is to plant her flowers – she likes pinks and purples – he likes the bright colors, especially red. It is today that son number two drives to Grand Rapids to take his big test – got to have two photo Ids and get fingerprinted – if for any reason you have to leave the test area to say take a pee, you will again be fingerprinted before being allowed to return. Well, I tell him, best wishes – you’ve studied sufficiently and if you don’t pass it can only be because you’re stupid. Make sure you go the bathroom before you start the test. Thanks, he says and he drives away. It will soon be time to go get the beer.

Technology cannot be cherry picked by a culture
It has already been cherry picked before
      It was released into the market
Culture is powerless at the trough
      It is the runt of the economic litter
      First and foremost is the man with capital
              Or the control of capital then
              Comes Homo Economicus
     And then anyone else powerful enough to shove
              Their way in – the experts, the managers
              And the bureaucrats and last comes culture
(Humanity – the social being - you and me, when we're
not being totally obsessed with our narrowly defined
             self-interest)

Only at the depth of habit is radical change affected – Michael Taussig – Mimesis and Alterity: a particular history of the senses, 1993

Group French Lesson - Quel quon, C’est ecole Kindergarten - beaucoup - Que..a etufe…la photographie fer la publicity. Merce. Mai ja la sons petre…san bach…su bone, s’vaie, …jan tse - a bon me … excactualie. New Age Piano Music … je pon nai - Que - bean d’tanai – exactament - The light from the garden behind me filters into a plant filled room with six tables

Que - pais je so qualifigue … les d’induanice … con je pon … jeunta ne… quien Japonaise en sais Freancan …de prong de france …je ne sais pa … Japonaise.

I can no longer think what I want to think. My thoughts have been replaced by moving images - George Duhamel

A small study group pracdticing what they learned in a City College French Course. The Japanese gentleman has deviated from the program and is discussing pedology and politics of the French Department in English. Two women continue on in French (and I apologize for this ersatz French – but it is what my ears hear,  my non-French ears heard and besides, it is probably pretty damn close to how it would have sounded even to a native French speaker). The older couple continues to discuss academic politics of the French Department in English of course - surely this is a topic amenable to French - the language of diplomacy.

The biggest volcano in the world
The strongest earthquake ever
       Recorded
The most awesome iceberg ever
       Seen this far North/South
The greatest cryptoexplosive tectonic
       Event yet discovered
And yet all insignificant alongside
        A supernova

All inspiration precedes from a faculty of exaggeration: lyricism – all the whole world of metaphor – would be a pitiable excitation without the rapture which dilates words until they burst – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p65

The dog got stung by a bee in it’s bed after being but to rest for the night – it came flying at me as I lie next to him with his fur aglow (literarily making blue sparks) – then I too felt something crawling on my chest and gave it a swat – it stung me also – I can hear it in its death throes over there in the corner of the tent – it’s all these apiaries tucked away in the forest with thier electrified fences to keep away the bears. Walk down any forest road and you’ll wind up at one.

Inlands is / the goat in open field. / The milk is marketed. / Attend our table – Carl Rokosi – Amulet, 1947 p16

Some things are not indented
     To be other things
They don’t represent anything
     Other than themselves


We shouldn’t stretch them too tight
      It only makes us look silly when we walk
      Especially older women who have been dieting

Lying, the wellspring of all tears!. Such is the imposture of genius and the secret of art. Trifles swollen to the heavens; the improbable, generator of a universe! In even genius coexists a braggard and a god – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p66

One acquire things
     And by then
     One must
Live up to the lifestyle
     That they demand
     One must
     By then

The best explanation for the calamity that has overtaken us may simply be that cheep money makes us stupid – Megan McArdle – The Atlantic, Jan/Feb 2010 p31

I moved to a campground up the road. Bill came over and apologized – said he only ran his generator for two hours in the morning. He had nothing good to say about Gene in the campground down the road – pulled his camper right in behind him. The AH. I met Gene, I said. He seems to think that its his campground – been coming here since he was a kid. This place cost all of $1.50 a day – hardly worth sending someone out to collect the money I thought. I had only a five-dollar bill so I put it in the envelope and wrote on the backside that I would be staying for three nights. The man for the National Forest Service arrived in a green pick-up truck – they spent more on gas than the amount of money they collected (which only consisted of my five dollar bill as Bill had already paid – 21 days which is the maximum stay times $1.50 comes to what, $31.50). The host had headed out today back up to Michigan. What difference would it make if I paid my dollar and a half, but when the dude pulled up to collect the money, I was glad that I had my receipt and didn’t have to try and explain why I had not yet paid.

A lamppost is bending over the traffic pensively like a / praying mantis, not lighting anything / just looking / who dropped that empty carton / of cracker jacks I wonder I I find the favor / that’s a good sigh – Frank O’Hara – Collected Poems of p421

A large owl flew low over the tent early this morning, as I lay awake. It was homing in on the call of its mate – call and response – orientating – she called, he responded. She giving a little purr of acknowledgement. And it is incorrect to say that owls hoot – not these owls anyhow.

This is lavender and rose / time in drawers // when the sun is cooler but more blinding / and the maple leaves distil its light / into a cheerful red liqueur – Carl Rokosi – Amulet, 1947 p33

No seranade via radio
     Tonight only the hoot’in
     Of the owls WHO
Really don’t hoot
     But cackle and waddle
     And coo all simultaneously
Then I spotted one up in a tree
     It was a big one
     He had flown right
     Over my head yesterday
          Morning
It wept down almost to
The ground and disappeared
      Into the brush

The Bird prriko pirriko prirk / ia ia / the leghorn rustling in the brush, / the creek between the rockshelves. / Nancy with a bunch of we grapes – Carl Rokosi – Amulet, 1947 p61

The dog sleeps on his back and snores (not very loudly, he’s a little dog after all) and when he is tired he plops down on the trail with his front paws stretched out in front and his back legs splayed out behind him and his toungue hanging out ( he has gotten in the habit of doing this when he has a mind to do something different from what I want to do). Then he rolls over on his side with all four paws extended as if he were dead.

Heart Feels The Water: The fish are staying here / and eating. The plant is / thin and has very long leaves / like insects’ legs, the way / they bend down / through the water / the plant breaks from the water: // the line of the water and the air. / Told! – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 p18

Royal English Willow
Good American ash
     To bat, to bat
     Back to back
How does it all
     Stack up


Do trees repress the long birth / they lean on? Do you / bring me to my ears? – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 p36

And the less time you spend with an image – well that is the objective of advertising, the more subconscious it becomes

Beer and some Shade and not to be Bothered by the Mosquitos - and oh Yes a Little Breeze would be Nice - Thank You Lord!

It has been disconcerting to the little dog to be spending all this time at the lake cabin – it is used to my full attention – now there are other dogs and other people and it gets left  a lot out in the boathouse by itself. And when the day warms up it doesn’t like the out-a-doors. It went for a boat ride yesterday and kept hopping up onto the railing. I suspect that it wasn’t aware that the shiny surface of the water was incapable of supporting it’s weight and I didn’t want to jump in after it. The first two days it was content to hang out – but now it just wants to sleep when the day gets hot. I have been drinking up all the beer and must make a run into town today and replenish the bar. Its time to head back into the woods – but Memorial Day is approaching, so we must wait. Yes, little guy - we'll hit the road again soon, just stick it out for a couple of more days. My sister says he sounds like a duck - he does that when he is hot and wants to go inside, I said.

Most people’s political ideal … is not to participate in possible glory, but to be left alone – Stanley Kauffmann – The New Republic (Feb 4, 2010) p23

We are now into the mosquito season – you cannot escape them, but this is much better, spraying on the DEET. Shall we go get some firewood? Gather up some dead wood fallen out of the trees, huh Dog? Nice doggy. Trail Dog has come back with a stick in his mouth.

Once, after circling in turbulence / then skidding on the runway, / ‘living room’ took on new meaning. / I put my feet up on the Ottoman - Stephen Dunn – What Goes On: selected and new poems, 2009p185

Gotta move on – no trails here for dog and I – we stroll beside the highway – and there is no shade here in the afternoon either

We do not pray to what is the evidential; the exact is not an object of worship – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p21

With each tide of rising hope
     Comes a new terror
The tides get higher and higher
     As the climate warms up
The fear that it would spawn
     Would become it’s own terror
But denial is nine-tenths of the truth
Hunker down and wait it out
     This rising of aspirations

I must have two souls; the empty one that aches to be filled, and a dull, fat one. – Stephen Dunn – What Goes On: selected and new poems, 2009 p132

I watch young girls’
     Tight asses – how
     Young you ask?
And the little dog
      Licks his red pecker
      Slurp, slurp
I think he’s still a virgin
I ponder whether she is
      Also
      Yes, it was that tight

Chaos? Chaos is rejecting all you have learned, chaos is being yourself – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p41

Life on the Dole

A room with two soles
      An upper and a lower
Two of six faces that formed a cube
There values are one and
      Six. The wall with the door
Is number five and that with
     The window  bearing the  number two
Which leaves the walls of the
      Conjoining rooms which appear as a 
      Four and a  three
I live in that room (and he
      Pointed to wall number four)
And I chose that one, I said
      Pointing to the opposite wall
And a tiger sprung out
      From within it
And struck him dead
      Such is our luck
      I'll take his room, I said,
Instead

The old man / took his teeth out / from the water glass / and cut himself / a little sausage. // As a boy / he had been in such a hurry / to get older. / Now he felt younger / than ever – Carl Rokosi – Amulet, 1947 p29

Buy this Time
Buy and Buy


Right time
Wrong time


Quality time
Real time


Clock time
Time clock


There is time on the clock
Every tick has its time


Time to get down
Time to get up


Downtime
Time’s up


Time to go
Estimated arrival time


Time of your live
Out of time


Tell time
Keep time


Make time
Run time


Time change
In no time


Good time
Bad time


On time
In time


Long time
Short time


Time after time
Each time


Time before time
The end of time


Busy time
Playtime


Game time
Tea time


Anytime
Some time


Leisure time
Harvest time


Time share
In the spirit of the times


My time
Time ticking away


Time aware
Time to prepare
     Bye and bye

Corn is whizzing from the / ground. You are sleeping / and day starts its lipstick. / Where do we go from here? / Blue irises – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 p38

A MeWorld
       Is
A MacWorld

O fish, Am I / the bumblebee in the sun’s chase – Joseph Ceravolo – The Green Lakes is Awake, 1994 p37

I take the L line out to 15th and Transvaal and then walk up Transvaal and down again to the West Portal. I wind up at a place called the Manor Coffee House . It’s an old fashioned diner - Linguela sausage with scrambled eggs, an English muffin and coffee. First I check out the condiments and specifically their selection of hot sauces - how many do they stock in addition to the original Tabasco: green Tabasco & Crystal) then the other condiments including mustards (Chinese, American yellow and Dijon) and catsup (served in bottle or squeezable plastic). Here it is red Tabasco, Heinz catsup in a bottle and a very yellow mustard. The portions are of a reasonable size and the service is quick. Men eat at the counter spread out like birds on a wire. The women and children occupy the booths and outnumber the men. The décor consists of a selection of panoramic photos of  old San Francisco.

There are fresh baked pies on a shelf behind the counter. Two have wedges gone. One is a cherry. There is an old-fashioned punch button cash register with mechanical pop ups showing the price being rung up and a spring loaded cash drawer that pops out with a ring upon a sale - tinga-ling swoosh cling. Math is performed on a hand calculator. The cook is visible behind a long narrow slot. Another fresh baked pie just appeared. A bell rings and the waitress picks up a plate from off order partition. Behind the cook is a sink with a shelf over it that is stacked high with white plates.

The fruit pies bulge with goodness and overflow their tins with toasted brown crust.

There is a black & white (mostly gray) ‘fog’ picture hanging over the food service counter from which the waitress had just retrieved the plate. The fog is visible in the glow of two auto headlamps, four lampposts and the porch light. The are seven tiny yellow electric light bulbs providing the glow. The frame is made to resemble the frame of a TV picture screen. The word ‘Brassai’ in gold letters appears at the bottom left corner.

Economic writing carried to its extreme is algebra - Olkowski [Derrida]

Modern life is a fractal landscape
No matter how much you dig
     It all looks the same

Being lost in focused intensity can be an addiction – Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht – In Praise of Athletic Beauty, 2006 p55

The Army's Counterinsurgency Manual: Up to your neck in alligators

Big party this Sunday – three kegs of beer, ten bottles of wine and lots of jello shots – there is no excuse for not getting drunk. But before everyone does it’s necessary to make the place look good for it won’t after we are done. Power-wash the walls, clean the windows, shampoo the rug, mow the lawn, straighten up your room. Everyone is invited. You'll come now, hear!

An early version (1662) of the trickle down theory - That what is given to Favorites, may at the next step or transmigration, come into our own hands, or their’s unto which we wish well, and think deserved – Sir William Petty - A Treatise on Taxes and  Contributions.

The average person’s mind zones out 13% of the time – but that time may actually be critical to long-term thinking. Neuroscientists hypothesis that zoning out might have evolved as a way to balance immediate goals and needs with more distant, big-picture objectives

And the indiscriminate / freezing rain slicking / the side streets and back alleys / the long driveways of the rich. // Nothing moving except kids, the stopped world / just slippery to them, permissive, good – Stephen Dunn – What Goes On: selected and new poems, 2009 p31

The United States contains 5% of the world’s population and 25% of the worlds prisoners

Counterinsurgency is not just thinking man’s warfare – it is the graduate level of war – epigraph in the Army’s Counterinsurgency Manual

The sun is going down
The fire has been laid
The dog has been fed
I sit down with my feet
     Up
I shall read until it gets
     Too dark to see
I have a cup of hot tea
     And I stare into the fire
At some point as the flames
     Die down I shall get
     Up and go to bed
Then it shall be morning
     Again
When the sun comes up

Life has to be given a meaning because of the obvious fact that it has no meaning – Henry Miller – The Wisdom of the Heart, 1960 p5

Jury nullification – an acquittal based on principle. It is perfectly legal to render an acquittal in spite of obvious quilt. The framers of the Constitution intended for jurors to be a check on unjust prosecutors and bad laws

Man rushes up the trunk of livingness to expand in a spiritual flowering – Henry Miller – The Wisdom of the Heart, 1960 p9

It were gray
If seen
The sky


It will be green
In spring
This tree


It is blue
Now and then
As I think of you

Words are charitable: their frail reality deceives and consoles us – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p39

Fear is in proportion to the number of one’s possessions. The poor have no fear, just a dull dread of starvation and the ache of misery.

Consolation by a possible suicide widens into infinite space this realm where we are suffocating – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p36

If the police have a right to search inside your backpack or purse, or search your car, then they don’t have to ask for your permission. It’s your right to say no.

Death then has to be defeated – or disguised or transmogrified. But in the attempt to defeat death man has been inevitably obliged to defeat life, for the two are inextricably related – Henry Miller – The Wisdom of the Heart, 1960 p6

Snitches are responsible for about 50% of wrongful convictions

Ideas which germinate in the artist are unique and must be lived out – Henry Miller – The Wisdom of the Heart, 1960 p8

Retail sale of illegal drugs pays about the same as working at the local Burger King

In a single second we do away with all seconds, God himself could not do so much – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p36

It’s a hot day – too hot and there is not enough shade here – I hadn’t thought that I would already be voicing this complaint – the trees are leafing but not enough to provide any shade and the insects are astir – red wasps and black bumble bees.

And who is ever bold enough to do nothing because every action is senseless in infinity?… No one folds his arms: we are busier than the ants and the bees – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p43

Another lovely day – TD and I are up to five miles of hiking a day now – the bees and the wasps are an annoyance again today. The fishermen were out early in their little boats with trolling motors – “Electric Motors Only” and another sign about alligator safety – but alligators don’t read. Like most animals they have much more to fear from us that we do of them.

The great systems are actually no more than brilliant tautologies. What advantage is it to know that the nature of being consists in the “will to live”, in “idea”, or in the whim of God or of Chemistry? – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p48

It is the creative nature of man which has refused to let him lapse back into that unconscious unity with life which characterizes the animal world from which he made his escape – Henry Miller – The Wisdom of the Heart, 1960 p6

The anxiety of the future is only equaled by the tiresomeness of / the present – Frank O’Hara – The Collected Poems, 1995 p314

Mild is the new medium
Hot is the old medium
Such is the degradation
      Of taste
The ‘B’ became the new ‘C’
      Self-esteem became
      The mantra
“I like you just the way you are”
      Said Mr. Rogers
You have to up the ante
Turn the background into static
Or else
       Just read his lips
Hot, medium or mild
Formulated for America’s
       Taste
No nature in the red
        Anymore or so
        We wanta believe
I want to applogize for the
        Crudeness of Mr.London
        You see

And anyone who speaks in the name of others is always an imposter. Politicians, reformers, and all who rely on a collective pretext are cheats. There is only the artist whose lie is not a total one, for he invents only himself – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p17

I said to myself if it is over $25 I stay only one night; it was $26. So one night it is and am I glad – the sand fleas are eating me up and the birds steal all of the dog’s food. But I’ve got cold beer and enough firewood for the night and tomorrow it is back to the swamps. To hell with the beach – it’s hot and there are too many rules, but at least the babes in bikinis are better looking than are the alligators.

I hate London… I hate people realizing I’m just there for the day. I hate other people who are just there for the day. I hate not being sure whether they are or whether they’re not – Michael Frayn – The Trick of It, 1989 p43

Disgust for the Courgageously Ugly Yesterday As My Troubles Seemed So Far Away

Joe finely got to go wake-boarding – I’ve been waiting eight months. He only made it around the lake one and half times before dropped the two line. I thought he looked tried after the first half lap. I was he said. The problem is finding both a driver and a spotter. I got recruited as the spotter. What are my duties, I asked. Just watch for when I give thumbs up or thumbs (meaning go faster or go slower) or when I take a spill and tell dad ‘thumb up’ or ‘thumb down’ or ‘he’s down’. I can do that I said. It is hot today. I am perspiring and I’m sitting here in the shade. Everyone else is working. Preparing for the big party next weekend. It’s the first really hot day of the season. I’ll have another cold beer. The Sharks and The Blackhawks – 2nd Period – yes the puck did go completely across the line – the Blackhawks finally score. A Sharks power play. Jamb that and it ricochets off. …Takes a shot and he scores – yazza yazza yazza

It is my duty to guard the wedding invitations as I sit here sipping at my Ceylon Breakfast tea. Finally I have something useful to do and not too taxing either. Oh, but the responsibility – am I up to it. Sitting on the Dock of the bay watching time, tweet, tweet, tweak. Barbara Grainer was also into Otis Redding on Thursday - Up on the roof top. I look around suspiciously to see if anyone is lurking around waiting the steal the invitations.-report any suspicious or unattended luggage or packages.  She had been sitting here gluing of twigs and lavender, but she ran out of glue. She has gone off to get some more hot glue sticks. Will you be here for ten minutes, she aked? Yes, I say, but I can’t imagine anyone rushing in and making off with your invitations. I know, she says but you don’t know how much time I have invested in these.

The dissimulation of a supposedly given disgust with ‘the obese, the disabled, the deformed, the mentally ill, the grotesquely ugly” can be narcissistically savored as a moral victory - Winifried Menninghaus – Disgust: theory and history of a strong emotion, 2003

She seemed to be disappointed that I through her invitations not worthy of being stolen. So when she returned I told her that I had had to beaten off a would be theft with a stick. She thanked me kindly for my heroic efforts on her behalf. My invitations don’t like the sun, she says pointing to what is obliviously a spring of lavender on a stick which had been glued on to the left side of the invitations. Lavender, she said. Lavender and cedar, I say. Lavender and creek stick, she says. I pick one up and smell it. Lavender and creek stick, I repeat after her. There was no cedar smell to it. I go back to reading. She returns to the tedious task of addressing the invitations.

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away…suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be - Yesterday. Now I long for yesterday.

Man can never quite believe that women aren’t as revolted by semen as men feel they should be - William Ian Miller – The Anatomy of Disgust, 1997

Peter can not get the seventh deadly sin out of his mind. We have together come up with a list of six. We are missing the seventh - disgust, stupidity, contempt, jealousy, hatred, gluttony, greed, sloth, envy, lust and pride (we agreed on glutton, greed, envy, lust, pride and sloth). This has become an obsession with him. In order to make sure that it remains an obsession, I give him my mobile number and tell him to call me as soon as he remembers.

He scorns the ordinary alphabet, which yields at most only a grammar of thoughts and adopts the symbol, the metaphor, the ideograph. “He writes Chinese.” He creates an impossible world out of an incomprehensible language, a lie that enchants and enslaves men – Henry Miller – The Wisdom of the Heart, 1960 p4

Justice Clarence Thomas is the only African American who camps – a big RV of course. I have not run into him yet. The court is in session but does that matter. He could just as well not be up there – and send in his vote. How was it that I am supposed to cast my opinion Chief? If he runs his generator all night and proclaims executive privilege, I’m going to complain to the Camp Host (he drives an RV too).

The disappearance of racism in America is a prosthetic memory

Nearly all economic models of ‘development’ rely upon an unattainable assumption: that the discovery of new resources… will always come to our rescue, enabling us to postpone, indefinitely, any final audit - David P Barash – The Chronicle of Higher Education (Sept 4, 2009)

I reviewed three writers’ magazines at the Mechanics Institute. One contained inside stories of screen writing written by members of the Screen Writers Guild for wantabe members of the Screen Writers’ Guild and the other two were about the writing business. There is nothing worst written than writing about writing. Literately critique for the semi literate, is that too much to ask - I don’t give a damn about the writing business

Hostile data - information contradictory to our cherished beliefs

There are no longer any sidewalk tables at the bewery. Its has something to do with their liquor license. We are on probation says the bartender, Josh. Is that for thirty or for forty-five days a regular asks? This will be a whole new place he, he says. Will there be rap music, someone asks?

Josh’s standing reply to everyone is “What’s Up my Friend?” He quite smoking two days ago and is now chewing gum. But he (thanks my friend) says he still smokes pot so maybe the two days do not count. You know that it takes seventy-two hours to get that nicotine out of your system, I tell him. I only smoked a dozen a day and they were ultra lights, he replied. So I don’t think I have much nicotine in my system, he replies. Well good luck with it anyway. When you get out an old shirt from the closet that you haven’t worn for a while and you notice the smell of smoke on it, then my friend you will know that you have quite. I’m on my second Doppel Wiesen and am starting to get a flushed sensation in my cheeks and these were only half pints. I can no longer make out the writing on the page of text that I am trying to read -“(Metaphor : A practical introduction”

Two dollars my friend. - Do the right thing Josh - So what did you learn today? - He didn’t mean wrong, he just knocked on the wrong door - Street justice, my friend - fucking New York - You get my pint?

Poetry is a bunge cord
     Between the concrete
     And the abstract
Or the concrete and the
     Overpass

The tragic age, when all that which is forever denied us makes itself felt with nostalgic force – Henry Miller – The Wisdom of the Heart, 1960 p11

His name is Horton! Norton? No Horton. Who? The Pigeon. The pigeon has a name? Doesn’t everybody?

There is a bass tournament underway upon the lake - $8,000 in prices - $125 entry per boat – out at 3:45Am – weight-ins at 7:45, 9:45 and 11:45. Rooster tailing across the lake, sliming the hull again the water and the roar of 250 hp outboard motors. A good Southerner loves his horsepower – fish faster – hunt further.

No I will not explain, it to you. I’ll say anything / rather than explain it to you. Even things that sound true – Stephen Dunn – What Goes On: selected and new poems, 2009 p126

For no Utopia ever dies alone. It takes its counter Utopia with it – Huysmans – Against Nature

So was the death of socialism also the death of capitalism too? Not yet. Then perhaps socialism isn’t dead yet either.

We do not wonder about what we do not know about
But we do fear it, whatever it might be (or not be)

I find myself anticipating almost things – almost everything; not airplanes following from the sky, not a tsunami, not a nuclear blast from an ICBM (although there are people who do and can tell you the odds). Most of this vigilance is a wasted effort, having to worry about things that are highly improbable. And especially since it is unlikely that you can take any action to prevent such a disaster (although you can re-located to the mountains and thereby avoid the hazard of a tsunami but then you might get buried in an avalanche). Nor is it likely that any of those scenarios will occur, right here, right now, to me. What you should be watching about is a car swerving into your lane or a car slamming on its brakes right in front of you or maybe someone opening a car door into traffic and you taking it off and maybe killing the idiot or at least seriously injuring him (who would have the liability, would it be shared, how much legal troubles would you have?). Then there are the mundane items like changing traffic lights, merging lanes and stop signs. You’re hands and feet are tense awaiting the command - turn the steering wheel a little to the right, tap on the brake to slow down a little, step on the accelerator and speed up a bit. Some people think the horn is mechanism for control other vehicles. Also don’t forget the turn signals – keep everyone alert to what you intend to do. And of course if not an automatic you need to engage the clutch to prepare to accelerate or decelerate – that is something else to worry about – get ready, put your left foot down on the peddle, wait, not yet, not yet, now – is the clutch disengaged? Yes, I think so – now shift the gearshift – which way? Down and to the right and then down again – that is if you are already in fifth. How would I know? If you jam it down and it grinds – that will be reveres and yes you were in fifth.. Finally I pulled into the driveway and took the vehicle out of gear, engaged the parking brake and got out to open the garage door. God, driving is tiring.


I inserted the key and turned it. The garage door opened about a foot and started to close again. I try again. I look under the door to see if someone was backing out. No. I look around. There is a woman in a red SUV waving at me from the far lane of traffic. She was trying to use her remote at the same time as I was trying to use my key. They - the proverbial they - had provided her with a remote but they had not given me one. But then I had not asked for one either. Eventually we both got parked. If I drove everyday all this would be automatic but I don’t. God I like public transpotation.

My “Perversion of Autonomy” was lying on the coffee table at the Mechanics’ Institute Library as I pursued the latest issue of New Scientist. The word ‘Perversion’ caught the eye of every old man that passed by - they all stopped to stare, but no one had the chutzpa to ask what it was about and I didn’t offer any unsolicited comment. I was expected it to be picked up and someone try to check it out but no one did. They just plopped down in near by chairs and when to sleep once they figured out that the book wouldn’t attack them. So I show Walter my book on Perversion and tell him about the guys at the Mechanics’ Institute.

Walter is reading the latest issue of ‘Scientific American, noting that they was nothing in it about the new planet. I then told him about reading ‘New Scientist’ and the library. Did it have anything in it about Mars, he asks? Yes, I reply. Was it the latest issue? No, I reply, it was a January issue but I had not read the magazine for fifteen years so they are all new issues to me. You sure it wasn’t ‘American Scientist’, he asks? No, it was definitely ‘New Scientist. That’s the weekly, he asks? Yes. The one that cost two hundred and fifty dollars? Yes. That’s why I don’t read it, he says.

In order to desire something else ‘fundamentally’, we must be stripped of space and time, we must live in a minimum of relationship with a site, a moment – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p31

Trail dog and I did a four-mile loop without a nap after setting up camp. I am starting to get into shape. It will soon be three weeks (20 days today) and I am starting to feel fit. One of these days I’ll walk TD into the dust

“Nothing is funnier than unhappiness,.” / Beckett had one of his characters say, as if it might be best / to invest others to speak certain things / we’ve thought and kept to ourselves – Stephen Dunn – What Goes On: selected and new poems, 2009 p128

A rain is coming. There is a darkness on the horizon
I am awaiting the flashing and booming
A squall line would be nice – but no this time
     It shall just begin to drizzle
And then it gets to falling steadily but soon ebbs
     The is no crackling of ozone in the air
A breeze has begun to blow

The living, whose sole virtue is to wait, gasping, for something which is not death – E M Cioran – A Short History of Decay, 1975 p33