The old place had a sort of cadaverous glow that night–warm, doomed, and glorious–like a royal soup kitchen on a sinking ship. The rice-paper lamps were strung in low-hanging strings; they lit up the fly paper, the glitter and the gauze. The Beloved was working the bar.
The foundations of debt and wretchedness were everywhere being laid, but the edifice of respectability had not yet been undermined. Everyone had taken enough to send the worms and flies away for the night.
I remember listening to you, as you told your stories to another table. You cackled suddenly–lovely, full of hate; and I shivered with pleasure, like the night itself. I was glad to be your friend. “Blessed are those who sit in the seat of scorners,” I decided, “or mock from their mocker’s throne. They shall have for forever golden crowns, and thrones for sitting.” Acrid, intoxicating smoke drifted up from my nostrils; rose and crumbled in the air.
Later that morning, we wandered the streets in shambles, seeking and finding omelets, cigarettes and sympathy, picking up the pieces of ourselves from side shops and alleyways.
A little later, everyone took the evening flight home–and decided to go to bed for years.
Hey Bridesmaids Hey bridesmaids, its spring: The leaves are rotting on the trees. The ground is soaked, the skyMolds over with clouds. So,Enough already: Leave the gaps gaping. Don’t return the gaze, pick up the phone. Leaveyour drink on the nightstand,next to the scissors and wicks. Put the yellow pages away. Abandon the den to its own devourings: choose the highway.The side lights tower over: alien beacons, speeding you forward; towards what cold portal? …Get your neighbor to tell him, if he ever comes a-knocking, fired up with false cheer, at August’s gilted window: “You made me wait.Nobody makes me wait.”
after O’Connor
Before I go on to blog about other things, its time for a Rave. As those of you who really know me know, when I dig something, I really dig it. Right now, I like this picture.
The video is oddly / mildly entertaining, though this might be due more to the visual pun (man in a donkey suit gives a press conference) and exaggerated editing style than to the political content (which revolves around a play on words / mixed metaphor: an actual government mini-scandal involving overpriced donkeys, and a gentle send-up of “local donkeys” in power). The clumsy English subtitling in this version also makes for several awkwardly enjoyable moments: none stranger than when Mr. Esel ["donkey on German," as the video helpfully provides] describes how a crowd of his “fans” rushed him at the airport: (“Some of them pulled my ears, some my tail. One even tried to behave me. I guess this is how you behave with persons you love.”) Its hard to believe some poor kid was set up and jailed for this.
+: Obama beginning to show strain? Last week, in a speech delivered in Russia, he managed to forget when he met his wife (he said Harvard Law, where they both matriculated; in fact, however, the couple first crossed paths years later, at a law firm in Chicago). And then, yesterday, this amazing little tidbit:
“I love the folks who helped get us in this mess and then suddenly say, ‘Well, this is Obama’s economy,’” the president told an outdoor crowd at Macomb Community College, veering off his scripted words. “That’s fine. Give it to me. My job is to solve problems, not to stand on the sidelines and harp and gripe.”
Values. What rewards could be hoped for in this world without values, save those established by blood, and long-beards,the pixelated imprecision of rollicking bombs; or the hacksaw, the leather badge and gunof the gentleman scholar? Yes, they are old souls; these jilted lovers of the Beloved, these once-great menwho grunt and groan and hack their way to systems of value, constructing crosses and statuettes over hundreds of life-lines; beards stained by the darkness, into which they wade, over-brave, again and again. They are the soldiers, Legion; they are the strong-arm of the iron Imam, who winks out at them from over the moon. And why not kill? They have long ago gone beyond death. But you should never believe them when they say they simply do their duty. In Hell these are the clowns who would be happyand say they circumambulate her, the “multifoliate rose”;who would taste her lips in rivers of searing heat, and melting wax-flesh. Never believe them. They passed by her left side, she gave them her coldest shoulder since forever: a long, long time ago.
For no reason other than its a beautiful song (yes, even if you don’t understand the words)–from a great old film (“Chori Chori”).
I first saw this in the spring of 08′–I was sleeping on a spare mattress on the roof, in Hyderabad… but that was another lifetime, and I don’t want to push the limits of self-indulgence (anymore than I have already).
A day late–and blogged from Canada–my Happy Birthday America song (and quote).
+ from Andy Warhol: what makes this country great (Capitalism! Classlessness! Object fetishism!)
”What’s great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest. You can be watching TV and see Coca Cola, and you know that the President drinks Coca Cola, Liz Taylor drinks Coca Cola, and just think, you can drink Coca Cola, too. A coke is a coke and no amount of money can get you a better coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the cokes are the same and all the cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the President knows it, the bum knows it, and you know it.”
There is no real reason why I should add my own shrill Blogger’s voice to the chorus weighing in on Governor Palin’s resignation announcement–particularly as I have nothing particularly insightful to say (other than to draw attention, once again, to the mysterious motions of Spirit in History). But then again, reason isn’t really running the show these days, is it?
In the great Culture War happening that was Palin’s VP candidacy, I did my best to stay the course and stick to the time-honored “third way” of casting derision on all sides. Palin was–and I think here there can be no dispute among those prepared to be truly honest–something of a clown; but then again, so were most of her enemies. (Could you think of a worse spokesperson for the empowered women of the right? Or a better cartoon conservative tar baby for the Maureen Dowd’s of the world to dig their claws into?). Anyways, though, chalk this video up with her greatest hits: perhaps a bit less accessible than her election-era offerings, but still (for the true believers, anyway) indispensable. There is something about her speech here which reminds me of video art–a string of (literally) breathless platitudes, many of which sound all-the-more intriguing for being confusedly opaque and run together [the occasional upsuck of breathe which interrupts the fusillade of sound bites is my favorite part].
Some of the highlights:
“The ‘hell yeah’ sealed it; and some day I’ll talk about the details of that.”
“…Um, by the way, sure wish folks could ever, ever understand that we ALL could learn so much from someone like Trig – I know he needs me, but I need him even more… what a child can offer to set priorities RIGHT – that time is precious… the world needs more “Trigs”, not fewer.” ???
“It would be apathetic to just hunker down and “go with the flow”. Nah, only dead fish ‘go with the flow’.”
“Let me go back to a comfortable analogy for me – sports… basketball. I use it because you’re naive if you don’t see the national full-court press picking away right now: A good point guard drives through a full court press, protecting the ball, keeping her eye on the basket… and she knows exactly when to pass the ball so that the team can WIN. And I’m doing that – keeping our eye on the ball that represents sound priorities – smaller government, energy independence, national security, freedom! And I know when it’s time to pass the ball – for victory.”
In the words of General MacArthur said, “We are not retreating. We are advancing in another direction.”
(These last two are great instances of the politics of metaphor: sports, and war–except in this case, no-one has a clue how to translate. Which “team”? What “victory”? And in which direction will Gov. Palin be triumphantly advancing?)
…
In conclusion: A fond farewell to you, Gov. Palin–and I defy the “reality-based community” to provide us with anything better. Obama may inspire the bovine masses with an audacious hope (competency?), but only the Right can successfully deliver politics as art.
The Days Staggering against the garbage of dawns; Stomach-turns, already-stale exuberance or Light that pours like piss from a paler sky. Then leaning more into the Day: The calmness of its first floors. Coffee-clouds of lucidity, Glittering under the sun like wasp swarms. The miracle of work. Cerulean chambers dissolve slowly to the final rooms, where Desire and Anger lead, insouciant, to the towering event of another sunset. There, in that hourless Vault (whether we care to notice it or not) the divorced parents of the Mind come together for a few words, or an awkward caress; behind heavy-lidded, locked doors,before the next beginning.
