Friday, November 30, 2018

cold-blooded. that border agent shot that boy across the border eleven times. ten times in the back when he was down. just like that killer cop in chicago shot that kid sixteen times. the city like the border like the land grab occupation in gaza anywhere, dog. cold fucking blooded. we gonna let the state keep murdering?
where would i be without you, dog, redux.

skull arcade. obombaland pop pop.


birding with lulu. we have fun now. we do our thing together. she let's me follow the birds while she explores the ground. sometimes she looks up when the tree bursts out with birds. sometimes i put my nose down and find her sticks and bones. we trade looks. we do this thing we get to do.



hawk and crane.
i suppose i'm naive and none too wise, 
but does the government have to be a ruthless criminal enterprise? 
does our freedom and the fate of our stars 
depend on perpetual wars?
broken ground, broken tower.
the thinker.

it ought to be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things. because the innovator has for enemies all those who have done well under the old conditions, and lukewarm defenders in those who may do well under the new. this coolness arises partly from fear of the opponents, who have the laws on their side, and partly from the incredulity of men, who do not readily believe in new things until they have had a long experience of them. 

niccol├│ machiavelli 

i remember first learning of machiavelli's the prince in high school from herr fritz reiner, a scary german uber-mensch type who thought he was a laff riot and a terror at once. i thought machiavelli was some kind of monster of power. herr reiner was also my driving instructor, and i was always holding back my pee when he yelled turn! turn! should i get out and dance a jig!? and herr reiner was one of the head moles in cave club, and he kept yelling in the tightly echoing passages, are you coming, or just breathing hard!? har-de-har-har. what a character, how i'd love to sit in the back row and heckle him now! oh boy, i'd like to honk his nose!  

all that to say i read the above quote in climate changers today and it makes perfect sense, without any teutonic pontificating or stiff butted jigs, herr reiner. and i got a copy of lulu's dad's new book, reading machiavelli, signed, for doug- a machiavellian democrat in the best sense of the term! so while herr reiner made me read cringingly and left me with only the memory residue of herr's tirades, i'm going read this machiavelli redeemed and re-dugsed.


when i look at you sitting in the snow 
      with a turtle on top in the morning sun
      my heart thumps like a soul drum.

we like to forget, but memory keeps flooding back.

 get out of yemen!
yeah, trump's arms are killing children!
the people making the trade agreements are the same people buying elections and wars and telling us there is no social or environmental justice.
 
it's the fast track to destruction.
corporate capitalism's a race to the bottom. the bottom's where change happens.
may i? ok.

thanks, bud. the empire of terror and genocide will fall.

it's insane, it is impossible, the empire will surely fall.

 and the natural instinct for sharing the earth will come back to life.

happy apple bird day tony z!  
love mister, renate and me.

Thursday, November 29, 2018


Little Jimmy's gone
Way out of the backstreet
Out of the window
Through the fallin' rain
Right on time
Right on time
That's why Broken Arrow
Waved his finger down the road so dark and narrow
In the evenin'
Just before the Sunday six-bells chime, six-bells chime
And all the dogs are barkin'
Way on down the diamond-studded highway where you wander
And you roam from your retreat and view
Way over on the railroad
Tomorrow all the tippin' trucks will unload
Every scrapbook stuck will glue
And I'll stand beside you
Beside you child
To never never never wonder why at all
No no no no no no no no
To never never wonder why at all
To never never never wonder why it's gotta be
It has to be
Way across the country where the hillside mountain glide
The dynamo of your smile caressed the barefoot virgin child to wander
Past your window with a lantern lit
You held it in the doorway and you cast against the pointed island breeze
Said your time was open, go well on your merry way
Past the brazen footsteps of the silence easy
You breathe in you breathe out you breathe in you breathe out you breath in
you breathe out you breathe in you breathe out
And you're high on your high-flyin' cloud
Wrapped up in your magic shroud as ecstasy surrounds you
This time it's found you
You turn around you turn around you turn around you turn around
And I'm beside you
Beside you
Oh darlin'
To never never wonder why at all
No no no no no
To never never never wonder why at all
To never never never wonder why it's gotta be
It has to be
And I'm beside you
Beside you
Oh child
To never never wonder why at all
I'm beside you
Beside you
Beside you
Beside you
Oh child



Van Morrison,
Beside You



astral weeks turns fifty this year. i remember the first time i listened to it in 1978, when it was just ten years old. i read van morrison in an interview talking about floating up to the ceiling in his room, and i recall floating up to the ceiling in my room when i was nine, and it occurs to me now that was about the time astral weeks came out. thanks to my roommate pete jacobs, aka, dj floss daily (oh where are you today?), who pulled this divine disc from the two foot stack he carried daily to the college radio station, handing it to me with his wild beard, thick lenses and beatific grin, leaving me stoned on the saggy couch in our parlor, buzzing round the room like a blissful bumblebee, soused on sweet nectar, missing class and listening to floss on the radio.

the theme song tonight will be "instinct".

i’ll make a mess
and leave on the lights
structure your curse
give me the divine
let’s just say
my head isn’t right
talk me to death
all teeth
i’m spent
you sum up my instinct x4
get in a hole
i throw down a line
jaw like a fox
we lay down a fight
a lot of things i think
don’t make any sense
soaking the leaves
drink tea i’m spent
you sum up my instinct



the funs,
instinct
                 (the theme song of today was it's a family affair. did you hear it too?)

 
it's a family affair, it's a family affair
it's a family affair, it's a family affair
one child grows up to be
somebody that just loves to learn
and another child grows up to be
somebody you'd just love to burn
mom loves the both of them
you see it's in the blood
both kids are good to mom
"blood's thicker than mud"
it's a family affair, it's a family affair
newlywed a year ago
but you're still checking each other out
nobody wants to blow
nobody wants to be left out
you can't leave, 'cause your heart is there
but you can't stay, 'cause you been somewhere else!
you can't cry, 'cause you'll look broke down
but you're cryin' anyway 'cause you're all broke down!
it's a family affair
it's a family affair
 
 
~sly and the family stone
we will pay dearly for this civilization.


lulu, c'est moi.

lulu, the first lunation. she seems to be quickly evolving from a wild puppy into a thoughtful girl.





it's a wonder more of us aren't insane.



lulu. the sadness of a winter fountain.

i know it sounds a little like jealousy, like you can be annoyed and jealous both, right. and though i don't think i'm in the sailing class, sometimes i'd like to sail away, from this benighted place, from my inertia and my armchair anarchy.
then we met another grace.

you mean gracie.

yah, i mean another gracie.

her dad used to be an anarchist back when he was a nanny but then he got a dinghy and now he never talks about anarchy only sailing and when i lament about america i get no reply he just talks of the sea rather sadly as it's winter here in america mostly.