i only got one moodie for tonight, citizen kane. i'm not sure i wanna watch that again r. says—you know that's the sick fuck trump's favorite moodie? that's a different moodie i say, that's citizen con.

this motherfucker's way too big, vast, and diverse, you gonna stop immigration and put up a stupid ass wall to keep em out?—everyone's already up in this motherfucker! gnome sane, you can lie your white asses off til ya blue in the face, say you the motherfucking king of the american aryan nation, never mind ya sick fucks, it ain't happenin, that shit already happened, it ain't never happenin again. haha go head now, lay down, bury yo self.

mister closes his eyes in my shadow head.

isat a carrot?

i tossed a carrot in the swamp for the rabbits and thought oh it's probably too near the edge for mister will find it and eat it up toot sweet and then nah he's busy with rabbit poop and then he was crunching happily so he got the rabbits food plus the rabbits poop. what do the rabbits eat in winter? whelp i left a whole bag yesterday, but now it's leap year day and almost spring.

what does this erosion mean, i mean—for you and me?

this erosion.

What Sanders represents is not the left-wing. It’s the moral center. 


                                                                                                   —Jesse Jackson

don't be fooled by bloomberg, he's a fake democrat, he's a mocker. he wants to destroy the democrats from within. heaven knows if the democratic party is already self-destructing bloomberg will be the i.e.d. to richly accomplish the deed. don't be fooled by such a fool as he, the smug fool bloomberg, i know you won't. don't be fooled by biden time either. he's a jackass racist warmonger, mmkay.

now i feel beta again. i got my bike back and it's so smooth it's sexy. mister ate with gusto and pooped same. brutus who's bit every member of his own family took carrot sections ever so gently from my hand. i listened to mister's body language and turned when he said turn, and he was energetic with little bursts of running and loving glances all the way home. i put my little zuni fetish on mister. r. says it's a dog. i thought something else. i finished the liberry books i had and got two more, the falconer, and the baudelaire fractal. i always feel beta when i'm reading with pleasure and flow. beta flow. sexy.

hey, what is freedom anyway? doing what you want, telling other people to get out of your way if they know what's good for them—if they want to live? in the frontier myth freedom was defined as freedom from restraint, as in market conquest, and that freedom was predicated on subjugation of the indigenous and slaves . everyone agreed on expansion except the conquered peoples. in 1893 that guy turner, like obomba today, deracinated the myth of expansion. made it universal. trump put race back in, took the border wall to space, the final trump frontier of violent expansion. he can say anything, it won't happen, it'll be more barbaric, then collapse. we're at the end of the myth, of war for democracy i.e. expansion of empire. war is no longer justified in missionary terms. it's over. there's no growth, just concentrated wealth, war for its own sake. things cannot continue to go on the way they are. will it be barbarism or socialism. the choice was made for us, now people have to make it: barbarism or socialism. trump or bernie. the myth of freedom is existential now. it always was, but the limit is reached. it used to be you didn't buy the myth, you're out, now the myth is out.

Get down in the grass, says the Listening Machine.
To know what you know to be true.
To know what you've always known.
What you love.
And who.
And—hardest, hardest—how to be.





Genya Turovskaya
The Breathing Body of This Thought

 

The struggle, says the Listening Machine,
        is staying
                      alive
not only out of habit. Are you writing this down? 
To lose a sense
            from the sensorium in its entirety. Tto lose all the words
of all the world in their entirety. To loll
                                                       ones tongue in that asphasic fog.
To lose the long held habits of the body, incrementally, or all
                              at once. Will we be standing there?
Will it be pandemonium? All that raucous
                                                                        and difficult music.
              But difficult
                               music can be such an uneasy delight.




Genya Turovskaya                                                            
The Breathing Body of This Thought
 

post dat. it's much worse than they said, we thought.

the corona virus looks less frightening in the virus scale chart. what's frightening is a world out of balance. i wish there was a chance the shore could be restored to a natural state, but i guess the water would still be too high and the storms too wild. still, if we had a wetland instead of concrete and asphalt, it would be more absorbent and beautiful. we have rich people conducting bureaucracy and making artificial borders and enterprise zones and gentrifying real estate schemes and no organic growth, no thoughtful integration. we have rampant speculation and every design for human utility and money. no plan for community, including nature. everything in the city is made for free enterprise, not for quality of life and community. 

post dat. thurs. mar.5, 5:46 pm. the corona virus looks much worse. indeed, with the convergence of dictatorships and wildfires and meltdowns and wars and forced migrations, it looks like a terror world. 

      i say yay to jay for fixing my bike so brilliantly. he has never felt so smooth and well cared for. i feel we have honored and thanked this humble and beautiful machine. this is a good rite of spring.

super tired from walking. you don't realize how much easier life is with a bike until you have to walk. my butt and thighs are stiff and protesting. at last my bike is ready. it's hard, but as i was crossing the park i thought, it's nothing compared to the refugees who walk endlessly to escape our bombs, starving and even freezing to death with no home left and nowhere to go. america has always been a brutal empire, and the brutality is not just making war on other countries but here in the empire homeland. america is going to have to evolve or die. how long can the world continue on this way?

i feel lousy, depleted, scared and hopeless. i've felt this way before, sometimes for long stretches. maybe it'll pass. i don't know this time. i might feel better with the next book, or walk, or the next good moodie, i might feel ecstatic again soon. but the neoliberal virus may persist, and continue expanding, and we may all die of it.

life is obsolete. replaced by the new technology. now what do we do with it?

finished tyll. started how to read a protest. many dreams. awake at 3. steve and i talked about the corona virus when he said he was on the verge of getting sick, then mary said she worried about the coronavirus, and the epidemiologist said unlike the s.f.t. who can't spell it says, it's not like flu, it's like 2,000 x flu. i don't think i consciously dreamed about the flu, but unconsciously now we probably all do, and in between dreams the corona virus probably woke me up.

a 1970's book cover sunset.

artists4bernie. last count 2879 signatures. there must be millions more artists for bernie but a lot of them are apolitical. how can it be. art is political as breathing is political now.

fools are permitted to say anything—that's what fools are for.

lulu returns to the puppis profugo hominum by the crabapple tree. i put a log on the puppis but lulu is undeterred til i chase her off.

lulu of the midway.

incremental radical.

dem say we any body but trump. dem say any body but sanders. dem say we don't need a radical. dem say we don't need no revolution. dem say what we need is incremental change. wail, ain't no election gonna get you incremental change. the vote can't get it, cain't get you that. you livin' in the past. honey, revolution comin' by hell or high water, gnome sane. ya l'il democratic increment won't measure this sea change. there ain't no radical in this race anyway.

these tyrants hate state criminals in power these disgusting racist murderers howdy modi and namaste trump sick fucks they get together and hug and people start smashing each other and death happens in their sick fuck wake they don't give a fuck they want absolute rule and absolute chaos they want to get rich and richer watching the spectacle of people killing in their sick fuck names we are going to have pandemic pandemonium and these sick fucks will cum in their sick fuck pants with annihiliberal glee.

wick light, wick shadow. picture by suzanne. 
i have not been to see wickett and i feel sorry for that but i can't go with mister because of the long steep stairs and i have been winter-sad anyway and i don't want to grieve, i don't want to see him ill, selfish i know, but i also just hope, and want to see him well, and then i have some sorrow that i stopped walking him and hardly visited these past years. i wonder how he'll react to me. i must go see.

it's hard, it's odd, to slow down while everything speeds up in violent disintegration, yet the moment i do i feel better, i feel more aligned with the earth, even in climate chaos and war there is a more natural rhythm of life and it's the same rhythm we know in our skin and fur and in our swaying articulating bones.

there's a girl over by mister's house i've never spoken to who give her dog constant treats and doesn't look at me or mister like she's afraid even eye contact will set something bad off in her dog and i thought well she must have been told to do that by some manual or trainer while her dog gets used to focusing on her and not on her anxiety but that was a couple years ago and still she's doing it and the dog doesn't seem anxious but never gets to interact with other dogs or people and i want to know why is it the dog or the girl who's socially anxious and is she using the dog to distract herself from her own anxiety and as a social buffer? yesterday i saw her with the pointers playing ball by the kiddie lot and she started treating and hurrying by the outer path and the pointers didn't even take notice but i did and thought in this case she either can't tell that dogs off leash can be completely relaxed and one with their environment or she just didn't want her dog to see that dogs can be natural and free.

mister looks down at my footprint outside the snow tipi. mister looks up at me.

still my heart delights to see a dog running. thankful for simple things.

i'm still walking while my bike gets his spring tune-up. walking is hard as transportation when your skeleton is the vehicle. but it's mental too. i say to myself this is painfully slow, yet i'm not in pain. not physical. mister had a spring tune-up yesterday and today was moving painfully slow, to me, but perhaps he was just tired from his therapy, maybe his pain was less than his fatigue, but in general he may be slowed by physical pain. though it's mental for him also. when i hug him and sing, he often perks up directly and does a little jig, rolling his eyes in my direction.

You might feel indolent because you simply want to take it easy and do nothing today. Thas ok.

stay calm cool and collected. 
mister knows, even if he can't see or hear too well, he has poise and patience, he has wisdom and love. the boy continues to impress and warm my heart and to teach me how to do this thing.