say goodnight, olive.

goodnight, olive.

 i finished melvill, pretty good, herman is unstuck in time, tells a story about his dad, then a story about his books, and about the afterlife of his books. i learned stuff. now on to amphibious soul. 

after pouring over the best novels professing to portray human nature, the studious youth will run the risk of being too often at fault upon actually entering the world. 

herman melville

the confidence man: his masquerade

 r. found the bird skull under the radiator. the kid didn't eat it after all, she just chewed the beak off, and swatted the cranium around like a tlachtli ball. 

 from the heavenly library i got north woods, amphibious soul, who could ever love you, a termination, freud's last session, bob marley one love, and once within a time.

i'd like to follow the cranes. it's been a while since i had a flying dream. i notice the radiator in the dining room sounds kind of like the cranes.

 the cat can look absent and present at the same time. 

 the cat can make you look so close. the cat can put you in a trance.

 eleven thirty twenty twenty four.  still here.

 

have you heard of this guy, leonardo da vinci? whoa, he's off the chain!

 

remember, even the supreme misleaders are not in control.

 

don't post that. i'm warning you. 

you can write the caption. 

the caption is don't post that. 

you want it in black and white or color? 

neither. 

i guess it has to be color, for the camp wandawega sheets. 

yeah, and the cat shows up better.

 Lives are, really, books of stories. They are born and they die, yes, but between one point and the other they begin and end multiple times and, sometimes, their discrete parts and doors are closed in order to leave their endings open.

Rodrigo Fresán, Melvill

you were just on top of the refrigerator, weren't you? 

no i wasn't. 

i saw you—i just stepped out to get my camera to take a picture. 

no, that wasn't me. 

it's ok, as long as you're not up their eating my loaf of sourdough. 

there was no loaf up there. 

see? i knew that was you. trying to fool me. 

no, i know you're too smart for that. 

oh, thanks.

 i wonder if people who believe israel is a righteous country may come around in time and realize it's not a democracy, it's apartheid, and it's not defense, it's genocide. i wonder, if they come around, will they speak their mind, or will they maintain an embarrassed silence, hiding their shame. some people have come back from cult life, even nazis, though perhaps few, and i wonder how they find their way. addicts often find a new addiction. i think soldiers who have a crisis of conscience must have a hell of a time reconciling themselves to the self that killed, and end up killing themselves. today, the day of solidarity with the people of palestine, i want to consider the possibility that zionists will awaken to their humanity and the endless horror of genocide. 

pray for the end of the empire of genocide.

-dogs of peace

 

 joe biden pardons turkeys and kills palestinians. 

 i liberated a dogeared, spine-cracked, yellowed dreams of my father from a little free library and plopped it with lulu's poop in a compstable poop bag.

 i did a photo session with olive and her fish in the bathtub with a fisheye lens, and then i inadvertently flushed it from my memory card, so i did a retake, and it's not as good, it's never as good as the one that got away. 

reasons to be thankful: olive.

 

 the world goes crazy, we make a sanctuary with olive. the book we will be jaguars is en route from the library. 

 olive may not love being held like a baby but the desire to hold her like a baby is practically irresistible. we're amazed and thankful to have her in the family, out of the cold, and we're ever so grateful for her sweet forbearance. 

 we saw eric coming across the midway. he said we're two of his favorite creatures. he was not really dressed warm enough for walking to the pier. i hope he is ok. it's a rough season for humans. lulu was ecstatic to see her old friend.

 olive facing me and paige and renate face-timing karen, robin, spike and jay in l.a.

 today is international day of solidarity with the palestinian people. today is boycott black friday. 

pilgrims may be strangers, foreigners, persons looking for a miracle,  pilferers,  wayfarers, pilgrims may be peregrines, travelers on a spiritual journey, hopeful as birds. the trouble with some pilgrims is they may be settler-colonial land thieves and killers that never leave. pilgrims may embody the journey's end.

olive at the fountain. 

 

 Every year on the last Thursday of November, we celebrate the beginning of a European invasion that ends with the death, land dispossession, and relocation of millions of native people. 

Lawrence Ware

 if everything that can happen has happened is happening or will happen what's the point of giving thanks. 

 

Thanks for the wild turkey and the passenger pigeons, destined to be shat out through wholesome American guts. Thanks for a continent to despoil and poison. Thanks for Indians to provide a modicum of challenge and danger. Thanks for vast herds of bison to kill and skin leaving the carcasses to rot. Thanks for bounties on wolves and coyotes. Thanks for the American dream, To vulgarize and falsify until the bare lies shine through. Thanks for the KKK. For nigger-killin' lawmen, feelin' their notches. For decent church-goin' women, with their mean, pinched, bitter, evil faces. Thanks for "Kill a Queer for Christ" stickers. Thanks for laboratory AIDS. Thanks for Prohibition and the war against drugs. Thanks for a country where nobody's allowed to mind his own business. Thanks for a nation of finks. Yes, thanks for all the memories -- all right let's see your arms! You always were a headache and you always were a bore. Thanks for the last and greatest betrayal of the last and greatest of human dreams.   Thanksgiving Prayer, by  William S. Burroughs (for Sarah E. Lauzen)

 olive is banished from the kitchen after chewing a loaf and a cord. i forgot to mention i saw her staring at the bookshelf days ago and subsequently heard a thunk. she had pulled walter benjamin's reflections, illuminations, and clarice lispector's the hour of the star, and the breath of life off the shelf. the kid olive is one precocious cat.

 thanksgiving drag race in the park. they get in a big line behind the museum and head to lake shore drive and burn circles in the intersection. the cops stand by, observing the show. there are many ways to celebrate american freedom. and now it's finished, time for turkey and stuffing and punkin pie. 

 no thanks, obama, for all you've done, for all you do, to our world.