Tag Archives: October

“In Bloom” (Nirvana)

Sell kids for food, weather changes moods
Spring is here again, reproductive glands

He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say

He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say, yeah

We can have some more, Nature is a whore
Bruises on the fruit, tender age in bloom

He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say

He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say yeah…

J.W.

The Art of Arrival: Rebecca Solnit on Travel & Friendship

Longreads

Rebecca Solnit | Orion | Summer 2014 | 20 minutes (4,780 words)

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The word “journey” used to mean a single day’s travels, and the French word for day, jour, is packed neatly inside it, like a single pair of shoes in a very small case. Maybe all journeys should be imagined as a single day, short as a trip to the corner or long as a life in its ninth decade. This way of thinking about it is a;rmed by the t-shirts made for African-American funerals in New Orleans and other places that describe the birth date and death date of the person being commemorated as sunrise and sunset. One…

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“This Is How It Feels to Be Something Dumbstruck”

THIS IS HOW IT FEELS TO BE SOMETHING DUMBSTRUCK

city of lights

and this is how it feels to be something dumbstruck:
charged electrons, a ghost, a construct
that parts ways / when it sees your shining face / a
dose of heathen chemistry
for your stormy weather good fuck
and how this electricity / strikes me dead & dumb / one
more comet / lost amongst the sky
like streaked chalk,
at peace with its own wandering eye / still the Sun
draws pure, inspiration & entropy / moving to match;
you, love, curve along a delicate place,
burning souls where you like to walk

I see your eyes, love
now my face is on fire / my heartstring plucked /
wishing only to match you / desire for desire.
my tongue is loose (with a lightning touch) /
wishing to show your body
how it feels / to be something dumbstruck

J.W.

Reading Piketty at the Grand Budapest Hotel

Tropics of Meta

Zero and Clotilde in Grand Budapest Hotel

Wes Anderson has always had a penchant for the past.  Ever since The Royal Tenenbaums, his movies have increasingly drifted into a historical aesthetic, from the shabby (The Tenenbaums’ vaguely 70s-esque New York) to the quaint (the warm agrarian hues of 1960s New England in Moonrise Kingdom).  Few critics have missed the fact that his newest film, The Grand Budapest Hotel, amps up all things Anderson to the extreme.  It is cute, fussily pristine, ornately detailed, and even more deeply wedded to a time and place—a screwball comedy in the made-up European nation of Zubrowka, a seeming nod to Freedonia in the 1933 Marx Brothers classic Duck Soup.  Indeed, Grand Budapest harks back to a beautiful old Europe of the 1930s, one poised for destruction in the pulverizing death machine of fascism and war.

Which brings us to Thomas Piketty, the French economist who has…

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Beat Generation Rollover of 1965

Crows Dream

Caffee Trieste BackIt’s one of the lesser cosmic mysteries but still an interesting one. When did the San Francisco Beat Generation disappear?

Beat G was going strong in 1963. That was self-evident. By 1967, the hippie counterculture movement was everywhere in the City and the Beats were gone.

So, when did this rollover really happen?

It wasn’t a light-switch deal. But it also wasn’t a slow morphing. The change was farily swift by usual social standards, and the Beats were forever scattered, absorbed, whatever. Many of us geezers who are still around like to think of 1965 as the year the world changed.

In fact, we can even pinpoint the month and the day. It was Friday, December 3, 1965. The event was Bob Dylan’s San Francisco press conference at the KQED studio just prior to his five concert tour of the Bay Area.

Well, maybe this is a bit too precise…

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“What’s Going On” (Marvin Gaye)

Mother, mother
There’s too many of you crying
Brother, brother, brother
There’s far too many of you dying
You know we’ve got to find a way
To bring some lovin’ here today, yeah

Father, father
We don’t need to escalate
You see, war is not the answer
For only love can conquer hate
You know we’ve got to find a way
To bring some lovin’ here today

Picket lines and picket sign
Don’t punish me with brutality
Talk to me
So you can see
Oh, what’s going on
What’s going
What’s going on
What’s going on

Right on, baby
Right on
Right on

Mother, mother
Everybody thinks we’re wrong
Oh, but who are they to judge us
Simply because our hair is long
Oh, you know we’ve got to find a way
To bring some understanding here today

Picket lines and picket signs
Don’t punish me with brutality
Come on talk to me
So you can see
What’s going on
What’s going on
Tell me what’s going on
I’ll tell you ya, what’s going on

Right on, baby
Right on, baby
Right on, baby

J.W.