Human are always growing from boning to dead.

Few days ago, I had a good experience about

women light. I daresay that women shoud admit

themself. Men are stronger than women for masthral,

speed, mentality and so on. women are able to have

a baby in their stomach. However, equality of society

and equality of lights, these kinds of arguments is

disgusting for me. Because, we already know the difference

between men and women.

We can feel the force and living through the playing.

Hobby is the self-pleasure and it is continuing in


Obviously TV is making inefficiency mind.

You are defenseless for the violent message.

Everybody is exactly watching the irrational TV companies programs.

If every people accept irrational to real, people are going to nihilistic

or machine.

Saddam has weapons of mess distraction.

Needless to say, health really involves eating food.

You won’t be able to get good health as far as you are loafer.

I think economy makes you the king or the clown in the palace.

I had some difficulties understanding curculios.

If we leave TV problems, our national characteristic will be

thyroid gland disease and long time sitting on easy chair cause

flat hip.

Therefore we won’t be activity and intelligencey. We will be

believable people.

Was impressed by these paragraphs from John Berger’s essay, “Where are We?”, in the latest Harper’s:

Everyone wants to know that pain is endemic to life, and wants to forget this or relativize it. All the variants of the myth of a Fall from the Golden Age, before pain existed, are an attempt to relativize the pain suffered on earth. So too is the invention of Hell, the adjacent kingdom of pain-as-punishment. Likewise the discovery of Sacrifice. And later, much later, the principle of Forgiveness. One could argue that philosophy began with the question: why pain?

Yet when all this has been said, the present pain of living in the world is in some ways unprecedented. Consumerist ideology, which has become the most powerful and invasive on the planet, sets out to persuade us that pain is an accident, something that we can insure against. This is the logical basis for the ideology’s pitilessness.

Follow-up: Yesterday I bought a pair of “azalea”-colored shoes with big floral ornaments on them, in a futile attempt to make spring come NOW. I mean that metaphorically. They are very lovely, and comfortable, too — but IT’S STILL 12 DEGREES OUTSIDE AND THE WORLD IS STILL SUFFERING. John, you are so right.

The demonstration last weekend was, to my surprise, very very fun.

Usually demonstrations make me want to cry.

But this one felt different. Could it have been because I was standing around with a bunch of sardonic poets making cracks that balanced out the potential ponderous earnestness of the situation? Why certainly. I remember at one point we all misheard one of the speakers say “women of mass destruction,” to which Bruce Andrews, just behind me, instantly quipped, “yes, with their portable biological labs.”

Or our chant — NO TOW NO TOW NO TOW NO TOW, which arose from the truncated sign that hung above the speakers’ heads,”the world says no to w(ar).

Other notable wisecrackers: Jeff Derksen, Kim Rosenfield, Kevin Davies, and Drew Gardner whom I’m thinking we should excommunicate from blogworld unless he starts blogging again.

What a bunch of smartasses! What a pleasure!

OIL: the precious bodily fluid, the liquid energy, the blood, of the deep earth.

Listening to Ocean Parkway out the window, the cars zooming past on the cold wet boulevard Olmstead designed and Moses fed a freeway onto…

*Robert* Moses, that is.

If the government put the money it is now using to frighten and dominate people into a miraculous major upgrade of all public transportation systems — imagine! If going to the subway were like going to a theme park or a cultural center or a fabulous indoor garden — and the trains were clean and comfortable and aromatherapeutic — and there were roaming entertainers telling jokes or playing melodious instruments — or sweet lovely people pushing down the aisles carts of delectable delicacies sold at low prices — and the most creative uses of hi technology to entertain decorate and inform — what then?

Not even the shinkansen is quite like this (but it’s a hellluva lot closer to it than the F train).

That’s what I meant when I said the trickle down theory doesn’t work in regards to economics, but it does for emotions.

The rage and dread and negativity they pour down from “the top” trickles into our psyches.

Very early this morning, still mostly asleep, I found myself furiously punching my pillow — three times very hard. Because — not sure this is accurate but — the “State Dept” was going to rain down war propaganda and I had been trying to write a substitute but I couldn’t get them to rain down my peace propaganda instead.

Teeth clenched, brow furrowed. All muscles tensed. Total physical rage.

This frustration interspersed with a simultaneous nightmare about not getting credit for working on a textbook at the press where I used to work, the very textbook I worked on when I was injured (at least in the nightmare), and also the endless stringing along of my workers comp case. NO ONE WOULD GIVE ME JUSTICE.

I think I took too much thyroid yesterday — the pharmacy had given me a holdover pill until I could get my prescription filled — dividing it into my proper dosage was guesswork.

It was either that or the effects of trying to sustain myself on bits of caffeine while so exhausted… or the birth control pills… or working too much … or more probably the strange things I ate yesterday — including, in lieu of dinner, a half pint of Godiva Belgian Dark Chocolate ice cream. Followed by a midnight snack of gyoza…

The gyre widens…

Nick, of course I like Gary’s blog. As should be well-established, I like everything about Gary. But like all the blogs that make themselves manifest in well-developed linked paragraphs of galloping rhetoric, I resent it a little, too. Like how come he has the time and is such the expert?

Plus, all the time and energy he gives to researching exotic cultural artifacts he once put into writing to to me, way back when I was an exotic cultural artifact, too. First I was jealous of flarf, and now I’m jealous of the blog. Maybe that’s why I had to start my own.

Now ***you*** are all my Garys (makes queenly gesture of spreading hand out over a wide expanse).

Of course, I wouldn’t trade the quotidian coziness of our (I mean Gary’s and my — oh and that includes Dante and Nemo, too) sweet cohabitation for the frenzied & yearny days of epistolary distance, but I can’t help missing the intensity of that engagement

You can hardly blame me.

It was a troubador’s dream…