War is a weather. Being hunted is personal.

"Fast Zombies don't signify death. They are nature's brutal swift attack. They are the Tsunami, not the plague. They are the bomb on the bus. The bear charging. The bees. Oh god the bees. As more and more disasters occur on live TV, as the water table mounts, and hurricanes wipe out more coastal cities, why the fuck would I dream of a being enveloped slowly? It's happening faster than that right in front of our eyes." --Potomac Avenue

(via dangerouslybored dot com)

Three memes or topics, of the present or recent past, that continue to engage me are Hauntology, Dark Ecology, & Accelerationism.

To me the first is more a flavor than a movement, a mood more than a concept, but if it were to be conceptualized at all, it would have to be as the third between Retro (to copy, FUKPI, the past) and "Fashion Forward" (to forget, TOLMORJI--even the recent past): remember MORJI (or maybe better, culturally-remember KULNU MORJI). The feeling is that of being haunted by what is different. "I feel/ your absence like the ringing of bells silenced..." --Robert Duncan. I have mentioned in this connection the recent film of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.

Dark Ecology expresses the recognition that it's already past the point of no return, in so many ways, concerning the fate of our planet--& to dwell in this recognition. The third between perish CANCI and reproduce RORCI would be: survive RENVI. It's the future we didn't want. Neither the fantasy of Apocalypse nor the fantasy of Techno-Rapture, but to find a way through, & an identity from that path. I think of the movie The Addiction here.

Accelerationism does not mean the literal, Maoist provocation of making what is falling to fall down faster. (There's no point in that, when those in the driver's seat are leadfooting it blindfold anyway.) It's the third between fight DAMBA and deny NATFE: to accept NALXARNU. I associate this with the Japanese aesthetic of kintsugi, or 'beautiful repair'. Something is broken, & the repair CIKRE is going to be obvious. Thus the saying, LE BANZU CUNU TOLMILXE CIKRE. The movie Skyfall.

(via)

watermelon oreo

Cosmogramma.

" 'Matter' is nothing in itself except an anomaly in space. People are just angles in that anomaly." --Harry Stephen Keeler

"Is the death star reeling?" --Eshleman's Trilce, XLII

(by Raymond Murphy, via Todd Buckley)

The Plutovites are mad about balloons, all the fifty-year summer long. They ride in them, raise bridges & even small buildings with them, but it all is going to fail, once the first tiny snowflake appears.

"His impatient mother would place her mace in an indigo..."

(thanx Melanie!)

"In the language of autopoietic theory, subject names what happens when biological human beings are structurally coupled to the system of language."

pinwale- to feel entitled to go faster

dishfire- to feel entitled to more than one's share

Vulcan anthem.

A non-Quranic aside.

"Indeed, without horror, alien materiality and the unhuman would resist conceptualization altogether."

Love revolution.

(pic by Momus on tumblr/mrstsk)

"Today, the United States is conducting offensive cyberwar actions around the world."

eke out
oasis

justice
reciprocity

land for sale
field standing empty

"What I tell you three times is true."

prisoners here of our own device

(via thefreedomthree dot blogspot)

     "GYPSUM

Maintenance comes to remove flood-damaged walls,
imaginary ears that absorbed my sobbing. I had talked
myself free of leftover disorderliness, and now workers
shred erstwhile parapets. In reprisal for trepidation years,
demolition angels enter to annihilate and ingratiate
always an exhilarated designer's developmental devilry
bent to crush bygone ignominies denied an eloquence
of being small or naive, Podunk, never New York enough.

I live inside a giant dog, rightward-running Dalmatian runt
conditioned to impound the malcontent as if to childmind
the infantilized. Unacknowledged legislators of the suborned
little terrors officated to compare car-theft to Communism
disown people like me, me and the invisible Outernationale
off the books, off the necessary grid, the cage we catcall
being the local news. Here am I, street-side and roiling,
big dreaming robot and zombies disallowed.

To-the-manor-born outcries from well-tempered hearts:
Possess no words, but pass overhead mere ions and clouds
to blush as morning dawns on everyone. I have witnessed
this war. Entire mountains covert in plain but fugitive sight.
Messages conveyed via tin can, cotton string and tin can.
With hammers laborers batter the wall, trash the debris
and go.

I am the ugly weed that persists, soft shoe sole music,
El Camino Street, abandoned autos littering West Dallas,
mecanica cuantica del barrio, open country and bridges
to los insectos chicharra. Will is a yellowed school bus,
cranking engine hauling hostage tramps to the tax-exempt
salvation, stonings by chaplains, warden understudies,
Hell-bound southwestward, beans and rice, Jesus Christ
or the door, cold open maw of the winter dog's breath.

Ask no questions, not here hiding behind field research;
you know too much already. No oracles but punditry utter
like so many peonies--to meditate on the urban wilds.
Condemned as if property, hidebound bag of self-interest,
sans sky, sans horizon, sans prescient present tension,
none but a future's workaday grinding machine, molding
to amenability this unrequested life. Look and become
a pillar of salt.

Now the inner fortifications have reached the dumpster.
Animistic, the eternal now, for we understand the ship
but forget the current. Us, incorporated, disempowered
, decompartmentalized, Nothing equal to zeroes and ones.
Sky blue, wild crow above our heads that circles counter
to the clock reflexively quivers, reacts and gasps,
a gutted fish.

Have we dredged the harbor of the sublime, our graft
festering into sleep itself? Scattered flotsam begs answers
during the surgery. Substrate does not foster black mold
but must appear before the Plaster Board at the Rock Lath,
willing to accept the hearsay criticism. Singular lever
of knowingness I am, stoop-shouldered but standing again
near the white piano John Lennon perpetually cottons."

--Gordon Hilgers, 2013

"At this point, roughly in parallel with fundamentalism and the New Age, the environmental movement is having to come face to face with the total failure of its hopes."

(via)

Neighbours.

brittle shadows pierce
my labyrinthine term
a place where no one walks & only runes
occult the mouth

she must have been a doll
along the railway glare
unplanted vistas, spiralling Maremma
chafe mercy

wilderness is so short
to hide one esculent wodwov betrayer of stones, flung Heimarmene
or Eisteddfod

(via)

Zxx.

a world of brigs
chars the brittle shadow
of something in the sky

let it be Wyrd
that thurifies the clay
mercury's curse

flies a camera
as by ruth afflicted
though more cold

& aria on basalt
thews of crystal grace
into brigs

I miss the misery.

How to appreciate the beauty

(via cnn)

The Right Word.

Why's this CD so expensive? Is this the same Waterboys i remember from the 80s? And their later hit (on alt-radio)...

Pentagon bracing.

(via)

"Some people say that running out of oil will save us from global warming. Perhaps. And perhaps running out of money will save you from your addiction to crack. More likely, though, you'll start getting your highs by sniffing cheap glue."

(via forbes dot com)

    "Quagga"

drops of Juvederm
Syrian no-fly zone
drops of juniper

thunder that sounds like
something in the attic falling
& rolling

no sidewalk along here
fence
a gravel embankment

the bodies piling up
like ants
this is how Cthulhu sees us

not a poet writing
with one eye on the road

Murmuration.

We are all Capulchu.

Vacation in the Golden Age.

The Last Telegram.

From the viewpoint of the summer civilization on Pluto, their predecessors had no seas, air, or music. The things they built did not last. They had no knowledge of what was happening, even as it bloomed all around them. And they were completely incapable of imagining anything after.

(via scodpub dot wordpress)

So Obama sent those tornados.

Learn from the Roma.

(via)

"I am Kicking The Doors In On The Closely

"Whereas Leibniz’s God freely chooses the best of all possible worlds, because his essence contains infinite goodness, the deviant Leibnizian non-God of the negative deist has no essence to speak of. It is the equivalent of Lovecraft’s Azathoth – a non-sentient, absolutely indifferent, writhing hyperchaos."

"Religious and philosophical ideas are, indeed, as dangerous as fire, and nothing can take from them that beauty of danger." --Chesterton

(via wired dot com)

The Halls of Karma.

The Endless House Foundation.

(via)

The Right Word.

Anatomy of Bob Benson.

"We are not neat, tidy, linear creatures; inside we are oceanic, with depths, storms, uncharted reaches, and sometimes an old shipwreck reappears when the waves are rough." --Rebecca Solnit

the string to fold (we know you are not mind readers, so we spell

"Though North Korea is a nuclear power, it has yet to build its first stoplight." (via)

(via sweet green dreams)

Nietzsche Family Circus.

La crisa ditcu.

"I never look up at the stars without feeling that they are the fires of a schoolboy's rocket, fixed in everlasting fall." ==Chesterton

Crypto Kids.

Generations on the way
Not starting with the Bering Strait

The weather
Then too a trickster god

Crossroads
To be duly acknowledged

When we come to a longer bivouac
In a field tramped flat there will be dancing

Graywyvern saw this
Before your time

"The operatives of the corporate/commercial hologram have induced us to devour the planet like a serving of Hot Pockets." (via wood_s lot)

D'Nealian.