Man, living in this house just makes me depressed, and I can't afford to go anywhere else.

I can't even afford cheap liquor.

I can't even afford Thunderbird.

This week Molly was a hero to everyone. Just throwing that out there-- our little ginger has done more living this week than most people do in a decade.

Anyway had a bad idea and started making a secret embarrassing mix-tape. Not much to lose, I guess?

In any case the reason I'm posting this is to talk about a tiny problem with it-- I realized the most beautiful song I've ever heard is a)totally a break-up song also b) more or less pornographic. Oops. Back to the drawing board.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 42 (or the closest one...in this case, anyway).
3. Find the first full sentence.
4. Post the text of the next seven sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.

Ring composition, even as Pound developed it, is a closed rather than an open form, and the clearest examples of it are in the very early sections of [i]The Cantos[/i], the "palette," but there are traces of the structure inn later cantos, even as late as Canto 113, where there is only a hint of the form. I will examine Pound's use of ring composition and subject rhyme in Canto 6 with some care, then indicate his use of the form elsewhere in [i]The Cantos[/i], after first describing its use in the early epic poems.

At its simplest, ring composition is a mnemonic device used by an oral poet. To form the simple ring abcba he would speak first of idea a, then of b, and then of c; at this point he would either repeat subject b exactly or find a subject rhyme for it; then he would repeat or rhyme on subject a. If he returned to the exact wording of a annd b, he would have a perfect but repetitious and rigidly circular ring. If he wished to develop his narrative or theme he would use subject rhymes for a and b. In an example from the center of a [i]Beowulf[/i] ring we can see both repetition and rhyme:
Grendel's wish to flee; "fingers cracked"
Uproar in hall; Danes stricken with terror
HEOROT IN DANGER OF FALLING
Uproar in hall; Danes stricken with terror
"Joints burst"; Grendel forced to flee [Niles, [i]Beowulf[/i], p. 926]

YEAH MAN

Today I realized that the dinosaur facts on the back of my oatmeal packet are really lame.
Q: Where were dinosaurs found?
A: Dinosaurs lived in all seven continents!

YEAH?????

Come on Quaker fucking Oats, don't be bringing your fucking B-game to the breakfast table. I don't want these weak ass grade-school-confidential dino facts. When I'm in the mood to learn about a T-Rex or whatever, I want my MIND BLOWN.


So how come nobody seems to dig on Hugh Seidman? Could he be THE underappreciated poet of his generation? Oatmeal packet says: yes

One of my favorite Robert Johnson tracks is 32-20 Blues, and I was always curious about Skip James' 22-20 Blues since Johnson apparently just took the lyrics and melody and everything and just swapped the guitar in for the piano. Well I finally found it, and, and, I don't really like it that much. Its too laconic. He's all like "welp better go kill my woman". I mean, its not like Johnson's version is dripping with gravitas but at least its got a little spring in its step.

As I was walking out of the record store earlier on this little old lady came up next to me and said "Like Bob Dylan!"

I didn't know what she meant at first-- I thought maybe she meant something in the record store or hell, I don't know, the Peace-A-Pizza across the street. But nah, she told me that I looked like him. Oh right, I remember. I felt a little flattered until I looked in the mirror-- man I didn't look a goddamn thing like that guy today! I had my glasses on and I had straight flat hat-hair. I don't think I ever looked less like the dude ever ever. What a disappointing life!

Finally, I tried to make peppermint bark but the recipe was a little vague on how much chocolate to use. So I melted down a nice pot full of semi-sweet white chips and poured it in a pan, but it barely filled in half. I tried to melt some other random cooking chocolate around the kitchen then, but guess the fuck what? For some reason it didn't melt right into a thick goop, it just turned into fudge. When I stirred it just sort of split open like a browny and smelled terrible. I wound up wasting a ton of chocolate and not making enough candy for Karen's kids. So I guess life is disappointing and I'm retarded.

Oh yeah, also I spilled beer on my dog.

Today was a good day. Here's why:

-Got up bright and early to run, then went to the bank and cashed a bunch of old paychecks.

-Saw Karen, and I get to see her kids on Monday.

-Went to the bookstore and saw Becky. I bought No Country for Old Men and a book about jazz and had coffee. Then she came over and we exchanged Christmas gifts early. I gave her the Veganomicon (which had just come in the mail that day) and she gave me a classy looking monocle on a chain. We couldn't figure out how to fit it in our eyes. I loaned her the last two Believer compilations and she said I could borrow her bass for the rest of the semester.

-Ate more vegan tacos for dinner, and a pseudo-Caesar salad (I used leftover salad so it had green beans and radicchio in it). It was so good and the water at my house is so delicious.

-Went on a long walk with Sheba in the wind-- I was very warm though in all my layers and stuff, and felt great when I got back.

-Listened to Bob Dylan albums non-stop all day.

-I put on an ugly and warm sweater and now I'm drinking some apple flavored Twinings with Moravian ginger snaps, unbelievably thin and delicious.

-Soon I'll take a bath for like one or thirteen hours.

Tomorrow I guess I'll go to West Chester and the liquor store.

Q: Hey, what did you do today buddy?

A: Well here a couple of the things:

I woke up early and turned in my portfolio then went back to bed until the afternoon.

I went around in pajamas until dinner time.

I found out that if you put ipod headphones in the dryer they don't break.

I bought a teacup.

I found my ID jammed in Proofs & Theories.

I ate half of some rice and a scone.

Well!

Yesterday was Black Friday. It got black. There was cider.

I really hate driving, right, so I didn't really want to go shopping too much, setting aside the fact that I just spent a whole bunch of money on clothes earlier this week. I did go to Borders though-- I figure that since I still have maybe $400 worth of books I still need for my proposal and stuff I might as well get some on the cheap. So, I did. I got some Louise Gluck and The Figured Wheel (which I don't even really need-- Pinsky is too much of a formalist for what I'm looking for but whatever).


Read Autobiography of Red last night. V interesting. Between that and some remarks by Richard Hugo I read I think I have a good foundation for my thesis... maybe? I guess I'm being vague but I still need to kind of brood over this for a little bit more.

Been subsisting on nuts and berries all week (not really (basically really though (sort of))). Don't nuts make you fat? Hopefully the berries counteract it. Cashews-- an appetite suppressant? I read that somewhere once. Probably Sedaritives. So probably a lie. Maybe I should go back to the grocery for roots and grubs too. Clearly I have no idea how nutrition works. Look pal, I watched half of Osmosis Jones once when I was drunk, that's all the bio a boy needs in his life.

Oh yeah, I also bought the new Believer and Eerie PA.

Now I know why masks are illegal in West Chester. I always wondered about that. And have a temporary tattoo of Scott. Thanks Charles Burns.

Oh say oh say its been some time!

But I guess
I guess I was doing nanoblogomo instead
for a little

Scott's blog
oh geez
was pretty bad
I guess you'd have to read it
yourself
but take my word for it

Tonight:
Borders and of the approx.
eighty billion poets I am lookin for
none of them were there
except some medium useless Robert Hass
compilation
from 1997
(oh shit goddamn)

Saw Becky:
I couldn't pin down who exactly
but
she looked less like herself
than like someone else I know
that
or
someone else looks more like her
than her

maybe it
maybe it was
um
the part of her hair
that
I think
was new

Also
calimari
blog blog blog

Here's what I wanna know--why do the Unicorns still sound newer than anything from the past four years? Come on everyone, catch up already, don't let these unicorns be number one for five years running. What a wash!

Yesterday I decided it would probably be a good idea to drop geology. I love three of my classes and hate that one, so what's the point in wasting any more time on it? I don't need it for anything other than a lab requirement, which I can just pick up pretty much anywhere at basically any time. So now instead of taking a giant exam about water tables I'm doing ALL SORTS of productive things.

-fixing last.fm
-looking at a cookie
-piling cups one on top of the other
-leaving the door open so dogs can come in

What a dynamo!

Last night was Phonathon Prom, it was about as awesome as it sounds. Tonight I'm interviewing Constance Merritt, and I'm nervous. Yesterday I drove home to get a suit because I was worried that I didn't have anything really nice to wear. It wasn't until on the way back that I realized that she is blind. Oops.

Ever hear Jack Kerouac read haikus?

When he goes

"Early morning yellow flowers,
thinkin' about
the drunkards of Mexico"

the "co" rolls on forever into the soft underbelly of the world. Hear him kind of turn his head to the side. That's when the saxophone plays for a few seconds.

Not really though. Gosh, I'm so sick. I soaked a whole ton of beans and don't know what to do with them. Who wants a couple pots worth of beans? Oh right also I learned all about triangles today. I don't like them.

Luna Moth
Charles Rafferty

If when you hold me
I break
like a luna moth,

leaving you a chip of powdered fog,
a blind
and beautiful eye...

If you spend the evening
deciphering
the cursive of wounded flight

below the flood lamps
that ignite
the steel of hte garbage cans...

If you are appalled that something
this broken
is hauling itself aloft,

however briefly, above the oil spots
blooming
all over the driveway...

Consider this: The luna moth
is a moth
for only one week.

He emerges
without any mouth.
He is only built for loving.

I decided to put off Karamazov in favor of reading Oscar Peterson's autobiography. Whatever. I want to get the new translation anyway and they didn't have it at Borders.

Anyway, maybe you know that I really like McSweeney's, it is pretty much my favorite magazine/journal type thing. The only one at my local Borders that I hadn't read what was the 19th, which was packaged in a cigar box. I always put off buying it because it was shrink-wrapped and I didn't feel like going up to the register with some random cigar box in my hands. But, today I bit the bullet and got it.

Inside was a huge pile of reproductions of things and at the bottom of it, the regular quarterly. Here's what was in the box:

-A pamphlet for applying for government pensions, from 1890.

-A postcard of some Jewish kids in hammocks, from the 20s.

-A bunch of letters and notifications between two brother concerning the arrest of one of them for sleeping with a black woman. One of the letters is post-dated 1911, dunno about the rest.

-A horoscope put out by the Republican party in 1968

-A leaked Donald Rumsfeld memo from 2002 in which he gets mad about leaking documents.

-Bush's dental records as of 1973.

-A 1961 booklet on fallout safety.

-"Some Things You Should Know If War Should Come"; a British pamphlet from 1939.

-Some long boring thing about Nicaragua from 1985.

-A pamphlet that the YMCA put out in 1918 apparently for the Marines (??)

-A postcard of a bunch of Jewish kids in costumes from 1930. One of them is a KKK member. Another one is either Zoidberg or Osama Bin Laden, I can't tell.

-"The Big Plot," a pamphlet protesting McCarthy.

-A little tiny card of air raid instructions, 1950.

-A Marine recruitment card from 1941.

-"A Pocket Guide to the Middle East," a book for US army guys in the Middle East, from 1957. Sample sentence: "You may not like Iraq at first, with its heat, dust, and not always pleasant smells and sights. Just be patient! The Iraqi people will help you change your mind."

Reunion Tour is brilliant. I'm gonna see them in October when they come to Philly and definitely buy the album. If I don't somebody beat me up.

In other news, I am in kind of an informal Dostoyevsky race with Reeves. He had a head start but I just finished a two and a half day blitzkrieg through Crime and Punishment. I assure you all St. Petersburg was left smoldering in my wake. Next up is The Brothers K, might pop in Borders to get a new copy since the one I have is pretty grimy and old, plus the translator apparently thought he was supposed to be pulling some kind of Dickens pastiche.

Here's a poem from A. Van Jordan-- I bought his third book a couple of days ago.

Sculpting the Head of Miles Davis

Secure the base
so the flesh will have something
to cling to. Wrap wire

around the wood
and fill with clay, liberally.
No, continue to add

clay- more than it seems
you will ever need for his
indented cheeks- and slap

more onto the base of the skull;
don't forget the constellation
of bones in the skull;

don't get hypnotized by the geometry
of the eyes; gouge your fingers
into his sockets- we'll deal with this later.

Pull back and follow the rhythm
of the jawline, rub your thumb
over the forehead; stab

your fingers into his cheekbones
raise them higher.
Doesn't his face

cast ribbons of shadow?
Doesn't he have cavernous
dimples? But don't make him

smile; imagine the teeth are behind
the sheet music of his lips;
imagine the tongue is aflame

behind the teeth; imagine
there's a voice scratching in the throat.
No. The temples sit too high;

the nose will not bespeak
his middle-class air;
raise the forehead,

straighten the nose bridge,
deepen the furrow of his brow.
Now, remember the look

in his eye back in '89 when
you saw him play at the Beacon Theater?
Can you see it yet? Stand back.

Tell me if the man whose face
you hold in your palms
could watch his mute drop from his horn,

at the start of his solo, pick it up- no
lowering of his head, no shrugging of his shoulders-
and go on to blow a phrase that still

trembles between your fingers.

I remember around this time of the year in 2003 sitting in the doctor's office reading all about Howard Dean. At the time there was a whole lot of buzz and excitement about his campaign, and it didn't seem out of the question that he'd end up running on the Democratic ticket in 2004.

Well.

That didn't happen, obviously. All his good PR gradually turned on him and he became more or less a joke, and Kerry, who nobody I ever met was actually really enthusiastic about, went and did his thing.

Do you guys see any parallels between the events of the last election and what's going on with Obama? Here comes this exciting new candidate out of essentially nowhere, with huge public support and strong grass-roots funding- he's saying things that people can really get behind and providing a distinct and appealing platform, with the kind of thought and clarity that appeals to blue state voters and the passionate conviction that appeals to red state voters.

And yet... there's still so much there for unscupulous spin doctors to work with. We've already seen certain news sources cast aspersions on Obama's credibility based on his ethnic background and youthful drug experimentation, and in the past week or so some liberal sources have started to scratch their heads at some of his statements about foreign policy. By standing out from the crowd of career politicians, like Dean, he's inviting this kind of scrutiny and dissection upon himself. That much is unavoidable. Furthermore, his campaign funding- can it hold out? Granted I don't know enough about that side of things to judge, but I've read some things that don't fill me with a ton of confidence.

On the other hand, there are a ton of significant differences between the two campaigns. Most of Obama's detractors, at this point, point to things that are patently ridiculous to anyone who would be voting in the Democratic primaries anyway. All the mongering about his past and background aren't likely to make a difference in that regard. Dean, however, had an air of danger that, although appealing at first, made his actual electability questionable from the start. He was like a shark, in a way, notable mostly for his incredible knack for grabbing a problem in his jaws and tearing it to shreds, which made for great speeches and rhetoric but didn't inspire a lot of confidence in his ability to take care of day to day duties. Obama's definitely more of a reconciliatory guy. This could be a great asset in tapping the mass of political moderates that usually go unnoticed, but is likely (in my opinion)to alienate a number of key states. Finally, a lot of people are unimpressed by Obama's current standing in the polls. I think it's a good sign- Dean peaked early. Obama's campaign seems to be taking a slow-burn approach, which should hopefully let him maintain momentum as long as needed.

Getting back to his more "friendly" personality as opposed to Dean's- I think this'll make a difference. I like to think that a big reason Kerry beat Dean in the last election was that he was the safe candidate. Sure, compared to Dean- but he was also the fucking boring candidate. Obama has that warm middle-ground approach but is far from boring, especially compared to Edwards.

When I was a little kid I had kind of a distorted view of how basic domestic life operated. I thought sofas only existed as a gimmick on the Garfield cartoon, and was pretty adamant that if I didn't sleep with one eye open trains and monster trucks were absolutely not only capable but eager to come soaring into my second story bedroom and onto my measly little frame. I also thought that all Chinese kids came from the mall but whatever. The point is that early on I got the notion that if I had a hammock all of my problems would be gone.

When was the last time you saw some angry guy standing in a hammock yelling about his problems? Exactly. It wouldn't even work. The whole thing would tip over! Unfortunately, I never had a hammock. That is probably why I turned out so monstrous and cruel.


Now, I'm a thinker. I like to sit around and look at movies in French and learn facts about Martin Amis' dad. My brother, on the other hand, is a doer. Maybe he doesn't know what a divalent verb is put he sure knows how to put one into two-fisted action. That's why when I fancy I hammock I write on livejournal about it, and when he wants a hammock he gets twenty dollars and buys one.

Yeah, there's a hammock in my parents' backyard now. I guess he got it while I was at school this past semester, along with some shitty tiki-torches and a couple of chairs from the neighbors' yards. Its amazing. I used to get all my reading done on this bed of nails in the cellar but now I can lay in a hammock.

Let's face the cold facts here- sitting in a chair is bullshit. Lying in bed? Also bullshit. I guess if you're a masochist or a martyr of the early church they're okay ways to read, a little warm-up for when you get fed to the lions or impaled on a spike or cooked alive or whatever. For well-adjusted young men and women living in a post-Roman world, however, there's totally no excuse not to have a hammock unless you're illiterate, in which case I guess you don't need one and also probably aren't getting too much out of this whole livejournal thing.

Trust me guys. A hammock can change everything. I finally understand how Harold Bloom can get up in the morning and do his job without putting a bullet in his brain. For years I wondered how anybody could get his "heart...ravished away" by Northrop fucking Frye of all people. Now I wonder no more. On this fucking thing I'd even accept a ravishing from Joyce Carol Oates. Well. Maybe I'll also opt for Northrop Frye.

Anyway, I started to wonder. All these years I thought I could basically just sit down anywhere and read away and get pretty much the same experience out of it as I would in any other chair or bed or subway or whatever. For me, at least, that obviously isn't the case. But what about you guys? Is there some specific spot you go for when you want to read, be it for sentimental value, or comfort, or because of a really great view or any number of other reasons? Maybe you can't get into a book without a cup of coffee on hand, or without some specific music on in the background. Please tell me. Help me further immerse myself in the world of reading books like a pedantic jerk.

The Atom Discovers String Theory DC Comics, June-July 1964, #13 “Weapon Watches of Chronos”
By A. Van Jordan

My plans were simply to escape
The grip of Chronos, my foe
Who manipulates time and bends
It around me like a cage

With no space between the bars.
Shrinking to the size of no observed
Size, shrinking to a particle with mass
But no weight, lighter than light,

Was not the plan; but there I was:
So small I was lost between dimensions.
Space was merely a grid leading to more
Grids. Our three dimensions were

Doors leading to six more doors, opening
And closing with the force of a gale
Through one and the force
Of silent kisses through another,

Oscillating faster than I could comprehend.
And if these dimensions were hidden
Inside the crenulated folds of ours, I realized
I had disappeared. I thought

I was merely running away to come back
To catch my villain by surprise.
I thought I was tricking the trickster,
Slipping his snare, but I simply ensnared

Myself. I was lost in the dark, jumping
Between lanes stretched before me
Like violin strings. Every move
Was vibrato- at first, andante, then,

Andante un poco allegretto. Yes,
I was scared of the world within my own
In which even my tiny flashlight’s beam
Bent towards my boots in fear, it seemed,

As I moved along the spectrum,
Plucking my way through the strands
Of force and matter under my feet,
Which were now, all at once, running closer

To and farther away from the answers
That would tie my world together.

Little poem for you guys.

Selecting A Reader
by Ted Kooser

First, I would have her be beautiful,
and walking carefully up on my poetry
at the loneliest moment of an afternoon,
her hair still damp at the neck
from washing it. She should be wearing
a raincoat, an old one, dirty
from not having money enough for the cleaners.
She will take out her glasses, and there
in the bookstore, she will thumb
over my poems, then put the book back
up on its shelf. She will say to herself,
"For that kind of money, I can get
my raincoat cleaned." And she will.


Edit: Whoah. WHOAH. What's going on with fucking html here.

Here are the events as they went down, true and honest-

I woke up and drove off to West Chester, and while I was sitting in traffic some poor kid drove right into the back of my car. It only scratched up my bumper but she was so freaking out about it and if I was okay and all that. I pretty much was! All I even felt was a sudden jolt and then suddenly my hat was on the dashboard instead of on my head. In any case, the unfortunate thing about this whole incident is that it turns out class got cancelled anyway.

So, I came home and took a giant nap. When I woke up, I had a mighty hunger so I went down to put some leftovers together or something. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had three packages waiting for me on the kitchen table. My refurbished hard-drive had arrived, somehow, even though I'm totally sure I shipped it incorrectly, the Decemberists tickets for Becky's birthday had come in a couple of days early, and the Bill Fox album I'd searched so long and hard for had also been delivered.

If any of you guys have read the latest issue of The Believer you can probably guess why this is so exciting. I was one step ahead of Mr. Joe Hagan, however, in that I already knew about Bill Fox and how amazing and elusive he is. Seriously, he's like Elliott Smith and John Darnielle and Woody Guthrie combined with the crippling mental instability of Syd Barrett. He's incredible and the album is incredible. Now I'm even more determined to find his other solo CD and the stuff he did with The Mice in the 80's.

Oh, also McSweeney's is having a sale this week. I'll probably order some stuff and so should you.