February 2009
January 2009
School can expel lesbian students, court rules →
This troubles me.
Watchmundy:
teamtigerawesome:
Oprah is Dead
When Oprah dies, the world, bereft of one of it’s most charismatic leaders, descends into anarchy and chaos. A solitary traveler attempts to put the shattered pieces together again, but puts them together wrong, which can only mean doom for us all.
Shot by Jonathan Nicholas. Starring Clay Dzygun, CJ Meeks, Nick Rallo, Chris Cantwell, Matt Wyatt, Sean...
John Asparagus is at Family!
johnasparagus:
Good news everyone!
You can now buy our zine at FAMILY, an amazing book store in Los Angeles. If you can, it would be really cool if you can go and pick one up. Or pick up four. Either way, it would help us out a ton.
Family is on Fairfax (just south of Melrose) across the street from Canters. I highly recommend going to Family, buying Kramers Ergot and then eating a pastrami...
WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH PEOPLE →
Oh, OK … since Barack Obama is president, we’ve got to ban Huckleberry Finn from the schools? What the FUCK kind of reasoning is that??
Man, this makes me angry. Also, this: “Even if Huck Finn didn’t contain the N-word and demeaning stereotypes, it would remain a tough sell to students accustomed to fast-paced everything. The novel meanders along slower than the Mississippi...
“When we think about space, we have only looked at its containers. As if space...”
– Rem Koolhaas
Adam Kirsch on Elizabeth Alexander's Bureaucratic... →
Very interesting breakdown of why this whole “Inaugural Poet” thing just isn’t ever going to work. I don’t at all find Elizabeth Alexander’s work inspiring or great or even worth quoting, but it’s not just her fault that her poem felt anticlimactic, forced, and prose-y - as Kirsch points out, the very task of delivering an inaugural poem is kind of at odds with...
Goosebumps.
seriouslythough: marklevitz:
the times they are...
Out of the Mouths of my Professors
From a conversation with Marjorie Perloff, from whom I just took a fantastically interesting class on postmodern poetics:
“I differ from most of my American colleagues in having little taste for Elizabeth Bishop, considered by many the great postwar American poet. It’s not that I dislike Bishop; I just never think about her. It’s a question of ambition: Bishop’s whole oeuvre is very narrow...
animal →
Went to this place last night for dinner. KIND OF AWESOME. I’m talking really really really good meat. I actually ate a piece of veal OFF THE FLOOR if that tells you anything. Verdict: worth that sort of large credit card charge.
“[W]hat I have read is far more important than what I have written. For one reads...”
– Borges when he gave the Norton Lectures (from This Craft of Verse).
(via elpasajero, sitdown)
The Letter, by Mary Ruefle
Beloved, men in thick green coats came crunching through the snow, the insignia on their shoulders of uncertain origin, a country I could not be sure of, a salute so terrifying I heard myself lying to avoid arrest, and was arrested along with Jocko, whose tear had snapped off, a tiny icicle he put in his mouth. We were taken to the ice prison, a palace encrusted with hoarfrost, its dome lit from...
Signs I Need To Go Back To School
I just watched a 2006 segment from the Today Show about Jodie Sweetin (Stephanie from Full House) and her meth addiction. This may be a new low.
“Absurdity is what I like most in life, and there’s humor in struggling in...”
– David Lynch
WatchI couldn’t let everybody else have all the fun.
“All the motherfuckers would have to KNEEL.”
– Elizabeth, on if her full name were Extreme Championship Wrestling instead of Elizabeth Corrie Wilcox. (via chriscantwell)
E-C-DUB E-C-DUB E-C-DUB E-C-DUB E-C-DUB E-C-DUB E-C-DUB E-C-DUB E-C-DUB
(via mundy)
YOU KNOW IT BITCHES
Can someone tell me
why Barnes & Noble gave me a tracking number for a package that DOESN’T WORK and just redirects me to a “page not found” announcement? Hey, Barnes & Noble, I’m gonna take Amazon.com to the party I promised to take you to and make out with it hard core right in front of you while you watch.
Wings, by Albert Goldbarth
I always wondered why they called them wings. —Perhaps because somebody always waited in shadow in them, with a rope. With a rope like a great braided nerve, and while some sweet singing or bloody melee completely filled the central light, this person would raise or lower the god.
___________________
It’s summer. Hard summer; the land enameled. I find the bird already half-dismantled...
