"It's about words, and words are all I have…"

Archive for the month “June, 2018”



(*Lou Reed  Dirty Boulevard)

Registered for a course today: Post-Humanism +Modern Fiction

wherein Professor Rhoda Morgenstern U of T  will walk us through

George Saunders + Cormac McCarthy   Both of whom write about

a time  situated historically  + yet beyond time   The details don’t

much matter  Appalachian serial killers  Brother/sister incest   Border

land sadism on the vast plains  where Trump’s orphans are currently

being scarred for life  emotionally


I posit today  that we are living in a  post-human  time   Our Gods jettisoned

+ soon to be A.I.    Fighting A.I. will require a steely vigilance  should you be

so inclined   Answer all questions with questions   This God is sly


No doubt the death of our Gods has led to suicide gaining steam in the culture

Where the highest stats are for middle class white males  adolescents   and

octogenarians   Untethered from the opiate of the masses  opioids have rushed

in to fill the vacuum   Overdose now competing with death by one’s own hand   Post

humanism is post God   Post soul   Post meaning   All of which takes us back to our

beginnings  To the biological imperative for finding meaning  ie., survival


Now in these fame-whoring days  souls parched and sere  we the huddled masses

skitter  To avoid being stamped extinct  by that namlessfaceless God  inside our lap

tops  +machines  One woman in Jakarta  54  fled into a Reticulated Python  in order

to incubate  +wait it out   The snake with bloated belly  was last seen near her sandals



The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?  

(W.B. Yeats  The Second Coming)





Summer 2018



(*see 1st Lady’s jacket on visit to Trump orphans)

Solstice message from a bad witch  Longest day’s

journey into night well underway  Brutal dicktator  +

(illegal?) immigrant wife  undo thin veneer of civilization

separating us from naked apes  Her clothing choices speak

volumes about character  or lack there of   Style is character

as F. Scott Fitzgerald said


Those long red ties  ill fitting suits  +yellow beehive  small hole

for mouth  Melania dreamed of marrying well  back in Slovenia

+sold her soul for the Trump diamond (..if you want the Plotnick 

diamond..  it comes with Plotnick ..)    + a $39 Zara jacket with

a slogan right out of the: Dumbeddown Handbook of Mindfuck

America    No way is she smart enough for subversion


She who referred to her husband’s perversions as locker room talk

He who has been accused of sexually assaulting umpteen women

But the gilded cage of baroque bad taste where her parents now

hunker  is where the Trumps Snopes’  will return in 7 yrs. (the Snopes:

that ornery  duplicitous  barn-burning family of itinerant farmers

blacksmiths  bigamists  and bank presidents  out of William Faulkner)


When Pyongyang beaches will be filled with crumbling condos  Detritus

of buttonboy’s cock fight   Whose was bigger? (Napolean’s  reportedly 2.5″)

Perhaps the founding fathers we hear so much about  did not go far enough

with checks + balances   Now doing summersaults in graves  As pardons being

readied for bad men  +the number of children torn from parents  creeping into

the thousands


It is said that you cannot make silk purses out of sow’s ears  while the souls

of dictators + their wives  so easily crafted from pig-parts  will turn on spits

in hell  for eternity   A la imagery in Hieronymous Bosch c. 1550: yellow haired

beaked freaks + slovenly wives with spittle on chins  with fire licking fatted





Summer Solstice  2018   ..Lock her up.. Lock her up..




I read this week that a woman in Schenectady had

migraines so piercing  she called 911 regularly  Turns

out she has Lyme’s disease  undetected for 6 yrs.

Muscle spasms in the major muscle groups sent her

to the doctor who found Lyme antibodies


Recently a neurologist prescribed anticonvulsants +

botox injections in head: Your eye may droop  but we

give these to all the artists  (yes she really said this..)

In the 10 minutes  Dr. Cavalier spent with me  she spoke

slowly  perhaps to give the impression of a longish interview

The tactic failed miserably  The botox needles will cost $831.00

every 2 mths.


  • screeching migraines
  • infected ticks (likely from white field mice not deers)
  • heart-lung machines causing brain damage in quadruple bypass
  • 67 stitches for mastectomy


Late life perpetual sadness will soon fade  opening up virgin horizons

Where untrammelled snow + unscreamed screams will melt into rivers

running through arteries  To the sea of HOPE  at base of spine

Kundalini Goddam!  Yesterday a pristine 22 yr. old niece said: Swallows

are birds who always return home  That should be your tattoo   But I

don’t think so


Perhaps a vulture in full regalia  with a crown +more  An inyourfacefuckyou

to the carrion eaters who no longer frighten you   Nor do the pics of

Linda Blair  ie., exorcistporn  a forlorn brother sends regularly   And while

you used to have special readers for his e-mails  now they seem child’s

play   Compared to reality  of which art is not even a reasonable facsimile


This is a good place to get to  The putrefacto of the alchemists   On the

other side of which is a kickass pulled brisket   +bliss     Yes bliss   A place

where the Karma police will never find you


  • invincible
  • unbowed
  • +fresh as a daisy




Summer Solstice  2018




He was 4ft.8   A rotund Milton scholar   He used fuck

as if he’d discovered it in an illuminated manuscript

Who the fuck knows what it means!  It’s a prose poem

It’s enigmatic  re: Cormac Mcarthy’s  Blood Meridian


C’mon head of English Dept. U of T   I want meaning

with my exegesis or what is it good for?  Absolutely

nothing   All of your Milton illusions  +biblical delusions

are not worth a mote in the eye of the Lord:  And God said to

Job  I’m fucking God!  That’s why I can torture you!  

(yes  head of English  said this)


If you cannot grapple with the deeper meaning of McCarthy

the greatest living writer of the 20th century  you are not worth

your substantial weight in salt or your 150K salary   Even my

brother  a legal scholar  at that  had an allusion to John Milton’s

Paradise Lost   It puts your pithy fucks to shame:  (from Animal

House  spoken by Donald Sutherland: * plse.see below)


Back in the day  1978  U of T  my English professors were elegant

men   Musty with bushy eyebrows   I fell hard for one of them   He

spake Chaucer with his golden tongue: Whan that Aprille with his

shoures soote, the droughte of March hath pierced to the roote..   

And yes  he tempted me to his rooms where   But I digress


Now to McCarthy’s text:

Men’s memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from

the past that was not  (or as my 94 yr. old mother says: what was was)

Cormac adds a new twist to Hassidic wisdom  Not only is the past a was

no matter how hard you try  you cannot unlive your life


And no matter what you do  you will live out the same story  (Mother:

Man makes plans  God laughs)  ie., I’m Fucking God!   Do you really

believe in the sanctity +veracity of what happened 40 yrs. ago?  When

the Boss released Darkness  +you lived with a 24 yr. old husband  What’s

the difference anyway?   Now you live with another husband  64


And in the night your medical marijuana plays tricks   All husbands become

one   Cormac: Did you post witnesses? For where is yesterday?  Numerous

of my witnesses have fled   Some are dead   Those who remain grow foggy

And soon  their mittens will be affixed  with strings



Hear me man, he said. There is room on stage for one beast and one alone.

All others are destined for a night that is eternal and without name. One by

one they will step down into the darkness. Bears that dance, bears that don’t.

(Cormac Mcarthy  Blood Meridian 1985)


(I don’t dance for the honky amusements  Bob Dylan  1965)




SPRING  2018  

..if I could take one moment into my hands..

Bruce Springsteen   The Promised Land  1978




Woke up to another hanging  Anthony Bourdain  61  Joie de

vivre extraordinaire   Won’t see another Spring   Contradicting

statements from shattered friends: He was never happier! Never

in a better place   He was in darkness for days    Anthony drank

gallons of wine to keep heroin at bay   11 yr. old daughter now in

the highest risk group for: addictions  mental health issues  +suicide


  1. all the light
  2. the pollen
  3. the social pressure i.e., all the sexy patios
  4. all the beautiful people barely dressed + insanely happy
  5. fragrance of rotting lilacs
  6. the fecundity vs. your moribundity
  7. apocalyptic certainty  (Globe+Mail  June 8, 2018)


Later in the day  attracted beautiful strangers  on the Bloor subway   An

Amazonian  too beautiful for Bloor + Dufferin    She sang uninhibitedly

Exuding Nina    When our fingers touched


Suicide Goddam




Cruel giants, mermaids, captivating spells,

a hunger for such things seemed to want to

play itself out within the desert springtime  and

its ambushes, its perfumes. (Denis Johnson Jesus’ Son)


SPRING  2018   RIP Anthony Bourdain

..who by fire  who by water..

..who by his own hand..




Storm clouds gathering  though not in the forecast   I

believe in the weatherman  +watch the weather for clues

It is the closest one can get to the Divine in a secular time

I stare penetratingly at the 7 day  +never fail to look at Paris

+ Rome


Left 1 husband in Paris   another in Rome   Overdosed on

limpid beauty  tainted-love  +lumpen strawberry risotto  Things

were much simpler weatherwise  circa 1965   in the backyard  The

weathergods were friends with your parents  who insisted you leave

the vinyl pool on steamy afternoons    Sky rumbling raucously


Frogs  pre blunt force trauma  family too  ( hey  we had to stun them

or they’d end up on driveway  frogs splayed under father’s Audi )  This

a sadness youngest bro could not tolerate  To this day he aches for the

children in Charlie Brown  They have no parents!  his refrain


Ours were quick  too quick to order us out of the pool  Always on the

lookout for lightening  +Huntington’s Korea  a famous childhood disease

back in the day   Our mother had St. Vitas Dance  +checked us for:

fascinendem tremendems regularly   Those slight tremors  the first sign

of shtetl witchery


Yet we had no fear  +played with the sparks nearing vinyl+metal   And to

this day we remain fearless  though the tragic news of Kate Spade’s death

wears on us   Reportedly from anxiety  Anxiety more dangerous than lightening

Her 13 year old daughter at school


Fearlessness ragged around the edges   No cure for fear of death by hanging  This

fate also that of a gentle boy with pinned ears  I liked   We often walked home from

school together   In Grade 11 he became a lifeguard at our camp  where  on a steamy

summer’s day  he climbed high up into the rafters of the main building





Summer 2018  RIP Kate Spade 55 +Jeffery G. 17  one of the smartest boys at school

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