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We got word that Mary's Mulgrave aunt Marge has died. She was 97. I never met her, but here's some selected quotes posted by her family.
"Cars always go by in twos."
"The bluejays are such gluttons."
"They must have had a sale on red and blue paint."
"Monica, Cindy, Lorraine, Joan Elaine, Lucia ..... whichever one you are."
"Move the owl."
"It's so dark, I can't see the island."
"The fire alarm? That hasn't worked in years!"
"Stay out of the big drifts."
"I didn't hear one word the priest said."
"Germans always drive white cars."
Rest in peace.
Yeah. Are you the party I'm callin'? Good. I wanna borrow more money. I want my credit raised. I got a scheme. Sokay. See, I borrow more money from you. And I use it to pay other people to do stuff. Oh you know home repairs bridges and stuff. And then I get munny, through tax
tion. Don't cut my fuckin' nuts out here. Just gimme the fuckin' money. Shit! Motherfucker hung up! I'm the motherfucking President of the motherfucking United States, an' the motherfucker fuckin' hung up on me! Sheeit.... Gemme the fuckin' treasury, pop a cap in they ass....
I wanted to make history so I built a time machine and went way back, to 10,000 BC or thereabouts. I was surrounded by savages pretty much. I showed them my iPod and some magic using chemicals. (Little explosives and stuff, plus some burning magnesium.) They seemed impressed by these gimmicky trickeries. I stayed with them for about a month and I taught them English.
I came back to the present fully expecting all sorts of things to be different. But nothing was different. Everything was exactly the same. Not even the people of 10,000 BC could care about me!
Aegeus caused the death of Androgeus and Theseus killed the Minotaur and Theseus caused the death of Hippolytus and Lycomedes killed Theseus and Tantalus tried to kill Pelops and Pelops killed Myrtilus and Atreus and Thyestes killed Chrysippus and Atreus killed the sons of Thyestes and Aegisthus killed Atreus and Agamemnon killed Iphegenia and Clytemnestra killed Agamemnon and Orestes killed Clytemnestra and Patroclus killed Sarpedon and Hector killed Patroclus and Achilles killed Hector and Paris killed Achilles and Philoctetes killed Paris and Aeneas killed Turnus and Latinus and thus the Roman Empire was started, and that's what it's all about!
The Delegitimization of Photography
I told them all, "Look, you've got to stop taking photographs. You have to do with because they are illegitimate. They are misrepresentations. Language represents stuff far better than photography because the object and the image cannot be confused with one another. Furthermore, the history of language is vastly more interesting than the history of photography. And another thing: sound is the preferable sense because there's so many optical illusions and relatively few aural illusions. So please, throw away your cameras. Get some pens and become poets instead." And you know what? They laughed at me!
THE CATS, THE RATS, AND THE BATS
The rats are kept above the cats, below the bats. If the rats go too high they're eaten by the bats. If they go too low they're eaten by the cats.
The cats are kept above the bats, below the rats. If the cats go too high they're eaten by the rats. If they go too low they're eaten by the bats.
The bats are kept above the rats, below the cats. If the bats go too high they're eaten by the cats. If they go too low they're eaten by the rats.
i don't understand why everyone's so mad at me. so what. it was almost ten years ago, people. i sent them out, people died. they were doing it for me. it was only some people. they weren't angels or something. it simply wasn't anything like a crime or nothing. my boys did good, and i rewarded them for it. since then it's been pretty easy-going. every couple days i say to someone, go. and they go. they're just people, people. yet some folks are, like, always mad at me. that jahweh won't even talk to me. neither will buddha. sheesh.
I was thinking about the things I'm incapable of talking about. So here's a complete unexpurgated list of my true blind spots.
1. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ....
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5. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ....
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8. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ....
That's all of them.
I called up my friend China Melville to congratulate her on the publication in the
of her long-in-gestation rumination on dirty old socks and I got her secretary who told me China'd gone on the lam.
"When will she be back? I mean, On the lam? Why's she on the lam?" I asked, sounding more than I liked like Edward Everett Norton in
"She didn't say," said the secretary. "She grabbed her overcoat and fedora and some sensible shoes, she said, 'I gotta go on the lam,' this was three days ago."
," I said.
"I'm getting a bit tired of all these mutants I'm seeing around town."
"The Siamese twins or whatever they're called. The ones with the little extra arms and legs."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, you've seen them! They've got, like, they're attached at the chest, sternum. Couple little legs going backwards, couple little arms hanging out the sides."
"I can't say I've seen any, man."
"The stunted, the dwarf twin, is always covered with cloth or stuff. Look! There's one right there!"
"You idiot! That's a woman with a child in a baby carrier!"
He can pass through a room without anyone noticing he's passed through the room. A slight up-and-down on an elevator is sometimes the only way one experiences his entry or exit. Shadows pass through him, impossible though that may be to visualize. He's not in the family photographs and he's not missed. Someone pays the rent; checks are cashed; there's a mysterious bank account that fills and empties. "Someone's been buying up all the Wells IPA," say they at the Beer Store. He's in such a small place, occupying so little space, just so by so by so.
MORE MIMETIC ANTHROPOLOGY
The ordinary explanation of the origin of myth is a cover-up of the original sacrifice. People say myth is merely an explanation of natural phenomena. This is getting things precisely backwards. After the scapegoat was sacrificed, explanations were required, and natural phenomena was invoked.
When we see bad weather ahead and make portends, we are unconsciously duplicating a pattern we created when we killed our first victim. Fearing lightning is a sign and reminder of our guilt.
The plague affecting Thebes was invented after the sacrifice of Oedipus; the eclipse was invented after the sacrifice of Christ.
And the award for Greatest Artwork of the Year goes to Hermann Delisle for
. An epic in twenty-two volumes composed over twenty-eight years, this
follows an Alsace-Lorraine family over eight generations from the French Revolution to the Second World War, illustrating in the process the complete and irreversible destruction of spiritual values and the rise of acidic materialism and senseless violence. Unfortunately, Mr. Delisle could not be with us this evening because he is dying of stomach cancer.
Now, here to present the award for Best Fart Joke in a Major Motion Picture is Moogly Da Fleagle.
I crossed two continents today to see my slave and to worship her. She was eating green grapes when I entered her boudoir.
"Hullo," she said through green grapes.
"Hello, slave," I said.
"How was the flight?"
"A little delay in Shanghai was all."
She raised an eyebrow. "You allowed that to happen?"
"I had no choice. Slave."
"Don't let it happen again." She held out what remained of the green grapes. "Here. Shove these up you ass."
I did so.
She said, "What a
I have for a master," and laughed.
"Yes, my slave."
THE GREAT CROWD
Here comes the great crowd. Will today be the day?
This is what Derick was thinking. Because he knew they were all gunning for him.
"We hate you," they said.
"Why?" he asked.
"It's arbitrary. But still we hate you."
Derick sat still and awaiting whatever they were going to thrust into him. He said, "Go on. I'm rubber, you're glue."
One brave soul stepped forth and drove a dagger into his guts. "Doesn't feel like rubber to me." A laugh from the crowd.
"Next," said Derick.
His hand cut off. His head too.
"Next," he said.
HISTORY OF BIG THINGS
The Professor decided to write a History of Big Things. A prologue was required first--a prologue devoted to the History of Little Things. (He was analytical to the core.) A brief prolegomenon, to introduce alphabets (which he felt were the smallest things) was needed. He started with the history of 'A' in all its aspects and usages alone and as a component of larger units, i.e. words. From there be went on to 'B' and so on. He got to 'Z'. He was ready to move onto the bigger things. Only 85,000 years had passed.
We had to hold his hand through the whole thing, the big baby.
"Ugh! What's this? Tastes terrible!"
"It's embalming fluid. You don't want to rot now do you?"
"Rouge!? They're putting rouge on me!?"
"You have to look good. It's a big day for you."
"Are they going to leave this box open forever?"
"They'll close it after the service."
"Can't stand the music."
"It's not really for
"This driver is pretty bad."
"Oh come on, he's a fine hearse driver."
"Can't see a thing."
"Well, we can't bury you in an open box."
What inj'ries will I suffer in Bala this summer?
Contusions, consussions: let's open discussion.
A barbecue burn, is that what I'll earn?
A cut on the chopblock, a chunk of my thumb off,
Or knocked on the noggin, sucked down while we're sloggin'
Through swamps unpreceded, or maybe what's needed
For my mind to stay sane that out in the dark rain
I stumble again, goose my head on the drain
At two in the morning while Mary is snoring;
Then punished I'll be
I'll return to my tree
Happier I'll be
With deserved injuries
But not ruined.
existence on the day before a pastoral holiday
all these people all over the place everywhere-
here's some stupid dog with its mouth hanging open-
packed streetcar stupid people in my way-
tedious labour pointless tedious labour-
plastic eating from paper sleeves-
answering the telephone people ignorant of telephones-
people reading shitty books-
idiocy in the newspaper idiocy on tv-
get out of my way you scum!-
going home streetcar stops why who knows-
is there a problem?-
sitting for a long time-
people gawping at their portable machines-
tomorrow will be silence and water and
AM It's a stuffed bus. Mostly young'uns. Between Barrie and Orillia. My Value Village knapsack I went to so much trouble to get is busted already. Why can't our slaves manufacture things better? Plus, my lime bag fell apart. Maybe toting ten books was a bad idea.... Stuffed as I said. Mary's in one of the front seats and I am in one of the last. It's overcast, colours subdued. We'll be where we need to be in about three hours. To that I say: Yippee! Sorry for the emotional outburst. But--I so want to jump in a lake!
"Yeah, he's a good cock. Fourteen hands high. You should see the fillys when he ambles onto the pasture. Their eyes light up, and a daresay they start sopping right then and there. It's all done naturally, you see. We let him pick his pick of the day. He's always got loads of come in him. Watch your step, there's slipper spots among the heather.
"What, oh no, it's not that way. Yeah, there'd be hundreds if not thousands all right. We got him a vasectomy.
"It's all my pleasure, and the poor dumb thing doesn't even know it."
Cleared up. Beautiful day!
On the boathouse a huge spider is guarding her nest of tiny spiders. The huge spider is black and its seven legs (spider with disability) are about two inches long. Her babies are translucent, maybe a millimetre frim side to side. Q: Why in the world do I hope they survive? A: 'Cause they scare girls, of course.
Mary took a photo of mommy spider. To receive your copy, send a self-addressed stamped envelope along with one hbundred dollars for handling to 62 Havelock, Toronto. Please allow seven months for delivery. There is no guarantee.
I'd heard of the Secret since I was a lad. Deep within the thorny underbrush, in the deepest part of the wood, there is a magical cave. So I pulled on my protection and one day sought it out.
And there it was: the cave. Flanked on either side with damp onyx-like masses--a smaller pair within a larger--the cave led to something unfathomable. And yet it wasn't the cave that drew my attention: it was the large slick protruberance about the mouth.
I climbed, with difficulty, to it. I rubbed its silky surface when--suddenly--an earthquake!
We're not past the halfway point, sadly. It's not a very pleasant day. It's not sunny, it's not warm. It's, to borrow a term from the visual arts, bleagh.
However, it seems that these really dark clouds are blowing off to the east. It looks like clear sky is heading our way. (Yes, how can a void approach? asks Roy.)
But the striated rock, if that's the word, is pretty. It's been here for a long time indeed.
Oh, it was clear last night. Billions of stars. Cassiopeia was directly overhead.
Signing off. 24 August 2011. Clear skies ahead.
"But what had caused the bears to take to the water in the first place? Well, wouldn't you know it? The bees had taken to the water first! Because they had discovered that water-lilies are great for honey-making!
"So Duck, fond of water-lilies himself, took carefully to the water and ate up all the water-lilies. The bees went back to the land, and the bears did too. And this is why, where there's water-lilies, there's Duck."
Hmmm, I guess it's good I didn't follow through with the aforementioned plans for the octet. Maybe I'm just not that into animals.
They have a boathouse here, with steps leading up to a deck atop. The guy across the lake docks here.
The boathouse has a door, naturally, and on the door is a warning sign, with an aesthetic drawn quite self-consciously from the style of a five-year-old. The sign reads, "Beware of COW," and around these words are drawn representations of a fierce-looking bovine sticking its head out the door, and screaming stick figures fleeing.
Fearsome indeed! Cautiously I have peeped through a window. I saw no cow. Still, I expect this experience to haunt me for years to come.
We've left Bala behind! I hope it survives til next year. I hope Herb will be there next time, next year. I hope the lake doesn't move to someplace else. I hope that spider with all its young'uns manage okay through the winter. I hope Gordon and Kevin have a good year of schooling. (Pitching and receiving respectively.) I hope the Balacade stays open. I hope everyone's dogs are happy sans any hangdog looks. I hope the bakery prospers. I hope we're here, together, again. I hope the sun shines, and the trees grow; I hope we all live.
Love is better than anger;
Hope is better than fear;
Optimism is better than despair.
Worthiness is better than worthlessness;
Success is better than failure;
Anthropomorphism is better than antidisestablishmentarianism.
God is better than Satan;
Transparency is better than opacity;
Streets are better than cul-de-sacs;
LPs are better than CDs.
Blowjobs are better than handjobs;
Gentleness is better than pushiness;
A simple pat on the head is better than a swift kick in the ass with a fat lead boot.
Handshakes are better than murders;
Peanuts are better than walnuts;
Smarts is better than stupidity;
Truisms are better than nothing.
It wasnít because of the time I subbed into the accounting, misplaced a decimal place and lost the company somewhere around three hundred thousand dollars
And it wasnít because I shipped four hundred television sets to Springfield, Illinois when they were supposed to go to Springfield, Oregon
And it also wasnít because I got the bossís wife drunk and fucked her for more than an hour in a stairwell, much to a security cameraís delight;
It was because I couldn't really envy others properly, which entailed much, and couldn't bow my great head properly;
I was fired.
She said, I found something else in my reading.
He said, What was that.
She said, Reality controls the bodies.
He said, What are you saying?
She said, The Republicans are right. Reality exists.
He said, My God. You were supposed to be critical of the Republicans.
She said, Yes. But fiscal policy. The business cycle.
He said, Do you know what you're saying?
She said, Forget it.
She said, Hit me.
(She cuts herself.)
He said, You are an evil Republican! I have to strangle you.
(He is a good Democrat.)
......................and we arrived at a big blank empty space. Wife gazed off, eyes all scrunched up, at the whiteness all around. Daughter and Son stuck their heads out from the wagon. Son said, "Gosh. It's all so empty." Daughter asked, "There any water hereabouts?" I shook my head. "Nope. There's nothing." Wife hopped off. "It's like I'm standing on nothing." I said, "Took a lot of time to find this nothing. Children, sink some stakes." The children sank stakes and then we had a tent for the night. No stars watched while we retired. I said, "Here's where we begin."
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