Moving day

moving day

moving day

if you can’t pay the rent you’ll have to live out in a tent because it’s

moo

ha oo

ha oo-ving day

Katie rented the truck for today and goes to pick it up at 10 am; I’ll go over to Planet Bachelor this forenoon and help out how I can. Jeff and I are so glad we’re not moving right now it’s quite remarkable.

Here is a lovely poem, with some context.

9,189 9443 words

As we come up on the Inauguration I find myself more and more frightened. I tell myself that Trmp and his people are too stupid to manage an insurrection, but it’s really the grift that’s the point, but I’m still afraid of good people dying, and the number of people in Canada who feel the same way as the Trumpites is huge, and this is a long term problem that will not go away.

Image

Cartoon of a donkey and an elephant. In the first frame Donkey’s placard reads UNITY and the Elephant’s F*** YOUR FEELINGS. The second frame the donkey’s placard is ACCOUNTABILITY and the elephant’s now covered in rainbows and butterflies, says UNITY.  NICK ANDERSON A RÉALISÉ CE DESSIN

fash demo at the inHOGuration?

TTTO Robin in the Rain.
Kettled in the rain
all the silly fashies
Maced into pain
falling on their ashies
begging all the popo not to be so mean
after all they’re white, although their feet aren’t clean
Kettled in the rain, all the silly fashies
Insurrection makes you gay <—– sarcasm
Bet the popo wish that you had stayed at home
Fashie on a rainy day.

2021 – the year of living ancestorily

So for 2021, this blog is going to change up a bit. There will be at least one drafted post that goes live every day. (I’ve started pre-posting awready.)  The hope is that I will put together useful or historical facts or just … information that’s easy to find arranged by subject PLUS post a song every day.

Now this involves many different KINDS of posts; some will be PDF’s, some MP3s, some videos, but there will be a song a day. I thought about posting it to youtube, but…. it’s a toxic waste dump that I have virtually no control over. And yes, some of the song posts will be from previous posts, but there will be a particular category: Song a Day 2021

And then, if I have the energy, I’ll write about laundry and cooking and grandson goo and boring domestic shit and progress on my writing projects – that none care about but me.

The point is that I am going to highlight my lifetime of achievement because I’m tired of always thinking to myself that I haven’t accomplished anything in my life. Taken all together, why yes I have. I was autistic and had ADD and mental health issues the whole time, too.

I’m considering password protecting my content or at least some of it, and I’m considering moving the blog to a VPS, after non-definitive discussion with Jeff.

I’m also thinking about money and immortality, a lot, but it’s nothing bad. I just want to eat steak for a thousand years while I drink beer and write nasty shit about misogynist slurs like Jordan Peterson.

By the way mOm the cat poets are Lu You and Liu Zhongyin

Not going outside

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insanity, the gift that keeps on giving

A couple of things got straightened out today and in consequence my mood’s considerably lighter.

If Jeff or I say in future that we ‘elsewhere wendeth’ you can pretty much be assured we’re either hitting the head or fixing to die. (It’s a Time Team reference.)

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did I die laughing reading this, ALMOST but not quite.

I’m starting to mail photocopy art and crafted paper to people, I’m obviously losing my mind.

I have started a long poem called The Dark Book; it’s a meditation on Moloch and it’s going to be really dark and ugly and written like a spell book or scriptures. It’s going to be at least thirty pages long, quite dense, possibly longer. I don’t need another project but it’s a really great place to put my anger about a certain show ending.

An accompaniment to ‘the sproing’

ImageJenny L Davis academic details

@ChickashaJenny – we currently follow each other on twitter but that may change, since I’m curating my list pretty much constantly and sometimes if I think I’ve been too greedy of an Indigenous person’s time I quit following them to stop the damage.
anyway, what the hell is a sproing?
Glad you asked. Sadly, this device is fictional, and part of the UPSUN universe, but oh how I wish it warn’t.

Text of the user guide:

All my relations.

In English, this device is called a sproing.

The sproing was made by sixers for Indigenous peoples to reclaim their stolen heritage from museums, businesses, collections and private homes.

There is technology in it which makes it demand to be used.

It will self-destruct or become inert if not used for its purpose, because it assumes that when it stops reclaiming Indigenous treasures that it is in the hands of colonial powers who wish to understand its secrets. We can’t say how it makes these decisions, just that we’ve seen it demonstrated.

When you’re done with it – may that day come soon – think of where to leave it. If you decide never to use it, you will still have to leave it somewhere.

If it self-destructs it may reach temperatures of 850 degrees C. Think of this object as a person who is a tool who is a bomb.

DO NOT LEAVE IT IN YOUR HOMES. You have been warned. The smoke causes lung and skin damage to human beings, plants and animals. Sitting it on dirt or stones with a metal box over it is best when it’s not being used.

It is wise to ensure that anyone who will be using the sproing speaks to it first. The sproing doesn’t have speech recognition, but it becomes used to certain people and is much less likely to behave strangely if it hears familiar voices. Speak to it before you pick it up.

Since it will open almost any door, it exists in opposition to capitalism and so it’s always dangerous for you to carry. Thieves, cops, the military, journalists, spies and sixer technology cultists all want this object. If you are not the right person to use it, give it to one of your people who is honest and fearless, and let them use it instead.

The sproing will open almost all key-locked doors and the fobbinator half of all doors managed with a key fob. If it doesn’t work, don’t make a second attempt. Second attempts may bring on the self-destruct, as the sproing assumes the person using it is without the necessary self-discipline to use it safely.

Please treat the sproing with honour and leave it in the sun, directly on the ground, during ceremony, to the extent you can. It will run longer if you do.

The sproing is capable of independent movement. It won’t happen often but they have been known to follow people they like for several hundred meters before they lose interest.

No visible record of the sproing  – of any kind – should be made, which is why there is no illustration in this document. Songs and ceremonies are OK.

Do not leave it close to bonfires, as there is more than one report of sproings being attracted to large fires. Under no circumstances try to pull it out of the fire; alert everyone and move away with your backs turned, and keep moving. Although it appears to be made of metal, it is non-magnetic and non-ferrous. If you are foolish enough to try to take it through a customs-enforced airport and you are asked what it is, it’s a paperweight.

Operation.

The side marked “S” is the sproing side. Place the “S” as close to the keyhole as possible and push gently. The sproing will ‘kick’ once, and extrude and push the key into the hole. You can still pull it out at this time and whatever is extended will retract.

Push again and the key will ‘halt in place’ or advise you of failure by vibrating four times. If it works, you won’t be able to remove the sproing until the door has been unlocked and locked again. Turn the sproing as if it was a key and open the door. Return to starting position to remove sproing.

Push three times rapidly if the sproing jams after you’ve returned it to the starting position; this triggers forced retraction.

The “F” side is the fobbinator side. Hold as if it was a fob next to the sensor and wait. If it doesn’t work, it will vibrate, hard, four times. Don’t try it again!

Do not use the sproing lightly or without a clear understanding of your responsibilities as you use it. It is normal for the sproing to change colour over time. This will take the appearance of bleaching or darkening from the original gunmetal colour. If you treat the sproing properly, within a short time it will be the colour of the soil of your territories.

Memorize these instructions and burn them.

I referred to a Trumpenista today as a ‘cognitive foundling’ and I’m particular pleased with that locution.

The unexpected postcard

I haven’t had enough
Can’t ask me to say when
Can’t ask me to resist
Won’t come my way again

It’s not that I am helpless
Nor that I am compelled
But that I have no words for
A way I’ve never felt

a long guitar and harmonica talking instrumental break

When you feel like you’re past hope
Past any chance for redemption
Perhaps some satisfaction
That life would get my vote
Then love comes into view
Like an unexpected postcard
Saying everything is beautiful
And soon you will be home.

fiddle on the last four lines, harmonica drops out

yes this is a destiel filk, tune exceeding dangerously sappy C&W, and it’s going along with the fic I’m working on. I am so cheesed with myself; I don’t want to leave the house, and there’s been a letter to pOp sitting there on the kitchen table for the last day. Also I’m supposed to make like lady bountiful to Paul, holed up in his motel. Tea, and beans, and whatnot.

anticolonial song (four part harmony AT LEAST)

I want to take Lord Stanley down
with a homemade thermal lance
he had his mo’, but he’s got to go
we can’t leave it to chance
Oxy – steel wool – brake line – tubing
Now I’m waiting for the spark
& you will see that statue fall
a mile off in the dark

 

If you go to youtube, the single most dangerous (but cost effective, big thumbs up!) Do It Yourself thermal lance in history is there to be viewed with awe.

 

Inspirational!

listening to Oumou Sangaré on Spotify

the album is called Seya

Kept Buster in overnight, let him out at 4:30.

Trying to think what else to do today besides go for a walk with Paul.

I have a lot of swirling thoughts in my head

Once upon a time
there was a staple gun
it mostly was for work
but sometimes was for fun
when there were bills to post
and scores to settle
we could do it all
with hurtling bits of metal

Picture the tune for this as something like a fifties pablum ballad

Poem July 18 2020 “Winners”

The eavesdrip of his wrath is death,
and daily death, and unlike the last, best
holocaust, it flails like wind-driven laundry under
global scrutiny.

Where science and civics are firm friends,
survivability blooms; then dies in a bucket
overwatered
by arrogance and greed and sloth
seen as shadows on a screen
eating the burning bones of the end of the world.

Into my housebound day, a short walk.
I’m wearing a mask, because I’m
contagious
daily.
Human contact doesn’t happen.
The gap is observed.
We make two circuits of the local schoolyard
and sit it in the shade.
I nag him.
I don’t fully grasp the semblably saurian
reflex of it, a chicken pecking,
even I can see it, and I do it anyway.

This crisis won’t be dead until we are
and we won’t die as winners.

poem- stop and start

find feeling and follow
the words, a parallel furrow
dug into the body
not to wound but to attest
that this event has meaning
drawn beyond the geophysics
marks my marrow
||interpret these lines||

poems about motherhood
and hardly any about
how it is an alien occupation
shifting tissue into your brain

yes, truly, I am centred in my frame

/mark these deletions
they are where I was brute
and woman
no one wants it/

trust the body
connect this breath to that word
and make that spider thread
a braid of wonder

poem ‘phone call’

A video call is too hard

I don’t have what it takes to manage it
and his laptop’s never booted up
work has eaten every moment

my outgoing text: Call me when
you have the opportunity and energy

I reach out with

this

ping

of

intent,

better to do this

than

not

Finally, as the depression grinds through its portion
of his brain, and barfs up his attention span, he calls back
and I say I don’t judge you for making me wait

it’s like crossing the road in wild traffic
you must wait for your moment and dash

will the world
still be there
when the scramble for now is over