trotsky at barbizon

as you might recall from last week's episode...

you are lodged without complaint.
you dream you are going down deep and wearing a red shirt.
you bring everywhere things you find.
you are afraid of someone, the hooded one, you are afraid of what's under the hood.
you fall & speak like an engine.
you go down.
you take a fiercely insane plunge into dissipation
you who cannot straighten are straightened.
you dream you are looking into one hundred faces.

slow morning, a nice morning listening to the music of Steve Swallow (thank you). finally the world is rushing with autumn garments, a cotton in the air and my heart goes all scandinavia like always. if you are a person I will make you pumpkin somethings. pumpkin, like dumpling, is as made up as everything but especially actually seems like it.

wind tearing
heart of the street
in a blackout

the clumsy force of irene was a thing that attracted me

thinking about politics has at few moments been less rewarding than it is right now. of course the leaders of states and statoids have been mostly monkeys & egregious buttwads forever, but something about the speed with which their buttwaddedness gets simulcast to the entire pulsing universe (or at least the discouragingly small & inescapable (&, perhaps, deadly) part of it with wifi) makes me queasy. I can imagine Hammurabi, whom basically I like, claiming there were no homosexuals in Babylonia (tho would he want to make this claim? I know nothing of the Babylonian sexes), but the reception would surely be staider. so, even tho it's, like, funny, I sorta don't want to see shit like this. it's annoying. I have trouble pronouncing things too, and the problem with GW Bush is that he's a piece of shit homicidal mamzer lunatic, not that he finds himself with the unique handicap of some difficulty wrapping his jaw around the names of his colleagues. dignity, anyone? anyone?

not everything is about the zodiac, she snarled.

but generally things are, sexfoil, interruption of columns.

the meaning of gleipnir essentially is magnets, a gash in the ricercar. you might feel stupid trying this, but it's worth trying. every night it's always my wife. she holds a feather out. intolerable.

the word in that sense is a sort of cement flake, a braque thru glass pox and the holding air. just take anything chipped off, for instance, a rockface? speaking a low torque off aztec, or norman, air winding with heat from tents in the sinai, sweet cottages of the galilee (Jesus, mebbe, was a greek-speaker) all this being et cetera et cetera. all this being!

the slavic languages are easily absorbed because they center on a void. I mean very straightforwardly. it goes on & on, you stop breathing, a horse in pain or not, but the russians for example don't believe anything. unerring encounter -- this is part of their famously big embrace of the negative, and of the relative, in politics (cccp), philosophe (bakhtin), the arts (malevich, stravinsky, khlebnikov), &c &c. among no ppl I know is the unknowable so gladly central to living.

more to the point --
when we say "Ancient Greece"
we are referring to a geography
fairly commensurate with the sum
of today's Turkey & today's Greece.
it was full of Greekish ppl, speaking
Greekishly. I mean pretty Greek,
basically Greek.
the two main groups who came in
were Turks & Slavs.
the Turks did not learn Greek,
spoke Turkish, for which reason
the part of the Greek world
were they built farms & shipyards
and low stone houses near mountains
now speaks Turkish;
where the Slavs came
they learned Greek right away,
for which reason it is still spoken there,
& for which reason their ethnos
gave us the english word slave.

"The aesthetic regime of the arts," in which "the identification of art no longer occurs via a division within ways of doing and making... but is based on distinguishing a sensible mode of being specific to artistic products," "is the regime that strictly identifies art in the singular and frees it from any specific rule, from any hierarchy of the arts, subject matter, and genres. Yet it does so by destroying the mimetic barrier that distinguished ways of doing and making affiliated with art from other ways of doing and making, a barrier that separated its rules from the order of social occupations. The aesthetic regime asserts the absolute singularity of art and, at the same time, destroys any pragmatic criterion for isolating this singularity." autumn may be coming to new york, and for new york.

just as true:
when the dgews first came from what's france
to what's joimminy, they dropped their lingua pronto.
they had spoken a normannish romance thing,
but presently adopted a heavily germanic sense abt tawking.
the language became yiddish; a few romance words
(like bentsh) survived into it. but mostly just
jerrmin jerrmin jerrmin.
they even called it taytsh sometimes.
as they moved east always further,
met the slavs.
liked how the slavs tawked
& took a bunch of words. but they never never
dropped things out the german frame
as they had the romance.
paskudner & tshaynik & a heft of the syntax
without question are slavic,
but somehow it never seemed useful
to drop what was being sed
& tawk like the locals.
I find this curious, abt the Slavs,
who are among my major language-heroes.

after substantial hiatus of a year or more, I have returned at least somewhat to blogging.