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sloughing here in the chair away, remembering the last sleepless night (or whenever) and feeling the ramparts of my body tumbling away to illness. where are those noble defenders now? the cratchy bastinadoes who will through the old hooks down?

what is this capering fraying? and where and whence and whither? wither… but not so, her, who languishes alone in that soft garret. (well and but who can keep the old food down, these days? who else spends the night hearing that old food come back up? or is it i alone who kept that sad watch?) so, in spite of my wayward, um, or to be sure. {here i shake my head: the focus has gone all away} my spine is a thin column of platters balanced on sticks. balanced, i should say, by a mountebank of questionable (or zany, rather, than mounteb) character. watch those plate glass tumble.

oh, good humour man! where have you put my good humours? for i am all atwitter with bile and scowl. (hello, belly? why are you so unhappy? why are YOU all awry? do i not feed you as well as can be expected? as well as i am able. to i not pastinado you with tasty (pasty?) treats!?)

it’s not so much a balancing between sickness and health, methinks, but a slow fall into some cracking place.

I haven’t read very many books on politics (except for that high US history class), but even if I had I think that Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72 by Hunter S Thompson would still be at the top of the list.

I was getting weird historical deja vu vibes reading this book about the 1972 McGovern/Nixon election and thinking about the current Democratic primary. Yipes! I definitely think that the current passel of Democratic candidates would do well to read this book, not that they probably would. Thompson’s conclusion seems to be that McGovern lost to Nixon because he 1) couldn’t get the old party base to unite behind him and 2) McGovern was unable to competently tap into the disillusioned electorate–to ride the wave, as HST puts it (or, it seems, to run a competent campaign).

Thompson’s a fun guy, as you could probably gather from this HST fansite or HST’s football writings on the ESPN website.

Well worth reading.

*

eh? what’s the crabbit here?

Hey Mr. I: A historical essay about the wicked Recording Industry Association of America (or something): RIAA Sequentially Repeating Edison’s Mistakes.

It’s worth a gander. (We can’t ever seem to get out from under Thomas Alva’s shadow!)

I don’t normally link to direct news-stories that everyone is probably already reading, but I get a funny feeling when I read about the Chinese going up into space.

I mean, I’m thinking, Bravo China! That’s super-neato-keen! But I’m also thinking: how sad the States aren’t doing something nifty-super-keen like that, re. science. I mean, dammit!, what’s the point of living in the world’s “superpower” if we don’t even get super-groovy high tech science projects to feel keen about? I’m talking about public works, here, people. You know, nifty things our government might be doing, showing some VISION or something. Perhaps I’m being a little harsh. We did help out in a major way with that little human genome thing.

I mean, there’s this thing called the Apollo Alliance, which is groovy, but it’s Not Visionary, you get me, it’s just Practical, Common-Sensical. It only seems Visionary, because Common-Sense seems to have vacated the public realm.

I want to see Space Ballets, dammit!

You know, I’ve been pretty bummed by all of this music talk. It’s so irritating that stuffed shirts are getting in the way of what are really some pretty groovy developments.

But it’s techno-groovy things like this that really make me think there’s hope after all.

I want to be a mobile radio station!

everything seems to hunkydory, mostly. except when that blessed sleep is interrupted by that horrifying. wilt the chamberlain, or watch that waterbearer squirm, spill his daisies all about the place, watching slow words ooze between his lips. how’s that for ineffectuality?

nattering nabobs? no, nothing like that. it’s far more personal. than. that.

suddenly, in spite of those shivering ideas, that old fear comes creaking around the heart. wheeeeeze, and feel that old steam engine glowing white hot. those fingernails aren’t icey, o no. all the pretty glass, that sparkled in the shimmertime, seems like so much pretty glass. worth new jersey, maybe, but not much moren that.

all the fingers and toes and arms and legs and whatnot seem so useless in the face of that unnameable pain. where’s it at? there’s not even a name right now for what that was… head, shoulders, knees and toes? bah!

but at least i have a new mop.

Could Clay Shirky’s “File-sharing Goes Social” be prescient? Well, probably.

Just looking at that Friendster thing, though, I’m thinking these social file-trading networks could be much larger than the dozen or so that he speaks about.

Oh, where’s that Magic Bus when you need it!?

eeep eeep, go those vicious churnels as they circle in the hazy glurp. yes, fear their kk-kk-kking and their obstreperous gallivanting. throw those woolen blankets wide, and dance the bullfighting dance, only with churnels and not bulls (and we’re sad to say, you won’t have those guys with swords to help you out beforehand either). the only difference, we’d say, is that you’d better get yourself more than one woolen blanket. churnels yarp in packs! few are the survivors of a congregation of churnels!

and, if you had hoped for several red bandannas, you will be sore afeared. the bandwagon is empty, pillaged by scurrilous ruffians with several mildly unpleasing intestinal diseases (pray, pray, you ruffians, to St. Bonaventure and hope that he takes pity upon you! or else squirm in your boweling discomfort!)

forget that stapper tale of the clock-watching crocodile. the churnels only stomp about for fear. they can be filthy in their silence. oh yes, they might as well be creeping dust-bunnies for all the noise they make when stealth is shining.

ick ick icky.

You know, I’ve been using this eMusic service for about three or four months now. (I won’t link to them, because, well, why bother.) Basically, they had this deal where if you paid $10 a month, you could download as much of their music as you want.

This fellow over here at Squub.com was actually the person who got me started into checking out this emusic thing. Or the one who finally pushed me over the cliff to start trying it. It’s only fitting, then, that I link to his really long, saying-it-but-better-than-I-probably-would, reaction to eMusic and the termination of its pretty groovy service.

I like what he has to say about how he relates to music, too. I got into the music-listening thing (or rather, the actively-seeking-out-new-music thing) pretty late in the game, compared to most people, and I fall much more into the gatherer mode of music, then whatever the alternative might be.

Emusic was just what I needed to help me find all kinds of different music that I had no idea that I liked. Oh well. Good thing my flatmate has more music than god. And we have a strung-together home network thing.

La.