From the Archives, 07/03/2010

Scream my name above the din
Above the engines carnal din
Above the calve who bleat their lungs out
Baa baa moo moo baa baa baa — Will Oldham

Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clanged bars;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon. — Francis Thompson

Yesterday I fed a raw carrot to Levi. He tried his damnedest to look like he was enjoying it. I was making stew and I’m sure he smelled the meat, probably wasn’t expecting it to be so crunchy. I’m sure there’s some analogy for life in that, but a trite and obvious one, like, perhaps, life isn’t as good as it smells or maybe Sometimes you get the bull the sometimes you get the carrot.

Despite antics the sort of which my family are prone too, it sounds like my mother’s situation has improve, just not in the sense that’d make a dramatic graph. However, if I was trying to be paranoid, my daughter called this morning while I was asleep, and her phone is now off, the phone at the folks house is busy (dial up internet) and the easiest number to find for my sister gets no answer (she has a bunch of phones, at least two of which are work related). Now, to be real paranoid I’d have to assume my daughter called and was abducted before leaving a message, my folks and little sister are being held hostage by internet dial up bandits and perhaps Detroit has sunk into the Lake (the last I just threw in there for effect).

The Fourth of July would be a silly holiday if after several years of war the English had won. I mean who celebrates the intent of an event. It’d like celebrating March 25th the day of Christ’s conception (please don’t point out Christ wasn’t really born on dec 25, just go with it). Or celebrating the day the French were fed up with the aristocracy instead of the day they stormed the Bastille. Even if we celebrated January 14 1784 the day America ratified the treaty of Paris, the hostilities still weren’t really over, but at least we were a recognized country then. Oh, the brits took a bit longer to ratify the treaty of Paris. Not that I’m a history buff or anything, I’m just saying, even the most cartoony version of the war of independence , July 4, 1776 is still just a day a bunch of hippies and malcontents (that’s a hippie who has a wig) signed some papers saying they tired of putting up with shit. I’m guessing that’s a daily occurrence, people signing papers outlining the shit with which they will not put.
Not that I have anything against the fourth of July, who could begrudge a celebration of hotdogs, beer and blowing shit up? Maybe culturally I don’t know any better, maybe in the grand scheme of humanity, hotdogs, beer and blowing shit up is crass and rude, but sweet conception of the Christ child I do like me a good blowing shit up hoedown. Just like I like Christmas presents in December and beheadings on the 14 of July (ok, fuck all y’all, so I had to look up Bastille Day. Oddly enough there’s a shitload of Bastille Day + Portland Oregon, with celebrations ranging from the eighth to the 20th. I guess when it comes to storming the Bastille Oregonians give it a full week or two.).

Again, it’s blatantly obvious how much nothing I’ve got. And I’m spent.