Friday, May 24, 2019

He, in His Shrunken Britches

  • Day two, new daypack, the life-purse daypack, the everyday daypack, not a dayhikepack
  • Daypack of twenty-or-so years obsolete space in size wise pocket wise
  • I broke honor with that daypack of twenty-or-so years I promised would be my daypack until it or me
  • and I'm fine, fuck me, very cool with disloyalty, the new daypack I don't regret, *that's* new
  • The fuck:

  • No. What?
  • A bidenite told my yesterday Pelosi's strategy of goading Trump by calling him names while forbidding impeachment is brilliant, said Trump is going to meltdown sooooo bad on TV that.....
  • I, I said before bidenite cut me off to say, I know what you're gonna say, and yes, this *has* been the long strategy and it's gonna pay off
  • Just kidding, I don't care, I don't have a TV and I won't pay for CBS online if you give me the money
  • Three AM yesterday morning some kind of animal fight in my front yard, two screams weren't cat, screams gone by time I ran out in underwear, neither of us saw Nap or MomCat (saw Frankie) in morning and through late afternoon and evening, should I put up the Alert I think and shazam, so I've not jinxed Alert system, all that matters
  • I finally got in, Is it possible, I said, we can have coffee once and not talk about this shit
  • My Favorite Tweet Ever Since the Last Until the Next
  • Tomorrow is Annual Roethke and Swans for Roethke's Birthday post, here's a song and a poem not in tomorrow's post, please play this and tomorrow's Swans songs LOUD! and please read today's and tomorrow Roethke's poem OUT LOUD!


Theodore Roethke

The fruit rolled by all day.
They prayed the cogs would creep;
They thought about Saturday pay,
And Sunday sleep.

Whatever he smelled was good:
The fruit and flesh smells mixed.
There beside him she stood, - 
And he, perplexed;

He, in his shrunken britches,
Eyes, rimmed with pickle dust,
Prickling with all the itches
Of sixteen year old lust.


  1. You can have coffee with me. We never talk about this shit.

    Also: I'll have you over for coffee to watch the Picard series. How the fuck can I not watch this, after all Sir Patrick has done for us? Picard? Grapes? Lurid tragedy that consumes a planet that may be Earth? Watching some hacks try to work out a reconciliation between the Roddenberry vision and the reality of Earth to come? Jesus, man, you're just no fucking fun any more. How can you not be squealing about this?

    1. I didn't know about this (or if I heard it didn't stick), and didn't he marry Gates Crusher in the future? And *will* there be Q? Let me know?

  2. Well, you know, canon is funny that way. He married and divorced Beverly in the future that Q created for "All Good Things," but they took great care to tell us that the future wouldn't have to work out that way and by the way Picard didn't have some weird brain disease after all. McFadden is aging pretty well; she's 70 and looks like someone's older hippie aunt. I could get behind some form of plot hackery involving her. wouldn't know this, and I actually didn't until I binged/caught up on a blockbuster teevee show that was big a few years ago, but first he became the Q of My Little Ponies (or so Wiki tells me), then he became human and, after Bryan Cranston basically killed his hot junkie daughter but it looked like an OD, went nuts, fell down on his air traffic control job, and caused a mid-air collision over Albuquerque that made a pink one-eyed teddy bear fall into Bryan Cranston's pool. I mean, among other consequences. But the relevant thing here is, it's gonna be a bit tough for them to age de Lancie down to the point where he's plausible as Q. Still a handsome man, sure, and still has the twinkle. But I don't know.

    I guess I'll have to keep you posted. Aren't you glad you asked?