A kind of a "dangerous supplement", marked, scarred on a body, post-orgasmically, always, already in anticipation of (a) crisis OR for a desert avec 'agape'. Mindb(l)ogg(l)ing Noise. "Avalanche, would you share my last pursuit?" (Baudelaire)

Friday, November 27, 2009

Thursday, November 19, 2009

joker & a thief

Thierry Henry's handball in the build-up to France's decisive goal against the Republic of Ireland

'I'm glad I'm not playing any more' - Roy Keane
Hey, Thierry, be glad he's not playing any more:

Roy Keane and Gus Poyet

Monday, November 16, 2009

True Blue

±100 years since the day Joshua Slocum, non-swimmer yet first single-handed circumnavigator disappeared aboard his 36ft sloop-re-rigged-to-yawl, Spray.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Friday, November 06, 2009

time for a poem again

Climbing Everest
by Fred Seidel

The young keep getting younger, but the old keep getting younger.
But this young woman is young. We kiss.
It's almost incest when it gets to this.
This is the consensual, national, metrosexual hunger-for-younger.

I'm getting young.
I'm totally strapping on the belt of dynamite
Which will turn me into light.
God is great! I suck Her tongue.

I mean - my sunbursts, and there are cloudbursts.
My dynamite penis
Is totally into Venus.
My penis in Venus hungers and thirsts,

It burns and drowns.
My dynamite penis
Is into Venus.
The Atlantic off Sagaponack is freezing black today and frowns.

I enter the jellyfish folds
Of floating fire.
The mania in her labia can inspire
Extraordinary phenomena and really does cure colds.

It holds the Tower of Pisa above the freezing black waves.
The mania is why
I mention I am easily old enough to die,
And actually it's the mania that saves

The Tower from falling over.
Climbing Everest is the miracle - which leaves the descent
And reporting to the world from an oxygen tent
In a soft pasture of cows and clover.

Happening girls parade around my hospice bed.
The tented canopy means I am in the rue de Seine in Paris.
It will embarrass
Me in Paris to be dead.

It's Polonius embarrassed behind the arras,
And the arras turning red.
Hamlet has outed Polonius and Sir Edmund Hillary will wed
Ophelia in Paris.

Give me Everest or give me death.
Give me altitude with attitude.
But I am naked and nude.
I am constantly out of breath.

A naked woman my age is just a total nightmare,
But right now one is coming through the door
With a mop, to mop up the cow flops on the floor.
She kisses the train wreck in the tent and combs his white hair.

from Ooga-Booga

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

I smell a lack of an ombituary

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