This Steven Hyden piece on the new Daft Punk product led me to this Wikipedia article on ‘Rockism’ (I am an unapologetic rockist) which led me to this ‘Gallery of Rockism‘ which led me to this 1990 Robert Christgau post-mortem on the 1980s which contained the phrase ‘drastic shifts of fashion are to be expected when you valorize disposability’ which is something I quite like. ∞
The Curation of Time
Humans
2053 nuclear detonations, 53 years. Lunacy.
What a piece of work is a man! How noble in
reason, how infinite in faculty! In form and moving
how express and admirable! In action how like an Angel!
in apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the
world! The paragon of animals!
Here’s a palate cleanser, though, which goes some way towards making me feel that the Obvious Ironic Quote above is maybe not so ironic after all.
Thoreauvian
“What is a farm but a mute gospel?” The Thoreau Poison and Shane Carruth’s ‘Upstream Color’. ∞
Barfly
One of my top ten movies of all time, even though I’ve decades since outgrown my Bukowski period. This is the full movie. Enjoy!
Friday Night’s Alright
Words That Last
A research team led by Mark Pagel at the University of Reading in England has identified 23 “ultraconserved words” that have remained largely unchanged for 15,000 years. ∞
That’s A Lot Of Clash
There will come a time when you feel the need for a lot of Clash. Perhaps all of Clash.
I have you covered, friends.
Waeguk-in
Here Is Today
I Wish I Could Talk in Technicolor
Snow On A January Night
It was maybe 11pm, deep into a Northern BC January Saturday night. We were both falling-down drunk, and we were 17 years old. We were sitting on crusty snow, leaning back against the side of somebody’s car, gazing up into the snowflakes falling gently out of the pitch-black sky. Everything was muffled and peaceful in the way it gets when the snow falls after dark. Clean, cold, quiet, even though we could hear the distant thump of Hell’s Bells coming from the basement party we’d left a few minutes ago. Lazy Christmas lights were still twinkling here and there. Fifteen minutes earlier, she’d asked me to hold her hair back while she puked into the toilet, something that in my hometown was tantamount to asking a guy to go steady. After, she’d asked me to walk her home. I wasn’t anywhere near sober, but she was plastered, and her parents’ house was a good 3 blocks away. I was in love with her. I had been for years. I’d never told her.