poetry: bill callahan - day

Frankly I don't care even the tiniest bit for Bill Callahan's music. It's not even just that I feel neutral about it, I actually dislike it actively and intensely, which is fairly rare for me. His music makes my skin crawl, feels undefinably wrong to me somehow. I cannot pinpoint the reasons nor provide any rational explanation for my gut-level revulsion, which embarrasses me a little.

But I like this one as a poem.

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Some people are a sickness on this land
They're killing, they're taking, they're stealing
Whatever they can
Anything, anything, anything that is not bolted down

Your life, your money, your heart, your faith, your bike
Anything that is not bolted down

Learn from the animals, monkeys do
Monkeys do piggish things too
Learn from the vegetables, monkeys do
The way they strive towards the light
A small potato in the blight
Still strives towards the light
I know it's as dark as night
It's as dark as night

It is day though

Some would ask, what are we to do
With a world that crumbles to the touch?
A world that spins and dies where it stands,
Like trying ain't enough?

To family is all you can do
To family is all you can do
Even if it's just us two
To family is all you can do

And strive towards the light
Strive towards the light
It's as dark as night
Strive towards the light
Strive towards the light
I know it's as dark as night

It is day though

boring status update, definitely not about bananas or orthographic projection

Hi all (five or six of you semi-regulars),

I hate wasting a post on this kind of thing, but I am not doing well lately.

Good news: I am no longer depressed.

Bad news: Apparently my formerly unshakable depression may have been just a prodromal symptom of something that I am too blitzed to talk about (or decide whether I want to talk about it) in great detail but which involves the pancreas and much pain and hospitals (again). I don't exactly have a diagnosis (yet-ish?) beyond pancreatitis and liver-something, my case has been weird, probably has something to do with my genetics. W00t I am a mutant and shall be expunged from the record.

I mean, I always wanted an easy way to get, like, super skinny. But I was thinking skinny like Audrina Patridge (minus boob job), maybe... not skinny like Steve Jobs.

Basically this post is just a placeholder or something to say that I promise to update at least once a month. If I don't, it's not that I just ditched this place and/or hate you, it's that I'm pretty much dead. Or someone hit the kill switch on the internet. That's possible, too. Or perhaps I am just lost in the forest at the bottom of a very deep hole and friendly bears are keeping me alive by offering generous daily gifts of salmon, berries, and honeycomb from above. Like a fishy ambrosia.

I am not in any shape to be writing much, I think--at least not most of the time--but I have some poems I found that I want to share, which I will probably do momentarily, anon, etc. I had also been writing fan-fiction oh dear god and I might share it here if I feel like it which I might not.

Also, if you haven't already learned that Nicki Minaj songs, slowed down, sound like they're sung by a gay Jay-Z... well, enjoy.

random ill-made picture of something to remember this post by

PS: Expressions of sick person sympathy are strictly forbidden and will result in a punitive pieing.