Don’t make me do it. Please! I’m beggin’ you!.
![That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/welcometohell-150x150.jpg "That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]")
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
— Eliot
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.
Gerard Van der Leun
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That’s when I just close the browser tab and go elsewhere.
I used to type in blow-us@fuck-you.com but any more I just close the tab.
It’s an enigma to me why businesses are chasing customers away.
At least 60% of the internet is now worthless and half the remainder is a repeat of the rest.
Try to do any serious research, unless you have a lightspeed connection you will waste a lot of time because of all the bullshit you have to wade through.
It’s a me, Me, ME! world now.
Same with emails, phonecalls, texts, streaming, satellites, and OTA TV, etc.
Tech everything now is mostly bullshit.
Been going downhill since around 2008.
I saw it when it began but I probably won’t see it end, for the end for me could be any day now, depending on my mood. One of these days I’ll just unplug and step off.
I miss the 2003 era internet when 1) most sites were mostly static html with very little active content to slow it down and 2) only motivated creative people dared to self publish content, as opposed to now when every yahoo under the sun has a Facebook or Twitter account – turns out, barriers to entry can be a good thing sometimes.
Websites for mainstream news (newspapers, network TV affiliates, etc.) are impossible to navigate nowadays.
I still stick to blogs.
I’ve missed you. Sorry I’ve been gone for so long.
Hope you’re well, and life is good for you, Joan. Seeing your nic is kind of a blast from the past.