Monday, May 2, 2011


Today, even the very best, are only working for themselves. They pal with those that they recognize in themselves, publish cronies, invite what appeals to themselves. Zero wonder. Zero chance. Zero invention, and it shows everywhere. Obama still shows at the White House Correspondents' Dinner the other night he can ridicule with decency and include himself in an unflattering portrait. And at the very same hour, know Bin Laden has been targeted and is about to be snuffed out. Navy Seals. Head shot. We live in systematic murder. Ordered by the President of the United States, the guy joking. And a few days before all of this, he was being insulted left and right by high powered clowns with a feeding-frenzy media attention. Racists every one of them; and still the man laughs, orders a killing, orders the burial of the killing in the North Arabian Sea. Yes? No? Maybe? Who cares? In the sphere of the usual day now: jobs, travel, debt, sorrow, loss, indifference; a simple bird call might shatter your spine. No novelist, except maybe Burroughs, had this blueprint down before today with quite the same gristle and devil may care. And brilliant as he was, it's ugly after all. Merely genius darkly philosophizing. Lots and lots and lots of angry men out there. Before any of that, was floral or even ice, morning and night, planetary, and a pair of eyes each day awakening.

barred owl, western USA