Sunday, July 13, 2003

chapter #17. in which sir quin and the beneficent (sp?) dada zobbies trumpet the good news of cultural relativity: 'tis impossible to be 'too' pretentious/yes virginia there is a santa claws/now that it's all so easy, there's so much to do. 5:59:41 PM    comment []

i'm working on a sylvia plath t-shirt and have no time. 'coloring of a lion' hovers. i shall tell you this week of beagles and billboards. (note: stricken passages of the declaration of independence concerning slavery and the crown. "i think a strong case can be made for the assertion that political repression everywhere is ultimately the by-product, the ecological repercussion(sp?), the echo of the keeping of that windsor bitch in power. that's where the buck stops (follow the money... cherchez la dargent ? (sic?))." i ponder ants and alfred russel wallace and that 'angels and insects' movie. the bishops of the american episcopal church are ideological mobsters. isn't that how that works?) if i had a doctorate and a chair somewhere would you believe me more? in my mind bobby dylan and freddy jameson both fucking sell-outs and cornel west too. cornel, my granny meaner 'n yr.s an' she didn't believe in god. when i read the book of jude i hear a poem of self-accusation. filthy dreamer. 5:04:16 PM    comment []