so the first time i remember running into this ebenezer elliot poem 'the fox-hunters' was four, five years back paolo della puppa's friend jaimie was applying to oxbridge from wherever she was.. singapore, hong kong? somewhere out there.. anyway they gave her this overnight exam paper and paolo had her fax a copy to me. it was one of those 'here's four poems, analyse two' kind of things. mind you this is a paper expressly tailored for foreign students. there's four poems and two of them are about fox hunting. i remember thinking: "damn, in that they value their stinky lives there are some oxbridge dons better be prayerful happy that ted kazinski and i came to different conclusions" (ted and i share a birthday and more besides; it needn't have worked out that way). there's four poems and two of them about fox hunting? even as a bitter ironical joke it's sorry.
paolo's not like me. paolo actually likes hanging around them pop industry giant washington connecticut types. it doesn't seem to fuck him up too much. maybe the evil's in the rocks but not for italians. i don't know..
anyway about that time paolo arranged for jaimie to do some demos and it was the counsel of his pop industry friends that she should genre herself towards country and western for they saw country and western as the hot boom possibility out east, a vision paolo related to me as if i should disbelieve it, but i already knew it true having glimpsed the vietnamese who now possess the houston neighborhoods of my youth. them houston vietnamese are hillbilly fools for sure.
i remember thinking: "english university... country and western singing career... english university... country and western singing career... you'd think an attractive, intelligent young lady would have a less scuzzy range of choices.."
so dale proposed we jam on kant some, but call me lazy, i just can't see jamming kant's ever gonna get very boppy. i have counter proposed emerson. i think there's boppification possibility in emerson. and i was aiming for emerson when i ran into this ebenezer elliot poem 'the fox-hunters' again. you'd think (if you had ever been in my home) there'd be some fucking emerson around here. but i haven't been able to find it, so meanwhile i've set ebenezer's offering. i've set it so it is uni-chordally harmonizable, so that it might be accomapnied by a single chord.
there's this book: 'new dutch swing'. i think it's called 'new dutch swing'. i saw a copy once down in the depths of the virgin store in times square. the new york public library had a copy (1) last time i looked. it's an interesting book on all sorts of levels. look for it.
in 'new dutch swing' is cited a memonrandum circulated by the nazis detailing that which nazis didn't like in music. one of the things nazis didn't like are "background riffs repeated more than three times".
what do you think the nazis feared in background riffs repeated more than three times?
What Gods are these? Bright red, or white and green,/
Some of them jockey-capp'd and some in hats,/
The gods of vermin have their runs, like rats./
Each has six legs, four moving, pendent two,/
Like bottled tails, the tilting four between./
Behold Land-Interest's compound Man-and-Horse,/
Which so enchants his out-raged helot-crew,/
Hedge-gapping, with his horn, and view-halloo,/
O'er hunter's clover - glorious broom and gorse!/
The only crop his godship ever grew:/
Except his crop of hate, and smouldering ire,/
And cloak'd contempt, of coward insult born,/
And hard-faced labour, paid with straw for corn,/
And fain to reap it with a scythe of fire.
i love that last line. i don't think it's true. straw made hard-faced labour fat and stupid. constipated and worried about golf. eek.
2:02:06 PM 
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