Apparently the Leonard Nimoy (orthodox & salutatarian) enjoys (nude) photography.
I began to introduce "shin" into some of my images with the female figure as a signifier. That branches out into a sizeable body of work that I have put together over the last two or three years and which will be published in a book called "Shekhina" [snip]


Television, my anti-antidrug.

No polemic this morning, dear reader. Just wanted to vent. Because cable-having M&%#^r-f$*%@!rs happened to start discussing the end of Season 2 of House, M.D. (go Hugh Laurie!) right in front of me... sometimes I almost start to agree with bb about y'alls. Also Omar Epps.


Triumphs in home impovement

A friend's portico, as seen from above. Note the length of board nailed through the shingles. It serves no purpose except to produce a leak in the roofing. I believe this work was performed by the same subcontractor whose idea of snaking a drain involves spattering sticky gunk all over a bathroom. Who knew he was multitalented?



today's poem was supposed to be about massive organ failure.
but: it is impossible to treat properly in this space.
so, vital though it may be, no system of deprosifying the phenomena was found.
sorry, kids. mommy's not going to be able to fix this one.


Paging Dr. Carroll



swift orbits engorge me by
thoughts of your hands just
before you take me to your
hospital. a lump...


noe (or, Let down Rapunzel!)

away my hills, and far, and close with me.
join, and jointly fear, this tower-in-the-dist-
ance sight. cylindrical she seems, her phallic
corners bend back into my twisted fingers.
absolution, absolution, oh christ please throw
me away from seeing shadows and battlements.
my mother's arms are bloody from carrying water
to wash these scalps of saracens and moors,
her leige man sent to bring me back from
my lover lays waste (Roland, is that you?)...
and i am all hair--'s breath away, and far.


Sing fer them janjawe'ed (20megs)

hezzle yezzle!

"...as the light turned green I yelled 'respect Old Glory!' out the window, took a swig of whiskey, and continued on my way to the Church of Satan."


post Pink Wizard, Beverly Copper searches Hills

whatups. tha ole like bong-hittin' dayz return 2day & 2nite 4 a big rerun w/new humorous or somefin sync'd alternate sdtrk. Eddie Murphee 'n Tha Judge nevar souded so goods, so hype, so brit-sad-pop. tha link
narrates the story of a badge from Detroit, lovesick and lonely, and follows him to Los Angeles in search of his childhood love.
thx m. panella, t. gibbons, j. weisenthal.


What in the hell is on your head?


What is a "Bop"? What is "free"?

On another note, I'm going to give you something instead of throwing it away. Trite, I think, is apt.
On his second day in the city Milhaus was mugged. The apartment where he’d been staying was his sister’s. Lucianne. Four grown children, a single empty-nester in a cheap three-room flat above a small used clothing store in a semi-disreputable warren of townhouses. Her ex-husband, a skinny, freckled giraffe of a man, would never have lived above a used-clothing store. Milhaus had noted on more than one occasion that his children looked much more like himself than Lucianne’s looked like their father. On the most recent such suggestion Lucianne had smiled and suggested that Milhaus step down to the market on the next block and pick up some cream; she had just put a kettle on and she knew how he liked a fat splash of cream in his after-dinner coffee.

His leather soles shuffled in the fag ends and glass grit on the sidewalk. Lucianne made him mindful of his responsibilities, and how he hated them, and her.
Nowhere to go... (later, we find out that we ought not be sorry for him at all, how shocking, for he is a Bad Man).


Weather Report

Psychic and nonphysical distress, hopelessness, jetty-at-low-tide sensations at the inner ear, hunger, homelessness, panic, self-loathing, narcissism, destructive overindulgence, kleptomania, scabies, jock itch, cathartic mutilation, whoring, paste-eating, violent exercise, vomiting, involuntary organ donorship, drugs, drugs, drugs, drugs, drugs: all these will not appear on the landscape, according to new model results from our University of Chicago supercomputer gurus.

Wasted early sunday


i was, i was

(who betrays whom?)

when i was nineteen, i died.
four times i died;
i lied, i came, i touched her–
i touched him there, i came
and lied in their house.
it's crass, where
did it come from
(my projectile heart)
they lied when i went
i'd always wanted three days
like perry ferell, i came
i cried, we died, i died.
when i was nineteen, we tried.
i spy a fly with my little eye
–under the cold cream–
with my little eye.
which is how she saw me
with him, but i lied, freely, and
about how he saw me
from the closet
with her.
i came, and i lied, and the roof caved in
and the gas line blew up
and the terrorists won
and my three days were up
and he had a gun, and i came
–catty with cream–
when he put it inside,
and i died.


An old-school NES fan re-ups

The wee-, i mean Wii, is made my a company sort of like that one that makes Apple computers (YouTube) What's it called? Anyway that chick human's red hotpant thingy totally makes me hot. Anyway she's not large or in charge.


P.s. God hates fags.

From the amber waves of grain [.pdf] department's office of 14th amendment "protections."
Allowing laws like this to stay in the constitution are doubly troublesome. On the one hand, we are supposed to have religious freedom in this country. But the deeper legal issue is that by selectively enforcing parts of the constitution we undermine its value as a legal document. Anyone that values the law should realize that they are only effective if they are applied uniformly across the board. If a law is outgrown, it should be repealed or amended. We have the machinations included in the Constitution for just such cases. Whether you are a Christian or an Atheist or whatever this law (and all laws that go unenforced) concerns you.


"Well, duh": cannot be uttered effectively by youths, apparently.

Today's news offers us this tantalizing glimpse into Not Leaving Behind any of America's privileged kids of color for whom we need take no special, white dis-advantaging, action.

Didn't Messrs. Bowie and Crosby sing something about it's being a "wonderful, wonderful, wonderful world"?


Weather Report

A brief chill and spots of DT across the area today should clear by bar close tonight.


your sapient search prefs

that AOL thing with the database leak of search strings or whatever really tends to lower my opinion of y'all. Or it would if I had any... no let's not be rancorous & silly today. Much more fun is traipsing thru some random strings over at this site hosting the search logs. You can profile the users too. We're all psychoanalysts, right?


Booooooooooorn in the USA

Pigs in Miami via YouTube (turn the sound up, mildly nsfw).


Making money...

Now you can do it at the all in one website of your personal/financial future, inGoogle-tastic 3-D-o-Vision.



Anna's dermis feels later than it is,
for postaphelion truncations of daylight increase
--a drama we repress--more quicky than our sens-
itivity to changing weather patterns and pressure
& illumnation. (O gold, spatter
my letters to Anna's mother.) ...touch
her olio peel, palping that nubbinly slick color.
It's not Octavian's pun-month, but another
Caesar's--gold again, this supper picnic light--
when we'll sit friendly, her ghost & I fading.


I Knew It.

'i made it myself, mommy'
Who's on notice? Probably you.

clarification of yesterday's

against sunset cower,
upon endless beach, within
your arms: a lover.



without a stitch on, my afghan hide twitches
recoiling from the serpentine gusts dervishing
sands into sweatpouring pores. may shiva entwine
twenty-one blooming lotus stems, dribbles eavporating
across our kelp scented beach bungalow. lonely old
men bring skeletons back from their caribean labours
to show and tell children. lie back with me under
the beginnings of simoon flowing inland, our skin
two thousand kilometers wafted into the dunes &
cracks of the saltpans. there to hibernate, seeds,
waiting long in the bright, flashing back over our
zaftig days on the turtle laying grounds, watered
well as we will have been, when re-animation arrives.


Weather Report

Neither hail, nor heat, nor bats, nor dark of night, nor raging tonados, nor subliming petrol costs can stop relaxation coming through; expect patchy fogs of dilligence to dissipate by teatime.


From the Top, If You Please.

Some of my earliest thought on (meta-)ethical issues.
Now evaluation of action has been separated into two parts here. The first part is evaluation by natural normativity. One’s actions are judged by whether they are good qua human or not. Those actions considered to fall within the realm of the ethical are judged good or defective just as actions like foraging for food might be. Humans do make complex societies, in which foraging is not likely to be the source of anyone’s sustenance. But in so far as we are social beings, and we work together by participating in our societies, it can be just as humanly good for one to show up for work on time as for another, perhaps far away, to dig taro or cut coconuts. The general outline in ethics is set (no murder, no adultery, etc.) by our life-form, but ethics is here just a part of virtue, and virtue is set the same way (prudence, justice). That reasons for particular actions come from within (or derive from datable events in our lives) does not interfere with judging whether or not they were good or defective human actions, though they may have been quite favorable as my actions. If we limit practical rationality just to action, without building in any ethical component, we are not prevented from making ethical judgments about properly practically rational choice. My quest for a cancer cure may be hopelessly misguided or misinformed, or (introducing counterfactuals) the good I do produce may be less in the way of human flourishing than settling down to raise a family.
The second part of evaluation is concerned with irrationality. It must be admitted that if practical rationality is a master virtue, then irrationality must be a cardinal defect. If practical rationality itself is subject to natural normative judgments, however, the master virtue is also a master feature. All the evaluations of good we have to work with have to do with goodness qua human, yet unethical action has been shown to be bad qua human in two ways: irrationality, and (roughly) societal harm. We should fold irrationality back into simply a defect of a feature of humans, and no special significance attached to it (by which I mean increased penalties). The benefit of the additional method of detecting defect is not to restrict what is intelligibly the object of practical reason, but to condemn those ends that are incompatible with one’s or others’ living good lives. ...
Incomplete to be sure. I would now say, roughly, that "rationality" as usually conceived (e.g. as subject to internal "coherence" constraints) is unintelligible unless one shows a necessary, even "analytic" connection between the notions of rational deliberation and right action. In fact, however, though this argument is obviously far to broad to be taken without several grains of salt (I may explain further elsewhere), the misguided notion that there is such a connection underlies the deontologists' fruitless quest for moral perfection via rule and epistemically easy-access justifications: for what else does the formulation of universal law say but that you must do that which (other) morally proper would do, in such-and-so situation? That's what makes it a failed attempt to give the imperative content in that form. On the other hand, the formulation of humanity already brings in content, but is as such unjustifiable. I'm sorry to say that, whatever you'd like to think or wish to believe, Prichard was (in outline) correct. Reason doesn't "self justify"--nothing does that. And so now everyone wants to make Kant out to secretly have been a virtue theorist all along... I won't call it rank historical revisionism. But perhaps it is time to revisit this material.



Democrats retaking at least one house of congress, if they can hold onto their spines long enough (don't count on it). Certain parties taking aim at books you, as a citizen, ought to at least read before dismissing. Oh, and half the country thinks Iraq had WMDs. Which Boosh admitted they never did. I once bet a man, soon after the start of Iraq Tailwag Mark II, that there would be none found (citing things like Hans Blix finding a whopping zero evidence of their presence, or of "labs" to make them--there never were (m)any of those, since we sold him the ones he used in the '80s). He refused my offer of $1000 (written down, w/names, phone numbers, addresses incl.). Apparently though he was willing to shout to the world how of course there were WMDs, he wasn't willing to put his money where his mouth is. Why turn down an easy $1000? Or at least a great story and an "I told you so?"

He was in the service, and is now a history teacher. You'd think he'd be aware of the dubious motivations that start some wars, and then you'd pray the dems find someone to give them a backbone implant. (Is Ned Lamont a donor?)


moral support, dogg

split. downer. well, we's movin on up.
any time u meet a payment
any time u need a friend
any time you're out from under
good times

not gettin hastled, not gettin hustled
keepin yer head above water,
makin a wave when u can.

"temporary" lay offs
good times
easy credit rip offs
good times
scratchin an' survivin.
good times
hangin in a chow line
good times
aint we lucky we got 'em
good times.
thx d. grusin 'n a. bergman.

frag ment (echoes in the news)

kafka wore a white bolero tie one day--
grandfather 1937 recalled--
cannon bells struck ten by ten--yours is silent

[no, that isn't a typo, silly.]



one sec patience, darling: our grotto shadowbespeckled returns in mind
mnemony, our anemony, while our journey is watched, in kind, by
one patient starling, whose motto to surveil we shed like snakes;
skin, rind. i can see it: past--nocturning dreams redirect blind
men such as i--fly little wing, sing, fly, swing, coherence breaks.

a second carnation kiss, babychild, fortifying centerpiece, anchor
of visions. back, back i come again in turn i run--oh, there's a feisty
bright-lidded road this way, my one. (i won.) beckoned, tarnation
you sold my bliss
down your sister's bleeding Nile.
tell fairies scatter my ashes
six sheets to the wind, mermen
spread my bottled news
to lovers of mine.
fancyfree i slip darling, down, returning moondizzied unto
the grotto's brine:your sweat::sea dragons:kelp, light the candle.
how much air, here, this draft and tide, filling me and spilling me
back to Mariana, back to you, Patience, back to you la Mer
willing me

prurience gains nothing tonight, not shine, not innocence, not
incence, knotted pine baughs marinated (sweet molasses, salt, rose-
mary, savory balsamic) in me, soon, and out under clotted limestone
where hakes and hagfish will find what i left--my breast open.

mud to silt you'll never leave me behind.


be someplace nsfw

outfake tha fakir, punk(style).
ive been 2 hastings
& ive been 2 brighton
ive been 2 eastbourne too
so what, so what

well ive been here
& ive been there
ive been every-fucking-where
so what, so what

so what, so what u boring little cunt
well who cares, who cares what u do?
who cares, who cares about u?

ive sucked sweets
& ive sucked rock
& ive even sucked an old mans cock
so what, so what

well ive fucked a sheep
& ive fucked a goat
ive rammed my cock right down its throat
ive drunk that
& ive drunk this
& ive spewed up on a pint of piss
so what, so what

well ive had scag
ive had speed
ive jacked up until i bleed

so what, so what u boring little cunt
well who cares, who cares what u do?
who cares, who cares about u?

ive had crabs
& ive had lice
& ive had the pox & that aint nice

well ive fucked this
& ive fucked that
& ive even fucked a schoolgirls twat

so what, so what u boring little cunt
who cares, who cares about u?
thx anti-nowhere league.


quick--on the way home.

"i mean, short and fast." at last
he'd gotten up to brass tracks.
"quick ride–come on, the bullet,"
--i shook my head into that, grin, grin,
his butterfly irises outsized
only by his cheekbones--"okay." i said?
"even got...what..." sputtered. our sparks
unguttered in bowled candlelight
a checked-out table under us.
hands fingers unsplicing, & in his pocket
dug for bills and dropped them unseeing
(35% & the server thinks it's impress-
ing me it's for) re-enlaced soon after
we took our seats, long coats hiding
busy sweaty hands and crotches, fervent.



apparently, some fuckers'd "upgrade" some shit that any tool could do. Is that a joke or something about web2.0? stuff you, Web 2.0 people. your buzzwords are whining in my ear like a damn Cessna-sized mosquito. It is, i say, to laugh. If you talk about interwebs 2.0 unironically you are not a smart person. Goddamn, you sapiens love your magic.

Blog Superintendent Update.

Someone once said "... you don't roll out new products in August." Bucking the trend, Conceptual Normativity presents syndication in all its "Web 2.0" glory. Standard Atom format. Click: Syndication of every blog on Blogspot has, of course, been available for a long time.