Caveat: Lest by diminished vitality and abated / vigilance, I become food for crocodiles

Feed Me, Also, River God
   
Lest by diminished vitality and abated
   vigilance, I become food for crocodiles—for that quicksand
   of gluttony which is legion. It is there close at hand—
      on either side
      of me. You remember the Israelites who said in pride
   
and stoutness of heart: "The bricks are fallen down, we will
   build with hewn stone, the sycamores are cut down, we will
   change to cedars"? I am not ambitious to dress stones, to
      renew forts, nor to match
      my value in action, against their ability to catch
   
up with arrested prosperity. I am not like
   them, indefatigable, but if you are a god, you will
   not discriminate against me. Yet—if you may fulfill
      none but prayers dressed
      as gifts in return for your gifts—disregard the request.
   
– Marianne Moore (American poet 1887-1972)

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: 구렁이 담 넘어가듯 한다

I learned this aphorism from my book of aphorisms.

구렁이 담 넘어가듯 한다
gu.reong.i dam neom.eo.ga.deut han.da
snake wall go-over-AS-IF do-PRES
[He/she/it] acts like a snake going over a wall.

I think this must be more or less the same as English’s “Like a snake in the grass”: sneaky behavior, creeping up on on a situation unnoticed.
This makes me think of Bob Dylan’s old song, “Man Gave Names To All The Animals,” which is my favorite song from Dylan’s “Christian period.”
I would like to include a youtube embed of Dylan’s song, but Dylan is one of those performing artists who is VERY aggressive in his takedowns of his work online. I personally consider this reprehensible, and combined with his assholery around his recent Nobel prize, that’s why he’s gone down substantially in my estimation as a human being, if remaining high in my estimation of him as an artist.
What I’m listening to right now.

Townes Van Zandt, covering “Man Gave Names To All The Animals,” by Bob Dylan. It’s perhaps a better rendition than the original, anyway. But regardless, Dylan is an amazing lyricist: the ending of the song is poetically brilliant.
Lyrics.

Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.

He saw an animal that liked to growl
Big furry paws and he liked to howl
Great big furry back and furry hair
“Ah, think I’ll call it a bear”.

Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.

He saw an animal up on a hill
Chewing up so much grass until she was filled
He saw milk coming out but he didn’t know how
“Ah, think I’ll call it a cow”.

Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.

He saw an animal that liked to snort
Horns on his head and they weren’t too short
It looked like there wasn’t nothing that he couldn’t pull
“Ah, I’ll think I’ll call it a bull”.

Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.

He saw an animal leaving a muddy trail
Real dirty face and a curly tail
He wasn’t too small and he wasn’t too big
“Ah, think I’ll call it a pig”.

Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.

Next animal that he did meet
Had wool on his back and hooves on his feet
Eating grass on a mountainside so steep
“Ah, think I’ll call it a sheep”.

Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.

He saw an animal as smooth as glass
Slithering his way through the grass
Saw him disappear by a tree near a lake ….

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: This sacred text has been brought to you by the letter ‘A’

Someone has created a version of the first part of the Biblical Book of Genesis using ONLY words that start with the letter 'A.'

1. An advent: ancient archangels architect abstract astronomy and arid asteroids.
2. All asteroids are amorphous and absent; And all asleep across aquatic anarchy. And astral angels advanced across area.
3. And Almighty asked," Appear." And all appeared aglow.
4. And Almighty approved. Aura and absence: an antagonistic arithmetic.
5. An afternoon and aurora, an aeon.
6.And atmosphere and all awash abscinded.
7. Astral air above; aquatic area abased. All as Almighty asserted.
8. Angel's abode appeared. Another afternoon, another aurora. Another aeon.
9. And Almighty authored aquatic archipelagos. Arable acreage appeared.
10. And Almighty approved.

In fact, it's quite poetic.

Alliteratively amazing, actually.

You can read the rest here.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: pie

The song by Joe Hill (union organizer in the first decades of the 1900s) entitled "The Preacher and the Slave" is the origin of the phrase "pie in the sky."

Joe Hill was executed in 1915, probably framed for a murder by state authorities trying to get tamp down his troublesome politics.

What I'm listening to right now.

Utah Phillips, "The Preacher and the Slave."

Lyrics.

Long haired preachers come out ev'ry night,
Try to tell you what's wrong and what's right;
But when asked, how 'bout something to eat, (Let us eat)
They will answer with voices so sweet; (Oh so sweet)
You will eat, (You will eat)
Bye and bye, (Bye and bye) in that glorious land above the sky;
(way up high)
work and pray, (work and pray) live on hay, (Live on hay)
you'll get pie in the sky when you die. (That's a lie)

And the starvation army they play,
And they sing and they clap and they pray.
Till they get all your coin on the drum,
Then they'll tell you when you're on the bum:

CHORUS

Holy Rollers and Jumpers come out,
And they holler, they jump and they shout
"Give your money to Jesus," they say,
"He will cure all diseases today."

CHORUS

If you fight hard for children and wife-
Try to get something good in this life-
You're a sinner and bad man, they tell,
When you die you will sure go to hell.

CHORUS

Workingmen of all countries unite,
Side by side we for freedom will fight!
When the world and its wealth we have gained,
To the grafters we'll sing this refrain:

CHORUS

You will eat, bye and bye,
When you've learned how to cook and to fry.
Chop some wood, 'twill do you good,
And you'll eat in the sweet bye and bye.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: en las ondas escrevir

Bien amar, leal servir,
cridar et dezir mis penas,
es sembrar en las arenas
o en las ondas escrevir.
Si tanto quanto serví
sembrara en la ribera,
tengo que reverdesciera
et diera fructo de sí.
Et aun por verdat dezir,
si yo tanto escreviera
en la mar, yo bien podiera
todas las ondas teñir.

– Juan Rodríguez del Padrón (poeta español, 1390-1450)

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: sobre el vacío como hueso

LO QUE EL HOMBRE HA CREÍDO VER

"El poema creado es un poema en el que cada parte constitutiva, y todo el conjunto, muestra un hecho nuevo, independiente del mundo externo, desligado de cualquiera otra realidad que no sea la propia, pues toma su puesto en el mundo como un fenómeno singular, aparte y distinto de los demás fenómenos. Dicho poema es algo que no puede existir sino en la cabeza del poeta. Y no es hermoso porque recuerde algo, no es hermoso porque nos recuerde cosas vistas, a su vez hermosas, ni porque describa hermosas cosas que podamos llegar a ver. Es hermoso en sí y no admite términos de comparación. Y tampoco puede concebírselo fuera del libro. Nada se le parece en el mundo externo; hace real lo que no existe, es decir, se hace realidad a sí mismo. Crea lo maravilloso y le da vida propia. Crea situaciones extraordinarias que jamás podrán existir en el mundo objetivo, por lo que habrán de existir en el poema para que existan en alguna parte." – El Creacionismo (Vicente Huidobro)

Hay palidez tremenda
desdeñada desde cielo
como olvido vestido de un
color apagado en el tiempo.

Hay días amontonándose
como vidas sobre la columna
de la flor y su memoria
de agua triste callada.

Hay esqueletos en fila
demostrando como cada idea
tiene el dolor como carne
sobre el vacío como hueso.

Hay figuras rojas temblando
al desvanecer bajo un sol
que se confundía con el calor
de la guerra.

Hay más existiendo para
abarcar en la marcha cuyo
motor es ritmo de pura
noche estrellada.

Hay secretos acompañándose
porque adolorida está la verdad
al madrugar en una montaña
la creación sin alas.

Hay lividez a las seis
de la tarde cuando el pensamiento
es una campana dándole raíz al
trueno sucio en tierra.

Hay cantos que queman
que dejan la sangre
bebiendo crestas de fuego
que el mundo no ve
desde su esquina de humo.

– Pablo Saborío (poeta y artista costarricense-danés, n 1982)

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids

Today is our big day, the annual Karma English Academy talent show. As is typical, I feel utterly unprepared. But thus it goes – that's life in the Karmic Korean Kingdom of Chaotic Quasi-Confucian Contingency.


Meanwhile, what I'm listening to right now.

Elton John, "Rocket Man." The video is brand new, but has been declared "official." I found the video, by Iranian refugee Majid Adin, quite stunningly beautiful and sad, and it manages to take a melancholic, classic song almost half a century old, now, like John's "Rocket Man," and imbue it with intense new meaning vis-a-vis the contemporary, never-ending global refugee crisis.

Lyrics.

She packed my bags last night pre-flight
Zero hour nine AM
And I'm gonna be high as a kite by then
I miss the earth so much I miss my wife
It's lonely out in space
On such a timeless flight

And I think it's gonna be a long long time
'Till touch down brings me round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no I'm a rocket man
Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone

And I think it's gonna be a long long time
'Till touch down brings me round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no I'm a rocket man
Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone

Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids
In fact it's cold as hell
And there's no one there to raise them if you did
And all this science I don't understand
It's just my job five days a week
A rocket man, a rocket man

And I think it's gonna be a long long time
'Till touch down brings me round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no I'm a rocket man
Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone

And I think it's gonna be a long long time
'Till touch down brings me round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no I'm a rocket man
Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone

And I think it's gonna be a long long time
And I think it's gonna be a long long time
And I think it's gonna be a long long time
And I think it's gonna be a long long time
And I think it's gonna be a long long time
And I think it's gonna be a long long time
And I think it's gonna be a long long time
And I think it's gonna be a long long time

[daily log: walking, 7.5km]

Caveat: You are not Catullus

Be Angry At The Sun

That public men publish falsehoods
Is nothing new. That America must accept
Like the historical republics corruption and empire
Has been known for years.

Be angry at the sun for setting
If these things anger you. Watch the wheel slope and turn,
They are all bound on the wheel, these people, those warriors.
This republic, Europe, Asia.

Observe them gesticulating,
Observe them going down. The gang serves lies, the passionate
Man plays his part; the cold passion for truth
Hunts in no pack.

You are not Catullus, you know,
To lampoon these crude sketches of Caesar. You are far
From Dante's feet, but even farther from his dirty
Political hatreds.

Let boys want pleasure, and men
Struggle for power, and women perhaps for fame,
And the servile to serve a Leader and the dupes to be duped.
Yours is not theirs.

– Robinson Jeffers (American poet, 1887-1962)

This poem seems stunningly topical, given it was written 75 years ago.

[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: Imagínalo

El Hombre Imaginario

El hombre imaginario
vive en una mansión imaginaria
rodeada de árboles imaginarios
a la orilla de un río imaginario

De los muros que son imaginarios
penden antiguos cuadros imaginarios
irreparables grietas imaginarias
que representan hechos imaginarios
ocurridos en mundos imaginarios
en lugares y tiempos imaginarios

Todas las tardes imaginarias
sube las escaleras imaginarias
y se asoma al balcón imaginario
a mirar el paisaje imaginario
que consiste en un valle imaginario
circundado de cerros imaginarios

Sombras imaginarias
vienen por el camino imaginario
entonando canciones imaginarias
a la muerte del sol imaginario

Y en las noches de luna imaginaria
sueña con la mujer imaginaria
que le brindó su amor imaginario
vuelve a sentir ese mismo dolor
ese mismo placer imaginario
y vuelve a palpitar
el corazón del hombre imaginario

– Nicanor Parra (poeta chileno, b 1914)

Parra todavía vive, a los 102 años. Es un buen logro, por un hombre imaginario.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: With illicit help from your friends

I am enjoying my Buddhamas holiday by finding humor on the internet. It's not letting me down.

What I'm listening to right now.

Palette-Swap Ninja, "Princess Leia's Stolen Death Star Plans / With Illicit Help From Your Friends." Palette-Swap Ninja consists of Dan Amrich and Jude Kelley. This is in the finest tradition established by Weird Al Yankovich, but I believe these lyrics surpass any of his. There is zero awkwardness in the tight adaptation of the Beatles' scansion to the Star Wars plot. Brilliant.

Lyrics (my own transcription from the on screen subtitles, with one minor correction).

* Track 1 *

It was many years ago today
In a galaxy so far away
It's a period of civil war
They don't want the Empire any more
The Rebels made a daring move
They've got some data in their hands
Princess Leia's stolen Death Star plans…

They're Princess Leia's stolen Death Star plans
She's got them and it's time to go
Princess Leia's stolen Death Star plans
The Empire doesn't even know
Princess Leia's stolen…
Princess Leia's stolen…
Princess Leia's stolen Death Star plans
We're running from the Empire
It's us they want to kill
A Star Destroyer's chasing us
We've got to get away from them
We've got to make it home

"This is madness!" mutters Threepio
But we're caught, there's nowhere else to go
If we put the plans inside Artoo
Then there's nothing more that I can do
He's gotta go find Obi-Wan
He's carrying the contraband
Princess Leia's stolen Death Star plans

* Track 2 *

Vader's here
What would you think if I boarded your ship
would you give those transmissions to me?
How can this be a real consular ship?
No ambassador that I can see
Oh, you're all spies with
illicit help from your friends
Hey, but nice try with
illicit help from your friends
You're gonna die along with all of your friends

What did you do with those plans you were sent?
I'm a diplomat from Alderaan
You're not on a merciful mission this time
But I'm hoping you'll believe I am
No, 'cause you lie with
illicit help from your friends
You're a spy with
illicit help from your friends
You're gonna die along with all of your friends

Do you need something Vader?
I want those plans in my glove
Can you see she's a traitor?
I need those plans in my glove

One pod was jettisoned during the fight
I believe you'll find the plans inside
We'll bring the passenges, all that we find
And you know that I want them alive
Oh, you're a spy with
illicit help from your friends
Mmm, and you lie with
illicit help from your friends
Oh, You're gonna die along with all of your friends

Do you need something Vader?
I want those plans in my glove
Can you see she's a traitor?
I need those plans in my glove

Oh, you're a spy with
illicit help from your friends
And they lie with
illicit help from your friends
Mmm, gonna die along with all of your friends

Yes, they're all spies with
illicit help from your friends
With illicit help from your friends
With illicit help from your friends

[daily log: walking, 1km]

Caveat: 贈金川寺主

贈金川寺主

白雲溪畔刱仁祠
三十年來此住持
笑指門前一條路
纔離山下有千岐

– 崔致遠

Modern Korean Translation

증 금천사 주

흰 구름 시냇가에 절을 지으니
서른 해 내리 이 주지로세
웃으며 가리키노니 문앞의 한 줄기 길이
조금 곧 산 아래를 떠나면 천 가닥이 되네

– 최치원 (신라 시인)

English Translation

Presented to the Abbot of Keumcheon Temple

By the White Cloud Stream you built a temple
where for thirty years you’ve been the abbot.
Smiling, you point to the single trail outside the gate.
At the foot of the mountain, it branches out to a thousand paths.

– Choi Chiwon (Silla/Tang poet, 857 – 924?)
– English translation by Christina Han and Wing S. Chu

Note that the Chinese is the original language of composition – all poetry and literature in Silla-Era Korea was written in Classical Chinese (similar to the way poetry and literature in Europe during a parallel era was mostly written in Latin).
I found the poem in the book Solitary Cloud: Poetry of Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn, by Christina Han and Wing S. Chu. The text of the poem is only in the Chinese characters in the book, along with the English translation. I really wanted to include the Chinese text here, but I am incapable of typing Chinese characters unless I know their Korean pronunciation, and I only actually know about 20 such hanja, so… I wasn’t sure how to figure this out.
I tried a little trick, which was successful: I took a photo of the Chinese text with my phone, I went to one of those free OCR (Optical Character Recognition) websites and uploaded my photo, and presto, a somewhat faulty capture of the Chinese text. I took that text, in turn, and googled it, to find the correct text of the poem (verified against the book’s text), where I also found the modern Korean translation – for which there was no attribution.
[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: magnificently meaningless

Time keeps doing that time thing.

What I'm listening to right now.

The Magnetic Fields, "Meaningless."

Lyrics.

Meaningless?
You mean it's all been meaningless?
Every whisper and caress?
Yes, yes, yes, it was totally meaningless

Meaningless
Like when two fireflies fluoresce
Just like everything I guess
Less less yes, it was utterly meaningless

Even less a little glimpse of nothingness
Sucking meaning from the rest of this mess
Yes, yes, yes, it was thoroughly meaningless

And if some dim bulb should say
We were in love in some way
Kick all his teeth in for me and if you feel
Like keeping on kicking, feel free

Meaningless
Who dare say it wasn't meaningless?
Shout from the rooftops and address the press
Ha ha ha, it was totally meaningless

Meaningless
Meaning less than a game of chess
Just like your mother said and mother knows best
I knew it all the time but now I confess

Yes, yes, yes, how deliciously meaningless
Yes, yes, yes, effervescently meaningless
Yes, yes, yes, it was beautifully meaningless
Yes, yes, yes, it was profoundly meaningless

Yes, yes, yes, definitively meaningless
Yes, yes, yes, comprehensively meaningless
Yes, yes, yes, magnificently meaningless
Yes, yes, yes, how incredibly meaningless?

Yes, yes, yes, unprecedentedly meaningless
Yes, yes, yes, how mind-blowingly meaningless?
Yes, yes, yes, how unbelievably meaningless?
Yes, yes, yes, how infinitely meaningless?

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Verde viento. Verdes ramas.

Romance Sonámbulo

Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar
y el caballo en la montaña.
Con la sombra en la cintura
ella sueña en su baranda,
verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Bajo la luna gitana,
las cosas la están mirando
y ella no puede mirarlas.

Verde que te quiero verde.
Grandes estrellas de escarcha
vienen con el pez de sombra
que abre el camino del alba.
La higuera frota su viento
con la lija de sus ramas,
y el monte, gato garduño,
eriza sus pitas agrias.
¿Pero quién vendra? ¿Y por dónde…?
Ella sigue en su baranda,
Verde carne, pelo verde,
soñando en la mar amarga.

—Compadre, quiero cambiar
mi caballo por su casa,
mi montura por su espejo,
mi cuchillo per su manta.
Compadre, vengo sangrando,
desde los puertos de Cabra.
—Si yo pudiera, mocito,
este trato se cerraba.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
—Compadre, quiero morir
decentemente en mi cama.
De acero, si puede ser,
con las sábanas de holanda.
¿No ves la herida que tengo
desde el pecho a la garganta?
—Trescientas rosas morenas
lleva tu pechera blanca.
Tu sangre rezuma y huele
alrededor de tu faja.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
—Dejadme subir al menos
hasta las altas barandas;
¡dejadme subir!, dejadme,
hasta las verdes barandas.
Barandales de la luna
por donde retumba el agua.
Ya suben los dos compadres
hacia las altas barandas.
Dejando un rastro de sangre.
Dejando un rastro de lágrimas.
Temblaban en los tejados
farolillos de hojalata.
Mil panderos de cristal
herían la madrugada.
Verde que te quiero verde,
verde viento, verdes ramas.
Los dos compadres subieron.
El largo viento dejaba
en la boca un raro gusto
de hiel, de menta y de albahaca.
¡Compadre! ¿Donde está, díme?
¿Donde está tu niña amarga?
¡Cuántas veces te esperó!
¡Cuántas veces te esperara,
cara fresca, negro pelo,
en esta verde baranda!

Sobre el rostro del aljibe
se mecía la gitana.
Verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Un carámbano de luna
la sostiene sobre el agua.
La noche se puso íntima
como una pequeña plaza.
Guardias civiles borrachos
en la puerta golpeaban.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar.
Y el caballo en la montaña.

– Federico García Lorca (poeta español 1898-1936)

Sin duda, este poema es mi favorito de todos los poemas en cualquier idioma. Me parece una falta el hecho de que nunca lo he publicado, antes, aquí en el blog. Pues, ahora lo publico. El tema trata de la guerra civil española.

[daily log: walking, 7km] 

Caveat: Don’t hope for too much

I have a certain student, whom I've written about many times before. She's been at Karma for a long time – I think at least 3 years now. She goes by Sophia. She is a very voluble girl, and talks with me, in English, almost continuously whenever she's around me. Also, she's the only student I've ever had who ever had any kind of interaction with any members of my family – she bonded to my niece Sarah when my sister Brenda and her kids visited a few years back (I have no idea if that bonding was mutual, but anyway, she still mentions that visit). For these reasons, I've perhaps come to think of her like she was a bit of a surrogate child in a way I don't typically feel for students.

Anyway, I have been feeling singularly depressed about Sophia, lately. She's in the sixth grade, now, and if she's always been a bit emotionally immature and academically unmotivated, recently she's become gloomily but quite declaratively unambitious, too. With alarming regularity, these days, she says things like, "I don't want to learn anything," and "I'm going to get married and only be a mom."

I don't really want to begrudge anyone their passion or heart's desire – and there's a place in the world for "just gettting married and being a mom" – it's not like that isn't a really important role for society.

The problem is that Sophia is possibly one of the smartest students I have ever taught. I would expect that if she took an IQ test, she'd be a genius. At the least, she's without a doubt some kind of savant in the realm of language: without ever having lived or studied abroad, her spoken English is better than most other students'. She's been entirely autodidact in this – she actively resists formal instruction of any kind, and always has. But she soaks up vocabulary and grammar effortlessly. I think she mostly learned English by watching TV shows and movies in English.

She will correctly use a new word that I have used in class in front of her, after hearing it just one time. She has a stunning memory. She can memorize the words (English-Korean translation lists of 20 words) for her in-class vocabulary quizzes in the 3-4 minutes right before the quiz. She can memorize songs in Korean and English flawlessly, and has a huge repertoire of song lyrics floating around her head. She even memorized a fairly passable rendition of a stanza of a song in Spanish, which she sang for me one time simply to impress me. She said she had no idea what it meant – she found it on youtube.

I would be so happy to see her show some intellectual ambition about life. I have tried to encourage various pursuits that match her expressed interests, including suggesting things like acting, linguistics and recently, songwriting or just writing. But my seeing her only 1-2 hours a week really isn't going to give me much influence over the choices she makes.

I suspect these loud declarations of anti-intellectualism are rooted in some kind of rebellion against parental pressure – I sense her mom pushes hard. There's nothing I can do about that. But I feel sad. Hopefully she'll find a different way to rebel against mom that is less self-defeating for the long term.


What I'm listening to right now.

U2, "Numb."

Lyrics.

Don't move
Don't talk out of time
Don't think
Don't worry
Everything's just fine
Just fine

Don't grab
Don't clutch
Don't hope for too much
Don't breathe
Don't achieve
Or grieve without leave

Don't check
Just balance on the fence
Don't answer
Don't ask
Don't try and make sense

Don't whisper
Don't talk
Don't run if you can walk
Don't cheat, compete
Don't miss the one beat

Don't travel by train
Don't eat
Don't spill
Don't piss in the drain
Don't make a will

Don't fill out any forms
Don't compensate
Don't cower
Don't crawl
Don't come around late
Don't hover at the gate

Don't take it on board
Don't fall on your sword
Just play another chord
If you feel you're getting bored

I feel numb
I feel numb
Too much is not enough
I feel numb

Don't change your brand
Don't listen to the band
Don't gape
Don't ape
Don't change your shape
Have another grape

Too much is not enough
I feel numb
I feel numb

Don't plead
Don't bridle
Don't shackle
Don't grind
Don't curve
Don't swerve
Lie, die, serve
Don't theorize, realize, polarize
Chance, dance, dismiss, apologize

Too much is not enough
I feel numb

Don't spy
Don't lie
Don't try
Imply
Detain
Explain
Start again

I feel numb

Don't triumph
Don't coax
Don't cling
Don't hoax
Don't freak
Peak
Don't leak
Don't speak

I feel numb

Don't project
Don't connect
Protect
Don't expect
Suggest
I feel numb
Don't project
Don't connect
Protect
Don't expect
Suggest
I feel numb

Don't struggle
Don't jerk
Don't collar
Don't work
Don't wish
Don't fish
Don't teach
Don't reach

Too much is not enough

Don't borrow
Don't break
Don't fence
Don't steal
Don't pass
Don't press
Don't try
Don't feel

I feel numb

Don't touch
Don't dive
Don't suffer
Don't rhyme
Don't fantasize
Don't rise
Don't lie
Don't project
Don't connect
Protect
Don't expect
Suggest

Don't project
Don't connect
Protect
Don't expect
Suggest

I feel numb

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: the indistinct quality of being alive

MONKEYHOOD

I am observing the world
whose very act of existing
has made us claim
that it is the only world to exist.

I am observing
the shadows of the sun
when suddenly the monkey
appears again, opening
that window
below my language.

It picks up all my words
and chews them, only to spit
them out while producing
a grotesque sound of pleasure.

I’ve seen this monkey many times,
he comes from the world within
that is populated by innumerable monkeys.

They all seek the only thing
they claim is real: monkeyhood.
Monkeyhood is hidden
deep in their jungle,
it can be eaten, soft caramel-like
substance that it is.

But only a few monkeys are able
to reach this sacred core.

The monkeys that visit me
are those that for whatever reason
have stopped seeking monkeyhood.

They would rather appear
unannounced in this world,
to taste a few fragments of illusion –
as I believe they once called it.

I sit watching the shadows of the sun,
here below the clouds while I describe
the indistinct quality of being alive.

– Pablo Saborío (Costa Rican-Danish Poet and Artist, b 1982)

A few days ago, I put a poem of his in Spanish. I guess he writes in English, too.
[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: the one the battles always choose

What I'm listening to right now.

Linkin Park, "Breaking The Habit."

Lyrics.

Memories consume like opening the wounds
I'm picking me apart again
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room
Unless I try to start again
I don't want to be the one the battles always choose
'cause inside I realize that I'm the one confused

I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I know it's not alright
So I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit tonight

Clutching my cure
I tightly lock the door
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more than any time before
I have no options left again
I don't want to be the one the battles always choose
'cause inside I realize that I'm the one confused

I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit tonight

I'll paint it on the walls
'cause I'm the one at fault
I'll never fight again
And this is how it ends

I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
But now I have some clarity to show you what I mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit tonight

[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: todo tanto terrestre como transcendental

SOBREVUELO

Damas demos además de danzas
hondura hasta la hora del hombre,
niño: nada ni nadie es necesario
al fin fuimos fatídicas figuras finalmente
todo tanto terrestre como transcendental
es idea idioma intelecto invento o instante
lástima la lengua tan lógica y locuaz
cuenta casos, crónicas, calambres pero calla
al viajar en vastas vibraciones v vacíos
mira mujer mira hombre mira niño
algo anda arriba abajo alrededor
sucediendo algo sombra algo
sencillo algo sagrado algo
suave sin sangre sin sal
tal vez luz tal
vez nocturna tal
vez umbral.

– Pablo Saborío (poeta y artista costarricense-danés, n 1982)

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Амьдрал гэдэг там л байна

Mongolian hip-hop is a real thing. 

What I'm listening to right now.

Дайн ба энх, "76." Although my Mongolian-language googling skills are quite poor, I even managed to find the lyrics.

Lyrics.

Зөөлөн суудлаасаа тэд *** өндийлгүй өдөржин хэлэлцэж
Зөв буруу хууль дүрэм баахан юм баталцгааж
Цөөхөн хэдэн ард бидэндээ зурагтаар л бараагаа харуулж
Хийж бүтээх нь багадсан
Хэлэх амлалт нь ихэдсэн 76-д зориуллаа
Тэд өөрсдөө Монгол хүн чи хүн би хүн бид адил хүмүүс
Эртнээс эхэлсэн энэ цус Монгол цус
Халуун биеэр минь халх цус
Эрэлхэг хүчирхэг Монгол түмний дуу хоолойг ойлгож сонс одоо цагт
Төрийн суудалд үхэн хатан мөнгө цацан хаян тэмцэхийг бодоход
Түүнээс илүү ашиг хонжоог хайж байна гэсэн үг биш үү
Үүнээс цаашгүй түүнээс цаашгүй
Хэрэлдэж уралдсан 76
Үнэндээ чанартай маньдаа хамаагүй хий дэмий амны зугаа
Ууж идэж хахаж цацаж бүгдийг авлаа болоо юм биш үү
Улсаа хөгжүүлэхийн төлөө та нар одоо юм хийх болсон юм биш үү
Хүний төлөө энэ нийгмийн бохирдлыг устгая
Улс орны сайхны төлөө санаа тавь тавь тавь
Тавьсан санаа хаана л байна л гэж л хэлмээр байна л
Ард л олон л тэр л амла мөр л хөтөлбөр л гэдэг үлгэр домог болдог
Тэр л том том дарга руу байгаа чиглүүлэв үгээр чичрүүлэв би

Дахилт:

тэнгэрт найдахаас Монголчууд аа
Тэдэнд найдаж болохгүй шүү молигодуулваа
Чааваас даа миний цөөхөн халх ардаа
Хаанаас даа ийм зүйл байж боломгүй юм даа
Тэд бол их л хуурдаг ардад бурдаг худлаа бурдаг
Нөхөд л гардаг хуралдаж хуралдаж хувьдаа ашигласан
Зүйлээ хуваалцаж байж л тардаг явдаг даа
Санаа нь амарч харьдаг даа 76 нь ийм юм бол Монгол улс мөхжээ
Монголд төрсөн хүн л мөн болдоо
Мангар тэнэг биш л байх боддоо өө
Улс орноо гэдэг бодол байдаг юмуу даа
Амьдрал ер нь тамуу даа сүйрэлд хүрэх замууд
Энэ л олон намууд аа тэд нийлээд чадах уу даа
Ээ хар малнуудаа рад түмэнлүүгээ эргэн нэг хараач
Тэр олон гахайд найдаад хэрэг байхгүй за байз яая даа
Хараал идэг чөтгөр аваг
Энэ муу новшийн нийгмийг хар хар
Хар дарсан зүүднээсээ тэр сэр сэр сэр
Ертөнц хорвоод баян ядуу баян ядуу
Мөнгөтэй төгрөгтэй мөнгөгүй төгрөггүй
Мэдэлтэй мэдэлгүй нь хосолсоор хосолсоор
Хэн нь сайтар хэн нь муутар амьдрах хүн бүрээс хамаарах болж
Энэ л үед ийм үед мөрөн дээрхээ тэр толгойгоо
Энэ нийгмийн толгойлогчдод буруу бий буруу бий
Хямралд оруулж байгаа хүмүүс эд нар мөн эд нар мөн

Дахилт:

Чи бол Монгол би бол Монгол хүн
Бидэнд бие биенээ харйлах сэтгэл зүрх байх л ёстой гэж л бодно
Миний бодсон нэг л худлаа бас л худлаа болоод байх шиг байдаг
Ер нь яадаг тэнэг нөхөд гэхээр улс төр л мөр л гэж явдаг байна л
Ард л олон яана л шал худлаа
Тэр л сайхан нам л байна
Амьдрал гэдэг там л байна
Тэр л 76- гаа л сандал суудал зулгаа л
Энэ л төрийн нүүр л царай л гэвэл энэ ээ
Нэг хоёр гурван жил 76 нам жим
Ингэсээр сүүлийн дөрвөн жил гэнэт гарч ирэн намайг дэмж
Энэ миний мөрийн хөтөлбөр энэ чиний сургалтын төлбөр
Энэ бүгдийг чиний төлө харин чи тууштай миний төлөө
Гэж хэлээд суудалд суухдаа тэр маш их мөнгө зарсан
Тэр гарсан зарсан мөнгөө хэд хэд нугалж олсон
Ард бид чинь та нарт итгэн суудалд суулган залсан
Ахисан даварсан тэд нар харин гарсан хойноо мартсан

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Peace? Well, purity of essence

/POL/ITE SOCIETY

This is the future that liberals want: a cool
return to norms after the tan excrescence
is excised. Peace? Well, purity of essence.
Articulate. Harvard Law or a comparable school.
Personally dedicated to the rule
of law. A paragon. A recrudescence
in an empire seemingly sunk in convalescence.
Judicious. Stylish. Not a raving fool.
Across an ocean in a dusty town a boy
who’s barely past a cracking voice is set
to marry a girl he’s only recently met.
He vacillates from morbid fear to joy.
He’s droned and bleeds to death at evening prayer.
The liberal president pretends to care.

Jacob Bacharach (American writer, b?-notdeadyet [i.e. google let me down])

[daily log: walking, 1km]

Caveat: 내 마음에도 눈이 내리리라

눈 오는 지도(地圖)

順伊(순이)가 떠난다는 아침에 말 못할 마음으로 함박눈이 나려, 슬픈 것처럼 窓(창) 밖에 아득히 깔린 地圖(지도) 위에 덮인다.

房방 안을 돌아다보아야 아무도 없다. 壁(벽)과 天井(천정)이 하얗다.

房(방) 안에까지 눈이 나리는 것일까. 정말 너는 잃어버린 歷史(역사)처럼 홀홀이 가는 것이냐, 떠나기 前(전)에 일러둘 말이 있던 것을 편지를 써서도 네가 가는 곳을 몰라 어느 거리, 어느 마을, 어느 지붕 밑, 너는 내 마음 속에만 남아 있는 것이냐.

네 쪼그만 발자욱을 눈이 자꾸 나려 덮여 따라갈 수도 없다.

눈이 녹으면 남은 발자욱 자리마다 꽃이 피리니 꽃 사이로 발자욱을 찾아 나서면 一年(일 년) 열두 달 하냥 내 마음에도 눈이 내리리라.

-윤동주 (한국의 시인, 1917~1945)

The Snowing Map

In the morning that Soon-ee left,
With my heart unable to speak,
Large snowflakes fell
Sadly outside the window
Covering the map
Spread out in the distance.

I return to the room, looking,
But there is nothing there at all.
The wall and the ceiling, white.

Will it snow inside the room?
Will you fly from me like history lost?
Even though you wrote me a letter
With your last words here,
I don’t know where you’re going,
Which street, which village, which house?
Are you to remain only in my heart?

The falling snow covers
Your small footsteps, again and again,
That I can’t even follow.

If the snow melts,
Flowers will bloom in each
Of your footprints, but if
I can find even just one between
The blossoms,
Snow will fall in my heart,
For a year, twelve months,

– Yun Dong-ju (Korean poet, 1917-1945)
(Translation by Yelun Qin)
Yun Dong-ju grew up in Manchuria, in a Korean community, under the Japanese colonial regime. He died in prison in Fukuoka, Japan, having been convicted of advocating Korean independence.
[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: misteriosos espacios que separan / la vigilia del sueño

RIMA LXXI

No dormía: vagaba en ese limbo
en que cambian de forma los objetos,
misteriosos espacios que separan
la vigilia del sueño.

Las ideas que en ronda silenciosa
daban vueltas en torno a mi cerebro,
poco a poco en su danza se movían
con un compás más lento.

De la luz que entra al alma por los ojos
los párpados velaban el reflejo;
mas otra luz el mundo de visiones
alumbraba por dentro.

En este punto resonó en mi oído
un rumor semejante al que en el templo
vaga confuso al terminar los fieles
con un Amén sus rezos.

Y oí como una voz delgada y triste
que por mi nombre me llamó a lo lejos,
¡y sentí olor de cirios apagados,
de humedad y de incienso!

Entró la noche y del olvido en brazos
caí cual piedra en su profundo seno.
Dormí y al despertar exclamé: —¡Alguno
que yo quería ha muerto!

– Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (poeta español, 1836-1870)

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Re-up? You’re outta your mind

picture

Captain Jack

Hey, hey Captain Jack
Meet me down by the railroad track
With that rifle in my hand
I'm gonna be a shootin' man
A shootin' man
The best I can
For Uncle Sam

Hey, hey Captain Jack
Meet me down by the railroad track
With that knife in my hand
I'm gonna be a cuttin' man
A cuttin' man
A shootin' man
The best I can
For Uncle Sam

Hey, hey Captain Jack
Meet me down by the railroad track
With that grenade in my hand
I'm gonna be a killin' man
A killin' man
A cuttin' man
A shootin' man
The best I can
For Uncle Sam

Hey, hey Captain Jack
Meet me down by the railroad track
With that bottle in my hand
I'm gonna be a drinkin' man
A drinkin' man
A killin' man
A cuttin' man
A shootin' man
The best I can
For Uncle Sam

Hey, hey Captain Jack
Meet me down by the railroad track
With that book in my hand
I'm gonna be a studyin' man
A studyin' man
A drinkin' man
A killin' man
A cuttin' man
A shootin' man
The best I can
For Uncle Sam

– a US Army Marching Cadence

The original "Captain Jack" was a Modoc Indian, Kintpuash, who is the only person to have killed a US Army General officer during battle – although the Army later executed him for "war crimes," I don't think it's so clear that he was employing tactics any dirtier than the US soldiers were.

So in the marching cadence, the soldiers' plan to meet Captain Jack down by the railroad tracks strikes me as an ambivalent situation. Like many US military cadences, there is an anti-military subtext hovering below the surface.

I remember decades ago, in some social group or another (I don't really recall exactly which, but I was young), "Captain Jack" was a kind of facetious answer to any "who" question, e.g.

Q: "Who did you see there?"
A: "Captain Jack."

"Captain Jack" is also, apparently, an old slang term for heroin or other narcotics – which lends yet another angle of meaning to the popularity of this cadence especially during the Vietnam era.

A different version of the cadence is heard in this youtube.

Note not just the variation in specific types of "A __-in' man", but the addition of the lines "Re-up? You're crazy! / Re-up? You're outta your mind!"

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: All your eyes sing the song to me

"Fascism is what capitalism does when it’s under threat." – Sam Kriss (Idiot Joy Showland blog).

What I'm listening to right now.

Heartless Bastards, "Only For You."

Lyrics.

Been a while since I felt this way about
Someone that really really like to know you
More I know you, more
All your eyes sing the song to me
And I really really like to move to it
Oh oh ? oh

And ? me oh
Open my ?
And now we I only for you

All your eyes spending on my head
And all, all this ? of sorrow uh yeah for ?
Yeah all your eyes spending on my head
And I ? spend of sorrow uh yeah for.

And now I'm ? open my heart
And I only oh only for you
And now I'm just gone don't know what to do
My head is such a cloud if you
And I'm just gone now what to do
My head is such a cloud if you so ?
I'm tryin uh uh uh
And now I'm just gone don't know what to do
My head is such a cloud if you

All your eyes spending on my head
And all, all this ? of sorrow uh yeah for ?
Yeah all your eyes spending on my head
And I ? spend of sorrow uh yeah for.

And now I'm ? open my heart
And I only oh only for you

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: One thin pale trail of speculation

Human Cylinders

The human cylinders
Revolving in the enervating dusk
That wraps each closer in the mystery
Of singularity
Among the litter of a sunless afternoon
Having eaten without tasting
Talked without communion
And at least two of us
Loved a very little
Without seeking
To know if our two miseries
In the lucid rush-together of automatons
Could form one opulent wellbeing

Simplifications of men
In the enervating dusk
Your indistinctness
Serves me the core of the kernel of you
When in the frenzied reaching out of intellect to intellect
Leaning brow to brow      communicative
Over the abyss of the potential
Concordance of respiration
Shames
Absence of corresponding between the verbal sensory
And reciprocity
Of conception
And expression
Where each extrudes beyond the tangible
One thin pale trail of speculation
From among us we have sent out
Into the enervating dusk
One little whining beast
Whose longing
Is to slink back to antediluvian burrow
And one elastic tentacle of intuition
To quiver among the stars

The impartiality of the absolute
Routs      the polemic
Or which of us
Would not
Receiving the holy-ghost
Catch it      and caging
Lose it
Or in the problematic
Destroy the Universe
With a solution

– Mina Loy (British poet, 1882-1966)

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Facts don’t do what I want them to

This song is old, but that Talking Heads Remain In Light album is easily one of my personal favorites of all time. I have never tired of the Talking Heads, since I first discovered them when I was in high school.

What I'm listening to right now.

Talking Heads, "Crosseyed And Painless." I believe this song seems like a kind of prophesy – perhaps an anthem for our new "post-fact" era. 

Lyrics.

Lost my shape
Trying to act casual!
Can't stop
I might end up in the hospital
I'm changing my shape
I feel like an accident
They're back!
To explain their experience
Isn't it weir
Looks too obscure to me
Wasting away
And that was their policy
I'm ready to leave
I push the fact in front of me
Facts lost
Facts are never what they seem to be
Nothing there!
No information left of any kind
Lifting my head
Looking for danger signs
There was a line
There was a formula
Sharp as a knife
Facts cut a hole in us
There was a line
There was a formula
Sharp as a knife
Facts cut a hole in us
I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting…
I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting…
I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting…
The feeling returns
Whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head
Looking around inside
The island of doubt
It's like the taste of medicine
Working by hindsight
Got the message from the oxygen
Making a list
Find the cost of opportunity
Doing it right
Facts are useful in emergencies
The feeling returns
Whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head
Looking around inside.
Facts are simple and facts are straight
Facts are lazy and facts are late
Facts all come with points of view
Facts don't do what I want them to
Facts just twist the truth around
Facts are living turned inside out
Facts are getting the best of them
Facts are nothing on the face of things
Facts don't stain the furniture
Facts go out and slam the door
Facts are written all over your face
Facts continue to change their shape
I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting…
I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting…
I'm still waiting… I'm still waiting…

[daily log: walking, 1km]

 

Caveat: When the rivers freeze and summer ends

I posted this song quite some time ago (more than 5 years). I’m posting again because the video link at the old posting “rotted” (the so-called “link-rot” problem that long-lived blogs have), and anyway I never posted the lyrics in that old posting. It’s one of my favorites by Dylan.

Bob Dylan (with Johnny Cash), “Girl From The North Country.”
[UPDATE 2020-03-24: link rot repair (again!)]
Lyrics.

If you’re travelin’ in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine

If you go when the snowflakes storm
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm
To keep her from the howlin’ winds

Please see for me if her hair hangs long
If it rolls and flows all down her breast
Please see for me if her hair hangs long
For that’s the way I remember her best

I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all
Many times I’ve often prayed
In the darkness of my night
In the brightness of my day

picture[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: llamándoles con voz de sirena hacia el desierto

INVOCACIÓN Y LECTURA

Del color de la vejez es el poema
que a la vida insulta y a los hombres increpa
llamándoles con voz de sirena hacia el desierto:
qué larga es hacia la nada la procesión de los hombres
con gritos y relinchos, y fuego en los dos ojos
y ceniza que cae señalando el camino
y alabando al abismo la página que escribo
y que se dobla y se tuerce entre tus manos.

– Leopoldo María Panero (poeta español, 1948-2014)

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: roving with no atonement

What I'm listening to right now [NSFW].

Run The Jewels, "Report to Shareholders." The lyrics to this song are quite dark – but we are living in dark times, perhaps?

Lyrics [NSFW].

[Verse 1: El-P]
Beware of horses
I mean a horse is a horse of course, but who rides is important
Sitting high with a uniform, barking orders, demanding order
And I'm scared that I talk too much about what I think's going on
I got a way with this, they might drag me away for this
Put me in a cage for this, I might pay for this
I just say what I want like I'm made for this
But I'm just afraid some days I might be wrong
Maybe that's why me and Mike get along
Hey, not from the same part of town, but we both hear the same sound coming
Woo!
And it sounds like war
Woo!
And it breaks our hearts
When I started this band, didn't have no plans, didn't see no arc
Just run with the craft, have a couple laughs
Make a buck and dash, yeah
Get a little dap like "Yeah I'm the fucking man!", yeah
Maybe give a little back like, "Here, I do what I can"
It's all jokes and smoke 'till the truth start schemin'
Can't contain the disdain for y'all demons
You talk clean and bomb hospitals
So I speak with the foulest mouth possible
And I drink like a Vulcan losing all faith in the logical
I will not be confused for docile
I'm free, motherfuckers, I'm hostile

[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
Choose the lesser of the evil people, and the devil still gon' win
It could all be over tomorrow, kill our masters and start again
But we know we all afraid, so we just simply cry and march again
At the Dem Conven my heart broke apart when I seen them march mommas in
As I rap this verse right now, got tears flowing down my chocolate chin
Told the truth and I've been punished for it, must be a masochist 'cause I done it again
"Ooh, Mike said 'uterus'"
They acting like Mike said, "You a bitch"
To every writer who wrote it, misquoted it
Mike says, "You a bitch, you a bitch, you a bitch"
Add a "nigga" for the black writer that started that sewer shit
I maneuver through manure like a slumdog millionaire
El-P told me, "Fuck them devils, Mike, we gon' be millionaires"
I respond with a heavy "Yeah"
Big bruh says "Fuck that, toughen up
Stay ready, write raw raps, shit rugged rough"
The devil don't sleep, us either
El spits fire, I spit ether
We the gladiators that oppose all Caesars
Coming soon on a new world tour
Probably play the score for the World War
At the apocalypse, play the encore
Turn around, see El, and I smile
Hell coming, and we got about a mile
Until it's over I remain hostile

Part II: "Kill Your Masters"

[Verse 1: Killer Mike]
Mere mortals, the Gods coming so miss me with the whoopty-whoop
You take the devil for God, look how he doin' you
I'm Jack Johnson, I beat a slave catcher snaggletooth
I'm Tiger Flowers with a higher power, hallelu'
Life'll get so bad it feel like God mad at you
But that's a feeling, baby, ever lose I refuse
I disabuse these foolish fools of they foolish views
I heard the revolution coming, you should spread the news
Garvey mind, Tyson punch, this is bad news
So feel me, follow me
Devil done got on top of me
Bad times got a monopoly
Give up, I did the opposite
Pitch perfect, I did it properly
Owner killed by his property

[Verse 2: El-P]
This life'll stress you like Orson Welles on the radio
War after war of the world'll make all your saneness go
And these invaders from Earth're twerkin' on graves you know
Can't wait to load up the silos and make your babies glow
It's so abusive you'll beg somebody to roofie you
They'll snatch your hope up and use it like it's a hula-hoop
And it's a loop, they talk to you just like their rulers do
These fuckin' fools have forgotten just who been foolin' who

[Hook: Killer Mike]
Kill your, kill- kill your kill your, kill-
Kill your, kill- kill- kill your, kill-
Kill your masters
Kill your, kill- kill your kill your, kill-
Kill your, kill- kill- kill your, kill-
Kill your masters (kill your masters!)
Kill your, kill- kill your kill your, kill-
Kill your, kill- kill- kill your, kill-
Kill your masters
Kill your, kill- kill your kill your, kill-
Kill your, kill- kill- kill your, kill-
Kill your masters (kill your masters!)

[Verse 3: Zack de la Rocha]
Killer children of men on the throne, roving with no atonement
Got me feeling like I'm Clive Owen rowing through a future frozen
The flow's a burning wind, blowing to your coast
Now in cages 'cause we rode the waves of your explosions
Done appealing to our killers, man, to stop the bleedin'
This song's a dirty bomb for they dirty dealings
Boots on the roof, I'm Charley Mingus dumping through the ceiling
Master P-in' on these lost Europeans thievin'
Shit be grim, and De La born a reaper
Born in the beast and fixin' feast tearin' its features
The world surges, the nation's nervous
The crowds awaken, they can't disperse us
We ain't at your service
Won't stay sedated
Won't state our numbers for names and
Remaining faceless
We dignified, they can't erase us
We ain't asleep, we rope-a-dope through the flames
Man, the world gonna ride on what's implied in the name
Run 'em

[Hook]
Kill your, kill- kill your kill your, kill-
Kill your, kill- kill- kill your, kill-
Kill your masters
Kill your, kill- kill your kill your, kill-
Kill your, kill- kill- kill your, kill-
Kill your masters (kill your masters!)
Kill your, kill- kill your kill your, kill-
Kill your, kill- kill- kill your, kill-
Kill your masters
Kill your, kill- kill your kill your, kill-
Kill your, kill- kill- kill your, kill-
Kill your masters (kill your masters!)

[daily log: walking, 7.5km]

Caveat: the shining Big-Cheez-Burger

Apparently Longfellow's poem, "The Song of Hiawatha" has been rewritten in a LOLcat version (LOLcat, for those unaware, is a kind of internet 'meme' – i.e. a faddish and famous complex of behaviors, images and what might be called internet text-based dialect slang).

By the shores of Intar-Webbies,
By the shining Big-Cheez-Burger,
Stood the macro of Blue Kitteh,
Pièce de résistance, Blue Kitteh.
Dark behind it rose the sofa,
Rose the roomy gloomy sofa,
Rose the pics with lols upon them;
Bright before it post the comments,
Post the wry and funneh comments,
LOl@shining Big-Cheez-Burger!!

For comparison, here are the first ten lines of the original.

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,
Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.
Dark behind it rose the forest,
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,
Rose the firs with cones upon them;
Bright before it beat the water,
Beat the clear and sunny water,
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (American poet, 1807-1882)

Credit for finding this belongs to the linguistics blog All Things Linguistic.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: By wintry hills his hermit-mound

Monody

To have known him, to have loved him
After loneness long;
And then to be estranged in life,
And neither in the wrong;
And now for death to set his seal—
Ease me, a little ease, my song!
By wintry hills his hermit-mound
The sheeted snow-drifts drape,
And houseless there the snow-bird flits
Beneath the fir-trees’ crape:
Glazed now with ice the cloistral vine
That hid the shyest grape.

– Herman Melville (American novelist and poet, 1819-1891)

The poem is probably about the novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, a contemporary and sometime friend of Melville's. The two of them were close friends for a while but estranged in later life.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: A primer on international relations

What I'm listening to right now (NSFW).

Run The Jewels, "Nobody Speak." Anyway I found the video entertaining.

Lyrics (NSFW).

[El-P]
Picture this
I'm a bag of dicks
Put me to your lips
I am sick
I will punch a baby bear in his shit
Give me lip
I'ma send you to the yard, get a stick
Make a switch
I can end a conversation real quick

[Killer Mike]
I am crack
I ain't lyin', kick a lion in his crack
I'm the shit, I will fall off in your crib, take a shit
Pinch your momma on the booty
Kick your dog, fuck your bitch
Fat boy dressed up like he's Santa
And took pictures with your kids

[El-P]
We the best
We will cut a frowny face in your chest, little wench
I'm unmentionably fresh, I'm a mensch, get correct
I will walk into a court while erect, screaming "Yes!
I am guilty motherfuckers, I am death"

Hey, you wanna hear a good joke?

[Refrain]
Nobody speak, nobody get choked

[El-P]
Get running
Start pumping your bunions, I'm coming
I'm the dumbest, who flamethrow your function to Funyuns
Flame your crew quicker than Trump fucks his youngest
Now face the flame, fuckers, your fame and fate's done with

[Killer Mike]
I rob Charlie Brown, Peppermint Patty, Linus and Lucy
Put coke in the doobie, roll woolies to smoke with Snoopy
I still remain that dick grabbin' slacker that spit a loogie
Cause the toter of the toolie'll murder you friggin' Moolies
Fuck outta here, yeah

[Refrain]
Nobody speak, nobody get choked, hey
Nobody speak, nobody get choked, hey, hey
Nobody speak
Nobody speak

[El-P]
Only facts I will shoot a
Baby duck if it quacks, with a Luger
Top billin', come cops some villainous shots is blocked, shipped out, and bought, and y'all feeling it
El-P killin' it, Killer Mike killin' shit

[Killer Mike]
What more can I say? We top billin' it
Valiant without villainy
Viciously foul victory
Burn towns and villages
Burning looting and pillaging

[El-P]
Murderers try to hurt us we curse them and all their children
I just want the bread and bologna bundles to tuck away
I don't work for free, I am barely giving a fuck away

[Killer Mike]
So tell beggin' Johnny and Mommy to get the fuck away
Heyyo here's a gun, son, now run, get it the gutterway
Live to shoot another day

[Refrain]
Nobody speak, nobody get choked, hey
Nobody speak, nobody get choked, hey
Nobody speak
Nobody speak
Nobody speak, nobody get choked

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Trash is…

I had a student who expressed an interest in English-language poetry, after it came up in some TOEFL-style listening passage we were working on. This is so rare as to be almost sui generis.

I said, "You really read English poetry?"

"Sometimes," she said. This was just barely plausible – she attended an international school when her family lived in China, for a while. "So I had to read it."

"OK. Did you like it?"

"Sometimes. I had to make a poem."

I showed a lot of enthusiasm for this. She asked, "Do you want me to write a poem?"

"Sure," I said. "That would be great."

"I will write it on the whiteboard," she announced. This is what she wrote.

picture

The moral of this story: when a seventh-grader offers to write a poem for you, use caution.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Mi verso montaraz

Poética

La verdad quiere cetro. El verso mío
Puede, cual paje amable, ir por lujosas
Salas, de aroma vario y luces ricas,
Temblando enamorado en el cortejo
De una ilustre princesa o gratas nieves
Repartiendo a las damas. De espadines
Sabe mi verso, y de jubón violeta
Y toca rubia, y calza acuchillada.
Sabe de vinos tibios y de amores
Mi verso montaraz; pero el silencio
Del verdadero amor, y la espesura
De la selva prolífica prefiere:
¡Cuál gusta del canario, cuál del águila!

José Martí (poeta cubano, 1853-1895)

[daily log: what, on a holiday?]

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