The Tramp at Piraeus (1971), in: V.S. Naipaul, In A Free State (1971), p. 7-20

Pravda 1
I sweat all day profusely. Not from running around like a mad man or fever, nothing of the sort. Drips of sweat covered my forehead, a thin layer stands on my back, a single stream runs down my chest. I am moving small items from the front room to the back room, discard them in a carton box, or drain a half empty bottle of liquor down the kitchen drain. Nothing heavily exhausting, all minor movements around a limited space, I am taking my time. This moist New York climate is getting to me. I open a bottle of water, throw some ice cubes in a glass and immediately gulp the glass of water down my throat. I sense the cold stream run down my stomach. With every move, I burst out in a horrendous fit of sweat again. I am a swamp monster laying in the dried out mud, waiting for my prey, a burst of cool air. But at this time, just now, the sweating and the heat grow on me. I become erotically pleased by this heated state, my body’s craving for a cool down, my senses on alert. Any short breeze engulfes me with a satisfaction that lasts minutes. I blow a breath of air up my own face, with my underarm, I wipe the sweat off my stirn. While in the last days I felt erotically poised, I now rupture in general desire. I walk to the bathroom, jerk off in the sink, wash my sperm down, and continue cleaning up.

Ashes to Ashes

the Atlantic is not that romantic
instead, scatter me in the Pacific
a lake?
what is nice about a lake?
well, the fresh cold springs of course
but you will be dead no?
i will be there for the people left behind
it is for them that I die

—

Thomas Wolfe

He left pages on his desk
while he wandered, paced around his room
until the scene got to him like a mad dog
he would jump to it
and pencil the vision down
maniacally

after his death
a pile of papers was found on his desk
they published them
it made him instantly famous

—

He felt a rare fire in his bowls. The paintings by D.H. Lawrence are not very erotic, are they? I mean, not very racy.

—

cheesy little picky songs

—

I cut myself a piece of mooncheese.

—

pushing up the mountain
rolling down the hill

—

Harlem Renaissance
Langston Hughes should have been the Laureate, cause he has more rhythm, since he is black.

—

chicken on pizza

—

don’t give me those toy eyes

—

I left the vagina in my other pants.

—

Without being pretentiously stupid, you gotta backup!

—

Chicken Leg Lady

chicken leg lady on the B46
sucking on my chicken leg, lady
on the B46
your fat black hand,
groping down my pants
deep in the brown paper bag beside you
your thick red sucky lips

chicken leg
chicken leg lady

commentary:
you’re making a racist song
you’re not supposed to mention
chicken legs or water melon

—

hey hey we’re not a pretty nation
you’re down and out
down and out
down and out
hey hey we’re a lustful nation
you’re in and out
in and out
in and out

oh for fuck’s sake

Chapter 7, Estuaries, in: Introduction to the Biology of Marine Life (9th Edition)

The Chesapeake Bay, San Francisco Bay, Great South Bay, Tampa Bay, Puget Sound, and the Mississippi River Delta, the Hudson River Bay, Columbia River and Willapa Bay in Oregon, are among 100 bodies of water designated as estuaries in the US. Over 1/3 of the US population lives within the drainage basins of these estuaries.

Types of estuaries:
a. Coastal plan estuaries;
b. Bar built estuaries;
c. Coastal lagoons;
d. Deltas;
e. Tectonic estuaries;
f. Fjords.

Because of the patterns of freshwater and seawater mixing, there is an inward flow of nutrient rich seawater along the bottom of th estuary and a net outward flow at the surface, creating an estuarine upwelling. The time necessary for the total volume of water in an estuary to be replaced is called the flushing time.

The body fluids of osmotic conformers fluctuate to remain isotonic with the water. Most estuarine animals are stenohaline, tolerating exposure only to limited salinity ranges. A few species are euryhaline, capable of withstanding a wide range of salinity. (more…)

Jacques-Louis David (1748-1825)

Bamboozling Ourselves (nytimes.com)

What makes a work of art “great”? Errol Morris’s seven-part tale of the Nazi-era Vermeer forgeries of Han van Meegeren. or as Han van Meegeren would say: “Dem geliebten Führer in dankbarer Anerkennung gewidmet von Han van Meegeren”.

It is the classic Faustian story, the genially ambitious who sells his soul to the devil in return for recognition and power. How closely lie the authentically genial to the criminally insane, we strive after integrity but fall to the temptations of forgery, a shortcut rather than the steep, narrow path uphill. If there was one virtue to be found in Christianity that produced a genial fool like Nietzsche, than it would be the ideal authenticity of the image of Jesus that the early Christian church has forged. And like Jesus, Han van Meegeren has been crucified for the forgery of his message. How ambitious man can be to not fear the Golgotha of his soul! The devil knows, the devil like Icarus, like man, tumbled down from the heights of his hybris, the devil whom man knows so much better than god.

L’archipel de Palestine orientale (monde-diplomatique.fr)

Click here or image to enlarge.

El Grupo Nuevo de Omar Rodriguo Lopez
Omar Rodriguez Lopez Productions

Neither Rain, Nor Sleet, Nor Gloom of Postal Cost-Cutting Slows Idaho Courier (nytimes.com)

La Vita Nuova