(via Spencer Ackerman) “Jonathan Stray, an energetic blogger, has constructed a social-network chart detailing the connections between the so-called Counterinsurgents. It has some errors — I’m assuming ‘Nathniel Flick’ is Nate Fick of the Center for a New American Security — and as Abu Muqawama says, “a better graph than …
The plot hole by which you must enter into the story is a doozy, a real humdinger,if you will, and it is all made of fire,the way the stars are made of fire,though we dream them to be utterly coldand prickly with a sad light. Nothingever stops in my world …
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal …
“The three most significant predecessors to the Shoegazing movement were the Cocteau Twins, Spacemen 3 and The Jesus and Mary Chain…”(1) So Spacemen 3 were active from 1982 through 1991, when the two main poles of the band (Jason Spaceman & Sonic Boom AKA Pete Member) split – Jason took …
So I just saw the BJM again on Friday night, years later. It’s weird – DIG! seems to be haunting them far more than it seems to have affected the Dandys. Well, maybe because the movie ended up being about Anton. Anyway, the last couple of times I’ve seen them, …
We tell you, tapping on our brows, the story as it should be. Marc’s lips moved with the syllables, a primitive oscilloscope measuring the peaks and troughs of the meter. As if the story of a house were told or ever could be. He drummed his raggedly chewed thumbnails on …
Weird things to report. So, a week ago Sunday, I asked for the day off at work. It was Tuesday before I found out, definitively, that there wasn’t going to be any way I could be given the day off. I forget the technical term for “allowed time off”, but …
We raked until raking puffed our mitts with hot blisters.Then we desisted. Wind de-raked our raking then,spilled the tops of our piles, blew new-fallen bronzes across brief spans of lawn. We worked like the damned:I the Sisyphus of fall, you the Sisyphus of autumn.Rakes dropped, we drifted through discarded wrappers …
… Even though all the lamps were on, the nicotine on the walls jealously hoarded the light, letting only vague scraps of jaundiced yellow reflect eerily onto the ceiling. Whole swaths of the room were unable to beg their share of the terracotta lamplight. Somewhere in the looming shadow that …
… And you that ache so much to be sublime,And you that feed yourselves with your descent,What comes of all your visions and your fears?Poets and Kings are but the clerks of Time,Tiering the same dull webs of discotent,Clipping the same sad alnage of the years. EA Robinson