Thursday, December 29, 2016

29 December 2016

Uprooting breeds idolatry. While green, Pepe the Frog's a white supremacist. Many Trump voters are not racists, nor do they condone hatred. Irony may be dying, but I still sense it in my bed springs. The dream life of liberals mingles sex and horror. Fences may get the Oscars, but Caterpillar 3 speaks more directly to us. Someone fucks random body parts, while another somebody eats them. Ants have aphid farms, gently rub aphid bums for their sugar. That's more erotic than any movie trailer in theaters this week. In our search for cows, Radhika and I drove by the fallen-down house, trash strewn up to the street, and the man who lives in a junked car. This is what comes of Thoreau. Another junker sits 20 feet away, and a clothes line's slung between two trees. That's an old gray sweat shirt hanging there. Well hung, someone notes of the Frank O'Hara painting. He's naked, post-lunch, and we've already driven past.

--29 December 2016

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