Only By Sucking, Not By Knowing, Can the Subtle Essence Be Conveyed

If asked by a blegchiatriast if I was having thoughts of blegicide I'd have to admit the word hiatus has begun dimly blinking in the back of my mind. It has nothing to do with diminishing readership - despite my best efforts to be more allusive and obscure, readership is up and thank you very much, which only encourages me to become more allusive and obscure: I'm always going to be plagued by the fallout over Eric Clapton's Michelob commercial in the 1970s. There's nothing a not big enough to be a sell-out fears more than selling-out when nobody cares whether he sells-out.

Yes, I've been visiting my closet of avatars, sorting through my crates of tropes and cliches. Everything I say about the clusterfuck I believe though I know my urgency sprints indulgently ahead of the pace of the kaboom. It's fun; you do it too, but it took decades, centuries, to peak, and even if the collapse takes a quarter of that time, it's watching minute hands move on a clock. It's not a bang or a whimper but a sigh and a grind and Friday afternoon meetings to argue semantics and assign blame.

Thank Lord Etcheverry opening day is two months away because I need to argue semantics and assign blame face-to-face and laughing about a representative but funnier clusterfuck. As for Blegsylvania, we're all geriatric Rotary Club members now.

As for hiatus, no, but compulsion's gotta stop, though I bet a pint it won't.

• Smarter protectionist demagogues, please.
• Battling little republics in a collapsing empire.
• Liberaltarianism lives.
• Necroprofit.
• Mosquitos doing the furious work of fate.
• Feeling aphoristic.
• What is a good life?
• A frothy mix of lube and fecal matter. 
• A frothy mix of lube and fecal matter. 
• Good news. 
• Re: the header - first time since moving to blooger it's been this skeevy.
• 20th Century poetry.
• Critics criticized on criticizing criticism.
• The philosophical novel.
• The sky is falling.
• Gyroscope.
• Island music.
• UPDATE! C.R.E.E.P.
• Jesusfuck, the motherfucking Decemberists suck. 
• UPDATE! Ubu Dance Party!
• Back and forth.
• Dismemberment Plan reuniting!
• Girl O'Clock.
• Wanna hear more new Robert Pollard? Shazam, go halfway down the playlist.

IMPROVISATION ON LINES BY ISAAC THE BLIND

Peter Cole

Only by sucking, not by knowing, 
can the subtle essence be conveyed—
sap of the word and the world's flowing 

that raises the scent of the almond blossoming, 
and yellows the bulbul in the olive's jade. 
Only by sucking, not by knowing. 

The grass and oxalis by the pines growing 
are luminous in us—petal and blade—
as sap of the word and the world's flowing; 

a flicker rising from embers glowing;
light trapped in the tree's sweet braid 
of what it was sucking. Not by knowing 

is the amber honey of persimmon drawn in. 
An anemone piercing the clover persuades me—
sap of the word and the world is flowing 

across separation, through wisdom's bestowing, 
and in that persuasion choices are made: 
But only by sucking, not by knowing 
that sap of the word through the world is flowing.