\t\t\t\ttyping in the dark, in my new room of self-exile. i like this. a small room, well appointed, a clean floor on which to write, a window i can open or close, endless music at my disposal, a neat row of freshly purchased books on the table, and\u00a0 a strict and serious seat on which to sit. no luxury until my ass blisters act up and i whip out the SORABJI monogrammed pillow that crazy NoCal lady sent me years ago.<\/p>\n
new books: complete known poetry of marianne moore (sweet mouth. attraction for me begins with the mouth); a thomas merton reader; new and collected poems of czeslaw milosz. and the book not new to my shelves but new to me today was the screed from pages 308-309 of “the pleasures of the damned” collected bukowski poetry.<\/p>\n
\nI'm not going to die\neasy;\nI've sat on your suicide beds\nin some of the worst\nholes in America,\npenniless and mad I've been,\nI mean, insane, you know;\nbig tears, each one the size of your bastard hearts,\nflowing down,\nroaches crawling into my shoes,\none dirty 40-watt lightbulb overhead\nand a room that smelled like piss;\nwhile your rich\nyour falsely famous\nlaughed in safe stale places\nfar away,\nyou gave me a suicide bed and two choices,\nno three:\nstarve, go mad, or kill yourself.\n\nfor now enjoy your trips to Paris where\nyou consort with great painters and dupes,\nbut I am getting ready for your eyes and your brain and\nyour dirty dishwater souls;\nyou men who have created a pigpen for millions\nto choke soundlessly in --\nfrom India to Los Angeles\nfrom Paris to the tits of the Nile --\nyou're fucked up\nyou rich you warty you insecure you pricky\ndamned imbecile pasty white\nidiots with your starched shirts and your starched wives and, and yes,\nyour starched lives,\nget away get away\nget away\ngo to Paris\nwhile you can\nwhile I let you.\n\nthe jolly damned man with the hoe (see Markham)\ndidn't answer the call\nbut your children will be raped and your pigs will be eaten\nand the skies will burn black with crows and your cries,\nas you answer for centuries of\nunbearable indignity and bullshit.\nyou will be dealt with\nwe know you now\nwe've known you forever;\nthe might of the timorous\nflies forth like a tremendous and beautiful swan,\nno shit, friend,\nlook up look up look up look up\nthe jolly damned man with the hoe\nis now flying over Milwaukee\ngrinning\nmore lovely than the sun\nmore graceful than all the ugly wounds\nmore real than you\nor I or anything.\n<\/pre>\n<\/blockquote>\ni opened that big Bukowski book this weekend and landed on that poem, then noticed it for its tears the size of your bastard hearts (I’ve shed some of those). i read it today as a requiem for wall street. it will be read different ways depending where your pisses and biles happen to be directed on whatever day of the life.<\/p>\n
nothing to report this day. just reading. just walking around the apartment, looking out the window, looking at the wall, looking at the couch. just looking around. not crossing them but pressing my feets flat to the floor, my palms to the table. blew my nose a few times. brushed my teeth. took a shit\/wiped my ass. drank coffee\/shit again\/wiped my ass again. went to midtown 181 to get my mail. played eyes with and (out of routine habit) imagined cunnilingus with a puffy-lipped, randy looking woman on the subway who looked me in the eyes before i did the same. got home, listened to Penderecki, Marshall Tucker Band, Joan Baez, Arvo P\u00e4rt,\u00a0 Staples Singers.\t\t<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
typing in the dark, in my new room of self-exile. i like this. a small room, well appointed, a clean floor on which to write, a window i can open or close, endless music at my disposal, a neat row of freshly purchased books on the table, and\u00a0 a strict and serious seat on which […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[19,29],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-139","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-passages","category-text","et-doesnt-have-format-content","et_post_format-et-post-format-standard"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paumAn-2f","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/139","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=139"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/139\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=139"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=139"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=139"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}