Flip on the TV, we may pick him up on Channel Two.

I cannot pretend to have any clue what inspired this Beware of the Blog post from WFMU, but its insane detail in imagining what DJing for their station would be like--ON ANOTHER PLANET--is a real winning feature.

I admit, Saturn sounded nice, but it's the black hole that won me over.

An American pineapple, of the kind the Axis finds hard to digest, is

An American pineapple, of the kind the Axis finds hard to digest, is ready to leave the hand of an infantryman in training at Fort Belvoir, Va. American soldiers make good grenade throwers (LOC), originally uploaded by The Library of Congress.

On those photos

The Library of Congress has a Flickr account.  And they've been posting the most kickass photography I've ever seen.  Several thousand in each of two sets (what, nobody's bought them a Pro Account?).  They're beautiful photos.  It seems like they were taken with slide film--I'm not sure how else they'd get focus that sharp with such insanely sharp contrast and beautiful color.  

What's more, those titles, they are (ah!) lovely.

Very writerly in their descriptions.  Except maybe the girl in the glass bubble.  But that's too great a picture to pass up.

Scroll down for more, or check the "LOC Photos" tag.  

Women workers install fixtures and assemblies to a tail fuselage

Women workers install fixtures and assemblies to a tail fuselage section of a B-17F bomber at the Douglas Aircraft Company, Long Beach, Calif. Better known as the "Flying Fortress," the B-17F is a later model of the B-17 which distinguished itself in acti, originally uploaded by The Library of Congress.

This girl in a glass house is putting finishing touches on the

This girl in a glass house is putting finishing touches on the bombardier nose section of a B-17F navy bomber, Long Beach, Calif. She's one of many capable women workers in the Douglas Aircraft Company plant. Better known as the "Flying Fortress," the B-1, originally uploaded by The Library of Congress.

[Electric phosphate smelting furnace used in the making of elemental

[Electric phosphate smelting furnace used in the making of elemental phosphorus in a TVA chemical plant in the Muscle Shoals area, Alabama] (LOC), originally uploaded by The Library of Congress.

Crane operator at TVA's Douglas Dam, Tennessee (LOC)

Crane operator at TVA's Douglas Dam, Tennessee (LOC), originally uploaded by The Library of Congress.

[Man shovelling ears of dried corn from wagon through feed store

[Man shovelling ears of dried corn from wagon through feed store window] (LOC), originally uploaded by The Library of Congress.

Smoke stacks (LOC)

Smoke stacks (LOC), originally uploaded by The Library of Congress.

Woman aircraft worker, Vega Aircraft Corporation, Burbank, Calif. Shown

Woman aircraft worker, Vega Aircraft Corporation, Burbank, Calif. Shown checking electrical assemblies (LOC), originally uploaded by The Library of Congress.

Ahh, Jens Lekman. The Jacques Cousteau of the pits of blackest despondency.

Poetry kicks ass, but it kicks mine, too.

Mark Halliday on Mary Ruefle's "Perfect Reader," from his essay, "The Arrogance of Poetry," from The Georgia Review (but I don't know which issue):

"The satisfactions of imagining a lover's embrace, imagining 'fucked-up beauty' in a tree, imagining a man who describes a flower in comically abstract language: such satisfactions may put a swing in one's stride but cannot become the same as having a lover. The summer of imagining will subside into the winter of isolation, and the speaker will return to awareness of her own lack of a spiritual home.

[. . .]

"The poem turned out to be good, so I'm not ungrateful; indeed, my life is enriched by the poem--but now where am I? I'm on the first page of Post Meridian, a book containing more than seventy poems; and one of the many other books around my desk is Ruefle's more recent Among the Musk Ox People. How much can I respond to? What will become of me? When can I have lunch?

"Standing at the beginning of a book, "Perfect Reader" seems a warning: It is beautiful to try to be a perfect reader of poems. And you are fated to try. But your imaginative efforts will be tiring and endless, and they could bring you to a condition of overexposed vulnerability, with newspapers as your only blankets."

Every Christmas, I recieve at least five books of poetry. Every semester, I buy at least five books of poetry for class. I fully intend to read all of them. But there's no way I can adequately expose myself to the inherent meaning of all of those poems.

A poem is so short and yet demands so much scrutiny in order to be properly understood and enjoyed, that each good poem--and I stumble into so many worthwhile, if not necessarily good poems--requires at least an hour to itself. I can't do it. There is no human way to be an adequate reader of poetry.

And yet I try. And I live for the trying.

Lady Tiger! On the Prowl!

The story beginning as told by the NY Times.


And then taking a hilarious headline (and a pretty good subhead) in the San Diego CityBeat.


I know, I know. Someone died. I should take this seriously. But "Lady Tiger on the Prowl" is a Hall & Oates song waiting to happen. I call Oates.

actually thom yorke looks mostly like an emo clapton who has something stuck perpetually in his eye.

Seriously. Check minutes, um, six on.

quite possibly the most distressing thing I've seen in a long time

What We Are

Backlit freight train, originally uploaded by jsymmetry.

Major life decisions are being made at a rate and momentum incapable of being registered on any currently available scale.

All afternoon

freight trains yard, originally uploaded by smoytheonlyone.

Kerry and I have been almost completely incapable of accomplishing anything. Almost two months 500 miles apart have us sitting across the table--me trying to write, her trying to do her NY Times marathon--and just staring at each other, grinning. I occasionally have to go the bathroom for victorious powerslides and karate kicks.

She is beautiful. She is incredibly smart. She does certain things that just absolutely kill my ability to think and reason. She is my girlfriend, and I'm keeping it that way.

18 hours still seems too long

19-shortpantsdance.jpg, originally uploaded by The Spacebase.

Until we party

About 48 hours left.

DSCN1079.JPG, originally uploaded by The Spacebase.

She's pretty hot. And brainy. And I get to call her my girlfriend. And I get to see her the day after Christmas.

And, like, kiss & stuff.

Happy/Merry, Y'know.

The Holy Family, originally uploaded by The Spacebase.

Just trying to live in love as best I can. The kid in the middle did a better job of it than most of his American admirerers ever managed to.

Joel Osteen, I'm looking at you. I don't trust church because of you.

Rich people are to heaven as camels are to the eyes of needles. Go ahead with the Health/Wealth/Prosperity heresy, for all I care. Jesus wants room in heaven for a dance party anyway.

Thanks for the reminder, and the links, Headphonaught. I wish I could finish the article. It makes me too angry to finish.