Tag Archives: discovery

2016 on last.fm

lastfm-2016 Continue reading

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selections from Elizabeth Kolbert’s The Sixth Extinction: An Unnatural History (2014)

“In life, as in mutual funds, past performance is no guarantee of future results.” Continue reading

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fat traffic

last year, on the second day of the eleventh month, this blog changed forever. on that day, the number of unique visitors on this site broke past 150 for the first time ever: naturally, i was curious to discover what … Continue reading

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huckleberry time, person person [archive]

i’ve gotta stop buying so many books. before Tori and i even got on Highway 1 on Wednesday, i had already spent $20 on three books: Cien años de soledad (Márquez), Gulliver’s Travels (Swift), and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (Joyce). i can’t read them as fast as i buy them.

right now i’m reading The Philosophy of Plato, an Oxford University Press edition written by G. C. Field. based on the book’s dark royal purple hardcover design and the printed number (207) on the spine, it’s obvious that this is just one in an epically long series of books intended to bestow the most important knowledge in the universe on any worthy human subjects. it wasn’t yet part of the series in 1915, but “Rome,” “Shakespeare,” and “Evolution” were. i’d love to read those. unfortunately, i only have this one and a similar one, The Philosophy of Aristotle, both of which i purchased from the local library quite cheaply many years ago. i thought it a bargain and assumed i’d read it eventually. well, here i am.

This, then, is the first stage in Plato’s analysis, a stage which is specially characteristic of him and which, as far as we know, he was the first person to reach. The science of mathematics only attains its perfect precision and certainty because, and in so far as, it does not apply to the objects perceived by the senses. But, as it certainly applies to something, that ‘something’ must belong to a world of non-sensible realities. On the other hand, it does have a certain rough and approximate application to the sensible world, in so far as the objects in that world approximate to the objects of pure scientific knowledge. And it is only in sos far as they do this that we can think intelligibly about them at all. We can think about them because they do approximate to the objects of scientific knowledge. But because it is only an approximation, the thinking is of an essentially different kind from the scientific knowledge. It is never exact or definite or certain, but is at best only roughly true or true enough for practical purposes, and it is always liable to confusion, error, and contradiction.

Plato don’t give a FUCK! smoke weed ALL DAY!

i’m listening to Panda Bear on shuffle and i spent the last two days in Santa Cruz with Tori and her beautiful friend Jenna. life is good. we beached, we poesized, we jammed, we smoked, we spoke, we joked, and we fantasized about murdering people. ok maybe not, but maybe.

after the first day beach visit, we grabbed some beers and made a pilgrimage to the peaceful park in front of Mission Santa Cruz. Tori and Jenna played some songs on the ukelele, i killed my 24 oz. Stella, and, after awhile, a bus rolled up with the word DISCOVERY printed along its side, the word all epic with a logofied planet with rings enveloping it. the bus inspired me to write a poem:

70s vago, dice, but I don’t drive
a big blue bus with
the word DISCOVERY
printed horizontal, Saturn surrounded
on the side.

it doesn’t have a disco
ball hanging from the center,
twinkie ceiling twinkling
rainbow upholstery stilling
its passed out patrons, really
it doesn’t

have a harem
eight and a half girls bathing
me in their daft love, Saturnalia
all year long your one time
rhymes with every verse of my life
it doesn’t
read poetry on the seatback in front
of you
or on the traytable or in the bathroom
or within the mind of mister king
or mister joys or misses mayor
or mister crouton.

it doesn’t croon
like a salmon-starved grizzly
always barely about to exit Plato’s cave because he thinks
he learned some
united kingdom. doubt that
it has even any semblance
of monster comforts maybe one
cup water hold your eyes while
you sleep.

even if the bus really existed even
i’d think it kinda odd
to assume it’d have hydraulics like
the Dr. ordered. i don’t know
any handicapped girls except maybe

Amaria with the broken leg and
Antares with the fat old hunger and
Nina with the never-ending story and
Luisa with the same twin bed and
Nella with her pretentious nookie and
Anna with her terrifying shitiness and
Alicia with a tempting drop and
Amaranta with that disgusting nylon and
Leah with that virile circle of rocks and

if this were really an earlier decade,
I wouldn’t be driving
a bus but I might
have syphilis.

later that night, stoned/drunk, while Tori and Jenna lay in bed watching Dexter, i wrote some more stuff, even more nonsensical than DISCOVERY. i also made a list, titled “huckleberry time, person person,” of all the things i consumed during the day:

milk, cinnamon, peanut butter, wheat bread, string cheese, whiskey, chicken, beer, cheddar, sour cream, guacamole, beans, chips, sour punch, beer, cappuccino, wheat bread, cream cheese, cucumbers, French bread, ham, cheddar cheese, sprouts, and some other stuff.

but eventually i just watched a couple episodes of the show, centered on this guy named Dexter, a psychopathic blood-spatter analyst for the Miami-Dade Police Department who is secretly a serial killer. but he only kills other killers and he never gets caught.

tv. cool. Continue reading

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