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Saturday, December 17, 2005

Big Balls 


How could someone even do this?
British police hunted for three men on Saturday who stole a huge bronze Henry Moore sculpture worth up to 3 million pounds ($5.30 million) and a spokesman said they feared the piece would be destroyed for scrap.

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Police said the 3.5 meter long (11 ft 5.8 in) sculpture, "A Reclining Figure," was stolen from the Henry Moore Foundation in Hertfordshire, north of London, on Thursday night by three men who drove it away.

It makes me think about great heist movies and the illegal underground of the superrich. Someone will own this and keep it hidden away, owning it only for the fact of owning it. Because they can. And they'll take their ultrarich friends out for a walk across the lava pools one fine evening, eating tiger steak, only to unveil this massive, stolen sculpture. Then they'll hunt a human being from the Bronx.

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Christmas In New York 


It was Christmas Eve, babe, in the drunk tank, when an old man said to me, "won't see another one." And then he sang a song - the rare old Mountain Dew - I turned my face away and dreamed about you.

Or somesuch. It's never 100 percent when it comes to Shane McGowan and words. But the idea is right.

I feel like Christmas has already come and gone. Talking with friends at a Christmas party last night I can say that I'm not alone. I don't even know exactly what it is and, if I think about it, I'd probably remember feeling this way most of the last decade. But, shit, we still have another week before it's overwith.

I'm not one of these devout Christmas haters. I like the snow in the streets and the bustle and the fogged breath, etcetera. I like spending time with my family. I even like finding nice gifts for people (even if it winds up being a Peruvian woodwind from the Union Square craft fair on the 23rd) and receiving thoughtful gifts.

Nor am I about to launch into a polemic over the War On Christmas and the OverCommercialization of the Holiday, the vapidity of the American soul, etcetera. I think all of that has been covered and the result, like the result from every other angle of assault in this country, is fatigue. And maybe that's my point: all of this, the Christmas ads, the Christmas songs, the Bush Administration, Fox News, prescription drugs, all of it, is very fatiguing. I'm past being upset, even. It's just, like, you know, I don't know, it's just, WHOA. Ok. I get it. Enough. Just let me be.

My holiday brain, the little bundle of nerves between the equilibrium center and the emotion capicator, is all fucked up. There's only so many hormones and enzymes in there, meant to be released to interact with the other parts of my body that make holiday cheer. But, because the biorhythms are so thrown off by the commercials and the songs and the zeitgeist of evercoming future, they were all released too early. My holiday brain can't tell the difference anymore. Somewhere around the 9th, all those chemicals got dumped into the bloodstream and I hugged people and drank cider and enjoyed coming in from the cold. But now, I don't know, now it's all gone. When is it? Next Sunday? Ok. Fine. Whatever. That'll be nice. I'll get to eat stuff. I don't know.

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Friday, December 16, 2005

I Can't Even Believe 


Why is there still a slightly more pathetic but still finite number of visitors to this page every day? I haven't written a damn thing in over a month. What is the matter with you people?!

I don't know.

It takes a lot of energy to read, daily, the lies and deceptions and the etcetera of this horrific Administration and the schizophrenic psychology of these United States. The tide, O, the tide, turning though it may be, pushes on with the inertia of ten thousand years of history. I'm not even a flake of driftwood bark. And that's terrific. But you know what I mean.

Lately, that's been my sort of attitude. Well, you know, we have nuclear weapons now and, yes, the ice caps are melting, but, for the most part, nothing is all too very much different than the days of Ramses or of Vlad the Impaler or of Nixon. In fact, things may be a bit better. Bah, it's all a matter of degrees, anway.

Given up, I've not (I don't even know what the struggle is), but I'm certainly on a reprieve from so much daily energy expenditure.


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