Gluttonily Greedily

It is said in certain corners here & there that today is a milestone birthday. It’s not the day that grocery shoppers were loosed in the arteries of a waste of their own making, to snort & squeal their own way towards cleanups on aisle be damned if I’m gonna mop my own mess in addition to having to take over the task of schlepping my own wares to a checker not of my own damn choosing.No, that day was one & one hundred years ago, a month ago or so. Today is the day we celebrate a storekeeper’s official acquisition of the right to, I dunno, I guess get compensation from copycats? I’m patently no lawyer so can only wonder at the avarice level unleashed with that application as to how deep in dollars, and years yet to last, any ongoing remuneration.

I know of personal sloth afforded by bags & cans, but have personally seen the industrial diligence depicted in film segments on Sesame Street. How enchanting the wonder that brings beans to market! What I didn’t know — though I’d been familiar enough with the country store in Westerns or the drugstore in Mayberry, Hollywood — was that fetching one’s own Count Chocula abides a long proud tradition of outsourced labor… to the customer!

And what a way it was to have conceived it! You gotta envy the ingenuity. In all of our piggily wiggling, we’re in fact sweating schmucks as if we don’t need no stinking wages! They should be paying us to cart our shit to the stand! And for all these hundred years… I want revenge! Though I suppose in the world of legal predators, not forgoing the filling of one’s own wagon might add up to signing off on a deal to forgo a paycheck for the right to engage in activities listed in Patent Number US1242872 A.

Lawyer up, people! I wanna see this shit go down!

Just who’s doing the abiding here?

 

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Kito Lorenc • 4 March 1938 – 24 September 2017

A giant of a wordsmith has gone to earth. As with grain growing toward its sun — this essayist & playwright and erstwhile editor & dramaturg, foremost bi-lyrical poet & constructor of verbs, decoder & developer of expression — this complete creator of meaning has set down not a last episode, but a lasting one.Bestowed with the legacies of Heine & Hesse and Mann & Lessing, and Petrarca, Kito Lorenc must have been a perfecter of that which Ćišinski is reputed to’ve found in the lyricism of their West Slavic voice, not only digging up each definition by its roots but also spinning the pots in which to replant them.

He translated his own work and was astute enough in that art to be the first to unite his inherent & acquired German & Sorbian in verse. For, as he reckoned, one was good for visits to the public authorities and philosophical musings, the other for house and garden and the walnut tree in the yard.

REDE-WENDUNGEN
Ich steh auf Messers Schneide
knietief in der Kreide
als fünftes Rad am Wagen
und will ein Schnippchen schlagen.

Auf dem Zahnfleisch krieche
ich in Teufels Küche.
Der Teufel malt mich an die Wand
und legt mir Feuer in die Hand.

Ich sauf im Sitzen Tinte,
werf Korn in meine Flinte,
streu Puder auf mein Haupt und jag
die Katze aus dem Klammersack.

Und wie’s mich juckt, so kommen
die Felle angeschwommen
mit Zähnen auf den Haaren,
die noch voll Suppe waren.

Kaum hab ich einen blassen Dunst
der Tuten- und der Blasenkunst,
da beißt die Maus den Faden ab,
der ich den Marsch geblasen hab.

from Wortland by Kito Lorenc (Leipzig Reclam 1984)

 

Der Parkbank Pinkler: rückfünfundzwanzig

Was keiner zugibt, gesagt zu haben.

—so einer
.VXX
Massenpsychologie. Zeuge unheimlicher Lichter
am
Himmel. Zuschauer neuer Programme
im
Fernsehen.
Sie
wären nicht alle Verrückte.
Sie
dürfen ihre Staatsführung mithilfe deren Marketinggags aussuchen.
Da
hat
einer einen Bezug
zur
volkstümlichen Vernünftigkeit. Pop-begründet heißt
er
Sag
Dusmir. Meinte immer,
»Sie müssen mich nicht
Herr Dusmir nennen.

Können ruhig Sag sagen.«

Sucht
und
stimmt vermeintlich nach links. Vermeintlich, meine

ich,
da
er
ja
volkstümlich denkt,
und
wer
volkstümlich denkt,
ist
nun
gut
in
dem
zuletzt gelesenen Berichte versiert. Das funktioniert.Haaaaallo User!
Haaaaallo User!
Hallo User! Hallo User!
Hallo, O! Yoo S. Air! 

Dieser Andere meinte,
die
Gelben
sei
‘ne
Nuttenpartei.
Sie
versuchen
es,
mit
jedem
wo
sie
‘nen
Platz haben. Denkt aber nicht,
die
Grünen wollen grad
bei
der
Nuttenpartei Platz, haben schon
das
Können erwiesen,
mit
der
Jamaikaner
so
gut
wie
mit
der
Ampel
zu
verkehren.

Und
da
das
Rot
von
den
Ampeln, als erste Wahl wohl Freierpartei möchte, nimmt zwar zwei
(t)
stimmig schon in Kauf, Ersatzspielkleidung
mit
ins
Rennen zu nehmen, sich
da
als
größte Nuttenpartei verkauft
und
erwiesen hatte, versteht
sie,
daß
nicht alle eine Nuttenpartei sein dürfen.

Das gibt’s doch gar nicht. Jemand muss bezahlen.

Hä?
Ne!
Nö.
Wie
es
so
Volkstümlich auch bestimmt
ist,
vom
Volk
aus:
Geht wählen. Sieht schwarz. Blecht.

__

 

 

Of which I’m almost certain.

That a long time ago someone said they were almost certain about something, quite creatively coining a term of two words paired at odds that meant they felt a sense of certainty, and though they wouldn’t bet their life on it, they chose to exploit the sense and how close to sure it felt. It was no doubt in my mind — or nearly none, I can almost assure you — a brilliantly nuanced expression of precision destined to die an indistinct death. This pair so paired would through common use become tired enough eventually someone like me would wonder when it was someone decided certainty prevails in degrees. A unique circumstance? Barely.

 

Comments Off on Of which I’m almost certain. Posted in Poesie/Kritik

Dekalog

Wild Wendall, Foto von Mama/Chrominanz von davidly  – frühes 21. Jahrhundert
__

Unlike the de-building block proportional shock
Whose sweep was unknown to the mow’n not our own
And in contrast to the last deep breath twain’d calamities
Dissimilar in breadth and tone,

Not bespoken by Daddy, then of the country
From which Hell Sold Told promises to further unfold
Waves not in keeping with the covenant, new or old,
Or the numbers to be told and untold.

Aspect of memory’s fading frontier,
Slipping father afield into silent dawn,
Your return is as off as the monuments fear,
Yet you go on an’ on an’ on an’ on!

Here’s milestone’d – but I hope not statute barred -,
Benchmarked’s not destruction of love
Or billions spent towards millions still scarred,
But restitution of old, and confirmation thereof.

 

Crim’s Lead Hat Ink

Of crimson kings and talkin’ heads… I said as I read what had prompted Facebook Fripp to post:

From Adrian Belew’s FB page. A longer discussion is possible of this, and most likely not a happy one. The happier version is, both the excellent AB Power Trio and King Crimson are playing live, and both have interesting repertoires.
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