song of the day: Lambchop - Never My Love
listening this morning: Norman Connor’s Dance of Magic
the drumming on this is so inspired. deep cuts all around. what i wouldn’t give to have seen this group in ‘72-73…
Personage (Robert Motherwell, 1943, Gouache, ink, and paper collage on paperboard)
reading this morning: The Herball or Generall Historie of Plantes (John Gerarde, 1597). delightful botanical esoterica. my man John dropping some rare knowledge about phallic cucumbers and dung.
Cucumbers, Muskemelons, Citruls, Pompions, Gourdes!!
In the presto of the morning, Crispin trod,
Each day, still curious, but in a round
Less prickly and much more condign than that
He once thought necessary. Like Candide,
Yeoman and grub, but with a fig in sight,
And cream for the fig and silver for the cream,
A blonde to tip the silver and to taste
The rapey gouts. Good star, how that to be
Annealed them in their cabin ribaldries!
Yet the quotidian saps philosophers
And men like Crispin like them in intent,
If not in will, to track the knaves of thought.
But the quotidian composed as his,
Of breakfast ribands, fruits laid in their leaves,
The tomtit and the cassia and the rose,
Although the rose was not the noble thorn
Of crinoline spread, but of a pining sweet,
Composed of evenings like cracked shutters flung
Upon the rumpling bottomness, and nights
In which those frail custodians watched,
Indifferent to the tepid summer cold,
While he poured out upon the lips of her
That lay beside him, the quotidian
Like this, saps like the sun, true fortuner.
For all it takes it gives a humped return
Exchequering from piebald fiscs unkeyed.
-Wallace Stevens, from “The Comedian As The Letter C“
Richness of the inner life of the genius:
(1) Manic-oceanic states
(2) Hatred of children
(3) Piano playing
(4) Subincised genitals
(5) Subscription to Harper’s Bazaar
(6) Stamp collection
-from “The Genius” by Donald Barthleme
treasure cave of poetry books at this location