It's appropriate that Trevor posted that Brick Testament link, since school has been raining assignments on me like a biblical plague. That is my new excuse for not posting much. I intend to make up for it by shelling out my own clams for a digital camera. Soon we'll be throwing so many pictures up here we'll have to learn to juggle. In the meantime I've written a poem, as I do sometimes. When I wrote it I was thinking about an article I read about postmodernism. The article gave a poem as an example of postmodern writing, and I was in some ways trying to imitate that poem when I wrote this.

(Quick aside first, on the subject of postmodernism. Trevor and I (mostly Trevor) like to slag on it sometimes because, as a philosophy, it seems to be almost nihilistic in its denial of objective truth. That's fine, but the article I mentioned above was called "Postmodernism: the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism." If you understand postmodernism as a natural result of our stage of capitalism, then the real problem isn't the "ism" but the economic system it is a part of. I'm no socialist, but there has to be a better way to do things.)

(Another aside before the poem: Trevor got us iTunes and I think it kicks Winamp's ass six ways from Sunday.)

Now the poem:

Daddy

I went on down to Texas
and shot myself some guns.
I did so many push-ups
I grew hair on my lungs.

My dog his name is Giant
My car is painted black
My baby made me bacon
Her baby's name is Jack

Johnny Cash fucks Superman up the ass
Kennedy hunted snakes in Vietnam
Johnny Cash fucks Superman up the ass

My shoes are shined with gravy
My ass is tanned with pain
Your daddy was an outlaw
My daddy killed John Wayne


I'm unhappy with parts of it, but I think the essence is there.

Right now I'm listening to Anarchy in the UK sung by a Spanish punk band. What are you up to?

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