After Bathing At Blake's

 glide! - I mean those hazy summers

 day,an angel stole

 A Revolutionary Field Trip, I Bears

 to processing. the outer skins while



 A Thousand - Eagles roamed Chicago

 angel slipped out of heaven and came down

 of - Indian children of long ago

 slipped out of heaven and came down



 As I hear the sweet lark sing up to my own

 same field, he said. "I want to play

 quite sweet (rye grass barley grass grown

 - Presidio Spring migration may



 "How Sweet"; The Real Woodstock

 where crickets and - Hardhack


Compiled by Google Poem

The Suburban City

I've been meaning to write about this for a couple of weeks now, ever since I saw it mentioned here.

I often complain that the city has become the suburbs. I am sure this is true. Things we ran away from are all here now: strip malls and what they contain, how they model themselves, and how they revamp themselves to become current.

 It's the first sentence that's important, in that I recognise the suburbs in gentrified, enclosed 'prestige' developments. It's the only part of the post that addresses the topic, just a little fragment of thought, mentioned once and put aside. I wanted to pick up on it and say something about the wya urban character changes when cities become suburbanised. I would like to identify a city that is wholly suburban - where there's no point in walking anywhere because it's just not nice; where there are no corner shops, where people go to commercial outposts set in vast swathes of asphalt, where the riff-raff have no means of access and where the heterogeneous encounters with difference are confined to some neglected corners of industry, transport or municipal sites. I want to think about the ways big cities are becoming like this.



 I've been wanting to write somethimg substantive, something interesting, but have been compelled to keep my attention elsewhere. I haven't had time to think about this, not taken the time to write about it. So this is just a little note, a marker of sorts. A yellow Post-It on the web-fridge. There's no time for anything more, maybe not for a couple of weeks.

Supergirl

Thinking of the things I want for this blog, I am reminded of the Fugs tune. Tunes are funny that way. For some people tunes define a moment, a relationship, even an era. I guess the Fugs defined my era. Except I am the only person I know from that era. But that's not what I'm here to talk about. Instead, I wanted to mention the importance of doing things the wrong way. It is important, in retrospect, that I know this tune, and several others. It is funny that my first sweetheart and I shared an interest in musically inspired recklessness. She liked the Holy Modal Rounders and the Youngbloods. I liked the Fugs and all sorts of crazy shit. What's even funnier is that the inspired mayhem was very much a product of particular individuals. Characters. That inspiration was necessary, as an antidote to the certainties of youthful existence. More importantly, I can sing that tune to myself and know that I've been singing it to myself since I was a kid.