Something about the late night.
And a war movie.
Makes me tired of fighting.
The ongoing war.
Identify: friend or foe?
The Italian partisans were fighting against their own fascist government.
They were fighting against the Nazis.
This will be a little late in coming, but an idea can have a soft opening.
Applied Memetics.
Memetic engineering.
We bombed Sicily.
Clear the beaches.
A daughter-in-law (it is implied) was killed by our bombs.
Boom boom.
And now she cannot even have her wake in peace.
She was an egg for a larger omelet. That should be remembered both ways.
Disgusting. And no other way around it.
Warfare in 1943.
Is it a road?
No, it’s lava.
So many misunderstandings in war.
I’m an American.
Me.
The author.
It is the country of my birth.
And I love my country.
The partisans were fighting the fascists.
The fascists were the outgoing government.
More clearly, I defend the pillars.
Free speech.
Push the limits.
USE your free speech.
Get the word out.
Be wrong.
Apologize.
Try to get it right.
Study science.
Drunk in Naples.
Thinking of DeFord Bailey.
Born same day as me.
Harmonica Frank.
Ain’t talkin’. Just walkin’.
You gonna have to eat those boots if you lose them.
Which is a contradiction.
Maria Michi was such a bitch in Roma, città aperta.
You remember?
We she comes face to face with torture???
And so the OSS fought with the partisans.
Training in explosives. And survival. Every possible scenario.
Basics. Navigation of small boats.
Because poetry is always dangerous.
You might analyze an entire Yankees season in two minutes, but I am large vast, I contain mul,ti,tudes,,,
Improved upon by the collective unconscious.
What?
Well, Maria Michi redeems herself here.
Still a whore.
But a heart of gold.
Straight from central casting (as Webster Tarpley might say).
I believe it was The Thrills.
Love in vain?
Two lights…diverged in a forest…AC/DC
I alternate between direct and oblique.
That was Rome.
Most notable for war is Florence.
The Rucellai gardens…ah.
I haven’t heard that name in a long time—
Wan excrement.
Nick Tosches.
We take up Machiavelli to study war.
Because there is something worth defending.
As faded as it is.
Over five-hundred years ago…they were already lamenting.
It’s nothing new.
What Sean Elliott correctly calls curmudgeon talk.
Will Harriet Medin taste youth one more time?
Because the great painter-warrior seems to be in danger.
Across the Arno.
Putting the Po in poverty.
Lou Reed became Transformer.
The Wolf. Lupo.
Call me Winston.
That Rosser Reeves should have died in 1984.
Better living through chemistry.
Thank God for mental illness.
Tonight I’m gonna rock you tonight.
Second request.
Uffizi with crated antiquity.
A more high-dollar GoldenEye.
Impenetrable.
We always rebel against our kind.
Youth.
The imperfect circle of mimesis morphed.
And meme.
Daddy-O.
Like watercolors one bleedingintotheother.
Which we would have called word painting for J.S. In a cantata. Or oratorio.
Wasn’t a “years of lead” scale attack. Uffizi. 1993.
But we seem to trace the progression of honorable men (OSS) to bizarre hydra (CIA).
Short sword for thrusting.
To each, his own.
The British (like the Catholics) are portrayed as spoiled twats.
[The Catholics (director Rossellini being Italian) are portrayed lovingly as myopic outliers]
Shakespeare would have been appalled by Shakespeare in Love.
And right before the “Fine” a noyade.
Viz. know your history.
I am guilty as hell.
Of being an idiot.
But I have a lust for life beneath this quiet desperation.
-PD
paulydeathwish 