I don’t know why you come here, do you? You still use the same RSS reader since 2002, you are my father and I set Litwack.org as your Safari homepage…this is a one-horse ghost town and I have finally driven everything down into crickets and emptiness.
Doesn’t it feel like we’ve all lost something already? I would like to think about the jubilee, the reconstruction, the new society, but first is the operation and some eat it just because the anesthesiologist had a long night. Uncle Heinz did high school in a concentration camp in Trinidad, but his own uncle waited one more day to pick up his chlorinated dry cleaning and got taken. Uncle Heinz is dying right this instant of SARS-CoV-2. He would have soon been 100.
We all should have been asteroseismologists or at least born as Pythagoreans tuned for universal music. I am staying in, enrobed in streams, and I hope to see all of you and talk to you in that jubilee.
My good friend Eric Meltzer is Kickstarting a go bag – I just pledged, and if you don’t have a pack you can grab in an emergency, you should too. I’ve seen a lot of these things, and what sets this one apart is the experts who consulted on its design and inventory. Check it out!
I’ve had Zoey, my dog, for eight months now. She lived on the street, was impregnated, probably fought, was in a shelter, is terrified of other dogs. Now, with time, she’s reinheriting herself.
She’s a mutt, pretty and small, with terrier DNA and Doberman markings. She has people eyes. Sometimes I ask her about her Prarabdha karma. I hold her little head in my hands and say “what did you do?”
Today she killed a rat. She was so happy and proud that she danced, jumping in tight circles like a circus dog. Terriers are bred to rat-catch, and in their jaws the prey is whipped back and forth until its neck breaks. Despite her tramp background Zoey has the soft mouth of an aristocrat, and the corpse was undamaged. I picked it up off the brick by the hedge at the back of the pool with an inside-out trash bag. Metallic green flies worried its eyes and mouth but there was no blood, only the feel of raw slumped meat. I wound the plastic over it and went through the side to throw it in the outside garbage.
Zoey came back to me, panting. I squatted down and she put her forelegs on my knee and I stroked and stroked her. She turned her head to the side, resting it on me, and took a deep breath in followed by a sharp exhale. A sigh of pleasure.
Litwack.org is back. The theme is a modification of Form/Function by Paul Jarvis, and I’m not done fucking with it yet. Comments will be enabled soon are enabled. The old posts have retired to Archive.org.
Anyway, welcome.