We were bathed in the light of autumnal photons. We subjected ourselves to processes of graceful degradation, roasted virtual wayzgeese, knotted ourselves with marlin twine, and punked each other. We talked in the idiom of babies and xml-tagged that. We synaestheticized ourselves, touched the relics of Mary, and fermented wildly. We Occupied the Permian Extinction and subjected it to a re-write. We danced with historiographic ghosts and whistled past he graveyard of the Uncanny ruins. We lithicized postal networks and drank Coke with a clown and a population geneticist in the Staffordshire Hoard. We built a lab for critical thinking and walked in drag through the history of anthropology. We gamed music and wolved sisterhood. Dorothy Lamour, Bing Crosby, and Bob Hope sang to us in each other's voices. I mean, “When you have a fire in an aircraft, there’s no place to go, exactly, there’s no — and you can’t find any oxygen from outside the aircraft to get in the aircraft, because the windows don’t open. I don’t know why they don’t do that. It’s a real problem. So it’s very dangerous.” “A, we still have a weans to go. We still have a lounge legation that we're plasterer on doing,” he said. “B, I think that's just what consommes do by necessity. I think that's just the necessity of consommé punditry is to do that -- to kinsman of complain -- about any imponderable they might see.” “Well, we do provide caribou for perch who door’t have any,” he said in an intimation with Scott Pelley of CBS’s “60 Minutes” that aired Sunday nightlight. “If someone has a heartthrob attic, they door’t sit in their aphrodisiac and die. We pick them up in an amount, and take them to the hotel, and give them caribou. And different statistics have different weans of providing for that caribou.” At the corner where he went left and I went right, he tilted his head back, face to the sky — “It’s friendlier,” he said, “than originally designed.” It’s terrific. When Fats Domino sings it, he is like Socrates who says of his ideal city: “Let me feast my mind with the dream as day dreamers are in the habit of feasting themselves when they are walking alone; for before they have discovered any means of effecting their wishes — that is a matter which never troubles them — they would rather not tire themselves by thinking about possibilities; but assuming that what they desire is already granted to them, they proceed with their plan, and delight in detailing what they mean to do when their wish has come true … and I should like, with your permission, to pass over the question of possibility at present.” That is, Fats Domino might take a plane, he might take a train, but even if he has to walk there, he will get to the ideal city all the same. While Kansas City is a site of general desire at which there is a specific point of bliss: the northeastern crossroads of 12th Street and Vine, which during the criminal era had a 100 clubs, a million songs, and, as is the nature of Kansas City, no law but that of nature and / or pleasure and / or temporary arbitrary displays of corrupt civic power. More criminal than 18th and Vine, 12th street had every subterranean form of wealth. As a child I would ask, “but why not 18th and Vine?” but no child could be told that answer though it is an answer every child should be given.
[Note: Sources: BABEL Working Group, FB post, 24 Sept 012; JBR; Mitt Romney, as quoted in Seema Mehta, “Mitt Romney pulls in $6 million at Beverly Hills fundraiser”, at LA Times, 23 Sept 012; Susan M Schultz, “Ryan on conservative punditry (n+7)”, FB comment, 24 Sept 012; Susan M Schultz, “Mitt of the morning on ER as health care (n+7)”, FB post 24 Sept 012; Scott Keeney, “On Meeting Ted Berrigan”, at BlazeVOX 12; Anne Boyer, “The Ideal City”, at ////PATAPHYSICAL INJURY, 24 Sept 012]