Nacho Rating: Bean nachos (with pico and jalapenos added for $2.40 extra) at Dos Margaritas Bar and Grill, Gallatin, TN: 6 of 10. The chips a bit flagrant, and the Chihuahua cheese caking the windows of my tongue. But the pico, so constellation.
In other news, I received my copy of Alligator Juniper. How in the hell did Blake Butler gets his issue so fast? I’m going to look into this, after I find out how Oprah Winfrey gains and loses so much weight day to day.
The best things in the issue are Blake’s genre-bender lists (there are several more all over the net and worth the trod–In fact I will winner/winner-chicken-dinner explicate one of my favs in a later post); and also crackling-more-than-others in this issue are Michaela Carter and Elizabeth Volpe.
A quick Review of the Six Word Contest Winners:
1st Place: “Her birthmark disappeared, so I left” by Aaron Burch.
A worthy choice. Like flying into flowers, for a moment. The skin is the largest organ in the body, as Aaron’s narrator knows.
2nd Place: “They mistook the mayonnaise for friendship” by Alex Gang.
A Brautigan homage?? You know he always wanted to end a book with the word mayonnaise, and did. The art of allusion.
3rd Place: “Broke eyeglasses. Thought steam was wife” by Kiik Araki-Kawaguchi
A little kafka, a little Chaplin–throw in Larkin stumbling home drunk from another long day at the library desk. Reminded me of the afternoon in Florida I swam out to the exact spot the sky met the sea. I would have thumped this particular verbal melon and selected it first overall, but they simply never asked.
Played disc golf X 2 today. First, in the early morning hit Triple Creek Park in Gallatin, TN. What a sweat-fest. Like riding a velvet horse underwater. This course is Patagonia meets a later Mellencamp song where all the farms are gasping like beached fish. The front 9 I first adored, very tech, and made me want to phone Ander Monson, he of the snow and now cacti, of the voice clear, of the disc golf essay. Later I learned to hate, as my disc found tangle and vine, rattle and hum. The back 9 is rotting tractors, barbed wire Lutherans, vivid disasters of thunk. Litter, fell-over tee signs. Marsh. Get a tetanus shot before venturing onto this course, I plead u. I shot about +9.
Later this evening the wife and I played Shelby Farms in Memphis. Rolling dells, fingers of grass, air whistling, etc. A Vonderful day. I drank a Westvleteren 12 Belgium beer, and was happier for it. Shot +1. My wife shot + exponential beginner score.
THE LOUDEST SOUND I HEARD TODAY
A wailing siren down the street outside my parent’s suburban house. We call this juxtapostion. The heart beneath the chestplate of armor. The bruise behind the makeup. The appearance of the green lawn, glowing streetlights of calm, versus reality of an ambulance weaving a DNA of chaos. The ol’ goat and the Michelin tire.