Saturday, July 16, 2005

    "The truth about chiggers

Since so many people I run into tell me terrible tales of chigger bites, I
thought I'd share the truth about chiggers.

Chiggers are the larvae of the harvest mite. They do not burrow into your
They pierce the skin and inject a fluid that liquifies your tissues. Then they
suck you up! They might do this several times before dropping off your
body. By
the time you feel the itch, the chigger is long gone.

The place that was liquified begins to go through necrosis, or death. Death is
itchy business, causing lots of histamine to be released.

<> <> <> What Not To Do <> <> <>

Never ever ever apply nail polish to a chigger bite. All that does is place
benzene, a component of most nail polishes, directly into your bloodstream.
Since benzene is a carcinogen, that's not a good idea. Nail polish, like most
chigger remedies, is a counter irritant. It simply takes your attention away
from the itch. Many are rough on the skin, causing the bite to linger.

<> <> <> What To Do <> <> <>

Anti-itch potions with antihistamines like Benadryl work best. But the most
definitive way to make the itch go away is to heal the skin from the necrosis.
Nuture your bites with calamine lotion (clay is soothing), aloe vera or skin
creams with healing substances like comfrey. Sulfur also makes chigger bites
feel better.

<> <> <> How to Prevent Chigger Bites <> <> <>

Chiggers hate sulfur. So before heading out into nature, dust yourself
thoroughly, very thoroughly, with sulfur powder. Focus on your feet,
lower legs
and waistband. Dusting sulfur is sold in most garden stores. The easy way to
apply it is to pour some in an old sock and whap yourself with it. But most
conventional and natural insect repellents will deter chiggers -- if they are
applied very thickly and reapplied often (unless is contains DEET, which
only be applied once every 8 hours).

Chiggers like thick weeds in shady areas with plenty of moisture. So
creekbottoms are chigger breeding factories. Avoid them or move through them

It takes a few hours for chiggers to get around to biting you. Take a
shower (if you can) right after a hike, or wipe yourself down thoroughly.
on areas where the skin is folded, like armpits and crotches, or where your
clothes bind firmly, like waistbands and around shoes. Sulfur soap is
best. Also
wash your clothes and brush off your shoes vigorously."

(via JR)


squiggly aquarium sumph · I again aggravatingly
cloud Lysol fashion squamous · ruck hangovary brook pillbug
gulag imam us cusp ambush · spurious ghostly

How "Poss*ss*d" starts, & "Humor*squ*" finds its finish. What to put in that gap? An art of joining good parts of old films.What continuity?


radint wars adorn I input · stony twinkling bard crook is
gallop idolatry loud · frosty oncoming fist wish ink
upcoming outgoing stag asp · atomic rotkohl

Nothing but cops and criminals, from now on out. --Bards choosing too.


pacific sandstorm scuttling · I afford circumlocutions
scrawny rsta gallium · insight adducing Osiris
straw torturing crystal impact · as scant pulpit stay

TV loud to drown out booms. And TVs blowing up.

"We have no idea what visual poetry will become, and we know exactly what it will become."

"..."In 50 years, this has never happened," said Bill Peterson, an oceanographer with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) in Newport, Ore. "If this continues, we will have a food chain that is basically impoverished from the very lowest levels." " (via M*tafilt*r)

Friday, July 15, 2005

"Forgive the savage texture of the spoil
Tinted so barbarously by the clay
The rusty iron and the ocean-spray
Which lifted up my body from the soil.
Forgive the complicated brittle coil
Of my infirm invention, which I lay
Where you may pause, and pass, and never stay.
Here are the shocks of maize, the honey and oil,

The fruits like harvest moons, the fabulous land,
The crystal hills, the veiled prismatic plain;
And you will come, and you will not remain,
Nor leave a trace along the gilded sand.
So presently you will be come and gone;
Here’s a strange road for you to walk upon."

--3linor Wyli*, Trivial Br*ath (1928)

"Flaarrrf. I'mmmm wanna read ... my flarrrfff ..."

A Family in Baghdad.

Thank Raygun. (via R*b*cca Blood)

Thursday, July 14, 2005

(via Imp*rialclub dot com)


radio paralysis · idiosyncratic bildar
Mothra spiral path crystal · sandstorm Alpha typical ash
nights asphault birdtalk Odic tic · poltroon asking cyst

"Bildar" is a wight who digs.


various sandcoil crumby · I botch tumultuous Asgard
is walking ingrown adlib · octopus coachman pillbug plight
according grisly fumbling amp · ubication myth

Back to nomadics with products that don’t stay in a singular box or location.


solitary polyps flow · I stamp back gray cyclic sparrow
loggias sly by spanking aspirin · of globular rock twitch night
is starry fallow impish spoor · oblivion's ramp

A song is a polyp.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

(via transoxiana dot org)

"Today the Guarani Indians have almost disappeared. ...There no longer exist any monuments or traces of their civilization. We know practically nothing of them. The only inheritance left to their heirs is their language, as sweet as it is expressive and musical. But it contains everything: civilization, history, wisdom, morality, a concept of the world, and the genius and soul of the race." --S*rgio Cu*vas, album prolog to Th* Harp of Paraguay

Monday, July 11, 2005



apricot spiral brick I · octopus coachman stony ask
opium nights crumbly rain · sly aboulia brick with scary
skald dilatory roost accrual · story songs opt

Mid brow was a rod holding our two front radials as a singular unit.


cubical hubris abuzz · I scaffold laugh cliff churchical
ruinous obloquy prolific · fight Tsathoggua far
abtar run ozostomia · azurn villainy

Out without my communicator: my car has a blowout.


troika grisly morons I · skirt labyrinth ogham around
bitmap ashtray alizarin · cyborg imago orb bright
fornication ongoing as · Sith usurp skunk mill

Furious rain, aslant. Follow a pair of crimson lights. My window drips.
    Abruptly it stops.


Sunday, July 10, 2005

  'I have a terrible fear of being an animal
of white snow, that supported father
and mother, with only its veiny circulation,
and that, this splendid day, solar and archepiscopal,
a day that thus represents the night,
this animal
lineally avoids being happy, breathing,
and transforming itself and having money.

  It would be a great pity
if I were a real man to that degree.
A folly, a most fruitful premise
to whose occasional yoke succumbs
the spiritual hinge of my waist.
A folly... Meanwhile,
it is like this, this side of God’s head,
in the tablet of Locke, of Bacon, in the livid neck
of the beast, in the snout of the soul.

  And, in aromatic logic,
I have this practical fear, this splendid
lunar day, of being that one, this one perhaps,
to whose nose the ground, the living folly
and the dead folly smell of death.

  Oh to roll about, to exist, to cough, to belt,
to belt the doctrine, one's temple, from shoulder to shoulder,
to move away, to cry, to give it for eight
or for seven or for six, for five or to give it
for life with its three powers.'

--3shl*man's Vall*jo

Slant. (via Po*try Scor*card)