( via/ me )

Wake the Dead.

"the wine of superiority"

cold winds · cruise the paved lot
social security · assigned in Hawk Tuah coin

the hottest year hurtles · to a rude reckoning

Scherzo.

"There is an even stranger synchronicity lurking in [Jack] Spicer’s California mysterium. In 1948, back in Berkeley, he and [Robert] Duncan roomed briefly with a peculiar young man named Philip K. Dick, who once supplied an LP-recording device for their parlor games of poetic performance. As Killian and Lewis Ellingham point out in their definitive Spicer biography, Poet Be Like God, the books of Dick and of Spicer later became mirror images of each other, in theme as well as in imagery—grasshoppers, Martians, radios, salesmen, cities. Like Dick, Spicer was an impoverished and alienated artist for whom writing was, as Darko Suvin famously described the genre of science fiction, a motor of 'cognitive estrangement.' Both are cult artists who wrote, it can seem, as much for our time as for theirs." --Erik Davis via

"Writing a single email with ChatGPT can use as much energy as driving a two-ton electric vehicle half a mile."