Posts tagged “blood and soap”
May 6, 2010
1967—In “The Graduate,” Mr. McGuire advised Ben, “I just want to say one word to you—just one word.”
“Are you listening?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Exactly how do you mean?”
“There’s a great future in plastics. Think about it. Will you think about it?”
“Yes, I will.”
Plastic is oil, hardened. By 2010, there would be plastic patches the size of Texas to choke both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans.
Thanks to the chemical phthalate in plastic, male genitals are shrinking worldwide, and sperm counts are way down, though not low enough, unfortunately, to slow down this full-throttle-ahead “love” boat. World population is approaching seven billion, with about 30,000 people starving to death each day. — from Linh Dinh’s fantastic “The Oil Ride” at Counterpunch
February 18, 2010
The word recession, meaning a temporary dip in economic activity, was coined in 1929 during the start of the Great Depression, so even then, we were kidding ourselves. Now, after months of babbling on about “green shoots,” the main stream media, always fluffy and clueless when not outright dishonest, are starting to use “Great Recession,” but that’s still sugarcoating it. Why not the Great Recess, as in a fun pause in labor when we can all run out and play, or, better yet, let’s give a nod to Saddam Hussein and label it, properly, as the Mother of all Depressions. —From Linh Dinh’s “Casino Time”
February 5, 2010
Bookslut has just reprinted three poems from Some Kind of Cheese Orgy, the most recent poetry collection from Linh Dinh, author of Blood and Soap, Fake House, and the forthcoming Love Like Hate. Check them out here.
I Owe You These Lines
Welcome, friend, I give you
My very best friend, to eat.
I did not kill my best friend, friend,
Although I did rejoice at his death,
As I would rejoice at your death,
As you would, no doubt, fall over
Laughing at news of my demise.
With the sharpest or dullest knife,
Whatever’s handy, I’ll point the tip
Of my blade at your jugular vein,
Observe your jiggling jaw, ask
About your questionable taste
In wine, painting and poetry.
Fall is my favorite season, I somberly reflect,
As your blood pools in the sharp morning air,
As I incise a clean cross on your funny belly,
As I gut you, glancing over my thin shoulders. —Linh Dinh
June 2, 2009
Before American steel mills went silent, Lowry Graham’s dad labored in one for four decades. A high school graduate, he was more educated than most of his co-workers. He liked his job, became a foreman and was proud of it.
It was a dirty, backbreaking and sometimes lethal occupation. At the start of World War II, steel workers had to go on strike to demand, among other concessions, a ten-minute lunch break and a room to shower and change at the end of the day.
Lowry went to college and became a nurse, but his goal was to have more control over his life than his father did. To gain time, he was willing to make less money. “I wanted to be able to do laundry in the afternoon if I felt like it,” he told me. In the 80′s, Lowry bought cheap properties just beyond Center City, on a block considered iffy, if not suicidal. Neighbors tagged him the “pizza man,” as in, “Pizza man, can you give me some money for a slice?”
March 19, 2009
If you’re unfamiliar with the work of Linh Dinh—a man whose writing has been compared with work by Borges, Calvino, and Edgar Allan Poe, author of the upcoming Love Like Hate and a man whose Blood and Soap was chosen by the Village Voice as one of the best books of 2004—then you’ve been provided with a perfect opportunity to become familiar with the mind of Linh Dinh in a series of three short pieces at poetryfoundation.org.