Signifying nothing

Merry Xmas!

IAIN BAXTER&: TV Works Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner At the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago.

You have another year of Signifying nothing to look forward to. Cheery chimbah. Cheery chimbah.

Apparently I was traveling then, and concerned about web design. Go figure. ¡Feliz diez! Funny thing is, I'm still rabies: Which Horrible Affliction are you? A Rum and Monkey disease.

Gulls a video by Clint Gardner on Flickr.

Dear customer, You are being sent this message because you are a contact for the domain signifyingnothing.com. This domain will expire at the Registry in 30 days, on 2011-12-10 18:13. If you would like to keep this domain, you must renew it before this date. The domain will be renewable at the normal price until 2012-01-09 08:13 If, on however, you do not want to keep it, there is nothing more that you need to do. If you do nothing, then signifyingnothing.com will go back on the open market on or around 2012-02-13 18:13 (the exact date may very slightly depending on the registry and the time zone differences). Thank you for choosing Gandi! Best Regards, 10th anniversary, yo!

Signifying nothing reader Eric Anderson has pointed out that the new "dynamic views" that our esteemed blog was experimenting with for a few weeks was not readable on his electronic communications device. So fuck that fancy-pants shit.  We're back to basics. Here is a picture of a cat: So much for that.

iPad note poem number 9: Arab spring The city turned cold Unexpectedly Men and women have found Their lost coats Hiding from the wind In spidered closets "God damn, it is cold," They say stamping booted feet And clapping mittened hands "Think it will snow?" There is no appropriate Response so they ask Again, breath wafting From their mouth like the Demon seed of hope Floating higher and higher Above the city where Finally, it crystallizes And falls too gently On the oil slick Streets Sent from my iPad

Narwhal.

How's this for messing with you?

There is no dream In the disease of sleep Meatloaf please Here you go There is no sleep In the disease of dreams I'm sorry, I was only kidding Are you visiting someone? You're a patient? You don't look like a patient. I don't? Did you choose this place? Why? Where else is there? And somehow we wake up Each day, a simple mantra Of self-loathing on our lips Give me a Rob Roy On the rocks. My mother doesn't think So. I receive medication For what Stored up like your Father That's what I hear That's what I didn't want to do I didn't want to tell you I didn't want to tell you You know you made me love You. It was nice talking to you Too. Take me away from this Place. How's it going? How's it going? My son has disappeared. That's how I feel. Hi. That's really nice. He'd die without me. Hello. Hello.  I need to talk to You. Hello. Are you all right? Yeah. The s...

IPad Note Poem no 8: the psoriatic It starts on the calves The skin reddens Swells and itches It is only later that The scales come If they come at all And then the shame Follows Of course, it is known That it is not one's Fault. No pecuniary Damage can be assessed But tell that to the In-born savage who Sees patterns in the Cracking skin: the Mark of the Devil The hooves of the beast Kicked hard into the Shins So one applies ancient Balm that smells of Pitch and sulfur, Muttering two word Prayers to a god Too angry to remove The curse Oh God Oh God Oh God And one believes And one repeats And one remains The itching of the Skin subsides An abiding God Resides Recalling the cold Past where we Swam deep in Tropical waters And our skins Were hardened For a purpose Not beyond Reckoning Where the only God was to swim On to the next day With no feeling In our flinty Hides Our past Hides beneath Supple skin, waiting For the winter Morning when it Will break forth To protect us From some...

iPad Note Poem Number 5: the good things The good thing about having children Is that they understand the necessity to move On, immediately Move on Move along Move on keep on moving on You, once again, know how it is You always did, now, didn't you? You and your fancy college degrees. Bet you didn't think this one was going this way, Did you Fancy that Sent from my iPad

iPad note poem 6: blinders The riders on the bus were not aware of the explosion They road along in bumping silence, kept company only By their thoughts, their fears, the hunger, or by podcasts They hurtled forward towards an interstate they would Never merge with, eyeing the stop cord suspiciously As their stops approached. Down through the valley Wending toward a quiet doom that they just avoided. Five minutes earlier and they would have all been burned Alive in a gas tanker explosion that God had planned to Destroy them. Of course no one would say that aloud But as they crept closer to the site of their fate, the Thought flitted across their faces as they leaned into Their windows to get a better view of e roiling black Smoke. Sent from my iPad

iPad note poem no. 4: high desert The wind started in the morning rattling Windows to wake the family from sleep. It was going to be a bad one, they knew So they talked about it over coffee and melted Cheese It was just fifty years before that her father First scratched out life from the alkali clay Baked hard by the high mountain sun But she remembered his stories of sheets of Roiling dust, choking even the tall grass with White So they worried over their coffee and cheese About the coming of the storm, the choking Wind, the failing of the spirits, the strength of Fathers She watched the west all day, intermittently, From her kitchen window while she went about Keeping her father's house, now hers, waiting For the family to return, and for the coming of The storm Sent from my iPad