The Scavengers










The Scavengers

Scavenger cats
claw trash bags,
gnaw discarded
chicken bones.
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Weekend Reads

What are you reading over the weekend?

Anthony T.: Man’s Search for Himself (1953) by Rollo May

Rollo May is one of the fathers of existential psychology, which takes a different view of psychotherapy in that meaning is what is central to human existence. May discusses of the problems of modern man– anxiety, loneliness and the death of God– in an academic but very readable work. If you enjoy Nietzche,  Kierkegaard or Rilke, you’ll dig this book.
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Karl: A Portrait

Karl is a thin man in a faded black t-shirt. He wears thick glasses that stretches his face past the skin above and below the frame. He wears wrinkles and a jack-o’-lantern smile.

We think he wants a cigarette, but he wants money for a drink. We ask for a joke in return, but he doesn’t have any good ones. Sorry, he says, I got a bit of a st-stutter. We shrug and give him loose singles because hey, we respect the need for beer money.
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Dog Shows and the Illusion of Order

I spent two nights last week watching the Westminster Dog Show with several other contributors to this blog. There were a few conversations about how immoral and sometimes cruel dog-breeding can be and about all the other ways in which this spectacle might be offensive: You have to be a certain kind of rich to even partake. And it’s a kind of objectification that most of its viewers would find objectionable in any other context. The most analogous “sport” or contest I can think of has to be the child beauty pageant. But I won’t go into that or into the ethics of the breeding.

What I really want to write about is how this contest purports to sort and rank among the thousands of dogs that are escorted around that stage every year.

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Brooklyn Dodgers, 1955 World Series Parade

In honor of the opening of Spring Training:

Since the guy in picture doesn’t need to be identified, I’ll explain how I came into these photos.

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A love poem by Frank O’Hara

In honor of Saint Valentine. Only a few hours late.

Having a Coke with You

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt Read the rest of this entry »

The silliness and sublimity of baseball

In 1986 a 21-year-old Cuban-American became the starting right fielder for the Oakland A’s.  Tall, brawny and with the ability to hit towering home runs that seemed as if they would touch the billowy clouds above the Oakland Coliseum, he became an overnight sensation. Finishing the season with 33 home runs and 117 runs batted in, he was voted the rookie of the year.

I mention Jose Canseco now because he is my first memory of baseball. It started an obsession (that word might actually understate my feelings), which has continued to this day. Read the rest of this entry »