This Week's Writing 3/16/22

The Oscars, daylight saving time, and other horrors

A couple of companionable kitties for your Saturday. Here’s what I published this week.

If you read one thing by me this week, read:

Le Guin’s Always Coming Home, and the anti-narrative of utopia. (EIH)

Politics

The GOP doesn’t really want you to remember four years ago. (Public Notice)

Robert Hur testifies in Congress, befouls himself. (EIH)

Cultural Criticism

Love Lies Bleeding is a reminder that the biggest threat to queer kids is often their parents. (CNN.com)

Lily Gladstone didn’t get the Oscar in part because Scorsese failed her. (CNN.com)

Director of film about war crimes won’t bother to talk about war crimes at the Oscars. (EIH)

“Damsel” and the anti-Cinderella genre. (Splice Today)

One Life is (at least) one Holocaust savior film too many. (Chicago Reader)

In the extreme sports film Arthur the King, the dog steals the show. And that’s okay. (Chicago Reader)

The 3-Body Problem series is better than the book, but not by enough. (Chicago Reader)

Paper Wings’ new album polishes up the country folk nicely. (No Depression)

Poetry

A bunch of poems in the latest issue, including the one below. (D.O.R.)

Time Will Fuck You Blues

Time won’t slow down, time doesn’t stop.
Time, never slows down, it never fucking stops.
All that not turning back will spin you like a fucking top.

I get up today like I got up before.
I get up today just like I got up before.
Every night I lie down like closing another fucking door.

Winter comes every year, and I don’t know what’s next.
Winter comes most years, and I never know what’s next.
Just winter then winter, and another fucking winter on deck.

Make a fucking will, lie down and fucking die.
Make a fucking testament, sprawl out and fucking die.
Nothing you own is yours, so say good fucking bye.

A poem about breakfast and failure and monoliths. (Synchronized Chaos)

A poem about the evils of daylight saving times. (Five Fleas)

spring forward
fall back
ouch