Welcome to my page of things I like

It’s just a list of things I like

Pretty much all cetaceans are always at the top of the list so let me just set this right here to start

I like Bob Kaufman’s “Abomunist Manifesto”

"Abomunists do not look at pictures painted by presidents and unemployed prime ministers"

I like the painting “Nyack” by Richard Mayhew

In fact I think it’s my favorite painting ever. When I saw it at SFMOMA I started crying a bunch.

I like this poem by Matthew Yeager called “A JAR OF BALLOONS or THE UNCOOKED RICE”

It’s a poem made up of hundreds of questions and it’s amazing how many there are and how relevant and important each one feels.

I like the animated show *Over the Garden Wall*

Sometimes when I was watching it I would slip into half-asleepness and the show has such a strange specific feel to it that I think it entered my DNA somehow (what can you do about that).

I like this painting by John Lurie called “King of the Alligators surrounded by his very good stuff”

He posted it on Twitter so I’m not actually sure if that’s the name. I haven’t watched his show!

I like this essay by Melissa Febos called “Song of Songs” up at The Believer

I mean just, yeesh, it’s good.

I like animals that are real animals but if you tried to explain them to your friends when you were hanging out no one would believe you so you’d have to pull up some photos but that wouldn’t even do it

Saiga antelope, btw.

I like this essay by Jia Tolentino “Losing Religion and Finding Ecstasy in Houston”

I first caught it in her book *Trick Mirror* under the title “Ecstasy”. I hope you read it.

I like whatever this dynamic is between Tom and Greg from the show Succession

You can't make a Tomelette without breaking some Greggs

I like this old poem “The Thunder, Perfect Mind”

From Elaine Pagels @ PBS: “'Thunder Perfect Mind' is a marvelous, strange poem. It speaks in the voice of a feminine divine power, but one that unites all opposites. One that is not only speaking in women, but also in all people. One that speaks not only in citizens, but aliens, it says, in the poor and in the rich. It's a poem which sees the radiance of the divine in all aspects of human life, from the sordidness of the slums of Cairo or Alexandria, as they would have been, to the people of great wealth, from men to women to slaves. In that poem, the divine appears in every, and the most unexpected, forms....”

I like “Whale Tongue” by Lara Mimosa Montes

“Crossing my path is a new spiky element. It says to me *no me toques*. Midnight approaches. What do you feel capable of giving to another person? We have a capacity to sense what is in us, around us, and ultra-violet. Was there a past and did I exist in it? Someone knows your name and to hear you speak it is to hide inside time, the glow of childhood, like dawn, breaking.”

I like “The Great Silence” by Ted Chiang

From the perspective of parrots, got 2 love it.

I like *A Feeling Called Heaven* by Joey Yearous-Algozin

“A guided meditation on human extinction that imagines a post-apocalyptic Earth thriving without us.”

I like “and” by Jos Charles

It’s in an online journal called *Midst* where you can watch the poets write in real-time. Jos does a lot of interesting things with it.

I like Georges Rochegrosse’s “Le Chevalier aux Fleurs”

I first saw it in person at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris and blushed a lot. I think it was the reflection on the knight’s armor that made me feel like my head was gonging.

I like these three poems by Elizabeth Kolenda: “Mooncusser,” “Infinite Disposal,” and “Moss Mill”

Up at *mercury firs* !

I like “The Mushroom Queen” by Liz Ziemska

You ‘n me and sentient fungi!!
“She had longed to join the fast race, but now instead she’s joined the eternal race: fungus will survive the destruction of the environment, the melting of the polar ice caps, the rising of the waters. Fungus will survive every apocalypse until the Earth falls into the sun, and maybe even after. She’s gotten what she wanted. Well, almost.”

I like the painting “Falling Leaves” by Olga Wisinger-Florian

Wish I could get in there.

I like, like really really like, Jack Vening’s ongoing series “Small Town Grievances”

“Short, monthly correspondence detailing the arcane miseries of a nameless town (covering: mayor’s misuse of town internet, the marching band’s blood feuds, sightings of the town wolf, and so on).”

I like vampire squids

Cephalopodic seraphim and their slightly cetaceous best friends.

I like Tongo Eisen-Martin’s album of two long poems *I Go to the Railroad Tracks and Follow Them to the Station of My Enemies*

First track: “I Go to the Railroad Tracks and Follow Them to the Station of My Enemies”
Second track: “I See Why Everyone out Here Got in the Big Cosmic Basket”

I like ore docks

Growing up in the post-industrial upper midwest there are all these ruins that are half in-use/completely destroyed or rusted out. You can walk by them and touch them. Really adds to the sense that you’re living in a landscape where a great alien civilization once was before some cataclysm. Adds to the sense that everything is always happening elsewhere.

I like Jean Giruad’s (Moebius) illustrations

Important scifi and fantasy illustrator—-wish I had caught it sooner.

I like, very much, Harryette Mullen’s poetry

A tiny snippet from “Sleeping with the Dictionary”: “I beg to dicker with my silver-tongued companion, whose lips are ready to read my shining gloss. A versatile partner, conversant and well-versed in the verbal art, the dictionary is not averse to the solitary habits of the curiously wide-awake reader. In the dark night’s insomnia, the book is a stimulating sedative, awakening my tired imagination to the hypnagogic trance of language.”

I like Chessy Normile’s poems whenever I come across them in the wild

Haven’t read *Great Exodus, Great Wall, Great Party* yet! Great title—haha. From “And Send a Bird”: “I ignore omens all the time.” :/

I like this story by Sofia Samatar called “Ogres of East Africa”

Not quite sure how to tease it but here is a snippet: “My informant, a woman of the highlands who calls herself only “Mary,” adds that Apul Apul can be heard on windy nights, crying for his lost progeny. She claims that he has been sighted far from his native country, even on the coast, and that an Arab trader once shot and wounded him from the battlements of Fort Jesus. It happened in a famine year, the “Year of Fever.” A great deal of research would be required in order to match this year, when, according to Mary, the cattle perished in droves, to one of the Years of Our Lord by which my employer reckons the passage of time; I append this note, therefore, in fine print, and in the margins.”