Posts Tagged ‘Ray Harvey’

  • Some Good News About Covid-19

    April 5th, 2020 | Coronavirus | journalpulp | 6 Comments

    As the state of affairs becomes increasingly polarized in America — degenerating with clockwork predictability into partisan polemics of the most concrete-bound sort (with, however, this bizarre twist, which, if you think about it, follows a certain contorted logic: the left now angry at Donald Trump for not being fascist enough in his refusal, so […]

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  • Justus Quidem Tu Es, Domine, Si Disputem Tecum, Verumtamen Justa Loquar Ad Te

    March 20th, 2020 | Poetry | journalpulp | 1 Comment

    Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si disputem tecum; verumtamen justa loquar ad te: Quare via impiorum prosperatur? Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just. Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must Disappointment all I endeavour end? Wert thou my enemy, O thou my […]

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  • A Fruit Cool and Sweet Yet Forbidden

    March 4th, 2020 | Books | journalpulp | No Comments

    She drove the southwest alone. With the help of her father and his translations — translations of Silverthorne’s Greek and Latin into English — Justine searched for days that turned into weeks. The western sunlight glanced heliotropically off her car, helmut-headed insects splattering against the windshield-glass like paintballs. Over and across the ghost-towns and all the […]

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  • Sacred Shadows Breathing With Latent Light

    February 12th, 2020 | Literature | journalpulp | No Comments

    He was going out by way of a narrow system attended by whispering voices that seemed to him sourceless, a static hiss growing louder, and angular shapes on the periphery of his vision which broke apart and rejoined in giant jigsaw pieces. These puzzle pieces snapped and clicked about him. Down this gun-barrel corridor that […]

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  • She Came Through The Mist & The Rain

    January 28th, 2020 | Poetry | journalpulp | 2 Comments

    Here’s a short video of my transcribing an obscure but beautiful passage written by a little-know writer named Arthur Symons (1865–1945), in a poem called “Rain On The Down.” NIGHT, and the down by the sea, And the veil of rain on the down; And she came through the mist and the rain to me […]

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  • Basketball Jones

    January 9th, 2020 | Basketball | journalpulp | 13 Comments

    I need someone to set a pick for me at the free-throw line of life.

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  • All The Sand In All The Sea

    January 7th, 2020 | Bartending | journalpulp | 17 Comments

    I recently discovered this song — on an obscure FM radio-station — and I fell in love with it. So I decided to make a bartending video to go along with it.

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  • The Path of the Just is as a Shining Light which Shines More and More Unto the Perfect Day

    September 22nd, 2018 | More and More unto the Perfect Day | journalpulp | 6 Comments

    This is a repost from some time ago — the most articulate and thoughtful and heartfelt review of this book that I ever received, from a wonderful person I’ve never met and with whom I barely communicated, and that was a long time ago: I finished reading Ray Harvey’s More and More unto the Perfect […]

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  • Angry Dirty Water: The Uncompahgre River

    May 23rd, 2018 | Reservation Trash | journalpulp | No Comments

    Along the western edge of Ouray, Colorado, and sourced some 12,000 feet above at a lake called Lake Como, there flows a greenish-yellowish-reddish river named the Uncompahgre River. The word is pronounced un-COME-pah-GRAY. It’s a Ute Indian word that means “dirty water” or “angry water” or “red lake,” because mountain minerals color the water, as […]

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  • Pockets of Pure Utopia in These United States

    May 13th, 2018 | Reservation Trash | journalpulp | No Comments

    Did you know that in present-day America, there exist many, many isolated pockets of Utopia? These are places wherein healthcare is 100 percent free. Where housing is fully provided by money that pours freely in. And food as well is provided. In these Utopias, everyone has access to education, and education, too, is 100 percent […]

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  • We are the 99 Percent

    May 2nd, 2018 | Reservation Trash | journalpulp | 2 Comments

    You’re part of the ninety-nine percent, you say. What of that? Your status isn’t fixed, and you are not stuck there. You’re free to work your way along the spectrum — as, indeed, most people do. You’re free to run clear up to the top percent — as, indeed, many people do. Your motivation and […]

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  • Sacred House of the Human Spirit & the Meaning of Life

    April 24th, 2018 | Reservation Trash | journalpulp | No Comments

    She drove him six hours into a small mining town in eastern Nevada, near the Utah border. During the drive he told her what had happened. She listened intently but did not speak. A green-colored half moon hung low in the sky, the horizon beneath it a band of xanthic light which glowed like something […]

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  • Indian Privilege and the American Dream

    April 23rd, 2018 | Reservation Trash | journalpulp | No Comments

    The American Dream is a dream of aspiration. It is a story of striving. But it is more: It is a dream of breaking away from the pack. The American Dream is the freedom of each person, regardless of race, sex, sexual orientation, color, class or creed, free to pursue her or his own life […]

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  • “You Disparage Wealth Who Have Never Known Poverty”

    April 21st, 2018 | Reservation Trash | journalpulp | No Comments

    You disparage wealth who have never known poverty. You disparage cleanliness and health from a tower of health and cleanliness. Let me tell you something: Poverty which is neither sin nor vice is also neither noble nor good. Poverty is hardship. Poverty is sickness. Poverty is misery. Poverty is death. The words well, weal, and […]

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  • Autumn

    September 9th, 2017 | Poetry | journalpulp | No Comments

    Summer dies. The long days wane away. The heat in the sky melts like lead to liquid pools. The hills beyond are baked as white as clay. Now creep in the gentle autumn ghouls Trailing their silken shawls of a Lethe- an mist. Shadows warp, gourds enlarge. And now what is always there but not […]

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