Notebook: 12/11/87
Key Grip (Poem)
All elements come forth to play
their role in the existence of the
poem.This is the essential state of'
equivalence which underlies the
poem's actuality and it is from this
state of reduced specificity
that such a diversity of meanings and
uses can interact and can continue to
cohabit the same bounded system.
In order to continue to remain
actual, any particular thing must repeat
itself or be repeated indefinitely. This is not
true of a more general system which may be
maintained by its presence through
the entire structure. Very
likely the
overall continuity between substantiality
and experience resides in the intermixture
of fluctuating states that
confounds the entrance of new
types of conglomorations of
interacting forces at the boundary zone
of the object.
Later:
It is the year 2142. A letter is
being written to the International Society
of Psycho-Cybernetic Counselors.
Glen Linang is the the Senior
Dean of the International
Society. For the past two years he
has been studying the writing of a
small group of writers in the late 20th
Century. He had discovered the writings
by accidentally coming across a piece of antique
"software" whilch contained the key to
a record keeping system which lay
unused for decades in the City College
of New York library.
12/1
The pathos of life lies in the disparity
between the actuality of a specific thing
we are focussed on at any given moment
and the fact of life itself.
Then again, this observation when
depended on to justify too much can
dampen the sense of reality.
The other is a melody
which exists most of all in its own right.
Distribution Automatique
Monday, February 9
Only twenty minutes left of Monday but it is still
Marianne Shaneen's {click here}
birthday. Happy Birthday, Marianne!
Marianne Shaneen's {click here}
birthday. Happy Birthday, Marianne!
"*Praise of Aphorisms*-A good aphorism is too hard for the
tooth of time and is not consumed by all millenia, although it
serves every time for nourishment: thus it is the great paradox
of literature, the intransitory and the changing, the food that
always remains esteemed, like salt, and never loses its savor,
as even that does."
Friedrich Nietzsche
tooth of time and is not consumed by all millenia, although it
serves every time for nourishment: thus it is the great paradox
of literature, the intransitory and the changing, the food that
always remains esteemed, like salt, and never loses its savor,
as even that does."
Friedrich Nietzsche
Notebook: 12/15/87
Teaching and movement are instincts.
Light and dark are contained
in their images.
Light is a constant thing that
comes and goes. Dark is
in a hurry and is (always) inevitable.
On account of light we are not
necessarily watchful. With dark
advancing we are forced to advance.
12/26/87
One of and one. (Poem)
The Age of Hoots (Poem)
12/27/87
Sitting in the most relaxed position
I can find, I go into my
professional poet's revery.This
revery acts as a direction-
finder, in it I become a sail
placed in the winds of my mind
and hopefully by the end I've found
the starting point of some writing.
These notes are markers depicting
those starting points.
Conduits are being constructed
between voices. You can listen to
them at the margins. Placed into
type, these wooded constructions
become mannikins you are
willing to spend real time with...
and then, willy-nilly we can talk
about it. Oh, Carlos! I am tracing
the connections between the back-beat and
the image on the screen. Didn't you
have the same hunch I did, that this
is all a screen-test for something
else? The garden fits the image
of eternity. Children are happily playing on
the grass while the earth below conceals
the dead with cosmic sympathy.
(Ponge,*Le Pre*)
Also, do not be afraid of your informers.
Poetics found at the line between
what can be known and what can
be touched. An inscription at the
boundary between what can be
seen and what can be held. An
area is encircled where a small
bit of time is placed on a slide.
Later or much later we look at
it. Again- it is a *terrain* that is
depicted. Some of us stay there, while
others move on, while still others
come and go. I repeat: if your
source of information frightens you,
something is being misconstrued. There it
is again; how many times I have used
this word this month. Earth,
air, water and fire considered
as freedoms. What are the freedoms
of a particlle, a specific unit
of charge in the physical universe?
"Look at the clock which becomes language."
says Tristan Tzara. (*Mr. Saturn*)
An adroit fusion of the obvious
and the repressed, a willing
juxtaposition of the precious and
the oppressed. The revolutionary
as an empowering person rather
than a self-indulgent,
self-destructive person.
12/28
Poetry: nice work if you can get
it.
12/29
Poetry: A "foreign" language I
read and write but I don't live in its
native land.
I thought of titling this "Sotto voce"
or "Native Land."
At all events, writing is an
elliptical condensation of time.
Teaching and movement are instincts.
Light and dark are contained
in their images.
Light is a constant thing that
comes and goes. Dark is
in a hurry and is (always) inevitable.
On account of light we are not
necessarily watchful. With dark
advancing we are forced to advance.
12/26/87
One of and one. (Poem)
The Age of Hoots (Poem)
12/27/87
Sitting in the most relaxed position
I can find, I go into my
professional poet's revery.This
revery acts as a direction-
finder, in it I become a sail
placed in the winds of my mind
and hopefully by the end I've found
the starting point of some writing.
These notes are markers depicting
those starting points.
Conduits are being constructed
between voices. You can listen to
them at the margins. Placed into
type, these wooded constructions
become mannikins you are
willing to spend real time with...
and then, willy-nilly we can talk
about it. Oh, Carlos! I am tracing
the connections between the back-beat and
the image on the screen. Didn't you
have the same hunch I did, that this
is all a screen-test for something
else? The garden fits the image
of eternity. Children are happily playing on
the grass while the earth below conceals
the dead with cosmic sympathy.
(Ponge,*Le Pre*)
Also, do not be afraid of your informers.
Poetics found at the line between
what can be known and what can
be touched. An inscription at the
boundary between what can be
seen and what can be held. An
area is encircled where a small
bit of time is placed on a slide.
Later or much later we look at
it. Again- it is a *terrain* that is
depicted. Some of us stay there, while
others move on, while still others
come and go. I repeat: if your
source of information frightens you,
something is being misconstrued. There it
is again; how many times I have used
this word this month. Earth,
air, water and fire considered
as freedoms. What are the freedoms
of a particlle, a specific unit
of charge in the physical universe?
"Look at the clock which becomes language."
says Tristan Tzara. (*Mr. Saturn*)
An adroit fusion of the obvious
and the repressed, a willing
juxtaposition of the precious and
the oppressed. The revolutionary
as an empowering person rather
than a self-indulgent,
self-destructive person.
12/28
Poetry: nice work if you can get
it.
12/29
Poetry: A "foreign" language I
read and write but I don't live in its
native land.
I thought of titling this "Sotto voce"
or "Native Land."
At all events, writing is an
elliptical condensation of time.
Sunday, February 8
An interview with Gill Ott from
Banjo: Poets Talking (CA Conrad) {click here}
via transdada (kari edwards)
Note: kari edwards reads tomorrow
details on the sidebar
Banjo: Poets Talking (CA Conrad) {click here}
via transdada (kari edwards)
Note: kari edwards reads tomorrow
details on the sidebar
I found this fraying poster today among some
notes I hadn't looked at for a long time. It was
pinned to my day job office bulletin board for many years.
I've seen versions of the quote many times since,
but I like this translation
more than any other I've seen.
"Until one is committed there is hesitancy,
the chance to drawback, always ineffectiveness,
concerning all acts of initiative (and creation),
there is one elementary truth the ignorance of
which kills countless ideas and splendid plans:
that the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one that would
never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of
events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour
all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and
material assistance, which no man could
have dreamed would have come his way.
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
Begin It Now."
-Goethe-
notes I hadn't looked at for a long time. It was
pinned to my day job office bulletin board for many years.
I've seen versions of the quote many times since,
but I like this translation
more than any other I've seen.
"Until one is committed there is hesitancy,
the chance to drawback, always ineffectiveness,
concerning all acts of initiative (and creation),
there is one elementary truth the ignorance of
which kills countless ideas and splendid plans:
that the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one that would
never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of
events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour
all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and
material assistance, which no man could
have dreamed would have come his way.
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
Begin It Now."
-Goethe-
from *The King of Time*
Velimir Khlebnikov
translated b Paul Schmidt
Harvard UP, 1985
"To The Artists of the World
A Written Language for Planet Earth
A Common System of Hieroglyphs
for the People of Our Planet
We have long been searching for a program that would act
something like a lens, capable of focusing the combined rays of
the work of the artist and the work of the thinker toward a
single point where they might join in a common task and been able
to ignite even the cold essence of ice and turn it to a blazing
bonfire. Such a program, the lens capable of directing together
your fiery courage and the cold intellect of the thinker, has now
been discovered.
The goal is to create a common language shared by
all the peoples of this third satellite of the Sun, to invent written
symbols that can be understood and accepted by our entire star,
populated as it is with human beings and lost here in the universe.
You can see that such a task is worthy of the time we live in.
Painting has always used a language accessible to everyone. And the
Chinese and Japanese peoples speak hundreds of different languages,
but they read and write in one single language. Languages have
betrayed their glorious beginnings. There was once a time when words
served to dispel enmity and make the future transparent and peaceful,
and when languages, proceeding in stages, united the people of
(1) the cave, (2) a settlement, (3), a tribe or kinship group, (4), a state,
into a single rational world, a union of those who shared one
single auditory instrument for the exchange of values and ideas. One
savage caveman understood another and laid his blind weapons aside.
Nowadays sounds have abandoned their past functions and serve
the purposes of hostility; they have become differentiated auditory
instruments for the exchange of rational wares; they have divided
multilingual mankind into different camps involved in tariff wars, into
a series of verbal marketplaces beyond whose confines any given
language loses currency. Every system of auditory currency claims
supremacy, and so languages as such serve to disunite mankind
and wage spectral wars. Let us hope that one single written language
may henceforth accompany the longterm destinies of mankind and
prove to be the new vortex that unites us, the new integrator
of the human race. Mute graphic marks will reconcile the cacaphony
of languages.
To the artist who work with ideas falls the task of creating
an alphabet of concepts, a system of basic units of thought
from which words may be constructed.
The task of artists who work with paint is to provide graphic
symbols for the basic units of our mental processes.
We have now accomplished that part of that labor which
was the thinkers' task, we stand now on the first landing
of the staircase of thinkers, and we find there the artists
of China and Japan, who were already ahead of us, and our
greetings to them!..."
Velimir Khlebnikov
translated b Paul Schmidt
Harvard UP, 1985
"To The Artists of the World
A Written Language for Planet Earth
A Common System of Hieroglyphs
for the People of Our Planet
We have long been searching for a program that would act
something like a lens, capable of focusing the combined rays of
the work of the artist and the work of the thinker toward a
single point where they might join in a common task and been able
to ignite even the cold essence of ice and turn it to a blazing
bonfire. Such a program, the lens capable of directing together
your fiery courage and the cold intellect of the thinker, has now
been discovered.
The goal is to create a common language shared by
all the peoples of this third satellite of the Sun, to invent written
symbols that can be understood and accepted by our entire star,
populated as it is with human beings and lost here in the universe.
You can see that such a task is worthy of the time we live in.
Painting has always used a language accessible to everyone. And the
Chinese and Japanese peoples speak hundreds of different languages,
but they read and write in one single language. Languages have
betrayed their glorious beginnings. There was once a time when words
served to dispel enmity and make the future transparent and peaceful,
and when languages, proceeding in stages, united the people of
(1) the cave, (2) a settlement, (3), a tribe or kinship group, (4), a state,
into a single rational world, a union of those who shared one
single auditory instrument for the exchange of values and ideas. One
savage caveman understood another and laid his blind weapons aside.
Nowadays sounds have abandoned their past functions and serve
the purposes of hostility; they have become differentiated auditory
instruments for the exchange of rational wares; they have divided
multilingual mankind into different camps involved in tariff wars, into
a series of verbal marketplaces beyond whose confines any given
language loses currency. Every system of auditory currency claims
supremacy, and so languages as such serve to disunite mankind
and wage spectral wars. Let us hope that one single written language
may henceforth accompany the longterm destinies of mankind and
prove to be the new vortex that unites us, the new integrator
of the human race. Mute graphic marks will reconcile the cacaphony
of languages.
To the artist who work with ideas falls the task of creating
an alphabet of concepts, a system of basic units of thought
from which words may be constructed.
The task of artists who work with paint is to provide graphic
symbols for the basic units of our mental processes.
We have now accomplished that part of that labor which
was the thinkers' task, we stand now on the first landing
of the staircase of thinkers, and we find there the artists
of China and Japan, who were already ahead of us, and our
greetings to them!..."
from *Public Domain*
Gill Ott
Potes and Poets Press
1989
"Language is no one's. Never was. The true site of all language
is the pairing, writer to reader, speaker to listener. The
poem is a public event, host to a multitude of private entries,
a defined anarchy. Understood and practiced in this way, it is
powerful.
The regimentation of meaning is criminal, even in the least
increment. Language is at once ambiguous and persuasive
enough to offer itself as a tool to advantage and oppression,
and seen as a medium, neutral. Complicity in this crime, as
auditor/actors as much as speakers, contributes heartily to our
public experience and behavior, as consumers, workers,
citizens."
Gill Ott
Potes and Poets Press
1989
"Language is no one's. Never was. The true site of all language
is the pairing, writer to reader, speaker to listener. The
poem is a public event, host to a multitude of private entries,
a defined anarchy. Understood and practiced in this way, it is
powerful.
The regimentation of meaning is criminal, even in the least
increment. Language is at once ambiguous and persuasive
enough to offer itself as a tool to advantage and oppression,
and seen as a medium, neutral. Complicity in this crime, as
auditor/actors as much as speakers, contributes heartily to our
public experience and behavior, as consumers, workers,
citizens."
from *Fits of Dawn*
Joseph Ceravolo
C Press, 1965
published by Ted Berrigan
"Coyote! Swivel! innocent
java texas upside survival pawn
of gazelles Let preamble!
July easily darkness serious fussing have
'Oh raffle of drunkenness woven
released adirondack whatever succint
l'ete with cello Guilty supreme
of shoulders, tattoo doze and yet sky Yes!'
taboo algonquin remedial
orgone obtruse poppily reefs
Grateful ranch! Wallop ranch of
fin!"
Joseph Ceravolo
C Press, 1965
published by Ted Berrigan
"Coyote! Swivel! innocent
java texas upside survival pawn
of gazelles Let preamble!
July easily darkness serious fussing have
'Oh raffle of drunkenness woven
released adirondack whatever succint
l'ete with cello Guilty supreme
of shoulders, tattoo doze and yet sky Yes!'
taboo algonquin remedial
orgone obtruse poppily reefs
Grateful ranch! Wallop ranch of
fin!"
Politicians Sounding Like A Broken Record?
Read These Blogs!
A midnight menagerie on
Moonshine Highways (Amy Bernier} {click here}
**
"A case for hallucinogens: writing poetry."
Right now on Process Documents (Ryan Fitzpatrick) {click here}
**
Score 19 is Out {click here}
edited by Crag Hill.
**
"that stressy nutty feeling of fingernails running down your psyche."
Nada Gordon (ululations) {click here}
riffs on her own reading, and that of two others, at Bluestockings
**
An important small press conference in Ithaca, New York
discussed in detail by Josh Corey (Cahiers de Corey){click here}
**
"The apartheid might have legally ended, but for
as many as 90% of the women of Afghanistan,
these "reforms" — such as the setting up of a
women's ministry in Kabul — are little more than a technicality."
Looking for true political sensitivity? Check out
Froth (Marianne Shaneen {click here}
Read These Blogs!
A midnight menagerie on
Moonshine Highways (Amy Bernier} {click here}
**
"A case for hallucinogens: writing poetry."
Right now on Process Documents (Ryan Fitzpatrick) {click here}
**
Score 19 is Out {click here}
edited by Crag Hill.
**
"that stressy nutty feeling of fingernails running down your psyche."
Nada Gordon (ululations) {click here}
riffs on her own reading, and that of two others, at Bluestockings
**
An important small press conference in Ithaca, New York
discussed in detail by Josh Corey (Cahiers de Corey){click here}
**
"The apartheid might have legally ended, but for
as many as 90% of the women of Afghanistan,
these "reforms" — such as the setting up of a
women's ministry in Kabul — are little more than a technicality."
Looking for true political sensitivity? Check out
Froth (Marianne Shaneen {click here}
Saturday, February 7
Noam Chomsky
who we've been watching tonight on
C Span
is a brilliant academic political commentator
but
Reno {click here}
who will be
back at the Bowery Poetry Club {click here} for two shows:
Fri., 2/13, 8pm
Sat, 2/20, 8pm
is much funnier! And also politically astute!
Her recent scathingly funny
but thoughtful and insightful monologue
on the far right Christian coalition
mesmerized the Bowery
Poetry Club audience a few weekends ago,
and, I'm told, the Poetry Project audience
on New Year's day.
who we've been watching tonight on
C Span
is a brilliant academic political commentator
but
Reno {click here}
who will be
back at the Bowery Poetry Club {click here} for two shows:
Fri., 2/13, 8pm
Sat, 2/20, 8pm
is much funnier! And also politically astute!
Her recent scathingly funny
but thoughtful and insightful monologue
on the far right Christian coalition
mesmerized the Bowery
Poetry Club audience a few weekends ago,
and, I'm told, the Poetry Project audience
on New Year's day.
Weekend
Excuse me, but remember the time when most lit bloggers
didn't blog on weekends? I just checked my "favorites"
on bl.ogs and counted 33 bloggers who posted today. And these
are not by far all my favorites! Including
Notes from the Dovecote {click here},
the former *Solipsistic Gazette*, surely among the
most drop dead beautiful of all blogs, who apparently now has a partner,
and has been presenting a new blog daily of late.
**
After publishing one of the best blogged
reading reviews I've seen yet,
Pantaloons:Tykes on Poetry (Jack Kimball) {click here} on Friday posted a lovely prose poem
titled, quite simply, "Close".
Excuse me, but remember the time when most lit bloggers
didn't blog on weekends? I just checked my "favorites"
on bl.ogs and counted 33 bloggers who posted today. And these
are not by far all my favorites! Including
Notes from the Dovecote {click here},
the former *Solipsistic Gazette*, surely among the
most drop dead beautiful of all blogs, who apparently now has a partner,
and has been presenting a new blog daily of late.
**
After publishing one of the best blogged
reading reviews I've seen yet,
Pantaloons:Tykes on Poetry (Jack Kimball) {click here} on Friday posted a lovely prose poem
titled, quite simply, "Close".
from *Fits of Dawn*
Joseph Ceravolo
C Press, 1965
"SATURDAYS
'There the same squint untrue of the feast
There songe utility
Swoop quays of skies
Whore for the cyclone always
Hum cherry fleet lettuce of the hill---
Day listing quiet who love booze of
The clothes, hannibal tumble.
The stars a doze C soothing counter!
Poor sessame his self
Dawn the evening this this acquarian unwren
In the bundle of the coo some-
Times Theodosia is yours
For the lotus like a toy you marry
Eternity wink: jamais hotel'"
Joseph Ceravolo
C Press, 1965
"SATURDAYS
'There the same squint untrue of the feast
There songe utility
Swoop quays of skies
Whore for the cyclone always
Hum cherry fleet lettuce of the hill---
Day listing quiet who love booze of
The clothes, hannibal tumble.
The stars a doze C soothing counter!
Poor sessame his self
Dawn the evening this this acquarian unwren
In the bundle of the coo some-
Times Theodosia is yours
For the lotus like a toy you marry
Eternity wink: jamais hotel'"
Thanks to Vanishing Points (Tom Beckett){click here}
for the link and kind words about this blog and
our Friday *Desert Island Book List* post
for the link and kind words about this blog and
our Friday *Desert Island Book List* post
from Where is Raed? (Salem Pax) {click here}
"My new computer background image says:
'Re-examine every thought and concept you have'".
:: salam 4:52 AM [+] ::
"My new computer background image says:
'Re-examine every thought and concept you have'".
:: salam 4:52 AM [+] ::
Friday, February 6
Bemsha Swing (Jonathan Mayhew) {click here} expressed jealousy regarding my
copy of *Fits of Dawn* by Joe Ceravolo.
But may I remind him that on Feb. 3rd
he published the following:
"The urge to collect additional Ceravolo books...
Some are quite difficult to find, but the
internet makes it all too easy."
A cursory check of about 6 used and rare
book search web sites turned up 0 for "Fits of Dawn."
While the web is good for finding some
books, others are impossible to find this way.
I learned this searching for first editions of
certain books by William Hazlitt, which I am still longing for.
copy of *Fits of Dawn* by Joe Ceravolo.
But may I remind him that on Feb. 3rd
he published the following:
"The urge to collect additional Ceravolo books...
Some are quite difficult to find, but the
internet makes it all too easy."
A cursory check of about 6 used and rare
book search web sites turned up 0 for "Fits of Dawn."
While the web is good for finding some
books, others are impossible to find this way.
I learned this searching for first editions of
certain books by William Hazlitt, which I am still longing for.
Desert Island Book List
Consciousness, that master poet, never forgets that final touch
even when the heart itself does.
**
Awhile back in blogland, there was a spate of writers listing
what books they would take with them to a desert island.
Having spent a little time over my life in places where I couldn't
get the books I needed, you remember how this kind of list can have serious consequences
in terms of readerly frustrations.
For one thing, for example when I lived in Rapallo, Italy once for
six months I realized not only quality, but quantity can be a real issue
for readers who have all their time free and want to read all the time.
Also, in this town there was no tv and no movie theaters either, no
bookstores with English language books either. I brought a huge
suitcase full of books, but that went quickly. Luckily there was an English
language library. Every single one of Virginia Woolf's books were there, a
lot of other stuff and then I went through all of that. Though all this
was annoying, I got so bored that that's how I started to make collages, which
I made by obtaining large quanities of European magazines in Genoa, with
the help of my friend, the artist John Freda.
Somehow thinking about how Gill Ott had died the same day that the Chax/Boog
City reading took place (I had had a strange thought the night before that I should post
a part of a poem by Gill Ott ; I had heard of course that he was very ill, that very soon
he would no longer be with us). Today I thought about
the title: *Knowing When To Stop* by Ned Rorem. That Gill Ott's timing of the moment
to die was a kind of spirit-poem- an elegie concrete, perhaps. In any case, thinking
of that title gets me back to the desert island issue.
I think what I would mostly take with me would be diaries- for example, the diaries of the American
composer Ned Rorem. Rorem is the author of *The Paris Diary*, *The New York Diary*, *The Nantucket Diary*, *The Later Diaries*, *The Final Diary*, (which, of course is not the final diary) and the more recent *Knowing When To Stop*. Having these books, as a group, that I've never
had a chance to read exhaustively, but have nibbled at endlessly, would be the equivalent
of having a complete daily blog to read daily for a long period of time that evokes the dailiness of
an inventive and witty mind.
Quote from *The Paris Diaries*:
"'Nothing is worse than death. And if one consoles oneself
that death is the end of all, it's also certain that nothing is
worse than life.Why work, Why bother? For of that which was
Nikolai Nikolanievitch nothing remains. (Tolstoy on his brother's
death). '"
******
(to be continued)
Consciousness, that master poet, never forgets that final touch
even when the heart itself does.
**
Awhile back in blogland, there was a spate of writers listing
what books they would take with them to a desert island.
Having spent a little time over my life in places where I couldn't
get the books I needed, you remember how this kind of list can have serious consequences
in terms of readerly frustrations.
For one thing, for example when I lived in Rapallo, Italy once for
six months I realized not only quality, but quantity can be a real issue
for readers who have all their time free and want to read all the time.
Also, in this town there was no tv and no movie theaters either, no
bookstores with English language books either. I brought a huge
suitcase full of books, but that went quickly. Luckily there was an English
language library. Every single one of Virginia Woolf's books were there, a
lot of other stuff and then I went through all of that. Though all this
was annoying, I got so bored that that's how I started to make collages, which
I made by obtaining large quanities of European magazines in Genoa, with
the help of my friend, the artist John Freda.
Somehow thinking about how Gill Ott had died the same day that the Chax/Boog
City reading took place (I had had a strange thought the night before that I should post
a part of a poem by Gill Ott ; I had heard of course that he was very ill, that very soon
he would no longer be with us). Today I thought about
the title: *Knowing When To Stop* by Ned Rorem. That Gill Ott's timing of the moment
to die was a kind of spirit-poem- an elegie concrete, perhaps. In any case, thinking
of that title gets me back to the desert island issue.
I think what I would mostly take with me would be diaries- for example, the diaries of the American
composer Ned Rorem. Rorem is the author of *The Paris Diary*, *The New York Diary*, *The Nantucket Diary*, *The Later Diaries*, *The Final Diary*, (which, of course is not the final diary) and the more recent *Knowing When To Stop*. Having these books, as a group, that I've never
had a chance to read exhaustively, but have nibbled at endlessly, would be the equivalent
of having a complete daily blog to read daily for a long period of time that evokes the dailiness of
an inventive and witty mind.
Quote from *The Paris Diaries*:
"'Nothing is worse than death. And if one consoles oneself
that death is the end of all, it's also certain that nothing is
worse than life.Why work, Why bother? For of that which was
Nikolai Nikolanievitch nothing remains. (Tolstoy on his brother's
death). '"
******
(to be continued)
Aimee Nezhukumatathil, Al Gore, Jesse Jackson and Jordan Davis
campaign for vice-president on Jim Behrle's Famous: The Jim Side {click here}
campaign for vice-president on Jim Behrle's Famous: The Jim Side {click here}
Many of the poets at yesterday's Boog City/Chax reading
at ACA Galleries, including the publisher/poet Charles Alexander
were close friends with Gill Ott, poet and publisher of Singing Horse Press
who died yesterday. It was noted that Charles Bernstein and Bob
Perelman both had visited him at his hospital bed last Tuesday. Mr. Ott
had had numerous kidney transplants throughout his brief but
very fruitful life, so had faced this threat for nearly 25 years,
as Charles Bernstein explained during his portion of the group reading.
The reading was in honor of Chax Press' 20th birthday.
Here is a bit more of Gill Ott's poetry from his book *The Whole Note*
from Zasterle Press.
"This feeble stick, this debris. Pry with a twig
the mass aready man dances to reconcile
sounds from a rural grave with vacant uni-
son. He is revealed
spirits demanded split from the grove of
hands to burn, incarnate, white up a sweat.
Name deity the rounds of the blank assem-
bled to charge fealty with alcohol, poverty to
congregate
penury undone. Out of the blood a knife's
work freed him for these rounds and un-
marked he every mark inspected. Glazed
the city of souls thick dependence momen-
tarily undone. Raw sensory equivalence an
animal tongue, a limp or worse affliction
raises the dead among us. Harm and again
relieved."
(another short passage from this book
appeared on ::fait accompli:: yesterday.)
**
For More on Gill Ott click here for Ron Silliman's Blog
Gill Ott memorial page & more links right now on The Philly Sound {click here}
at ACA Galleries, including the publisher/poet Charles Alexander
were close friends with Gill Ott, poet and publisher of Singing Horse Press
who died yesterday. It was noted that Charles Bernstein and Bob
Perelman both had visited him at his hospital bed last Tuesday. Mr. Ott
had had numerous kidney transplants throughout his brief but
very fruitful life, so had faced this threat for nearly 25 years,
as Charles Bernstein explained during his portion of the group reading.
The reading was in honor of Chax Press' 20th birthday.
Here is a bit more of Gill Ott's poetry from his book *The Whole Note*
from Zasterle Press.
"This feeble stick, this debris. Pry with a twig
the mass aready man dances to reconcile
sounds from a rural grave with vacant uni-
son. He is revealed
spirits demanded split from the grove of
hands to burn, incarnate, white up a sweat.
Name deity the rounds of the blank assem-
bled to charge fealty with alcohol, poverty to
congregate
penury undone. Out of the blood a knife's
work freed him for these rounds and un-
marked he every mark inspected. Glazed
the city of souls thick dependence momen-
tarily undone. Raw sensory equivalence an
animal tongue, a limp or worse affliction
raises the dead among us. Harm and again
relieved."
(another short passage from this book
appeared on ::fait accompli:: yesterday.)
**
For More on Gill Ott click here for Ron Silliman's Blog
Gill Ott memorial page & more links right now on The Philly Sound {click here}
Saturday, February 7th. 4:00 p.m.
Eleni Sikelianos
Christopher Stackhouse
Segue Series at
The Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery, New York, NY 10012
212.614.0505
**** $5.00 cover ****
Coffee, tea, sandwiches plus full bar available.
Note: We are trying to start readings promptly this spring.
foot of First Street, between Houston & Bleecker
across the street from CBGBs
F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker
CHRISTOPHER STACKHOUSE
Christopher Stackhouse’s writing has appeared in the journals Aufgabe, Bridge, Hambone, and NYArts, among others. Seismosis, a book featuring his line drawings with text by writer John Keene was published as a letterpress, limited-edition book by The Center for Book Arts in NYC in November 2003. He is a poetry editor for Fence and a Cave Canem Writers Fellow. He is also a former events/readings curator at The Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church.
ELENI SIKELIANOS
Eleni Sikelianos' most recent book is The Monster Lives of Boys & Girls (Green Integer/National Poetry Series 2003). Previous books include Earliest Worlds (Coffee House) & The Book of Tendons (Post-Apollo). Forthcoming are The Book of Jon (City Lights) & The California Poem (Coffee House). Sikelianos currently lives in Colorado, where she teaches at Naropa & Denver Univ.’s Creative PhD Program.
The Segue Reading Series is made possible by the support of The Segue Foundation and The New York State Council on the Arts. For more information, please visit www.segue.org/calendar, http://bowerypoetry.com/midsection.htm or call (212) 614-0505. Curators: Feb.-March by Dan Machlin & Charles Borkhuis, April-May by Karen Weiser & Tonya Foster.
Eleni Sikelianos
Christopher Stackhouse
Segue Series at
The Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery, New York, NY 10012
212.614.0505
**** $5.00 cover ****
Coffee, tea, sandwiches plus full bar available.
Note: We are trying to start readings promptly this spring.
foot of First Street, between Houston & Bleecker
across the street from CBGBs
F train to Second Ave, or 6 train to Bleecker
CHRISTOPHER STACKHOUSE
Christopher Stackhouse’s writing has appeared in the journals Aufgabe, Bridge, Hambone, and NYArts, among others. Seismosis, a book featuring his line drawings with text by writer John Keene was published as a letterpress, limited-edition book by The Center for Book Arts in NYC in November 2003. He is a poetry editor for Fence and a Cave Canem Writers Fellow. He is also a former events/readings curator at The Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church.
ELENI SIKELIANOS
Eleni Sikelianos' most recent book is The Monster Lives of Boys & Girls (Green Integer/National Poetry Series 2003). Previous books include Earliest Worlds (Coffee House) & The Book of Tendons (Post-Apollo). Forthcoming are The Book of Jon (City Lights) & The California Poem (Coffee House). Sikelianos currently lives in Colorado, where she teaches at Naropa & Denver Univ.’s Creative PhD Program.
The Segue Reading Series is made possible by the support of The Segue Foundation and The New York State Council on the Arts. For more information, please visit www.segue.org/calendar, http://bowerypoetry.com/midsection.htm or call (212) 614-0505. Curators: Feb.-March by Dan Machlin & Charles Borkhuis, April-May by Karen Weiser & Tonya Foster.
Thursday, February 5
Notebook: November 2000
God Bless Obscurity
God bless obscurity
land that I love
stand beside her
and guide her
with the dark from the spark
of a glove
[inspiration=concentration/yearly income]
[or concentration=inspiration x yearly income]
from the dictionary
to the libraries
to the used bookstoress
deep in debt
God bless obscurity
my home sweet home
that dear old gnome
**
Graffiti In The Cafe Jaffa
"Give me ambiguity or give me something else."
**
Since there has been building noise on the street outside
my apartment for months, it seems for years, and since
because of this I listen
to music every morning. I got into the habit of listening
to Chopin, particularly the Ballades. I don't know why, but
this music appears to be of inexhaustible interest to me. Surely,
eventually I will tire of it, but when? Like Debussy, it
opens out into feelings I want to return to endlessly.
God Bless Obscurity
God bless obscurity
land that I love
stand beside her
and guide her
with the dark from the spark
of a glove
[inspiration=concentration/yearly income]
[or concentration=inspiration x yearly income]
from the dictionary
to the libraries
to the used bookstoress
deep in debt
God bless obscurity
my home sweet home
that dear old gnome
**
Graffiti In The Cafe Jaffa
"Give me ambiguity or give me something else."
**
Since there has been building noise on the street outside
my apartment for months, it seems for years, and since
because of this I listen
to music every morning. I got into the habit of listening
to Chopin, particularly the Ballades. I don't know why, but
this music appears to be of inexhaustible interest to me. Surely,
eventually I will tire of it, but when? Like Debussy, it
opens out into feelings I want to return to endlessly.
from *The Whole Note*
by Gill Ott
Zasterle Press, 1996
"My love, in all my imperfection, are here,
despite your attribution to another entry. Less
than breeze, than presence, the transmission
circles like a hawk, or any other problem set to
right
candles to tense, in our knowledge of each
other, three. This difficulty multiplies a pin-
point phrases, care taken in song's resolve.
My rider has descended, you."
by Gill Ott
Zasterle Press, 1996
"My love, in all my imperfection, are here,
despite your attribution to another entry. Less
than breeze, than presence, the transmission
circles like a hawk, or any other problem set to
right
candles to tense, in our knowledge of each
other, three. This difficulty multiplies a pin-
point phrases, care taken in song's resolve.
My rider has descended, you."
Wednesday, February 4
Elsewhere (Gary Sullivan) {click here} is suggesting, along with
ululations (Nada Gordon) {click here}
[scroll down to Monday, February 2
*When Will The Book Be Ready*]
that they are anxious to see
a "big book"
of *fait accompli*. Among other nicer things,
they've observed that time is passing.
Well, the manuscript is
in the works, but first Toni and I have to move.
Many thanks to Gary and Nada for the
boost!
ululations (Nada Gordon) {click here}
[scroll down to Monday, February 2
*When Will The Book Be Ready*]
that they are anxious to see
a "big book"
of *fait accompli*. Among other nicer things,
they've observed that time is passing.
Well, the manuscript is
in the works, but first Toni and I have to move.
Many thanks to Gary and Nada for the
boost!
Lorianne Schaub (Hoarded Ordinaries) {click here}
posted the following (and more) on
Heart @ Work,
a blog that is now running a series on one
of my favorite topics, "Why I blog": "The thought
that you are sitting there reading keeps me writing,
for writing is lonely if not shared. In my mind nestles
the hope that if my memories inspire--
if they touch a trigger in your own
heart, a place where similar
memories reside--you too might notice the
the ordinary, the forgotten, and the unloved.
For the world is filled with ordinaries--a limitless,
unending supply--but we have only a finite number of
hearts and eyes. Pay attention, pay attention: the
world is passing like a parade, and all its
drummers and dancers are destined
to die. How much can you notice
of this beautiful daily panorama?
How many shop-window
bargains in your
heart of hearts
can you save?"
# posted by Lois @ 7:37 AM
I don't know if there is a conscious
reference to Walter Benjamin's
*Arcades Project* here, but
I appreciated the connection,
and the thought.
posted the following (and more) on
Heart @ Work,
a blog that is now running a series on one
of my favorite topics, "Why I blog": "The thought
that you are sitting there reading keeps me writing,
for writing is lonely if not shared. In my mind nestles
the hope that if my memories inspire--
if they touch a trigger in your own
heart, a place where similar
memories reside--you too might notice the
the ordinary, the forgotten, and the unloved.
For the world is filled with ordinaries--a limitless,
unending supply--but we have only a finite number of
hearts and eyes. Pay attention, pay attention: the
world is passing like a parade, and all its
drummers and dancers are destined
to die. How much can you notice
of this beautiful daily panorama?
How many shop-window
bargains in your
heart of hearts
can you save?"
# posted by Lois @ 7:37 AM
I don't know if there is a conscious
reference to Walter Benjamin's
*Arcades Project* here, but
I appreciated the connection,
and the thought.
Beginning Again At The Mouth of the River
Often I'll think of adding something here, and then
think, why would I do that? I feel strangely
embarassed about the idea, like why would anyone
want to to see this, or, everybody knows about
this, say, or has read it.
This is what happened with these lines from *Four Quartets*
by TS Eliot. Ah, the old anti-semite, everybody's bored with his stilted
mawkish jokes and musings. But then I reread it in a few minutes and think:
(I'm moving so I'm starting to pack my books and this one somehow ended
up on the floor in front of my reading chair)-
But it's all there, isn't it, a lot of what I think about still.
"Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past."
This is what I understand as the basis of
time travel. If we examine the past carefully,
we find correspondances and links to the present,
possibly by means of a kind of linking between the two,
a very brief hopskotch into the future.
"Go, go, go said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.'
This seems obvious, yet again...
"Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present"
Gertrude Stein all the way.
..."Time past and time future
Allow but little consciousness.
To be conscious is not to be in time...
Only through time, time is conquered."
Now we're getting into the meat of the matter.
For most, all that can be expected is
",,,Only a flicker
over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction"
A simpler, or more basic description or diagnosis of contemporary consciousness
is hard to imagine- so much said in five words
about what continues to be the heart of the backsliding
observeable in the overall human ability to focus and comprehend
a situation and its implications, its roots and branches into the future.
"Or say that the end precedes the beginning,
And the end and the beginning were always there
Before the beginning and after the end.
And all is always now. Words strain,
Crack and sometime break, under the burden
Will not stay still....
It appears that a pattern is being sought, but this
isn't true
"For the pattern is new in every moment
And every moment is a new and shocking
Valuation of all we have been..."
This timeless place is in time and is found
most of all in memories.
"There is a time for the evening under starlight
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album)"
And despite this, due to time's ultimate paradox
"...not escaping from the past
Into different lives, or into any future;
You are not the same people who left that station
Or will arrive at any terminus...
You shall not think "the past is finished"
Or "the future is before us."
Because the final surprise is
"I sometimes wonder of that is what Krishna meant-
...The mind of a man may be intent
At the time of death'- that is the one action
(And the time of death is every moment)
So it seems that
"...to apprehend
The point of intersection of the timeless
with time, is an occupation for the saint-
No occupation either, but something given
And taken..."
Since this is an impossibility, yet human
must move towards this,
"...right action is freedom
From past and future also,
For most of us, this is the aim
Never here to be realized..."
That this is an idealization is acknowledged,
so we have to search the past for specifics
to ground ourselves in life as we actually live
it-
"We die with the dying:
See, they depart and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
After all this learning, and striving to
connect with all being and not-being
"We shall not cease from exploration
And at the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time."
Full circle: the paradox of living is
not eternity, but the interconnection
between all states of being and not-being
There is a kind of surprise in all experience
which is a constant reminder of the
"...unknown remembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall."
At first the sound of the waterfall
is distant and strange, maybe even
an invasion of the quiet soundlessness.
Something is jarring, a sound is heard'
as though a thought wanted to be heard.
The thought at first was a naive thought,
a shy being hardly even dressed or self-aware.
It has to be left to itself to find its feet at last,
to find a way to dress itself, and then address
itself to others to be heard.
Now, again I guess I'll leave these poems to themselves
for awhile, even a long while, it doesn't matter. They
themselves more and more become what they tried
to address in the world- finally becoming more known
than unknown, and thus becoming less distinguishable
from their objects.
I just noticed that "The Dry Salvages" is a small group
of rocks ,with a beacon, off the N.E. coast of Cape Ann
Massachusetts.
All these books scattered around like rocks on the shores
of my consciousness. Or are they the shores of my consciousness?
Often I'll think of adding something here, and then
think, why would I do that? I feel strangely
embarassed about the idea, like why would anyone
want to to see this, or, everybody knows about
this, say, or has read it.
This is what happened with these lines from *Four Quartets*
by TS Eliot. Ah, the old anti-semite, everybody's bored with his stilted
mawkish jokes and musings. But then I reread it in a few minutes and think:
(I'm moving so I'm starting to pack my books and this one somehow ended
up on the floor in front of my reading chair)-
But it's all there, isn't it, a lot of what I think about still.
"Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past."
This is what I understand as the basis of
time travel. If we examine the past carefully,
we find correspondances and links to the present,
possibly by means of a kind of linking between the two,
a very brief hopskotch into the future.
"Go, go, go said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.'
This seems obvious, yet again...
"Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present"
Gertrude Stein all the way.
..."Time past and time future
Allow but little consciousness.
To be conscious is not to be in time...
Only through time, time is conquered."
Now we're getting into the meat of the matter.
For most, all that can be expected is
",,,Only a flicker
over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction"
A simpler, or more basic description or diagnosis of contemporary consciousness
is hard to imagine- so much said in five words
about what continues to be the heart of the backsliding
observeable in the overall human ability to focus and comprehend
a situation and its implications, its roots and branches into the future.
"Or say that the end precedes the beginning,
And the end and the beginning were always there
Before the beginning and after the end.
And all is always now. Words strain,
Crack and sometime break, under the burden
Will not stay still....
It appears that a pattern is being sought, but this
isn't true
"For the pattern is new in every moment
And every moment is a new and shocking
Valuation of all we have been..."
This timeless place is in time and is found
most of all in memories.
"There is a time for the evening under starlight
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album)"
And despite this, due to time's ultimate paradox
"...not escaping from the past
Into different lives, or into any future;
You are not the same people who left that station
Or will arrive at any terminus...
You shall not think "the past is finished"
Or "the future is before us."
Because the final surprise is
"I sometimes wonder of that is what Krishna meant-
...The mind of a man may be intent
At the time of death'- that is the one action
(And the time of death is every moment)
So it seems that
"...to apprehend
The point of intersection of the timeless
with time, is an occupation for the saint-
No occupation either, but something given
And taken..."
Since this is an impossibility, yet human
must move towards this,
"...right action is freedom
From past and future also,
For most of us, this is the aim
Never here to be realized..."
That this is an idealization is acknowledged,
so we have to search the past for specifics
to ground ourselves in life as we actually live
it-
"We die with the dying:
See, they depart and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
After all this learning, and striving to
connect with all being and not-being
"We shall not cease from exploration
And at the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time."
Full circle: the paradox of living is
not eternity, but the interconnection
between all states of being and not-being
There is a kind of surprise in all experience
which is a constant reminder of the
"...unknown remembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall."
At first the sound of the waterfall
is distant and strange, maybe even
an invasion of the quiet soundlessness.
Something is jarring, a sound is heard'
as though a thought wanted to be heard.
The thought at first was a naive thought,
a shy being hardly even dressed or self-aware.
It has to be left to itself to find its feet at last,
to find a way to dress itself, and then address
itself to others to be heard.
Now, again I guess I'll leave these poems to themselves
for awhile, even a long while, it doesn't matter. They
themselves more and more become what they tried
to address in the world- finally becoming more known
than unknown, and thus becoming less distinguishable
from their objects.
I just noticed that "The Dry Salvages" is a small group
of rocks ,with a beacon, off the N.E. coast of Cape Ann
Massachusetts.
All these books scattered around like rocks on the shores
of my consciousness. Or are they the shores of my consciousness?
Tuesday, February 3
Never Neutral (Ernesto Priego){click here}
opens with a sweet tune today, played
hauntingly on a what sounds to be a slightly out
of tune old piano or a child's music box.
opens with a sweet tune today, played
hauntingly on a what sounds to be a slightly out
of tune old piano or a child's music box.
Jonathan Mayhew (Bemsha Swing) {click here}
boasts of finding a Joseph Ceravolo book
online, and how easy it was, speaking
like a hunter disappointed at the relative
ease in tracking down his quarry.
But he is unlikely to match a great find
I purchased some years ago from Steve Clay
of Granary Books. A copy of * Fits of Dawn* bound by
Ted Berrigan in pebbly black dissertation covers, and published by
his *C* Press in 1965. By far Ceravolo's most abstract work
it features poems with lines like:
"...Beyond you jar unself
aroma ax almul chad rugyrebel sex
Leapon silent rebel chain riding
silence aback him eruption pile-
on disk outsent babe nibble have
a shu lift Kota memory ahoy
cultivate so all chomine recussion
soulen boy mirage resume
Ecola! Going there! make ya took
Caribbean remind exuberance
tabu avalance voyant will curse"
What moxie, eh?
And how about that Ted Berrigan
for publishing it so lovingly?
boasts of finding a Joseph Ceravolo book
online, and how easy it was, speaking
like a hunter disappointed at the relative
ease in tracking down his quarry.
But he is unlikely to match a great find
I purchased some years ago from Steve Clay
of Granary Books. A copy of * Fits of Dawn* bound by
Ted Berrigan in pebbly black dissertation covers, and published by
his *C* Press in 1965. By far Ceravolo's most abstract work
it features poems with lines like:
"...Beyond you jar unself
aroma ax almul chad rugyrebel sex
Leapon silent rebel chain riding
silence aback him eruption pile-
on disk outsent babe nibble have
a shu lift Kota memory ahoy
cultivate so all chomine recussion
soulen boy mirage resume
Ecola! Going there! make ya took
Caribbean remind exuberance
tabu avalance voyant will curse"
What moxie, eh?
And how about that Ted Berrigan
for publishing it so lovingly?
Recently I rather peevishly complained
that a certain blogger had incorporated
my link list without acknowledgement.
Now, This Certain Blogger {click here}
has not only acknowledged my link list,
but he's added a photo of the cover of my most
recent book to the list. I'm smiling from ear to ear
and I am abashed. Thanks, Mr. Gordon!
Where else could this happen but in Blogland, I ask you?
Or, maybe I should say, Massachusetts?
And, this is, as I am on record as having stated before,
further evidence that the New Brutalists are anything but.
that a certain blogger had incorporated
my link list without acknowledgement.
Now, This Certain Blogger {click here}
has not only acknowledged my link list,
but he's added a photo of the cover of my most
recent book to the list. I'm smiling from ear to ear
and I am abashed. Thanks, Mr. Gordon!
Where else could this happen but in Blogland, I ask you?
Or, maybe I should say, Massachusetts?
And, this is, as I am on record as having stated before,
further evidence that the New Brutalists are anything but.
Black Spring (Menno ter Braak) {click here}
dedicated a poem yesterday to
Tom Beckett (Vanishing Points of Resemblance) {click here},
along with some laudatory words, that
this tireless contributor to the contemporary
poetry scene certainly well deserves
(be sure to check out
Beckett's new blog).
Black Spring also features a discussion of
Barrett Watten's excellent book
*Bad History* (scroll down to January 29).
A controversial, imaginative hybrid of fiction, essay, prose poetry, philosophy,
commentary, this 1998 book from Atelos is, in a word, indispensable.
dedicated a poem yesterday to
Tom Beckett (Vanishing Points of Resemblance) {click here},
along with some laudatory words, that
this tireless contributor to the contemporary
poetry scene certainly well deserves
(be sure to check out
Beckett's new blog).
Black Spring also features a discussion of
Barrett Watten's excellent book
*Bad History* (scroll down to January 29).
A controversial, imaginative hybrid of fiction, essay, prose poetry, philosophy,
commentary, this 1998 book from Atelos is, in a word, indispensable.
from Buzz Machine {click here}
I dislike lists of precepts like this about blogging, but for some
reason they fascinate me (I had typed gascinate me!).
" .Laws of nature and blogging
: Terry Teachout's laws of blogging. Among them:
3. Blogs without links aren’t blogs. Blogs without blogrolls aren’t blogs. Blogs without mailboxes aren’t blogs....
6. Blogging puts professionals and amateurs on an even footing. That’s why so many professional writers dislike and distrust it.
7. The whole point of a blog is that its author controls its content. That’s why no major newspaper will ever be successful at running in-house blogs: the editors won’t allow it. The smart ones will encourage their best writers to blog on their own time—and at their own risk. The dumb ones will refuse to let any of their writers blog, on or off the job....
9. Within a decade, blogs will replace op-ed pages.
10. Blogs will be to the 21st century what little magazines were to the 20th century. Their influence will be disproportionate to their circulation....
14. If you want to be noticed, you have to blog every day.
15. An impersonal blog is a contradiction in terms"
I dislike lists of precepts like this about blogging, but for some
reason they fascinate me (I had typed gascinate me!).
" .Laws of nature and blogging
: Terry Teachout's laws of blogging. Among them:
3. Blogs without links aren’t blogs. Blogs without blogrolls aren’t blogs. Blogs without mailboxes aren’t blogs....
6. Blogging puts professionals and amateurs on an even footing. That’s why so many professional writers dislike and distrust it.
7. The whole point of a blog is that its author controls its content. That’s why no major newspaper will ever be successful at running in-house blogs: the editors won’t allow it. The smart ones will encourage their best writers to blog on their own time—and at their own risk. The dumb ones will refuse to let any of their writers blog, on or off the job....
9. Within a decade, blogs will replace op-ed pages.
10. Blogs will be to the 21st century what little magazines were to the 20th century. Their influence will be disproportionate to their circulation....
14. If you want to be noticed, you have to blog every day.
15. An impersonal blog is a contradiction in terms"
Monday, February 2
Ludwig Wittgenstein on Fashion
"Language disguises thought. So much so,
that from the outward form of the clothing
it is impossible to infer the form of the
thought beneath it, because the outward
form of the clothing is not designed to reveal
the form of the body, but for entirely different
purposes..."
Look again, Ludwig!
"Language disguises thought. So much so,
that from the outward form of the clothing
it is impossible to infer the form of the
thought beneath it, because the outward
form of the clothing is not designed to reveal
the form of the body, but for entirely different
purposes..."
Look again, Ludwig!
*King Cowboy Rufus Rules The Universe* by Richard Foreman
opened at Ontological at The St Mark's Poetry Project, 2cd
Avenue and 10th street (212)533-4650 on January 8th and will
continue until April 18th. If you go by the list on the playbill, this
is the 40th play of Foreman's to be produced.
Don't miss it. It is a joy to behold,
though its subject is, of course,
among the most obnoxious possible.
At the end of the play, Richard's recorded voiced intones
over the loudspeaker that the audience,
in lightly applauding, will
not , in fact, be applauding the subject of the play.
Foreman has this to say
on the first page of the playbill:" I always
feel that my overriding obligation is to
make a complex compositional
object that gives aesthetic pleasure...
though I am anti-Bush and anti-
war- I don't find it artistically satisfying to simply
'preach to the converted'....
The solution I attempt in "King Cowboy
Rufus Rules the Universe" is to put on stage,
not George Bush
himself but a foppish English
gentleman who, while seeming a
figure out of the past- yet
dreams of becoming an imitation
George Bush- acquiring that
same power and manifesting
similar limits of vision..."
Toni and I went with
Nada Gordon (ululations) {click here} and Gary Sullivan (Elsewhere) {click here}.
While Toni has probably been to at least 15 of these plays,
and I have probably been to at least
25, this is the second for Gary and Nada.
All four of us left the theater feeling exhilirated
as I said so to Richard, who happened to trot
by as we were leaving. By the way, Richard
has been present at virtually every
performance of his plays that I have seen.
Lately, Foreman's plays have moved closer to
music and this work featured a number of songs,
a couple of them sung in a hauntiingly light,
lovely voice by the superb Juliana Francis, who plays Susie Sitwell.
The lead player, Jay Smith, who
plays gun-toting King Cowby Rufus in a huge cowboy hat,
is hilariously funny. He manages the extremely difficult task
of making every line sound like what they are,
lines of poetry. This is surely one of the best
lead player performances in one of Foreman's recent plays
since Tony Torn starred in *Now That Communism
Is Dead My Life Feels Empty.* I notice that Jay Smith
had a role in that play. I can't help mentioning, that still,
after many years of absence from Richard's plays,
I miss the presence of his brilliant wife Kate Manheim,
(Rhoda of "Rhoda in Potatoland" among many others).
Her genius is as yet revealed in the
performance of every lead actress in
Foreman's works.
As in most of Richard's plays, the audience plays an important
role. The stage lights always shine equally on the
audience and the stage. In this one,
Jay Smith frequently climbs a set of stairs
that leads out into the audience. At one point he urges himself,
to return to the world of the
stage and imagination where "nothing
is real." No doubt this is allusion to the clear
fact that to George Bush nothing appears
to be real.
While the witty, complex, visually awesome
stage set (constructed my Michael Darling
and Paul DiPietro) remains constant throughout
the play, there are literally scores of scenes
as in every Foreman play. In this case, as I mentioned
to Richard afterwards, the transitions were so smooth
that they were, amazingly, nearly invisible. This is a result,
no doubt, of the long experience Richard has as a director
of his own plays. This brings about the strange paradox
that, although each scene lasts only a few minutes, the
transitions are never disruptive because the choreography
of these transformations is rhythmically entrancing. Which
returns me to the musical aspect of Foreman's work.
As we were leaving, Gary mentioned the fact that, although
the play is political satire, it is still extremely abstract. As we
know, music is the most abstract of the arts. It seems to me
that Foreman is among the greatest abstractionist of our era, and
this in an era with many great abstractionists, from Rauchenberg
and James Rosenquist to Gertrude Stein to
Jackson MacLow and John Ashbery, to, at some
their best moments, the Beatles. It is for this reason, perhaps,
that Foreman's work keeps evolving closer to music- and pure poetry-
(TS Eliot's "April is the cruellest month" is quoted twice-
perhaps partly referring to the
fact that the play closes in April,) and the play also includes a
quote from my favorite of all books of poetry *The Duino Elegies*
"Who, if I shouted among the angelic orders, would hear me", although
I prefer the the McIntyre translation of Rilke's most famous line,
"Who, if I shouted among the hierarchies of angels, would hear me?"
What more apropos line could a poet utter in the Age of King Bush?
**
Richard Foreman/EPC Home Page {click here}
opened at Ontological at The St Mark's Poetry Project, 2cd
Avenue and 10th street (212)533-4650 on January 8th and will
continue until April 18th. If you go by the list on the playbill, this
is the 40th play of Foreman's to be produced.
Don't miss it. It is a joy to behold,
though its subject is, of course,
among the most obnoxious possible.
At the end of the play, Richard's recorded voiced intones
over the loudspeaker that the audience,
in lightly applauding, will
not , in fact, be applauding the subject of the play.
Foreman has this to say
on the first page of the playbill:" I always
feel that my overriding obligation is to
make a complex compositional
object that gives aesthetic pleasure...
though I am anti-Bush and anti-
war- I don't find it artistically satisfying to simply
'preach to the converted'....
The solution I attempt in "King Cowboy
Rufus Rules the Universe" is to put on stage,
not George Bush
himself but a foppish English
gentleman who, while seeming a
figure out of the past- yet
dreams of becoming an imitation
George Bush- acquiring that
same power and manifesting
similar limits of vision..."
Toni and I went with
Nada Gordon (ululations) {click here} and Gary Sullivan (Elsewhere) {click here}.
While Toni has probably been to at least 15 of these plays,
and I have probably been to at least
25, this is the second for Gary and Nada.
All four of us left the theater feeling exhilirated
as I said so to Richard, who happened to trot
by as we were leaving. By the way, Richard
has been present at virtually every
performance of his plays that I have seen.
Lately, Foreman's plays have moved closer to
music and this work featured a number of songs,
a couple of them sung in a hauntiingly light,
lovely voice by the superb Juliana Francis, who plays Susie Sitwell.
The lead player, Jay Smith, who
plays gun-toting King Cowby Rufus in a huge cowboy hat,
is hilariously funny. He manages the extremely difficult task
of making every line sound like what they are,
lines of poetry. This is surely one of the best
lead player performances in one of Foreman's recent plays
since Tony Torn starred in *Now That Communism
Is Dead My Life Feels Empty.* I notice that Jay Smith
had a role in that play. I can't help mentioning, that still,
after many years of absence from Richard's plays,
I miss the presence of his brilliant wife Kate Manheim,
(Rhoda of "Rhoda in Potatoland" among many others).
Her genius is as yet revealed in the
performance of every lead actress in
Foreman's works.
As in most of Richard's plays, the audience plays an important
role. The stage lights always shine equally on the
audience and the stage. In this one,
Jay Smith frequently climbs a set of stairs
that leads out into the audience. At one point he urges himself,
to return to the world of the
stage and imagination where "nothing
is real." No doubt this is allusion to the clear
fact that to George Bush nothing appears
to be real.
While the witty, complex, visually awesome
stage set (constructed my Michael Darling
and Paul DiPietro) remains constant throughout
the play, there are literally scores of scenes
as in every Foreman play. In this case, as I mentioned
to Richard afterwards, the transitions were so smooth
that they were, amazingly, nearly invisible. This is a result,
no doubt, of the long experience Richard has as a director
of his own plays. This brings about the strange paradox
that, although each scene lasts only a few minutes, the
transitions are never disruptive because the choreography
of these transformations is rhythmically entrancing. Which
returns me to the musical aspect of Foreman's work.
As we were leaving, Gary mentioned the fact that, although
the play is political satire, it is still extremely abstract. As we
know, music is the most abstract of the arts. It seems to me
that Foreman is among the greatest abstractionist of our era, and
this in an era with many great abstractionists, from Rauchenberg
and James Rosenquist to Gertrude Stein to
Jackson MacLow and John Ashbery, to, at some
their best moments, the Beatles. It is for this reason, perhaps,
that Foreman's work keeps evolving closer to music- and pure poetry-
(TS Eliot's "April is the cruellest month" is quoted twice-
perhaps partly referring to the
fact that the play closes in April,) and the play also includes a
quote from my favorite of all books of poetry *The Duino Elegies*
"Who, if I shouted among the angelic orders, would hear me", although
I prefer the the McIntyre translation of Rilke's most famous line,
"Who, if I shouted among the hierarchies of angels, would hear me?"
What more apropos line could a poet utter in the Age of King Bush?
**
Richard Foreman/EPC Home Page {click here}
Sunday, February 1
from *The Notebooks of Samuel Butler*
from "Truth and Convenience"
...The arrangement of our ideas is as much a matter
of convenience as the packing of goods in a druggist's or
draper's store and leads to exactly the same kind of difficulties
in the matter of classifying them. We all admit the arbitrarinesss of
classifications in a languid way, but we do not think of it more
than we can help- I suppose because it is so incovenient to
do so. The great advantage of classification is to conceal the
fact that subdivisions are as arbitrary as they are.
"Classification"
There can be no perfect way, for classification presupposes
that a thing has absolute limits whereas there is nothing that
does not partake of the universal infinity- something whose
boundaries do not vary. Everything is one thing at one time
and to some respects, and another at other times and in other
respects. We want a new mode of measurement altogether; at
present we take what gaps we can find, sent up milestones and
declare them irremoveable. We want a measure which shall express,
or at any rate recognize, the harmonics and resemblance that lurk
even in the most absolute differences and vice-versa.
"Attempts at Classification"
are like nailing battens of our own flesh, and blood upon ourselves
as an inclined plane that we may walk up ourselves more easily; and
yet it answers very sufficiently.
from "Truth and Convenience"
...The arrangement of our ideas is as much a matter
of convenience as the packing of goods in a druggist's or
draper's store and leads to exactly the same kind of difficulties
in the matter of classifying them. We all admit the arbitrarinesss of
classifications in a languid way, but we do not think of it more
than we can help- I suppose because it is so incovenient to
do so. The great advantage of classification is to conceal the
fact that subdivisions are as arbitrary as they are.
"Classification"
There can be no perfect way, for classification presupposes
that a thing has absolute limits whereas there is nothing that
does not partake of the universal infinity- something whose
boundaries do not vary. Everything is one thing at one time
and to some respects, and another at other times and in other
respects. We want a new mode of measurement altogether; at
present we take what gaps we can find, sent up milestones and
declare them irremoveable. We want a measure which shall express,
or at any rate recognize, the harmonics and resemblance that lurk
even in the most absolute differences and vice-versa.
"Attempts at Classification"
are like nailing battens of our own flesh, and blood upon ourselves
as an inclined plane that we may walk up ourselves more easily; and
yet it answers very sufficiently.
A Good Read
Found poetry by Chris Murray
right now on Texfiles {click here}
***********
Cybergenerosity
Prolific August Highland boasts the largest collection
of poetry on the web. His new minil-mag is online now at
Highland's Mini-Mag {click here}
and includes work by Tom Bell, Stephen-Paul Martin,
Daniella Gioseffi, Harry Polkinhorn, Suzi, August Highland
and 30 others
************
Ridley Scott's *1984* ad for
McIntosh
Great Scott! {click here}
************
Talking Trees
right now on The Cassandra Pages {click here}
************
Brian Kim Stefans' prose poem
"We Make"
Free Space Comix {click here}
Found poetry by Chris Murray
right now on Texfiles {click here}
***********
Cybergenerosity
Prolific August Highland boasts the largest collection
of poetry on the web. His new minil-mag is online now at
Highland's Mini-Mag {click here}
and includes work by Tom Bell, Stephen-Paul Martin,
Daniella Gioseffi, Harry Polkinhorn, Suzi, August Highland
and 30 others
************
Ridley Scott's *1984* ad for
McIntosh
Great Scott! {click here}
************
Talking Trees
right now on The Cassandra Pages {click here}
************
Brian Kim Stefans' prose poem
"We Make"
Free Space Comix {click here}
I consider it a great misfortune that nature
has not granted me that indefinite something
which attracts people. I believe it is this lack
more than any other which has deprived me of
a rosy existence. It has taken me so long to
win my friends, I have had to struggle so long
for my precious girl, and every time I meet
someone I realize that an impulse, which defies
analysis, leads that person to underestimate me.
This may be a question of expression or
temperament, or some other secret of nature,
but whatever it may be it affects one deeply. What
compensates me for all this is the devotion shown
to me by all those who have become my friends-
but what am I talking about?
Letters of Sigmund Freud #93
to Martha Bernays
January 27, 1886
has not granted me that indefinite something
which attracts people. I believe it is this lack
more than any other which has deprived me of
a rosy existence. It has taken me so long to
win my friends, I have had to struggle so long
for my precious girl, and every time I meet
someone I realize that an impulse, which defies
analysis, leads that person to underestimate me.
This may be a question of expression or
temperament, or some other secret of nature,
but whatever it may be it affects one deeply. What
compensates me for all this is the devotion shown
to me by all those who have become my friends-
but what am I talking about?
Letters of Sigmund Freud #93
to Martha Bernays
January 27, 1886
Saturday, January 31
I don't mind when A Certain Blogger {click here}
helps themselves to the links I spend literally
dozens of hours hunting down, checking out and
choosing and posting over a period of a year,
but then to put them on their blog and not even bother
to edit and choose from them, or to give me credit for the list
or to even highlight my blog....shhheeeez!
helps themselves to the links I spend literally
dozens of hours hunting down, checking out and
choosing and posting over a period of a year,
but then to put them on their blog and not even bother
to edit and choose from them, or to give me credit for the list
or to even highlight my blog....shhheeeez!
Boing Boing {click here} ,
one of the most visited blogs on the internet,
reports on the mysterious
murders in Juarez, Mexico.
Heriberto Yepez {click here)
has been desperately reporting for
months, and possibly longer, that these ghastly events
have been largely ignored in the US...
one of the most visited blogs on the internet,
reports on the mysterious
murders in Juarez, Mexico.
Heriberto Yepez {click here)
has been desperately reporting for
months, and possibly longer, that these ghastly events
have been largely ignored in the US...
8/22/91
An odd thing about human beings is
that they cannot truly rest
until they have done everything they can.
9/4/91
Luck and love have something in common-
they benefit from- and elicit-
unique forms of devotion.
9/14/91
The narcissist always needs to be placed
on a pedestal.
You are the pedestal.
An odd thing about human beings is
that they cannot truly rest
until they have done everything they can.
9/4/91
Luck and love have something in common-
they benefit from- and elicit-
unique forms of devotion.
9/14/91
The narcissist always needs to be placed
on a pedestal.
You are the pedestal.
Mark Young's poem in Pettycoat Relaxer #3 {CLICK HERE};
"It's
the risk you take when
writing about the future;
having it reviewed at a
point that is closer
to the concept than the
conception".
"It's
the risk you take when
writing about the future;
having it reviewed at a
point that is closer
to the concept than the
conception".
Friday, January 30
Notebook: 5/18/79 [continued from 1/29]
...No, I'm not
too afraid to hug you in English,
its we were afraid to talk in
French & make love in English, or
in both languages at once,
hearing the thought, for example,
in Spanish, heard like a Peruvian
folk song, pictured in
painted abstraction,
not to be said in blacks &
blues, written &
spoken, lightly transparent.
Fissures, I know, when naked &
holding we were children again,
not yet speaking only English,
but the languages we
brought with us- Italian,
German, Polish, Russian &
French. Licking you, kissing
you, biting you was all in
Italian once, but you felt
in in Engish so I tried to
translate it back into French
in broken American which you
would certainly never hear &
understand. But this way there
would somehow be a record of it,
though no matter how fast I
write it in English it would
gloss over every bit of the
Italian gestures you were feeling
in Boston Engish. Written
English, which singled out your
musically abrupt, practical gestures-
first I saw them as rough,
later efficient & mechanically
beautiful, but, since you couldn't
melt in Italian or Spanish or
French I found a German
Jew who understood my
French but insisted on speaking to
me in 19th Century English, prim
& proper & this angered me,
so I thought only in French &
thus escaped part of the rage,
though my German was good
enough to fight with & my
French made good conversation for
the German drinking you did.
It wasn't schizophrenic, what
we were doing, it was
a United Nations having a big
fight with jammed
circuitry, so that in one ear you
might be getting French &
in the other ear English, while
I would be decoding it all in
Italian, Russian & Polish,
once in awhile recording a
snatch of it in abstract
English-American, of course,
fragmented by Freud's
associational German, which
was good, especially during
analytic sessions, when you
didn't talk at all & I spoke
in several languages consecutively &
in that way all at once.
You only pretended to understand,
you only pretended to be you in
English while I saw you & I
together in a French film with
English subtitles. The plot,
dragged out endlessly, is full
of disguised messages, coded out
refractions, juxtapositions of
French & English, The Italian
version of the movie had
Scandinavian actors & Spanish
light.
I feel an anxiety about our
conversation- you're leading it so
steadily in Italian & while I'm
translating it into French, I'm answering
you in English which is not half
as fast as your Italian. If I speak
in French you listen. Once, when I
thought you were listening to me in
French yhou were actually probably
hearing it in Engish, because you
were answering me in English, directly &
clearly in honest English tones. Yet I would
have liked if we both could have
spoken in French, or Italian, or
both of them together. But you insist
on speaking to me quickly in Italian,
which patiently I translate into
English thinking
about your meanings seriously & exactly.
I should talk to you strictly in
Italian & ask you to answer me in
Italian, if we do talk again so
seriously & so long- so afterwards
if we make love we should make love in
Spanish & kiss in French & make love
much more in Spanish. Then we
should speak only Italian & slowly,
slowly in Italian & not translate it back into
anything.
...No, I'm not
too afraid to hug you in English,
its we were afraid to talk in
French & make love in English, or
in both languages at once,
hearing the thought, for example,
in Spanish, heard like a Peruvian
folk song, pictured in
painted abstraction,
not to be said in blacks &
blues, written &
spoken, lightly transparent.
Fissures, I know, when naked &
holding we were children again,
not yet speaking only English,
but the languages we
brought with us- Italian,
German, Polish, Russian &
French. Licking you, kissing
you, biting you was all in
Italian once, but you felt
in in Engish so I tried to
translate it back into French
in broken American which you
would certainly never hear &
understand. But this way there
would somehow be a record of it,
though no matter how fast I
write it in English it would
gloss over every bit of the
Italian gestures you were feeling
in Boston Engish. Written
English, which singled out your
musically abrupt, practical gestures-
first I saw them as rough,
later efficient & mechanically
beautiful, but, since you couldn't
melt in Italian or Spanish or
French I found a German
Jew who understood my
French but insisted on speaking to
me in 19th Century English, prim
& proper & this angered me,
so I thought only in French &
thus escaped part of the rage,
though my German was good
enough to fight with & my
French made good conversation for
the German drinking you did.
It wasn't schizophrenic, what
we were doing, it was
a United Nations having a big
fight with jammed
circuitry, so that in one ear you
might be getting French &
in the other ear English, while
I would be decoding it all in
Italian, Russian & Polish,
once in awhile recording a
snatch of it in abstract
English-American, of course,
fragmented by Freud's
associational German, which
was good, especially during
analytic sessions, when you
didn't talk at all & I spoke
in several languages consecutively &
in that way all at once.
You only pretended to understand,
you only pretended to be you in
English while I saw you & I
together in a French film with
English subtitles. The plot,
dragged out endlessly, is full
of disguised messages, coded out
refractions, juxtapositions of
French & English, The Italian
version of the movie had
Scandinavian actors & Spanish
light.
I feel an anxiety about our
conversation- you're leading it so
steadily in Italian & while I'm
translating it into French, I'm answering
you in English which is not half
as fast as your Italian. If I speak
in French you listen. Once, when I
thought you were listening to me in
French yhou were actually probably
hearing it in Engish, because you
were answering me in English, directly &
clearly in honest English tones. Yet I would
have liked if we both could have
spoken in French, or Italian, or
both of them together. But you insist
on speaking to me quickly in Italian,
which patiently I translate into
English thinking
about your meanings seriously & exactly.
I should talk to you strictly in
Italian & ask you to answer me in
Italian, if we do talk again so
seriously & so long- so afterwards
if we make love we should make love in
Spanish & kiss in French & make love
much more in Spanish. Then we
should speak only Italian & slowly,
slowly in Italian & not translate it back into
anything.
Thursday, January 29
Notebook: 5/18/79 [continued from 1/28]
Gradually these symbols
enter into an orchestral architecture,
varieties of scales and contrasts:
small buildings & enormous cars.
At home, the letters, they're not in
ordinary English, bespeak thousands
of images of our moments together.
A puppy died, that distance woke me
out of my revery, actually made
me strong enough to leave. Stop
making me feel guilty, English, I'm
not your victim, I won't be
transparent motion for you, scattering my
energies aside, an onslaught of
conflicts. Too much gravity in
English, too much clumping
around, too much stumbling, walking,
running & hiking. In French,
English is quiet. Its
stillness outlines my future,
a private horoscope, portions
of memory, English a shortcut
to meaning, French an elongation
of thought, or thought preceding
thought, space for manifestations,
small quotes capture monolithic
presences, shape a steep angle to
the immediate token word. I
was also still talking to you
in English, thinking in French,
elaborating a labyrinthine dialogue
between 3, 4, 5 even 6 women,
thunder clasps their throats, pleasing
them sexually separately.
Maybe we really split
when you destroyed that housedress
you knew I loved the best, you
didn't want to tell me in Engish
how good you felt about me, you
had to hide it in your Boston
accents, while I was translating
all of it into French, dreaming it
into hieroglyphics I thought were
all about someone else- no, no.
Not a formula, something to
digest & simplify, too complicated
to organize. Sure,you got me
to shower in English, but the
conception, which will initially
appear confusing, cacaphonous,
will eventually explode into
French, imagining itself as a
Babel of voices and tongues- frozen
like the flat skyscrapers seen from
the Brooklyn shore
at twilight.
(to be continued)
Gradually these symbols
enter into an orchestral architecture,
varieties of scales and contrasts:
small buildings & enormous cars.
At home, the letters, they're not in
ordinary English, bespeak thousands
of images of our moments together.
A puppy died, that distance woke me
out of my revery, actually made
me strong enough to leave. Stop
making me feel guilty, English, I'm
not your victim, I won't be
transparent motion for you, scattering my
energies aside, an onslaught of
conflicts. Too much gravity in
English, too much clumping
around, too much stumbling, walking,
running & hiking. In French,
English is quiet. Its
stillness outlines my future,
a private horoscope, portions
of memory, English a shortcut
to meaning, French an elongation
of thought, or thought preceding
thought, space for manifestations,
small quotes capture monolithic
presences, shape a steep angle to
the immediate token word. I
was also still talking to you
in English, thinking in French,
elaborating a labyrinthine dialogue
between 3, 4, 5 even 6 women,
thunder clasps their throats, pleasing
them sexually separately.
Maybe we really split
when you destroyed that housedress
you knew I loved the best, you
didn't want to tell me in Engish
how good you felt about me, you
had to hide it in your Boston
accents, while I was translating
all of it into French, dreaming it
into hieroglyphics I thought were
all about someone else- no, no.
Not a formula, something to
digest & simplify, too complicated
to organize. Sure,you got me
to shower in English, but the
conception, which will initially
appear confusing, cacaphonous,
will eventually explode into
French, imagining itself as a
Babel of voices and tongues- frozen
like the flat skyscrapers seen from
the Brooklyn shore
at twilight.
(to be continued)
Wednesday, January 28
Gratefully received today
from
Carl Annarummo
*$4.00 Poems*
"thank you Paul Auster.
now I'd like to enter
a nine ft. radial bouncy
ball and bounce myself
into outer space..."
Mr Annarummo edits *Pettycoat Relaxer*
and his poems may be found at
the Mollusk {click here}
from
Carl Annarummo
*$4.00 Poems*
"thank you Paul Auster.
now I'd like to enter
a nine ft. radial bouncy
ball and bounce myself
into outer space..."
Mr Annarummo edits *Pettycoat Relaxer*
and his poems may be found at
the Mollusk {click here}
Once again, Never Neutral (Ernesto Priego) {click here},
hits the (blog) spot, focusing now on the
causes of "the resistance to theory," in a piece titled
"Eclipses."
**
Wittgenstein as blogger... right now on Mikarrhea (Michaela Cooper) {click here}
**
Awesome! Cup Of Chicha {click here} comes through with links to info on David Markson
and a new link for *Solipsistic* in the same posting!
**
Divide and conquer...Antonio Savoridan {click here}
opens a new blog for his poems Respite and Nepenthe {click here}
**
Mirror mirror on the wall...by the light of the silvery
Moonshine Highways (Amy Bernier) {click here}
**
Transubspamtiation on ululations (Nada Gordon) {click here}
**
Thanks to Josh Cory for letting
his students roam free in blogland,
including *fait accompli*,
and to Jonathan Mayhew for
introducing some of my writing
to his *theory* class.
hits the (blog) spot, focusing now on the
causes of "the resistance to theory," in a piece titled
"Eclipses."
**
Wittgenstein as blogger... right now on Mikarrhea (Michaela Cooper) {click here}
**
Awesome! Cup Of Chicha {click here} comes through with links to info on David Markson
and a new link for *Solipsistic* in the same posting!
**
Divide and conquer...Antonio Savoridan {click here}
opens a new blog for his poems Respite and Nepenthe {click here}
**
Mirror mirror on the wall...by the light of the silvery
Moonshine Highways (Amy Bernier) {click here}
**
Transubspamtiation on ululations (Nada Gordon) {click here}
**
Thanks to Josh Cory for letting
his students roam free in blogland,
including *fait accompli*,
and to Jonathan Mayhew for
introducing some of my writing
to his *theory* class.
Notebook: 5/18/79
It took me a long time to
realize that you didn't like my
body. Even if it were a cover
for something else, a whole series
of contrasts, I wonder if now I'm
talking to you through someone else.
My art, to get back to you. I
add things on to memories. English
is anguish- a public memory.
The memories we shared- here is a
book of that, a bunch of snapshots
handed to you like flowers. Of an
evening, an evensong beginning on
a harsh note should be recognizable
to you, but would be less and
more spoken to you in French. I've
never been in love with you in
English, I'll trade languages with
you privately. A dumb song, so
many notes of which, fogging the
windows, tipping back and forth the
focusing of meanings- again, a
map disappearing into history,
fading, found, melting regularly
into political absence, not names,
before and after in harmony.
French is prepositional, but your
language is English, its tune
belongs in a gas station managed
by a mustachioed attendant.
It's your baby now, your car,
I mean really her car, her cargo
of gifts bearing me along so
slowly- a book of words the best
gift of all. You didn't realize of
course that not speaking French with
you finally came to symbolize the
dissolution of our relationship and that
was a powerful thing to happen, to
let myself float along like this
struggling endlessly with your absence,
with your multiplicity and the harsh
precise tones of my mother tongue.
English, you burst open
in a welter of voices, chorus
of voices rising over the traffic's
monotonous breathing. Before the
pronouncement, all that angry
repetition, the moldy collection of
papers, I got angry with the
way someone cleverly simplified
your gestures, speeding them up,
flashing them sharply, cracking them
loudly in the tension of two
people silently communicating inside
the hum of a descending elevator.
Out in the street English is also
silent, that is, language consists
of messages in silence, translated
partially into several languages-
Italian, Spanish, French, Chinese,
Arabic- possibly a little
Hindustani & Greek & Russian.
Bass voices, a welter of
synapses clicking reminders-
weather, hunger, rage, appointments,
money...
[to be continued]
It took me a long time to
realize that you didn't like my
body. Even if it were a cover
for something else, a whole series
of contrasts, I wonder if now I'm
talking to you through someone else.
My art, to get back to you. I
add things on to memories. English
is anguish- a public memory.
The memories we shared- here is a
book of that, a bunch of snapshots
handed to you like flowers. Of an
evening, an evensong beginning on
a harsh note should be recognizable
to you, but would be less and
more spoken to you in French. I've
never been in love with you in
English, I'll trade languages with
you privately. A dumb song, so
many notes of which, fogging the
windows, tipping back and forth the
focusing of meanings- again, a
map disappearing into history,
fading, found, melting regularly
into political absence, not names,
before and after in harmony.
French is prepositional, but your
language is English, its tune
belongs in a gas station managed
by a mustachioed attendant.
It's your baby now, your car,
I mean really her car, her cargo
of gifts bearing me along so
slowly- a book of words the best
gift of all. You didn't realize of
course that not speaking French with
you finally came to symbolize the
dissolution of our relationship and that
was a powerful thing to happen, to
let myself float along like this
struggling endlessly with your absence,
with your multiplicity and the harsh
precise tones of my mother tongue.
English, you burst open
in a welter of voices, chorus
of voices rising over the traffic's
monotonous breathing. Before the
pronouncement, all that angry
repetition, the moldy collection of
papers, I got angry with the
way someone cleverly simplified
your gestures, speeding them up,
flashing them sharply, cracking them
loudly in the tension of two
people silently communicating inside
the hum of a descending elevator.
Out in the street English is also
silent, that is, language consists
of messages in silence, translated
partially into several languages-
Italian, Spanish, French, Chinese,
Arabic- possibly a little
Hindustani & Greek & Russian.
Bass voices, a welter of
synapses clicking reminders-
weather, hunger, rage, appointments,
money...
[to be continued]
Tuesday, January 27
This just in, Black Spring (Menno ter Braak
with beat_read, Steve Tills) {click here}
is blogging regularly again, back again
last summer, with things to say
about the (U.S.) culture of fear, Bush, Kerry, Dean.
with beat_read, Steve Tills) {click here}
is blogging regularly again, back again
last summer, with things to say
about the (U.S.) culture of fear, Bush, Kerry, Dean.
Bibliography for "The Narcissistic Personality"
*=highly recommended
Otto F. Kernberg, *Borderline Conditions and Pathological Narcissism*
"The Treatment of the Narcissistic Personality" (Chapter 8),
Jason Aronson, pp.227-262 (1975)
Otto Kernberg, ibid, "Clinical Problems of the Narcissistic
Personality", pp. 263-314
Otto Kernberg, ibid, "Normal and Pathological Narcissism" (pp. 315-346)
*Heinz Kohut, *The Restoration of The Self*, "The Termination of
The Analysis of Narcissistic Personality Disorders" (Chapter 1)
International Universities Press, pp. 1-62
10. Countertransferential Issues
*Malcolm J. Marks, "Professional Narcissism in Psychotherapy" in
*Countertransference*, Herbert S. Strean, editor, (New York: The
Hayworth Press, 1985) pp. 95-109
*Harold Searles, "Oedpal Love in the Countertransference",
*Collected Papers on Schizophrenia* (International
Universities Press, 1965) pp.l 284-303
Otto Kernberg, "Further Contributions to the Treatment
of Narcissistic Personalities" (international Journal of
Psychoanalysis, Vol 55, pp. 215-40-1974)
*=highly recommended
Otto F. Kernberg, *Borderline Conditions and Pathological Narcissism*
"The Treatment of the Narcissistic Personality" (Chapter 8),
Jason Aronson, pp.227-262 (1975)
Otto Kernberg, ibid, "Clinical Problems of the Narcissistic
Personality", pp. 263-314
Otto Kernberg, ibid, "Normal and Pathological Narcissism" (pp. 315-346)
*Heinz Kohut, *The Restoration of The Self*, "The Termination of
The Analysis of Narcissistic Personality Disorders" (Chapter 1)
International Universities Press, pp. 1-62
10. Countertransferential Issues
*Malcolm J. Marks, "Professional Narcissism in Psychotherapy" in
*Countertransference*, Herbert S. Strean, editor, (New York: The
Hayworth Press, 1985) pp. 95-109
*Harold Searles, "Oedpal Love in the Countertransference",
*Collected Papers on Schizophrenia* (International
Universities Press, 1965) pp.l 284-303
Otto Kernberg, "Further Contributions to the Treatment
of Narcissistic Personalities" (international Journal of
Psychoanalysis, Vol 55, pp. 215-40-1974)
The *Poetry Project Newsletter* for February/March is out
and contains a rave review written by poet Joe Elliot for
Charles Borkhuis' new book *Savoir-Fear* published by
Meeting Eyes Bindery (Spuyten Duyvil). Here's a taste from
"Bad Infinity", the closing poem in the book:
"god is not dead I thought
he's just another resurrected sign
on the simulation circuit
like the rest of history
wry sewage overflowed
from a half-forgotten dream
big world breakdown I am coming
from the land of detritus interruptus
to your perfectly contained club med shore
eyes permanently slit
and a rusty razor between my teeth
icy repetition hemorrhaging cartoon nights
bloody thunder talk to me"
In the review, by the way, Joe Elliot takes a swipe at the harshest "nice
guys finish last" poet of all time, Bruce Andrews: "Bruce Andrews's
work, for example, is justified insofar as it is funny. All those
nasty consonsants and juxtapositions are hilarious and freeing and train
the ear not to accept the less freeing. However, how far forward they move
the cause of social justice is incidental..."
To get a taste of this terrific book, and meet and talk with
its author, why not go to his reading with blogger Katie
Degentesh at the Poetry Project on
Wednesday, February 18th at 8 pm? We all know
how funny and terrific her writing is. What a combo!
For $18 bucks you can attend the reading ($8) and buy the
book ($10) and probably get it signed, knowing how kind a
person Charles is. And if you haven't yet had the pleasure,
hear and meet Katie Degentesh, one of the wittiest and most
popular bloggers we have and find out exactly what the fuss is all
about!
Besides, the Poetry Project could use the money. They lost
their NEA grant this year.
The Poetry Project is located at St Mark's Church in-the-Bowery
131 East 10th Street, New York City 10003
THE POETRY PROJECT {CLICK HERE}
Lets hear it for Anselm Berrigan for keeping this grand poetry institution alive,
exciting and significant for contemporary poetry.
and contains a rave review written by poet Joe Elliot for
Charles Borkhuis' new book *Savoir-Fear* published by
Meeting Eyes Bindery (Spuyten Duyvil). Here's a taste from
"Bad Infinity", the closing poem in the book:
"god is not dead I thought
he's just another resurrected sign
on the simulation circuit
like the rest of history
wry sewage overflowed
from a half-forgotten dream
big world breakdown I am coming
from the land of detritus interruptus
to your perfectly contained club med shore
eyes permanently slit
and a rusty razor between my teeth
icy repetition hemorrhaging cartoon nights
bloody thunder talk to me"
In the review, by the way, Joe Elliot takes a swipe at the harshest "nice
guys finish last" poet of all time, Bruce Andrews: "Bruce Andrews's
work, for example, is justified insofar as it is funny. All those
nasty consonsants and juxtapositions are hilarious and freeing and train
the ear not to accept the less freeing. However, how far forward they move
the cause of social justice is incidental..."
To get a taste of this terrific book, and meet and talk with
its author, why not go to his reading with blogger Katie
Degentesh at the Poetry Project on
Wednesday, February 18th at 8 pm? We all know
how funny and terrific her writing is. What a combo!
For $18 bucks you can attend the reading ($8) and buy the
book ($10) and probably get it signed, knowing how kind a
person Charles is. And if you haven't yet had the pleasure,
hear and meet Katie Degentesh, one of the wittiest and most
popular bloggers we have and find out exactly what the fuss is all
about!
Besides, the Poetry Project could use the money. They lost
their NEA grant this year.
The Poetry Project is located at St Mark's Church in-the-Bowery
131 East 10th Street, New York City 10003
THE POETRY PROJECT {CLICK HERE}
Lets hear it for Anselm Berrigan for keeping this grand poetry institution alive,
exciting and significant for contemporary poetry.
Monday, January 26
Atrios on WNYC
Possibly every blogger except me knows about this blog
but I heard him on WNYC on a show about political blogging
last night (Frank Rich also chimed in with some intelligent ideas
as usual) sort of debating Andrew
Sullivan. His ideas are
interesting, plus, he got 80,000 hits in one day last
week- but don't hold that against him. Scroll way down
to a post called Bush vs. Dean and see if you
think the video clip looks like Bush getting drunk at a wedding
in 1992.
Eschaton {click here}
Possibly every blogger except me knows about this blog
but I heard him on WNYC on a show about political blogging
last night (Frank Rich also chimed in with some intelligent ideas
as usual) sort of debating Andrew
Sullivan. His ideas are
interesting, plus, he got 80,000 hits in one day last
week- but don't hold that against him. Scroll way down
to a post called Bush vs. Dean and see if you
think the video clip looks like Bush getting drunk at a wedding
in 1992.
Eschaton {click here}
from *The Notebooks of Samuel Butler* (1835-1902)
"Fascination"
"I know a man, and one whom people generally
call a very clever one, who, when his eye catches
mine, if I meet him at home or an evening party,
beams upon me from afar with the expression of
an intellectual rattlesnake on having espied an
intellectual rabbit. Through any crowd that man
will come sidling towards me, ruthless and irresistible
as fate; while I, foreknowing my doom, sidle also
him-wards, and flatter myself that no sign of my
inward apprehension has escaped me."
"Fascination"
"I know a man, and one whom people generally
call a very clever one, who, when his eye catches
mine, if I meet him at home or an evening party,
beams upon me from afar with the expression of
an intellectual rattlesnake on having espied an
intellectual rabbit. Through any crowd that man
will come sidling towards me, ruthless and irresistible
as fate; while I, foreknowing my doom, sidle also
him-wards, and flatter myself that no sign of my
inward apprehension has escaped me."
Sunday, January 25
::fait accompli::
(((((BLOGLINK)))))(((((CRUSH)))))((((((LIST))))) (New Links)
(((((THESE)))))(((((BLOGS)))))(((((ARE)))))(((((HOT)))))
Almost Successfully (Michael Bogue)
Blaugustine (Natalie D'Arbeloff)
The Chatelaine's Poetics (Eileen Tabios)
Crag Hill's Poetry Scorecard
Heaven (Mairead Byrne)
Luminations (Ben Basan)
Muladar, Movedizo, Muladar (Heriberto Yepez) (Spanish/English)
Nemski.com
New Pages (Guide to Blogs)
Nobody Here (Jogchem Niemendverdriet (English/Dutch/Japanese)
random items (German/English)
Rob McLennan's Blog
Twists and Turns (Michael Gates)
Under Mind (Brennen Lukas}
Visions of Johanna (Johanna Rauhala)
Eratio (Gregory St. Thomasino)
Sifry's Alerts (David Sifry)
Scriptorium (Carlos Arribas)
Drunken Slugs (Nicole Cordrey)
dbqp: visualizing poetics (Geof Huth)
Vanishing Points of Resemblance (Tom Beckett)
Hoarded Ordinaries (Lorianne Schaub)
Ought (Ron Henry)
Paula's House of Toast
sodaddictionary part II
...something slant
God of The Machine
and
Froth (Marianne Shaneen) {click here} is back!!!
*************************************************************************************
This just in from Johanna Rauhala (Visions of Johanna)
Saturday, January 24, 2004
Yep, I've come out from underground turnips and rutabagas, and plan to post occasionally on this blog. (Sorry about the confusion with the name "Suze" . I have a work-related blog and I was using that as a pseudonym. But it's really me, Johanna!) And it's true- I'm pregnant! Almost four months. Scary/excited/scary/excited/scary/excited.
More links coming.
# posted by J : 5:54 PM
(((((BLOGLINK)))))(((((CRUSH)))))((((((LIST))))) (New Links)
(((((THESE)))))(((((BLOGS)))))(((((ARE)))))(((((HOT)))))
Almost Successfully (Michael Bogue)
Blaugustine (Natalie D'Arbeloff)
The Chatelaine's Poetics (Eileen Tabios)
Crag Hill's Poetry Scorecard
Heaven (Mairead Byrne)
Luminations (Ben Basan)
Muladar, Movedizo, Muladar (Heriberto Yepez) (Spanish/English)
Nemski.com
New Pages (Guide to Blogs)
Nobody Here (Jogchem Niemendverdriet (English/Dutch/Japanese)
random items (German/English)
Rob McLennan's Blog
Twists and Turns (Michael Gates)
Under Mind (Brennen Lukas}
Visions of Johanna (Johanna Rauhala)
Eratio (Gregory St. Thomasino)
Sifry's Alerts (David Sifry)
Scriptorium (Carlos Arribas)
Drunken Slugs (Nicole Cordrey)
dbqp: visualizing poetics (Geof Huth)
Vanishing Points of Resemblance (Tom Beckett)
Hoarded Ordinaries (Lorianne Schaub)
Ought (Ron Henry)
Paula's House of Toast
sodaddictionary part II
...something slant
God of The Machine
and
Froth (Marianne Shaneen) {click here} is back!!!
*************************************************************************************
This just in from Johanna Rauhala (Visions of Johanna)
Saturday, January 24, 2004
Yep, I've come out from underground turnips and rutabagas, and plan to post occasionally on this blog. (Sorry about the confusion with the name "Suze" . I have a work-related blog and I was using that as a pseudonym. But it's really me, Johanna!) And it's true- I'm pregnant! Almost four months. Scary/excited/scary/excited/scary/excited.
More links coming.
# posted by J : 5:54 PM
Saturday, January 24
Deja Vu Dep't
Just now I went into my Site Meter (what
else is new?) and saw an unusual link,
checked it out and found out it went to a blog called
Visions of Johanna {click here}
whose most recent link is about the birth of her baby!
For a second I wondered if Johanna Rauhala had brought
back her blog with its earliest name (if you remember
she changed it to *Rutabaga* before retiring it
some months back.) But this is someone who
started her blog this past September and who
signs off with the name Suze.
Welcome, *Visions of Johanna*
and thanks for the link!
Hmmm....Maybe it's getting to be
time for a new (((((fait)))))(((((accompli))))
((((((HOT)))))((((((BLOG))))) list. Tomorrow
is one of those quiet days in Blogland,
it's a Sunday....Why not tomorrow?
Just now I went into my Site Meter (what
else is new?) and saw an unusual link,
checked it out and found out it went to a blog called
Visions of Johanna {click here}
whose most recent link is about the birth of her baby!
For a second I wondered if Johanna Rauhala had brought
back her blog with its earliest name (if you remember
she changed it to *Rutabaga* before retiring it
some months back.) But this is someone who
started her blog this past September and who
signs off with the name Suze.
Welcome, *Visions of Johanna*
and thanks for the link!
Hmmm....Maybe it's getting to be
time for a new (((((fait)))))(((((accompli))))
((((((HOT)))))((((((BLOG))))) list. Tomorrow
is one of those quiet days in Blogland,
it's a Sunday....Why not tomorrow?
In the midst of writing several papers, Josh Corey
opines on anxiety, narcissism and the value of
blogging- and takes issue with some major
academic players!
He writes "This search for community is part of the reason
I feel I must reject the priestly convictions of one
of the commenters on Holmes' original post, Aaron McCollough.
I don't want to reprint it
without his permission, but I think what he says
pathologizes my "paradoxical desires" (for transcending the
system and for being rewarded by the system),
rather than recognizing that this pathology is
a reaction to a paradoxical system. Again, to go
back to Nick Piombino's "Blogging and Narcissism" post,
these are actual social problems that turn into psychological
problems. McCollough's solution seems to be that one
should accept one's role as unacknowledged legislator
and opt out of the system entirely...."
While Cahiers de Corey (Josh Corey) {click here}
is finishing his paper for class,
you have a small window of time to catch up
on this interesting discussion, before Josh's next post,
which may take you elsewhere...
Speaking of Elsewhere (Gary Sullivan) {click here}
don't miss Gary Sullivan on K.S. Mohammad {click here} and Tina Darraugh.
opines on anxiety, narcissism and the value of
blogging- and takes issue with some major
academic players!
He writes "This search for community is part of the reason
I feel I must reject the priestly convictions of one
of the commenters on Holmes' original post, Aaron McCollough.
I don't want to reprint it
without his permission, but I think what he says
pathologizes my "paradoxical desires" (for transcending the
system and for being rewarded by the system),
rather than recognizing that this pathology is
a reaction to a paradoxical system. Again, to go
back to Nick Piombino's "Blogging and Narcissism" post,
these are actual social problems that turn into psychological
problems. McCollough's solution seems to be that one
should accept one's role as unacknowledged legislator
and opt out of the system entirely...."
While Cahiers de Corey (Josh Corey) {click here}
is finishing his paper for class,
you have a small window of time to catch up
on this interesting discussion, before Josh's next post,
which may take you elsewhere...
Speaking of Elsewhere (Gary Sullivan) {click here}
don't miss Gary Sullivan on K.S. Mohammad {click here} and Tina Darraugh.
Friday, January 23
Dean's Dilemma
I've been thinking a lot about the hullabaloo created
on tv over the last few days about an emotionally
demonstrative speech Howard
Dean gave to some of his supporters after coming
out third in the Iowa primary that has been extensively
interpreted as "over the top." Dean himself acknowledged
its "nuttiness" (I don't think so) but appropriately refused
to apologize. Apologize to whom for what?
The passage below is from my
chapbook *The Boundary of Theory*
published by Cuneiform Press
early in 2001. The text was talk given at SUNY/Buffalo
on September 27, 2000. Kyle Schlesinger published
the chapbook and interviewed me shortly thereafter
and included the interview in the chapbook.
"One theory I noted for the (suggested) successes of
Bush during the televised debates was his lack of
surface anger. Aside from the familiar McLuhanistic
theories of the "coolness" of the television medium,
perhaps a more basic explanation for the apparently
pervasive lack of emotion is the manipulative power
of remaining "cool." Coolness, in our culture, implies
self-control, conviction and confidence. Perhaps one
of the most familiar images for indoctrination during
the Second War were those clips of Hitler and Mussolini's
frigteningly rageful speeches. I think indoctrination in our
time has more to do with talk that is so lacking in
listening, introspection and respect for the speaker that
the give and take of discussion is reduced to the effect
of canned dialog, complete with laugh and applause tracks.
This is where narrative structure comes in, for me.
I associate narrative structure with predictable outcomes,
even when the outcomes are predictably unpredictable. The
more predictable outcomes become for the practiced viewer
(and we are all now incredibly practiced viewers) the more
outrageous the endings have to become, in their soon to
be predictable ways. I'm thinking at the moment of the
"surprise" ending(s) of the (relatively) recent *Reindeer Games*.
I feel that Bush, the cooler his is, the more frightening the
implied violence becomes. Thus his popularity with U.S. males.
So perhaps what is being repressed, better yet, disguised,
is the relationship between emotional reaction and violence,
thus the heightened effect of ruthlessness. Only a truly
ruthless person can be trusted to be predictably violent.
What appeals to me about disrupting narrative structure
is the transgression of automaticity. The "automatic"
and the machine gun are apt contemporary images for
the internally terrifying sensation of violence exactly
because "reaction time" has been effectively eliminated.
No time for pity or sympathy. Just plug 'em. Simply stated:
narrative structure=violence. Or, as I put it in *The Boundary
of Blur*: 'The cutting edge of narrative often turns to blood
and is fascinated by monsters.'"
**************************************************
Has it reached a point that manipulation
is the only reality, and heartfelt openness
is considered...what...crazy? Why? As I
suggest above, it appears now that unless a politician
is sufficiently cool, they will not appear to be sufficiently
manipulative (=powerful) to lead a nation
more and more run by people mainly concerned to
appear more covert and manipulatively shrewd than
the next representative. This is enhanced by the covert
insistence that all citizens follow orders
and control any desire to think and feel for themselves
which includes the unstated expetation that one dare not
spontaneously expose one's feelings whatever they might be.
It is no surprise that Howard Dean found a home
among the blogs. Clearly there are fewer and fewer places
left to openly state a dissident point of view
where numerous others might have a chance to listen and respond
if you are not a member of the "vast right wing conspiracy"
that Hllary Clinton once spoke about so passionately. She's
quieter now. I guess she has to be.
Big Brother of the Patriot Act is watching.
I've been thinking a lot about the hullabaloo created
on tv over the last few days about an emotionally
demonstrative speech Howard
Dean gave to some of his supporters after coming
out third in the Iowa primary that has been extensively
interpreted as "over the top." Dean himself acknowledged
its "nuttiness" (I don't think so) but appropriately refused
to apologize. Apologize to whom for what?
The passage below is from my
chapbook *The Boundary of Theory*
published by Cuneiform Press
early in 2001. The text was talk given at SUNY/Buffalo
on September 27, 2000. Kyle Schlesinger published
the chapbook and interviewed me shortly thereafter
and included the interview in the chapbook.
"One theory I noted for the (suggested) successes of
Bush during the televised debates was his lack of
surface anger. Aside from the familiar McLuhanistic
theories of the "coolness" of the television medium,
perhaps a more basic explanation for the apparently
pervasive lack of emotion is the manipulative power
of remaining "cool." Coolness, in our culture, implies
self-control, conviction and confidence. Perhaps one
of the most familiar images for indoctrination during
the Second War were those clips of Hitler and Mussolini's
frigteningly rageful speeches. I think indoctrination in our
time has more to do with talk that is so lacking in
listening, introspection and respect for the speaker that
the give and take of discussion is reduced to the effect
of canned dialog, complete with laugh and applause tracks.
This is where narrative structure comes in, for me.
I associate narrative structure with predictable outcomes,
even when the outcomes are predictably unpredictable. The
more predictable outcomes become for the practiced viewer
(and we are all now incredibly practiced viewers) the more
outrageous the endings have to become, in their soon to
be predictable ways. I'm thinking at the moment of the
"surprise" ending(s) of the (relatively) recent *Reindeer Games*.
I feel that Bush, the cooler his is, the more frightening the
implied violence becomes. Thus his popularity with U.S. males.
So perhaps what is being repressed, better yet, disguised,
is the relationship between emotional reaction and violence,
thus the heightened effect of ruthlessness. Only a truly
ruthless person can be trusted to be predictably violent.
What appeals to me about disrupting narrative structure
is the transgression of automaticity. The "automatic"
and the machine gun are apt contemporary images for
the internally terrifying sensation of violence exactly
because "reaction time" has been effectively eliminated.
No time for pity or sympathy. Just plug 'em. Simply stated:
narrative structure=violence. Or, as I put it in *The Boundary
of Blur*: 'The cutting edge of narrative often turns to blood
and is fascinated by monsters.'"
**************************************************
Has it reached a point that manipulation
is the only reality, and heartfelt openness
is considered...what...crazy? Why? As I
suggest above, it appears now that unless a politician
is sufficiently cool, they will not appear to be sufficiently
manipulative (=powerful) to lead a nation
more and more run by people mainly concerned to
appear more covert and manipulatively shrewd than
the next representative. This is enhanced by the covert
insistence that all citizens follow orders
and control any desire to think and feel for themselves
which includes the unstated expetation that one dare not
spontaneously expose one's feelings whatever they might be.
It is no surprise that Howard Dean found a home
among the blogs. Clearly there are fewer and fewer places
left to openly state a dissident point of view
where numerous others might have a chance to listen and respond
if you are not a member of the "vast right wing conspiracy"
that Hllary Clinton once spoke about so passionately. She's
quieter now. I guess she has to be.
Big Brother of the Patriot Act is watching.
Cup of Chicha {click here} makes
the point that *The Butterfly Effect* is a "bad" movie.
But lots of cinemaniacs like
me and Toni occasionally enjoy grade B movies,
especially grade B science fiction movies. Though
admittedly this movie is sounding a bit more like
grade F. Sometimes it is advisable
to let such films "ripen" for
awhile to be able to endure them- or, if they
are really rotten, maybe let them dry out a little.
the point that *The Butterfly Effect* is a "bad" movie.
But lots of cinemaniacs like
me and Toni occasionally enjoy grade B movies,
especially grade B science fiction movies. Though
admittedly this movie is sounding a bit more like
grade F. Sometimes it is advisable
to let such films "ripen" for
awhile to be able to endure them- or, if they
are really rotten, maybe let them dry out a little.
An LRB article focussing on Oulipo and Harry Matthews
London Review of Books {click here}
via the consisitently informative blog Language Hat {click here}
London Review of Books {click here}
via the consisitently informative blog Language Hat {click here}
Today, a movie called *The Butterfly Effect*,
starring Ashton Kutcher, will open that is about
someone who time travels by reading their own
journals. I don't exactly know what to think about
this. Certainly no one had ever heard about this movie
or its premise when I started *::fait accompli::spellbound
speculations:: time travel* on February 11,
2003. From that time on, I began writing frequently about my idea
of time travel, and blogging my journal which often
deals with time and time travel since the 70's. Time
travel is not a new idea, but doing it through journal
writing is something I never thought or heard about
before I began doing it. Also, I wonder if anyone else who
reads *fait accompli*, especially from early on, would make similar connections
with the premise of "The Butterfly Effect" that I do.
Then I start to think, maybe these people lifted my idea and rightfully
owe me some money, or at least a credit? But in
these days of artistic appropriation, maybe
their lifting my idea should be considered cool...I dunno...
It's a rather common dilemma, isn't it?
Perhaps the most disturbing thing about this, is related to why I
waited so long to publish most of these journals- although
my book *Theoretical Objects* (Green Integer, 1999)
is also culled from my journals
and deals with time travel in some of the pieces.
Truthfully, I've enjoyed the
privacy of my strange little experiment all these years.
Now a couple of movie producers turn my idea of time travel
through synchronistically connecting with early journal writing
into something "mainstream", tranforming it into something as accessible
and omnipresent as *The Gap.*
Yuck. On the other hand, if more people
start thinking about this particular possibility of time travel--
perhaps it will it become less
fiction and more reality? Who knows?
Only time will tell...ha-ha.
Anyway, here is a piece I blogged on *fait accompli* on 4/18/03:
******************************************************
I began to recognize the fact that some degree of evidence was likely to exist in the most recent notes I took. Chances are, going backwards in time, I would find fewer and fewer marked examples of what I was looking for. (Also, I have to take heed of who has succeeded me in breaking into the room, to discover its contents and who might have been there. Your mission, if you wish to accept it, is to try to remember and picture the inhabitants.)
Meanwhile, he could be there now, chuckling to himself that my ideal typewriter was all I ever really wanted out of it- not the words themselves, just that totally portable, ever ready to respond, trusty machine. Some joke.
(7/22/87)
starring Ashton Kutcher, will open that is about
someone who time travels by reading their own
journals. I don't exactly know what to think about
this. Certainly no one had ever heard about this movie
or its premise when I started *::fait accompli::spellbound
speculations:: time travel* on February 11,
2003. From that time on, I began writing frequently about my idea
of time travel, and blogging my journal which often
deals with time and time travel since the 70's. Time
travel is not a new idea, but doing it through journal
writing is something I never thought or heard about
before I began doing it. Also, I wonder if anyone else who
reads *fait accompli*, especially from early on, would make similar connections
with the premise of "The Butterfly Effect" that I do.
Then I start to think, maybe these people lifted my idea and rightfully
owe me some money, or at least a credit? But in
these days of artistic appropriation, maybe
their lifting my idea should be considered cool...I dunno...
It's a rather common dilemma, isn't it?
Perhaps the most disturbing thing about this, is related to why I
waited so long to publish most of these journals- although
my book *Theoretical Objects* (Green Integer, 1999)
is also culled from my journals
and deals with time travel in some of the pieces.
Truthfully, I've enjoyed the
privacy of my strange little experiment all these years.
Now a couple of movie producers turn my idea of time travel
through synchronistically connecting with early journal writing
into something "mainstream", tranforming it into something as accessible
and omnipresent as *The Gap.*
Yuck. On the other hand, if more people
start thinking about this particular possibility of time travel--
perhaps it will it become less
fiction and more reality? Who knows?
Only time will tell...ha-ha.
Anyway, here is a piece I blogged on *fait accompli* on 4/18/03:
******************************************************
I began to recognize the fact that some degree of evidence was likely to exist in the most recent notes I took. Chances are, going backwards in time, I would find fewer and fewer marked examples of what I was looking for. (Also, I have to take heed of who has succeeded me in breaking into the room, to discover its contents and who might have been there. Your mission, if you wish to accept it, is to try to remember and picture the inhabitants.)
Meanwhile, he could be there now, chuckling to himself that my ideal typewriter was all I ever really wanted out of it- not the words themselves, just that totally portable, ever ready to respond, trusty machine. Some joke.
(7/22/87)
Thursday, January 22
The Cassandra Pages {click here} quotes Martin Luther King and discusses nonconformity (Wednesday, January 21)
Thanks to the following blogs for
new links to *fait accompli* and our
blogging and narcissism discussion
Eratio (Gregory St. Thomasino) {click here}
Sifry's Alerts (David Sifry) {click here}
Scriptorium (Carlos Arribas) {click here}
Mysterium (Carlos Arribas)
Twists and Turns (Michael Gates){click here}
Chimera Song Mosaic (Deborah Wardlaw Pattillo)
Equanimity (Jordan Davis)
Hoarded Ordinaries {click here}
Porthole Redux {click here}
including Drunken Slugs {click here} reflecting on "narcissistic voyeurism" , "sollipsism" and "community"
as related issues for bloggers.
new links to *fait accompli* and our
blogging and narcissism discussion
Eratio (Gregory St. Thomasino) {click here}
Sifry's Alerts (David Sifry) {click here}
Scriptorium (Carlos Arribas) {click here}
Mysterium (Carlos Arribas)
Twists and Turns (Michael Gates){click here}
Chimera Song Mosaic (Deborah Wardlaw Pattillo)
Equanimity (Jordan Davis)
Hoarded Ordinaries {click here}
Porthole Redux {click here}
including Drunken Slugs {click here} reflecting on "narcissistic voyeurism" , "sollipsism" and "community"
as related issues for bloggers.
Here's another fine site
brought to my attention by Gregory St. Thomasino
Eratio Postmodern Poetry {click here}
brought to my attention by Gregory St. Thomasino
Eratio Postmodern Poetry {click here}
The excellent new edition
Sidereality {click here}
is now available
with a new look designed by Clayton Couch and Greg Couch.
Edited by Clayton Couch and Lewis LaCook.
*************************************
Technorati has a new beta page.
Go check out your links at
Technorati Beta Page {click here}
Thanks to Sifry's Alerts (David Sifry) {click here}
Sidereality {click here}
is now available
with a new look designed by Clayton Couch and Greg Couch.
Edited by Clayton Couch and Lewis LaCook.
*************************************
Technorati has a new beta page.
Go check out your links at
Technorati Beta Page {click here}
Thanks to Sifry's Alerts (David Sifry) {click here}
Wednesday, January 21
Vulnerability on Ice
The reservoir in Central Park is
almost completely iced over now.
The ducks and seagulls have settled
into the few little melted patches that
opened up because of the daylight sun.
Yesterday I noticed
a bedraggled swan among the ducks and gulls
in one open patch
near the jogging path
and I was very surprised. I have
never seen a swan there before-
they usually go to the large lake
in the Rambles. Last year one died in that lake
although nobody knows why for sure.
A couple of years ago, after 9/11, I got
into the habit of going down to the
lake in the Ramble, particularly after
very cold spells, to feed the birds. The
colder it gets, the less food the birds get,
and though technically you are not supposed
to feed them- maybe because they
should learn to go elsewhere to get
their food in winter-
- I'm not really sure
why it's not allowed- I do it anyway.
Actually, I got reminded of this
practice during the past two winters when I saw the
Lucas Samaras show
recently at PaceWildenstein Gallery.
(32 East 57th St, 212-421-3292)
consisting mostly of powerful,
very large computer generated photographic
images of Central Park.
In one. Samaras pictures himself
as part bird, part human. These works
brought back some of the thoughts and feelings
I had when feeding the ducks, gulls and swans
day after day, mulling over the state of the world,
looking again and again at the downtown skyline.
Samaras himself was at the gallery photographing
the installation when I was there,
a coincidence that led me to studying the images
even more closely, as he appears, often
nude, in many of the images. This, also and
alas, may be why he fled the gallery shortly
after taking the pictures, who knows.
Maybe he was just in a hurry. And I could
well understand why the actor in a
drama of their own creation might
not want to be observed
backstage by the audience.
(Probably Samaras was documenting
the show because it closed on Sat 1/17.)
Here’s an article about Samaras with some
images- and for some reason, I just keep
bumping straight into the topic of narcissism.
Of course, I don’t agree with Roberta Smith’s
use of this term, but here’s a recent article
on Samaras: Roberta Smith on Lucas Samaras {click here}
A couple of winters ago I learned
how to toss hunks of bread to the seagulls
as they flew towards me as I was stationed
on the shore of the lake. After a
few visits the flock of seagulls learned how to line
up and fly around right by me one
at a time to get the pieces of bread
tossed up to them. When they are
really hungry they fly by very close to
catch it. Today it was a little like a
scene out of "The Birds" by Hitchcock,
and Toni, though completely into feeding the birds,
was understandably a bit concerned that
they might soil our coats as they flew by,
they seemed so extremely
eager to get the bread,
much more anxiously than I had ever seen before,
they were flying by so close and so
excitedly. There have
been many truly well below freezing
days and nights of late and the park
has been rather sparsely visited
at least here uptown in the 90’s.
I remembered today that I would
frequently get ideas for *fait accompli*
while I was feeding those birds. Today I thought
about power and greed, and human vulnerability
and the coming election.
I realized that I liked Howard Dean not only
because he is against war but also because he
studied science in order to be a doctor.
I don't see how this country
can use science and technology
to heal our wounds and protect
the country and its resources
by depending mainly on forms of
Christian mysticism to guide us.
I can well understand how religious
feeling and experience
can mean a lot to many individuals and groups
and help to bring people together in
a caring way. But the separation of church and state
was a doctrine not only developed for reasons
of protecting the diversity
of religious practice, but also for
insuring that governmental
decisions were based on reason, not “faith.”
And it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know
that rocket science (the only type of science that
Bush seems to be interested in) is by far
not the most crucial
priority for the needs of the world
at the moment.
(By the way, we heard the comedienne
Reno discuss this topic brilliantly and
hilariously just this past Friday evening
at the Bowery Poetry
Club).
No matter how Bush tries to
impress the world with the United States’
power to conquer other countries
and outer space, I haven't forgotten
for a moment that 9/11 took place
on Bush’s watch, with all that information available
for predicting such attacks in the technological
informational pipeline.
Birds on a icy lake in a park,
people living in a cold and threatening world,
we are all only too vulnerable.
The reservoir in Central Park is
almost completely iced over now.
The ducks and seagulls have settled
into the few little melted patches that
opened up because of the daylight sun.
Yesterday I noticed
a bedraggled swan among the ducks and gulls
in one open patch
near the jogging path
and I was very surprised. I have
never seen a swan there before-
they usually go to the large lake
in the Rambles. Last year one died in that lake
although nobody knows why for sure.
A couple of years ago, after 9/11, I got
into the habit of going down to the
lake in the Ramble, particularly after
very cold spells, to feed the birds. The
colder it gets, the less food the birds get,
and though technically you are not supposed
to feed them- maybe because they
should learn to go elsewhere to get
their food in winter-
- I'm not really sure
why it's not allowed- I do it anyway.
Actually, I got reminded of this
practice during the past two winters when I saw the
Lucas Samaras show
recently at PaceWildenstein Gallery.
(32 East 57th St, 212-421-3292)
consisting mostly of powerful,
very large computer generated photographic
images of Central Park.
In one. Samaras pictures himself
as part bird, part human. These works
brought back some of the thoughts and feelings
I had when feeding the ducks, gulls and swans
day after day, mulling over the state of the world,
looking again and again at the downtown skyline.
Samaras himself was at the gallery photographing
the installation when I was there,
a coincidence that led me to studying the images
even more closely, as he appears, often
nude, in many of the images. This, also and
alas, may be why he fled the gallery shortly
after taking the pictures, who knows.
Maybe he was just in a hurry. And I could
well understand why the actor in a
drama of their own creation might
not want to be observed
backstage by the audience.
(Probably Samaras was documenting
the show because it closed on Sat 1/17.)
Here’s an article about Samaras with some
images- and for some reason, I just keep
bumping straight into the topic of narcissism.
Of course, I don’t agree with Roberta Smith’s
use of this term, but here’s a recent article
on Samaras: Roberta Smith on Lucas Samaras {click here}
A couple of winters ago I learned
how to toss hunks of bread to the seagulls
as they flew towards me as I was stationed
on the shore of the lake. After a
few visits the flock of seagulls learned how to line
up and fly around right by me one
at a time to get the pieces of bread
tossed up to them. When they are
really hungry they fly by very close to
catch it. Today it was a little like a
scene out of "The Birds" by Hitchcock,
and Toni, though completely into feeding the birds,
was understandably a bit concerned that
they might soil our coats as they flew by,
they seemed so extremely
eager to get the bread,
much more anxiously than I had ever seen before,
they were flying by so close and so
excitedly. There have
been many truly well below freezing
days and nights of late and the park
has been rather sparsely visited
at least here uptown in the 90’s.
I remembered today that I would
frequently get ideas for *fait accompli*
while I was feeding those birds. Today I thought
about power and greed, and human vulnerability
and the coming election.
I realized that I liked Howard Dean not only
because he is against war but also because he
studied science in order to be a doctor.
I don't see how this country
can use science and technology
to heal our wounds and protect
the country and its resources
by depending mainly on forms of
Christian mysticism to guide us.
I can well understand how religious
feeling and experience
can mean a lot to many individuals and groups
and help to bring people together in
a caring way. But the separation of church and state
was a doctrine not only developed for reasons
of protecting the diversity
of religious practice, but also for
insuring that governmental
decisions were based on reason, not “faith.”
And it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know
that rocket science (the only type of science that
Bush seems to be interested in) is by far
not the most crucial
priority for the needs of the world
at the moment.
(By the way, we heard the comedienne
Reno discuss this topic brilliantly and
hilariously just this past Friday evening
at the Bowery Poetry
Club).
No matter how Bush tries to
impress the world with the United States’
power to conquer other countries
and outer space, I haven't forgotten
for a moment that 9/11 took place
on Bush’s watch, with all that information available
for predicting such attacks in the technological
informational pipeline.
Birds on a icy lake in a park,
people living in a cold and threatening world,
we are all only too vulnerable.
Tuesday, January 20
The fantastic in art and fiction
from The Cornell Digital Collection
The Fantastic in Art and Fiction {click here}
via (solipsis)//:phaneroemikon (Lanny Quarles) {cllick here}
**
Did you know that
Lanny Quarles lives in Portland, Oregon
with his wife Kara and their two cats
Patchen and Anise?
from The Cornell Digital Collection
The Fantastic in Art and Fiction {click here}
via (solipsis)//:phaneroemikon (Lanny Quarles) {cllick here}
**
Did you know that
Lanny Quarles lives in Portland, Oregon
with his wife Kara and their two cats
Patchen and Anise?
Ben Affleck discovers major new way to use Google.
Via Harlequin Knights (Joseph Mosconi) {click here} (scroll down on Tuesday, 1/20)
Via Harlequin Knights (Joseph Mosconi) {click here} (scroll down on Tuesday, 1/20)
Notebook: 2/1978
No matter who I am
nothing can completely
allow this silence.
I, who speak, can only repeat
who- not that which becomes
what we are now in relation to together-
I add. But I am not this personal
being who questions, who marks the
equations of what I have added
to your listening- to be
continually prior to it, to be
listening to this one, this I,
before I have imagined a later
answer, our exchange must be
immediately postponed. Set
before you immediately
2/28/78
Get rid of your be-longings
he cackles at me- I listened
to him once & followed his
call a long time ago. I
can speak.
3/10
To prepare for the reading I
looked up the word labyrinth
in the thesaurus
3/16
"I can stare."
Correspondences, coincidences,
criticisms, decisions,
cannibalisms, canizba (a sound
I don't yet recognize the meaning of,
going before and through.)
Before is not just the past.
Before is an emphasis of just
past. The recorded definitions.
The unspeakable ceremonies avowing
each letter going from one carved letter
to another inscription.
It took place near a marble
monument, stone anyway, which
is so dense with time it surrounds
itself with a wide air of silence,
of association. These vague structures,
reminiscent of so much that came
before, the many possible resemblances
to familiar objects of childhood,
like the height of the sink in relation
to your growing, or the red hot
glare of morality whicih can be
frozen into your heart by anger.
Against the pain of that yielding,
next to this serious weightiness is
juxtaposed the translucence of
the art of 1885-1912, the
fruitful years preceding the war.
That dream seems comical now
No matter who I am
nothing can completely
allow this silence.
I, who speak, can only repeat
who- not that which becomes
what we are now in relation to together-
I add. But I am not this personal
being who questions, who marks the
equations of what I have added
to your listening- to be
continually prior to it, to be
listening to this one, this I,
before I have imagined a later
answer, our exchange must be
immediately postponed. Set
before you immediately
2/28/78
Get rid of your be-longings
he cackles at me- I listened
to him once & followed his
call a long time ago. I
can speak.
3/10
To prepare for the reading I
looked up the word labyrinth
in the thesaurus
3/16
"I can stare."
Correspondences, coincidences,
criticisms, decisions,
cannibalisms, canizba (a sound
I don't yet recognize the meaning of,
going before and through.)
Before is not just the past.
Before is an emphasis of just
past. The recorded definitions.
The unspeakable ceremonies avowing
each letter going from one carved letter
to another inscription.
It took place near a marble
monument, stone anyway, which
is so dense with time it surrounds
itself with a wide air of silence,
of association. These vague structures,
reminiscent of so much that came
before, the many possible resemblances
to familiar objects of childhood,
like the height of the sink in relation
to your growing, or the red hot
glare of morality whicih can be
frozen into your heart by anger.
Against the pain of that yielding,
next to this serious weightiness is
juxtaposed the translucence of
the art of 1885-1912, the
fruitful years preceding the war.
That dream seems comical now
Monday, January 19
::fait accompli:: very pleased to announce our inclusion on
New Pages Guide to Weblogs and Daily News Sites {Click Here}
New Pages Guide to Weblogs and Daily News Sites {Click Here}
This just in from: Buffalo Poetics {click here}
SMALL PRESS CULTURE WORKERS:
A Conference on Small Presses in Ithaca, NY
February 7, 2004
Small Press Culture Workers is a forum for poets,
publishers, and editors of small, independent presses
and magazines as well as publishers of artist's books
to investigate the sub-economic force of small press publishing.
Cultural work made possible by artists
and editors committed to building and sustaining
community, beyond simply marketing and
consumable products, will be examined
through a variety of papers and talks
given by panel presentations.
Presenters include:
Charles Alexander, Chax Press
Allison Cobb, co-editor, POM2
Jennifer Coleman, co-editor, POM2
Rory Golden, Executive Director, Center for Book Arts
Brendan Lorber, Editor, Lungfull!
Jennifer Savran, LunaSea Bindery and Press
Juliana Spahr, co-editor, Chain, Subpress
Buzz Spector, former editor of White Walls, Chair, Department of Art, Cornell University
Mark Weiss, Editor, Junction Press
The conference includes panel presentations, small press book fair, gallery exhibit: "Pages," curated by Buzz Spector, at the Ink Shop/Olive Branch Press and a group reading by the poet/publishers in attendance as part of the West End Reading Series February event.
The Clinton House, 116 N. Cayuga Street,
Ithaca, NY.
Contact Jane Sprague for further information
regarding registration, lodging and conference
details at janesprague@clarityconnect.com or
(607) 564-3617. http://www.palmpress.org/culture_workers.html
Posted by: Kyle / 1/6/2004 08:32:10 PM
SMALL PRESS CULTURE WORKERS:
A Conference on Small Presses in Ithaca, NY
February 7, 2004
Small Press Culture Workers is a forum for poets,
publishers, and editors of small, independent presses
and magazines as well as publishers of artist's books
to investigate the sub-economic force of small press publishing.
Cultural work made possible by artists
and editors committed to building and sustaining
community, beyond simply marketing and
consumable products, will be examined
through a variety of papers and talks
given by panel presentations.
Presenters include:
Charles Alexander, Chax Press
Allison Cobb, co-editor, POM2
Jennifer Coleman, co-editor, POM2
Rory Golden, Executive Director, Center for Book Arts
Brendan Lorber, Editor, Lungfull!
Jennifer Savran, LunaSea Bindery and Press
Juliana Spahr, co-editor, Chain, Subpress
Buzz Spector, former editor of White Walls, Chair, Department of Art, Cornell University
Mark Weiss, Editor, Junction Press
The conference includes panel presentations, small press book fair, gallery exhibit: "Pages," curated by Buzz Spector, at the Ink Shop/Olive Branch Press and a group reading by the poet/publishers in attendance as part of the West End Reading Series February event.
The Clinton House, 116 N. Cayuga Street,
Ithaca, NY.
Contact Jane Sprague for further information
regarding registration, lodging and conference
details at janesprague@clarityconnect.com or
(607) 564-3617. http://www.palmpress.org/culture_workers.html
Posted by: Kyle / 1/6/2004 08:32:10 PM
Bibliography for "The Narcissistic Personality"
8. Idealization and Transference
Heinz Kohut, *The Analysis of The Self*, Chapter 4,
"Clinical and Therapeutic Aspects of the Idealizing
Transference," "The Idealizing Transference Distinguished
From Mature Forms of Idealization"" pp. 74-78 (International
Universities Press, 1971)
Heinz Kohut, ibid, "Varieties of Indealizing Transference" pp, 78-85
Heinz Kohut, ibid, "The Process of Working Through and Other
Clinical Problems in the Idealizing Transference," pp. 86-104
8. Idealization and Transference
Heinz Kohut, *The Analysis of The Self*, Chapter 4,
"Clinical and Therapeutic Aspects of the Idealizing
Transference," "The Idealizing Transference Distinguished
From Mature Forms of Idealization"" pp. 74-78 (International
Universities Press, 1971)
Heinz Kohut, ibid, "Varieties of Indealizing Transference" pp, 78-85
Heinz Kohut, ibid, "The Process of Working Through and Other
Clinical Problems in the Idealizing Transference," pp. 86-104
for my comments on the James Rosenquist show at
the uptown Manhattan Guggenheim Museum
*Debussy on Canvas: Rosenquist at the Guggenheim*
scroll down to Saturday, January 17
********************************************
(This list has been updated to include recent links)
My essay "Blogging and Narcissism" was posted on Sunday, January 11th, in response to Ernest Priego's January 11th essay "Primary Passions". My sincere thanks to Never Neutral (Ernesto Priego) {click here}, Boynton {click here}, Paula's House of Toast {click here}, Wood s Lot (Mark Woods) {click here}, The Cassandra Pages {click here}, This Journal (Brother Tom Murphy) {click here}, The Well Nourished Moon (Stephanie Young) {click here}, Bellona Times (Ray Davis) {click here}, Ought (Ron Henry) {click here} , Blaugustine (Natalie D'Arbeloff) {click here}, Cahiers de Corey (Josh Corey) {click here} , Mairead Byrne, Sheila Murphy, Gregory St. Thomasino, Topher Tune's Times (Christy Church) {click here}, Blue Kangeroo (Jean Vengua) {click here} , Blogmatrix Rss Feed for January 14 {click here} , Live Journal {click here} , Moonshine Highways (Amy Bernier) {click here} ,...something slant {click here} , and Savoradin.com {click here} for recent links and kind words.
If I missed anybody, thanks to you too, and
please let me know so
*fait accompli* can publish an
acknowledgement.
*********************************************
Bibliography for "The Narcissistic Personality"
7. Forms of Narcissistic Pathology
Otto F. Kernberg, *Internal World and External Reality"
"Normal Narcissism in Middle Age," pp. 135-154 (1987)
Otto F. Kernberg, ibid, "Pathological Narcissism in Middle Age"
pp. 135-154.
Arnold H. Modell, "A Narcissistic Defense against Affects and
The Illusion of Self-Sufficiency" *International Journal of
Psychoanalysis," Vol. 56, pp 275-82 (1975)
Alice Miller, "Depression and Grandiosity as Related Forms
of Narcissistic Disturbances, " International Journal of
Psychoanalysis, Vol 6, pp 61-76 (1979)
the uptown Manhattan Guggenheim Museum
*Debussy on Canvas: Rosenquist at the Guggenheim*
scroll down to Saturday, January 17
********************************************
(This list has been updated to include recent links)
My essay "Blogging and Narcissism" was posted on Sunday, January 11th, in response to Ernest Priego's January 11th essay "Primary Passions". My sincere thanks to Never Neutral (Ernesto Priego) {click here}, Boynton {click here}, Paula's House of Toast {click here}, Wood s Lot (Mark Woods) {click here}, The Cassandra Pages {click here}, This Journal (Brother Tom Murphy) {click here}, The Well Nourished Moon (Stephanie Young) {click here}, Bellona Times (Ray Davis) {click here}, Ought (Ron Henry) {click here} , Blaugustine (Natalie D'Arbeloff) {click here}, Cahiers de Corey (Josh Corey) {click here} , Mairead Byrne, Sheila Murphy, Gregory St. Thomasino, Topher Tune's Times (Christy Church) {click here}, Blue Kangeroo (Jean Vengua) {click here} , Blogmatrix Rss Feed for January 14 {click here} , Live Journal {click here} , Moonshine Highways (Amy Bernier) {click here} ,...something slant {click here} , and Savoradin.com {click here} for recent links and kind words.
If I missed anybody, thanks to you too, and
please let me know so
*fait accompli* can publish an
acknowledgement.
*********************************************
Bibliography for "The Narcissistic Personality"
7. Forms of Narcissistic Pathology
Otto F. Kernberg, *Internal World and External Reality"
"Normal Narcissism in Middle Age," pp. 135-154 (1987)
Otto F. Kernberg, ibid, "Pathological Narcissism in Middle Age"
pp. 135-154.
Arnold H. Modell, "A Narcissistic Defense against Affects and
The Illusion of Self-Sufficiency" *International Journal of
Psychoanalysis," Vol. 56, pp 275-82 (1975)
Alice Miller, "Depression and Grandiosity as Related Forms
of Narcissistic Disturbances, " International Journal of
Psychoanalysis, Vol 6, pp 61-76 (1979)
Sunday, January 18
Check out: Nobody Here (Jogchem Niemendverdriet) (English/Dutch/Japanese) {click here}
[via, and check out Twists and Turns (Michael Gates) {click here}]
**
Boynton's Labyrinth of Links
Boynton Kills Age {click here}
and
Boynton & Blogging Writ Large (BBC- Style)
The Age of Boynton {click here}
(Evidently, the product of something called the Mixmaster)
**
Also, don't miss the ice angel on
The Cassandra Pages {click here}
[via, and check out Twists and Turns (Michael Gates) {click here}]
**
Boynton's Labyrinth of Links
Boynton Kills Age {click here}
and
Boynton & Blogging Writ Large (BBC- Style)
The Age of Boynton {click here}
(Evidently, the product of something called the Mixmaster)
**
Also, don't miss the ice angel on
The Cassandra Pages {click here}
This Week in Blogland
Sunday, January 18
Is this your lucky day?
Professor Wiseman's guide to good luck- BBC News {click here}
via Caterina {click here}
Who strikes me as a lucky person.
Did you know that Caterina started blogging when
she was recovering from an illness- and now gets
2000 hits a day on her blog?
That she is an artist and lives in Vancouver?
**
from Equanimity (Jordan Davis) (click here}
Saturday, January 17:
"Since this is the undercurrent of pain and envy that
drives so much of poetry culture, it's almost a relief
to have it out in the open. Almost."
**
Friday, January 16
(solipsis)//:phaneroemikon (Lanny Quarles) {click here}
opines on narcissism and
publishes a poem by tex files (Chris Murray) {click here}
who names Word Placements (Clayton A.Couch) {click here} the texfiles poet of the week!
**
Thursday, January 15
Savoradin.com {click here}
tells about 12 blogs he would take with him to a desert island (many of them new to us)
and *fait accompli* makes the cut! Thanks Tonio!
**
Wednesday, January 14
ululations (Nada Gordon's) {click here} 40th birthday
**
Tuesday, January 13
Overlap (Drew Gardner) {click here} reports on
art in Washington, D.C.
**
Monday, January 12
Bellona Times (Ray Davis) {click here} passes on some thoughts by Lawrence L. White regarding Yvor Winters on Yeats:
"Yeah, Yeats is a dope. You know what? Poetry is dopey.
Getting up in front of everyone (even if behind the screen
of the printed page) & singing w/out music is at the least an
unusual gesture. I'd go as far as call it preposterous. Certainly
one should never risk the resulting social censure w/out the excuse
of drunkenness or misanthropy."
More:God In The Machine {click here}
**
Looking for "Blogging and Narcissism"? Click Here and Scroll down to
Sunday, January 11...
Sunday, January 18
Is this your lucky day?
Professor Wiseman's guide to good luck- BBC News {click here}
via Caterina {click here}
Who strikes me as a lucky person.
Did you know that Caterina started blogging when
she was recovering from an illness- and now gets
2000 hits a day on her blog?
That she is an artist and lives in Vancouver?
**
from Equanimity (Jordan Davis) (click here}
Saturday, January 17:
"Since this is the undercurrent of pain and envy that
drives so much of poetry culture, it's almost a relief
to have it out in the open. Almost."
**
Friday, January 16
(solipsis)//:phaneroemikon (Lanny Quarles) {click here}
opines on narcissism and
publishes a poem by tex files (Chris Murray) {click here}
who names Word Placements (Clayton A.Couch) {click here} the texfiles poet of the week!
**
Thursday, January 15
Savoradin.com {click here}
tells about 12 blogs he would take with him to a desert island (many of them new to us)
and *fait accompli* makes the cut! Thanks Tonio!
**
Wednesday, January 14
ululations (Nada Gordon's) {click here} 40th birthday
**
Tuesday, January 13
Overlap (Drew Gardner) {click here} reports on
art in Washington, D.C.
**
Monday, January 12
Bellona Times (Ray Davis) {click here} passes on some thoughts by Lawrence L. White regarding Yvor Winters on Yeats:
"Yeah, Yeats is a dope. You know what? Poetry is dopey.
Getting up in front of everyone (even if behind the screen
of the printed page) & singing w/out music is at the least an
unusual gesture. I'd go as far as call it preposterous. Certainly
one should never risk the resulting social censure w/out the excuse
of drunkenness or misanthropy."
More:God In The Machine {click here}
**
Looking for "Blogging and Narcissism"? Click Here and Scroll down to
Sunday, January 11...
Bibliography for "The Narcissistic Personality", continued
*Highly Recommended
5. Adolescence- The Turning Point
Peter Blos, "Adolescence", "The Ego in Adolescence" (Chapter 5)
The Free Press, 1962, ppp. 168-195
Annie Reich, "Early Identifications as Archaic Elements in the Superego" (1954)
in *Psychoanalytic Contributions*, pp. 209-236
*Annie Reich, ibid. "Pathologic Forms of Self-Esteem Regulation" (1960),
Erik H. Erikson, *Identity and the Life Cycle*, "The Problem of
Ego Identity" (Chapter 3), pp. 120-158
6. Idealization and Mastery
*Karen Horney, *Neurosis and Human Growth* (1950), "The Search for Glory"
(Chapter 1),pp. 17-39.
*Janine Chassguet-Smirgel, "The Development of the Ego Ideal"
in *The Ego Ideal*, Norton, 1985, pp.26-45
*Heinz Kohut, "Forms and Transformations of Narcissism", Journal of
the American Psychoanalytic Association, Voll 14, pp. 243-72
pp. 288-311
*Highly Recommended
5. Adolescence- The Turning Point
Peter Blos, "Adolescence", "The Ego in Adolescence" (Chapter 5)
The Free Press, 1962, ppp. 168-195
Annie Reich, "Early Identifications as Archaic Elements in the Superego" (1954)
in *Psychoanalytic Contributions*, pp. 209-236
*Annie Reich, ibid. "Pathologic Forms of Self-Esteem Regulation" (1960),
Erik H. Erikson, *Identity and the Life Cycle*, "The Problem of
Ego Identity" (Chapter 3), pp. 120-158
6. Idealization and Mastery
*Karen Horney, *Neurosis and Human Growth* (1950), "The Search for Glory"
(Chapter 1),pp. 17-39.
*Janine Chassguet-Smirgel, "The Development of the Ego Ideal"
in *The Ego Ideal*, Norton, 1985, pp.26-45
*Heinz Kohut, "Forms and Transformations of Narcissism", Journal of
the American Psychoanalytic Association, Voll 14, pp. 243-72
pp. 288-311
Carlos Arribas, of the lush, luminous blog
Mysterium {click here} has opened a poetry blog aptly titled
Scriptorium {click here}
Mysterium {click here} has opened a poetry blog aptly titled
Scriptorium {click here}
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