Distribution Automatique

Saturday, June 21

5/25/84 (cont'd)

The sign "past"
in common discourse
represents a locus
of recollected and
scientifically verified
and recorded (narrated)
experience, as well
as many forms of
common linguistic
expressiion. It is
a universally shared
label for a configuration
of common
experiences. However,
theoretical advancement
in nearly every
field of intellectual
endeavor has
transformed the
meaning of this term
for a tremendous
variety of applications.
In the areas of
physics, psychoanalysis,
and poetry and philosophy
the landscape of
temporal experience
has shifted a
clearly ascertainable
amount during this
century. As the
interval of experience
to observe has
contracted, the
experience of the
present has expanded.
The greatest proportion of
poetic, artistic
and psychological and
physical theory
presses its import
toward a deepening
knowledge of the
manifestations of
current experience
as predicted by.
Orwell in*1984,*
history is "disappearing"
but not only for the
reasons he
dramatized. As
we move towards
the present in
our experience we
simultaneously free
ourselves from the
chains of the past.
The past holds
weighty things to
prove to us the
inexorability of
our faults.

The traditional
narrative structures
are giving way to a
more prevailing
view of the relativity
of experience. The
relativistic, probabilistic
and psychoanalytic
views have combined
to convince us more
and more of the
necessity for the
development of new
languages to represent
the actuality of
experience in more
useful terms. Some
of the greatest minds
in modern and contemporary poetics,
psychoanalysis, and
physical and artistic
theory have lent their
wills to this effort.
At the same time this
is in some ways alarming
transition towards
*techne* has paradoxically widened
the gap between these
fields, further
compounding the
complexity of these
great changes.

If we picture the
past as a dense
form of probability
and the present as a
condensed form of
probabiity how would
we visualize the
future? In this
model, the future may
be represented by a
dispersed form of
probabiility- a
physical reality which
can be diagramatically,
symbolically and
statistically represented.
The cycle- dense,
condensed and dispersed
is connected at the
dense and dispersed parts
of the cotinuum as follows:
Dispersed probability
is represeted in
graphemic, visual-
imaginative, sonic
forms by utterances and
physical notation,
transformation of
radio and television
waves, etc. All of
these are symbolic
*physical* manifestations.
All of these manifestations
exist such that they
are retainable and
reproducible and
ultimately may direct
physica movement toward
the transformation of
physica lbehaviior.
By comparing the
presnt with the
past in terms of
dense and dispersed
probabilities, we
can inject the
concept of the indeterminate
interval to condition our
usage of these

Thus in moving from
a dispersed form
of probability towards a
dense form,
symbolic representations
are transformed into
physical manifestations.
The symbols are
gradually (in
gradated intervals
or quantum leaps)
manifested in the
forms of dense,
and stable masses
Ordinary experiential
causality may
be reversible
along this axis.
By changing symbols
into stable masses
dispersed probability
is stabilized into
dense forms.
is tracked in the
interval that limits
these boundaries

physical experience-------------transcendent forms

As probability moves
more and more towards
dispersed forms
physical representation
becomes more and more
difficult to ascertain.
the patterns are
eventually considered
random. The
axis inorganic/organic
may also be represented


The mental process
also exists along this
axis and contains
aspects of
all these forms.
A more dispersed mental
process moves more and
more towards a
position of non-
experience (in
The mind finds it
more and more
problematic to
connect the material
representaion of
reality with its
symbolic representations.

The so called
"time reversal" effect
observes that a hypothetical
could theoretically
be moving through
time in a reversed

Time-the pause-
Smithson-"a sandstorm
of pauses"
image of the "sands
of time"-the long
tidal flow of history


"beat" line below
fragmented melodic
line above
Scale shifts
2 things at one "time"
check "event horizon"

9 diamonds
3 hearts

Figure holding a
card at register


and experience
is (denied) designed
to make us


Imagine making
certain predictions
and documenting
the date of their
conception by official
record-such as
a *notary*


Photograph signs
+ put lines through


shock of possibility
"sends you
groping for identity"

other poem

4/29 Bruce

John Zorn

Classic Guide
to Strategy
Archery (Box)


"Thought concerto"

Beatle quote about
Maxwell (this note crossed out)

"thought experiment"

the notion of an


(sketch of cube) T=O

World line-
what aboutg world-
line of identities?\

The place for a


I found the
4 of diamonds
and marked on it
incremental change

I thought abou the
argument of scientists
about the "red shift"

The person nearest
to the experience
the one we turn to
for evidence. Also,
evidence by observation
according to the technical
means of experimentation

I tried to chartacterize
tha past and the
future as words
that represent
my own experience.
The prevailing scientific
view of personality
also determines the
verifiability of the
assertion. I thought of
the "dense probability"
as an alternative
view of the past,
allowing for its
current presence in
my experience but
also determining that
my conception of it
might also alter
its impact. *How
does this effect out
view of a past
identity and a
present identity?*
If the past is
highly condensed
probability represented
by mass, what is
the present and what
is the future?

Possibly by relating
the intervallic
ratio of graphemic
forms in poetry,
one might determine
the actual velocity
of the current temporal
expansion f rom
dense probability
to condensed probability
(the weight of

Dense probability
is elicited through
association of
representative motions
to observed sense-
perceptual data.
Condensed probability
is elicited through
direct sense-perceptual experience
of the mass itself.
Probability is dense
as long as
focus of attentional....
confirms the connection
of the two events.
However, once it
is no longer possible
to connect the two
events by direct
observation, the
past (dense
probability) becomes
less densely probable
and either resumes
its place in the
present (the
densely packed
interval of experience
actually become
representations themselves
as part of current

The present has
been constantly
expanding since the
beginning of time
itself. Like space,
time is not linear
*only*, it isalso
gradually shifting-
future and past gradually
are encompassed
completely by the
present. Itis
difficult to
predict when
this will take place
(complete condensation
of probable density
into condensed
probabilitiy)- except
that it is observable
through the expansion
of scale in
modern art,
comparable to the
decorative scale
of Egyptian art

5/24/84 (Shape of Time)

Mass exists such that
it comes from the "past"
but also exists in the
present. Any object
therefore is a wave
form of its oscillation
between the past and
the present. What we
call thepresent is
a compound of the
past, the present and
the future. Freud's
hesitation about
synthesis (Freud-
Lou Salome letters)
is ample reminder
that science bid
us to be wary of
sweeping generalizations.
Heisenberg also
reminds us about
tha partial
applicability of
concepts. Both
theoriticians also
however are fully
aware that any
discovery in science
myust be
conditional in its
impact by the
humanand artistic
termis in which it
is stated. Thus
it is also important
to investigate the
physical nature
of language in
both its graphic and
oral forms in order
to understand fully
its relationship to
temporal experience and
its symbolic manifestations.

Friday, June 20


appealing- appalling
L effront

hi erogenous glyph

language language
linkage languish
langw age
lang- which
uw a EU S
use-age use (u's)
use- more than one
still u (you)

"Still, I want to talk to you about it"

"I didn't mind"

use (Usss)
("be quiet u's"
A quieter form of "use" as
in "you use," "Use!")

Use his quieter u's (Sh, u's!)

"Be quiet about the other u's you're
using there."

think- 3 times over
mull-ti pool (as in
tipple, to drink)

an objects *use*- it's
multiple u-ness.

double- double u-ness
-we double u-ness
of the *e*

(. periods as nipples-
she had her *period*)
also dots are eyes

* *

the dotted I i

eye has a y ( a why)
which is double u-ness plus

double you-ness plus I is
why (or Y)

I ask Y (why)
reinforced *you*
*intensified* u


Alan *seemed* to imply
Why did Mrs. Kurz effect my prose?
Is that it?

Silence from Jane re: book:
that ambiguity.
January 22, 1976

I am most inside my mind critically
when I am most outside my mind
critically. The same. Pain is diminshing
the way the sea subsides. I watched it
from outside. I reach outside myself
not so desperately as before. Allowing
myself to regress uncritically but
quietly bringing myself back again.
If it doesn't work out the way you
want it to it still works itself out
some way. There is still being in that.
I can't adore the silence. In one
space every small movement is vast, in
that movement I am a whole world.
It's surprise at being, it's a little
defiant but defiance can be over-used
the way anything can be. If I am
not thinking I am not thinking of the
whole world, each individual
amplitude, the variation and
complication of each shading even in
the most familiar objects. Every
moment has duration, a presentiment,
a disclosure, a destiny and a
specific quality all its own. Every
moment is a potential memory
in the form of scheduled activities,
into categories of existing. But when
these approaches to fulfillment fail
we wonder why. Maybe they lacked a
lead-in to something else and thus
left you stranded, confused about
what to do next. The predicted,
the genuinely experienced presentifment of
the future can be a blindfold because
it excludes the moments *between*, the
gap between the shared events.
That is your private world.

If I'm running from my mind to
the outside, to bring in some interest
in it outside itself, or something outside
itself to make it forget itself I am
probably avoiding something it could
deal with irself. Right now I
am utterly astounded by the continued
silence of my telephone. But that is
always an aspect of being astounded
that I can still exist without using
it. In sleep I am *one*, but awake I
am *two*- me and the person called
"myself" that watches me. A mind that's
afraid of itself can't "get in tune."
If I do that in being anxious about
my "life" (my biography) I take
the whole confusion one step further.
December 26, 1976

Wrapped inside your imagination
Your emotions yearn to extend themselves
Beyond their familiar limits. You
Can't think them- but you can see them
Acted by your ideal self. Of course
That exists only as an idea, but you
Believe it silently, forseeing growth
and change. There's so much space,
noisy comings and goings, new perspectives
You can trace to their origins and on out
Into the future, guided by desire.
And you can feel your thoughts growing
more familiar
After each arising, centering themselves
Around unlimited feelings, using
the ornaments of memory
As decorations for the self's celebration.
You caught sight of yourself somewhere
Between spontaneous gestures and awkward
hesitations. You copied everyone and
Denied it laughing. They laughed with
You, echoing out of a dream's sea,
A spot both careful and full, you were
Considering stopping by again, but
Had they expected you again so soon?

I got an idea from the moon.
He told me to calm down,
not to feel so pressed. I obeyed him,
Dutiful and patient. No one saw
the absence in my face as clear as you, and I
Regard you as my brother now, again.
There will always be questions, sudden
Warnings popping out of my mouth.
Half against each other we still believe
In each other. I'm glad we didn't pretend it
Was over when it wasn't, and were willing
To let it go on, over and over, almost to the
Point of boredom and past it again. We
Offer only parts of things, sometimes accepting,
Sometimes refusing, like a dog who won't turn
Around when you call him. Later, there'll
Be time to work on responses but right now I want to ignore them.

December 28

Necessary, unnecessary, necessary, un-
necessary. Bottom, up bottom, up bottom
and down there around again. As places
go, fine, the beach, the fire, a
mountain of particles, the mountain,
the man, the sea, the dog, movement
as aspect, monument, map, the street
they were playing on of memory of sea.
Of the time between of what we were speaking
of. A record, a portrait, a memory.
A picture is an explanation, a photograph
of time. But what about the time between?

Thursday, June 19

fait accompl is flattered that Nada Gordon mentioned our latest post, and we're delighted that she copied our links list because we're thrilled that she is giving our selection her endorsement! But there's only one problem- we're not on our own links list!

Nada -fait accompli- loves you! Please add us to your links list!
Thanks to Jordan Davis for alerting my readers to adjust their time machine settings to 1965-1966. And apologies to my regular readers, I had typed most of the following early this morning and in my half asleep state I either hit the delete key or blogger ate it.


"Uttering a word is like striking a note on the keyboard of the imagination."
Philo. Invest. p 4

January 7, 1966

Once I understand, have an insight which gives me
more direction or more energy applicable to a way I
want to go, it seems in me, I never lose the *knack.*
This always involves learning from others- Jerry's
callling a therapist a teacher. It is interesting that
Jerry *never* bores me. That may be because not only do
I have so much to learn from him,- and he is so
generous in offering what he has, or that like me he is
*tireless* when exploring (and exploiting) a pleasurable
and exciting give and take. Enough. To set it down-
I don't feel like it. Less so because he is leaving.

This *trick* of creating my own "pressures" is an ingenious
one. (Alan) Grossman is a wonder. I can't consider this and
enjoy it (savor it) because I am still (I suppose)
suspicious of him. Enough of this too. I "perish before his
stronger existence."

I am beginning to recognize the "evil"- the "demonic"
in myself. Fuck "turning off the mind."

The demonic- May- is partly the assertion of one's own
tastes and feelings and standards. One must have the
energy however and this involves KNOWING ONESELF.

Jerry- one must always offend to be oneself- the room
must offend the same way the personaly offends. A matter
of being oneself. The more pervasive (embracing- continually
accepting from the outside) the better. A matter of levels.
If I sound like Pavese fuck that too. I'll read him till
I'm born- and *that* is continuous.

Everyplace else except here I should be organized
(order) dipping into the "secondary"- Wallace Stevens.
Secondary=cultivated conscioius which relates to the conscious=
"taste" asserted on the world (P.S.) = the self in the
enduring sense. One great thought is that people have no
choice (if they can and wish to remain rational) but to be themselves.
Or so it is in the mind if not in the actions and communications.
In the mind and dreams everyone is an artist. The artist
is capable of carrying the artistic to communications and he
cultivates the sources of the artistic and patterns of the artistic
in the mind and dreams...

These past two weeks (subway strike and xmas vacation)
have been disorganied, painful, fantastic, seeking, curious,
contemplative, talkative, despairing, exalting, guilty, tiring,
tireless, angry, depressed, creative, enduring. In short,

Lists don't help. I din't get the *sense* across. Seeking is
the *main* feeling. I've had to depend *on myself* to a great
extent and make my own decisions (For Two Weeks!) about what
to do next. No poems (Jerry's been spending a lot of time here
mainly because he hasn't been able to paint or sculpt
because he's leaving soon. But I did write "the huddling buildings
hunched like men in rain" and picked away the
rest of the poem. For the first time I worked on the
same poem for a couple of hours each day. With the
result that I destroyed the poem. And no new poem
yet. But I did write the poem about the day in the
park which *is* rather empty of a point- but
the best design and freshness since "Knowledge as Discernment."
The poem SMELLS fresh- I like that. The problem now
is finding the theme- (that is the most painful part of
writing a poem because *there* you have to be specific in
your *own* mind)- I have to learn to seek themes which
I can handle and which are important to me. Again
a matter of "the secondary" and of hearing the Artist in
Myself. I know I can handle the fingering and
the melodies- I *have* made progress there.

With me it's a matter of exploiting my conscious
mind not vitalizing my spirit. The spirit is willing
but the self is afraid. Still afraid.

I must achieve self-criticism without being revolted
by myself to the point of self-deprecation and self-disgust.

I don't know anyone who enjoys himself more than Jerry.

I've made progress towards the potential of finding themes
too because I'm interested in more things. (More energy
availabe soon more directable out of my own choices).

The discovery of the inner life- a joy.

I've promised many friends (Jerry, Susie, Janie) (John Freda, Susan Braiman, Jane Lazarre) who know
about this journal- what is delectably, *securely* provate can
also be shared- that I would admit here what I've
discovered about Mrs. Kurz. She flattered me- Pavese's
warning about the voluptuous. It also served as a warning and
reminder of my jaded perception of CRASS REALTIES AND
One can be an artist *without* continually committing
suicide. (Pavese taught me one must be definitive in his
journal- the revelation of the inner life in the primary
sense- this is *not* a *communication* but a searching
for today.)

Okay, okay.Mrs. Kurz fooled me just as she so
successfully continues to fool herself and repress her
SELF. Not a matter of blame. Every admittance
in me, brings, for better or worse,
a counter-perception.When I can make them not only
in self-defense (outer and inner pressure) but by conscious
effort my power will increase. Req.in pace Mrs.
Kurz' phony image (created by me partly).

On 12/3/65- that is partly true regarding images.
One must be also pushed by an idea, a theme (which can
include *a lot.* "The others are those born whole"- *out
of ones own life vision.*

Well-wishing for man if not hope or faith or love.
Stevens has this, as does Thomas, Lowell,Auden, Rilke,
I'm not so sure about Eliot. I think Eliot lacks this;
I'm fairly sure.His images are ironic, but the poetry
does not forgive. Poetry must forgive, if not
some other people, at least the poet writing.

Another comment on technique. The essential
germ of the poem must be capable, in the poet's
eye, of expansion, even to the point of sacrificing
a previous, dearly loved image.

Nothing questions the
waves rhythms, but
we question our lives, day by
day and the whole

Immovable and moveable
objects in the poem- in the world
happenings of life and
mind- receptivity of soul-

The imitation
the mind which is not
controlled by the rhythms of
the senses
to establish rhythm i life within the
concepts of the moral questioning-
the continual self examination- *the
guilt and outer world and past as
obstacles not to be overcome but
to hold within and separated and
to be joined.*

The poems as records of the instant
and the whole series of changings
which change the color, shape of
things.- Like in changes of realities of
color in paintings

One great optimistic thought: one's inner
life may be completely one's own.
If one has achieved some calm, some
ability to be strong in the face of
the world's chaos this will always enable one
to grow within. So very little is needed
to sustain this: phsical sustenance
and the ability to give love and receive
it,ore, to search it out.

With me, if I can continue this
growth, this "creation" of myself I have
the essential. All the rest just ennobes
this basic work, or joy, or creation.

I look for in other writers what
I could find more easily in myself. Why,
then, is writing seen as a struggle? It is
nothing in comparison to the struggle not
to write. Writing is hard but everything
else is harder.

This is a distinction I never saw before.
Creating to me was the great
martyrdom, the inner sacrifice. Endurance,
living, is the hardest thing. Even now,
the happiest time in my life.

No escape from anxiety. Trying to
escape it is neurosis and then some. Trying
to relieve it is not neurotic but noble.
Seeking relief by hiding or burying yourself
or clinging is like chasing your own tail.

I was thinking before that creativity
as a relief from anxiety is futile, the
wrong motivation.This is incorrect.
In our time it is the core, the essential,
the *raison d'etre* of creativity. This does
not have to be so and maybe it isn't
the whole incentive. Communication, seeking
out of universals, love and hatred of
humanity are still very much a part of
the creative spirit. But because anxiety
is central in our lives (death is prevalent;
imminent destruction surrounds our lives,
real destruction is near us now and in
extreme form in recent history) it is
a main part of the creative urge- we
have embraced it not out of choice but
out of necessity. We are seeking a cure,
or a solution, within and without us.
Explanations can come later.

Analysis is not the way out of a
dark room like I thought.Like Mrs.
Kurz said, it lights the room. Or better
still, it is a window to the world outside
the room. When one realizes, after the
tumult within us is somewhat calmer,
that the chaos without is more insane,
cruel, thoughtless, irrational than one's
own relatively hopeful state of mind (hopeful
because one has so much power, if he has
the will, to make peace with it) he is
shocked. So with me. Thank God (or
Grossman) (Alan Grossman) or Susie (Susan Braiman) or my parents or fate
or myself). I am not afraid of death.
It's strange- because I am afraid of
practically everything else. Because I am
not afraid of death I will be able to
do so much. Soon I will no longer permit
myself the luxury of fearing people and
myself. I will be doing so many things.

The last thing left is
the fear. Anxiety will be the reminder
and the spur to create. The giving out
of warmth will make the opening for the
world to flow in. What I give out again
will be the mixture of that and myself.
As Pavese wrote- one's past ("one's
forgotten memories") is the richness of
life.When I can look at my past with
warmth and the present with energy...
Chile Radioarticle on blogging continued from yesterday:

Mainstream Poetry: mainstreampoetry.blogspot.com

El título es claramente irónico. Algunas ideas buenas y bastante divertidas, además de reflexiones (o pseudo-reflexiones) sobre la vanguardia. Aquí a menudo uno se encuentra con intervenciones poéticas, esto es: poemas clásicos reconfigurados de manera satírica. Muy interesante.

Samizdata: samizdata.net/blog

Su nombre lo dice todo. Un blog para "gente con una perspectiva crítica, racional y libertaria". Un ejemplo de prensa independiente y desenfadada, que puede ser tan seria como satírica. Pretenden "infectar" al mundo con el virus de la "libertad individual". "Entre nuestros múltiples crímenes úseñalan sus redactoresú está el sentido del humor y un intermitente uso del idioma inglés". Cualquier persona puede enviar artículos, pero aquí sí hay editores, que se autocalifican como "dioses", pues puede que publiquen tu artículo (siempre editado) o puede que no. Sin duda, un gran aporte.


Weblogs II

Andrew Sullivan: andrewsullivan.com

Este weblog del periodista cultural y activista homosexual Andrew Sullivan es uno de los weblogs más famosos de la red. Aparte de una gran cantidad de contenido inherente a las luchas de la minoría homosexual, Sullivan tiene interesantes perspectivas para tratar diversos temas sociales, artísticos y culturales. Según The Economists, las reseñas de libros de Sullivan son capaces de encumbrar un libro a los primeros lugares de los rankings de ventas. Todo un fenómeno.

Poets9for9: poets9for9.blogspot.com

Este nuevo weblog es un verdadero lujo. Consiste en entregas de nueve preguntas a nueve poetas, unos, consagrados y otros, no tanto. La gracia de este blog está en la calidad de las preguntas y, por supuesto, en las respuestas a tan ingeniosas y sugerentes interrogantes. Un botón de muestra: "Estás elevando un volantín que tiene el rostro de un poeta. ¿De qué poeta se trata? Y si pudieras recoger el hilo para devolver el volantín a tus manos, ¿qué le preguntarías al poeta cuyo rostro está grabado en el volantín?".

Instapundit: instapundit.com

Este ya célebre sitio es principalmente periodístico, entregando las noticias que otros medios convencionales no se atreven a publicar con especial énfasis en temas políticos y sociales. Es señalado por muchos como el "New York Times de los bloggers". La cabeza visible de este blog es el profesor de derecho de la Universidad de Tennessee, Glenn Reynolds.

TextUrl: texturl.net

Este weblog es del profesor de la Universidad de Rochester, Brandon Barr, dedicado a la relación entre la vanguardia del siglo XXI y las tecnologías de la información, con especial énfasis en el web-art y las nuevas poéticas relacionadas con internet y las nuevas tecnologías.

Blue Miles: bluemiles.blogspot.com

Sitio donde se ficcionaliza la vida de Miles Davis. Es un interesante experimento literario donde a partir de la vida y obra de una de las grandes leyendas del jazz, el autor (un tal Rino Martins) pretende indagar en las fuerzas que convergieron para hacer de Miles Davis una figura única en el mundo de la música y la cultura norteamericana del siglo XX, cuya mente y mundo interior han sido vanamente explorados por innumerables biografías que se quedan generalmente en los aspectos superfluos de su vida.

San Diego Poets Guild: sdpg.blogspot.com

Este interesante sitio es mantenido por un tal Bill Marsh, quien fue nominado por el sitio de Piombino como "El mejor oxymoron blogueado del año", por la frase "estoy tratando de sobrevivir como escritor, sin siquiera serlo".

Mobylives: www.mobylives.com

Éste es uno de los blogs más famosos en el ámbito de la cultura. Fundado en 1998, Mobylives comenzó como un periódico de columnas acerca de libros y escritores, y en el año 2001 llegó a la red. De orientación similar a la revista Salon.com (liberal, inteligente y "cool",) este sitio es dirigido por Dennis Loy Johnson y funciona como un colectivo para la difusión y discusión de las artes y las letras. Desde febrero de 2002 editan interesantes libros bajo el sello Melville House Books.

Cien palabras: cienpalabras.blogspot.com

Sitio de Jordi Cebrián con un concepto muy simple y ya conocido por estos lados: escribir cuentos de (máximo) cien palabras. Aquí hay un ejemplo de lo que el trabajo riguroso en un mismo formato puede hacer para el perfeccionamiento del estilo del escritor. Podemos desandar los pasos literarios que ha dado Cebrián desde octubre de 2001 hasta hoy en día. El tipo también recibe colaboraciones. Uno de los pocos sitios realmente buenos de la comunidad bloguera hispanoparlante.  
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Wednesday, June 18

Brian Kim Stefans mentioned us on his blog! And we agree:

Free Space Comix: The Blog
The diplomatic wing of Reptilian Neolettrist Graphics and Arras.net
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June 18, 2003

Short poem

The shortest, most sentimental thing I've ever written, which I just discovered in an old word file...

And we reach
for the last
thing available
and what is
available is love.

That could almost be on Nick Piombino's blog... well, I'll resist the urge to delete it because I've already deleted it from the word file whence it sprang... sprang rhythm, get it?... not to mention a certain affection for the double "is"s in the last two lines, which force a reread -- c'mon, be honest, you read it twice, right? Just to get a better sense of the cadence? Gotcha.
Posted by Brian Stefans at June 17, 2003 | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

This just in from
Chile Radio

WEBLOGS: contrainformacion en Internet
Fecha: Tuesday, 10 de June a las 11:55:50
Tema Sociedad de la Información

Un artículo publicado este domingo en "Artes y Letras" de El Mercurio aborda el mundo cybercontrainformativo de los weblogs o simplemente blogs. Se dice que "la publicación en los weblogs es instantánea, ahora no hay filtro de ningún tipo, tan sólo el leve filtro de la conciencia y la voluntad de quien escribe". Es decir, se requiere solo ganas de rescatar esa adormecida libertad indiividual -siempre dependiente de la libertad colectiva-, y listo.

Los blogs se transformarían en el equivalente lingüístico de los reality shows televisivos que nos han venido invadiendo en los últimos años, pues la publicación en los weblogs es instantánea, no hay filtro de ningún tipo, tan sólo el leve filtro de la conciencia y la voluntad de quien escribe.

Ron Silliman: ronsilliman.blogspot.com:

Éste sitio es una bitácora literaria-laboratorio lingüístico y ensayístico de Silliman, destacado poeta norteamericano (integrante del colectivo L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E). En él este divaga acerca de poesía y narrativa contemporánea, revisa autores recientes y publica y comenta poesía propia y ajena. Un verdadero lujo para los amantes de la literatura contemporánea.

Jonathan Mayhew: jonathanmayhew.blogspot.com:

Éste es un muy buen blog del profesor de literatura española en la Universidad de Texas, donde el autor trata de poesía y literatura contemporánea y dialoga con otros blogs de poesía contemporánea. Es un buen punto de partida para empezar a navegar por la "blogósfera" literaria norteamericana.

Heriberto Yépez:

1) border blogger: hyepez.blogspot.com;

2) ampersand: hyepez2.blogspot.com.

Este joven escritor mexicano radicado en Tijuana, mantiene al menos dos blogs: el primero, border blogger, es una bitácora bilingüe donde comenta principalmente literatura mexicana nueva (sobre todo poesía), cine y otros temas de cultura. Este blog es un buen punto de partida para explorar los weblogs de lo que Yépez llama el "Tijuana Blog Front"; el otro es ampersand, y donde Yépez et al traducen "poéticas" y textos críticos de diversos autores norteamericanos y europeos de vanguardia. Como se señala en la página: "Ampersand es un espacio-tiempo para la traduccion de textualidad experimental de literaturas escritas en inglés o portugués".

Jordan Davis:

1) equanimity: equanimity.blogspot.com;

2) million poems: millionpoems.blogspot.com.

Poeta de la "New York School", Davis tiene dos sitios, uno dedicado a mantener sus ideas fijadas "en su hábitat natural" y el otro, million poems, es un laboratorio poético que, según el autor, "no es un libro, sino un depósito para poemas en ruta".

Fait Accompli: nickpiombino.blogspot.com

Blog del poeta Nick Piombino. Mezcla de diario poético, bitácora social, laboratorio y plataforma de discusión poética. Es interesante el diálogo que se genera con otros blogs poéticos y literarios.

Este artículo viene de Chileradio.. Para Todos Todo...
La URL de esta historia es:
I don't like the summer the way I used to. First of all, it's cold, cloudy and rainy most of the time. Secondly, a lot of my favorite bloggers are taking well deserved vacations- but I miss them quite a lot. Two of them blogged on Tuesday, June 17:

Heathens in Heat ...David Hess

Bloggedy Blog Blog...Katie Degentesh

Hi Katie; Hi David; nice to see you!
ululations... Nada Gordon's words of wisdom:

( 9:10 AM ) Nada  
Some Babies

Some babies the avant-garde tradition throws out with the bathwater:


**human beings in difficult situations in which they are compelled to make ethical decisions

**descriptions of suffering

**the mechanism of identification #


It is a case of thought versus action
Poetry is close to life in the sense
that it more closely depicts the
banal and tragic, ideal and magnificent
moments of thought (and I must admit,
sense experience). Sense experiencee is
put in for verisimilitude- that's why I
used to find it annoying to add. I
still don't enjoy it. In "Seascape" I
developed the ability to depict characters
in terms of their thoughts as part of
landscape. I have in large part to
thank Jerry "the objecs need not be there
but the mind must be"- and
Durrell- the effect of Alexandria on
its inhabitants. It's a weighty framework,
this landscape, and I will endeavor to
make it still more minor- as it should
be-"touches" as visual experiences are
to me. I go in the world blind as a
bat listening to every word and emotion
of every friend. If I could see through
their eyes (my eyes) I could write of
landscape. Jerry said I was his eyes,
ears adn heart in New York.

Of course my eyes are not theirs. But
my own are so impoverished- I'm sure
it's a matter of fear, like my childhood
fear (desire) of going blind,my
voyeurism, the act.

I feel less lonely now.

Thanks to Durrell for his "character squeezes"
Otherwise, I am sure I would not bother,
a welcome shorthand!

*Ed Marks*- mystery, vivaciousness, the
urge to share, teach- great energy-
a volcano of pain. (like Clea-still
waters of pain.") Laughter."I can talk
to strangers but not to friends."

*Ed Small* Fatherly kindness, a
warming smile. "Strangers you have known all your life."

*Jeanne McCord* Impatient searching
glance that turns away. Loneliness.

Of course, TS Eliot's *Prufrock* is the
unconscious driving force in my poetry (can't
say I"ll go beyond this in myself)


My *Seascape* poem is also related to the
use of weather and landscape in
*The Stranger.*


Birds along the edge of the roof,
carelessly wing to flight.


it is the prize of giving
In the shape of meaning

Bread, love and talking


I looked deeply into the eyes of the girl
on the train. She gazed back, without
flinching,not turning away until she
got off the train. It was a great relief
and I don't know why.

Ed Small- Kindness, great kindness, and
innsight with compassion. he understands his
own eyes.

"A woman of generous character will
sacrifice her life a thousand times over for
her lover but will break with him for
ever over a question of pride- for the
opening or shutting of a door."


Nothing is alone but God.This parting
is good (not without fear). I will
see her-

Writers venerate life- because they have
been murdered at one time and are
seeking proof of their own an others'

Bob Dylan- in the record jacket- "experience
teaches that silence terrifies people the most."
I am frightened of any pause in the
intensity of relating with people- cigarettes
and fear punctuate my minute to
minute conscious existence. Miller quotes
Emerson as saying "Life consists of
what one thinks about all day." My
thoughts are "peopled" by sadness,
a constant lamenting of my
"dissatisfaction with life." Really, it is a
disappointment, as if I hungered always
for "excitement"- philosophical,
literary or emotional roller coaster
ride:- thrills of personal intercourse
with others. Ed Marks said to Susie
that she was insatiable. This is just
as true of me.

Durrel on writing-
When Pursewarden "wished to discuss a
bad work of art he would say in tones of
warm approbration 'Most effective'...
'the effective in art is what rapes the
emotion of your audience without
nourishing its values'
p.114-"In questions of art great secrecy
must be observed." What does this
mean? I desperately wish to know
because- I crave instruction.

American writers are lucky because
we don't have to struggle to express
ourselves- in the sense of embellishing
our phrases. We are naturally aphoristic-
Emerson, Miller, the terse statements
of Hemingway's characters, - we have
become or will become the great masters
of short novels- and poetry!- once or if
we recognize that poetry is the best
opporunity for simplicity (sincerity) in writing-
where formal, "neat" elegance is best
used, where muscular, rambling lines
are most spectacular in their breadth.
(I learned today of Wolfe's fear (shame)
of writing poetry, I could add Miller's
condesension (same thing) towards it.)
Poetry is distant from life in the same
sense that consciousness is distant from life..


The center of creative literary expression is, in the mind
of the poet, an expanse of internal vision. One critic I have
read referred to the necessity of the poet being able to
visualize his images. I think this is true, and what follows
from this is a questioning of the individual poet's availability
of visual expanse. I think there is an external component to
this, but the poet is primarily concerned with the internal
componant. In myself (in my poetry) one teacher of mine noticed an absence of
color and I have noted my own preoccupation with the color
gray. In psychological terms this, I have learned, relates to
the *directedness* and suspiciousness of my thought (see
Shapiro's *Neurotic Styles*) classified as paranoid style which
results in a loss of awareness of the "plain face" of things.
I am now strugging to regain this plain face of things so as
to add to the barren landscape of my imagination. It is as though
my internal visual universe had no physical dimension or emotional
dimension but simply an intellectual and esthetic dimension, making
me ill-suited for poetry creation-yet I want very much to write
poetry. I think I will have to develop, in addition to endeavoring
to broaden my inner visual world, a way of associating ideas on a
purely visual level, taking from the esthetic of words themselves
some basis for my imagery. I have previously tried this with my
association poetry of 1964 an experiment which failed.

Enlarging on the internal landscape idea, I have also noticed
that my inner sense of music is intact and extremely sensitive
and employable in writing. However visual imagery is at the base
of poetry- perhaps in developing a mode of verse suited to my own
imagination I might try to further expand the usefullness of this
sound sensitivity- not only on the level of recreating sound (Poe)
but use it in an analogous sense to visual imagery- the symbolic
and the personal and the universal. I think I was inconsciously trying
to do this in my poetry of 1964, in that it is a verse of pure sound,
employing the sound an connotations of words used in a pure sense
(as in abstract painting where color is used in its pure dimensions)
However,I sacrificed continuity and this is not necessary...


A reminder (when I *need* it least, I
can *know* it) that life need not end
until you are in the grave.

Suicide is, at least, a desperate
attempt to become reborn. But one
can be reborn (simply!) by changing
one's mind about oneself.

Give them time- they will reveal
themselves to you- or you will find the
part of yourself which will let you see
(understand, receive, have, give to) them.

Tuesday, June 17

Hi Jack. Good point. The Technorati site with the top 50 sites has been deleted from my links list, though the Technorati search link remains.

By the way, I read your uncategorizable, terrific blog Pantaloons: Tykes on Poetry every day, Jack.

This is not the first time Ron Silliman has thrown a log onto the fire of my motivation to write. No, the first time he did this was in a letter to me in the late 1970's in response to a stapled chapbook Alan Davies had published of my writing. At that time my fire didn't need a log- it needed a match, some newspaper and a few hefty twigs. Ron supplied much more than that by including a work of mine in poetics in his anthology, "In The American Tree." Recently that respected anthology has been published in a new edition that included new bio notes by the writers, including a very nice memoir by Michael Gottlieb.

Thanks, Ron for your fine vote of confidence. Now all I have to do is live up to it!


Douglas, the May reading,
magic, a top hat, a high
table, the stage, the two
crystal balls (one a bit
smaller than the other), doves
flying out of my hands
towards the audience,
a blurb in artspeak,
families, en Famille,
Steve Clay, an explosion
of events so that all
are seen at once as in
a tarot reading. But the
families were in cubicles and its
the cubicles that exploded, an
implosion in the gene pool,
each getting into the act,
one by naming them, for example: (Bob,
Beryl, Michael, Toni on
the beach). A heterodox
instrument, this remembering,
which is always nothing more
than thinking back to a previous
moment, that pleasantly
didactic touch, where
words not only meant
something but touched each
other as well. Yes, there *is* such a
thing as saying a
name for the pure thrill of knowing
the person, sheer incandescence
of individuality, neon personas.
Back to the specific moment,
the specific person being a
specific mass of material
in a specific time and place.
There is an admixture of
molecules for sure, an
utterance that breaks
down class distinctions
into various manifestions
of family gatherings. Up close,
from another perspective "in your
face," the personalities merge to
create the human version of
a dwelling. A moment in a
dance also divides
into an infinite spread
of specificities. "Orange
is open"- the words appear,
so to speak (to speak so).
"Afterwawrds" is a "conglomerate."
Might be one manifestation.
Spills and thrills, riding
full speed straight out into the

Adjacency is not in question,
just as there is not a pause
in pronouns.

Again, why do the light
particles glittering on the
waves pose a question? Yes,
yes, I realize everything fits together
in order to subdivide. Every moment
is a kind of copying or
documentation. The place going
by in the clouds so sputtery
and small is another familiar
speck we greet hello to (and learn to tolerate).

(Taking notes for the next
Millenium, a spark and sputter
and the caw of a gull,
grateful for the sun not a
cloud in the sky. Hot. Very
hot. Summer hot.)

Yes, I noticed the way
my sputtering on about that annoyed Anochka,
and the way she disguised it so tactfully (Every word,
every time, a specific encompasses
memory, so maybe the
memories are stored in

So that when they implode,
or when the memory
subdivides infinitely, (yes,
again, all three temporal
registers are invoked.)
everything building up to this
and ending with this,
destabilizing numerous
professional identities, what
a quack, what a caw,
a doctor, a shaman,
a poet, a magician,
a thief, a thief of ttime
that is, it's the only way.
Trying to stop time, at least
trying to slow it.

Supplies of time, supplies for
time, matador of time, so
delicately must I brush its
horns, for if I miss I will
be, I mean, if you are
already wondering if I'm
full of bull, there will be
no question if I miss, did
miss, or will miss what
will happen to me...


Like a dream, you can only
feel the beach by falling into
it. The sun presses on your
skin, the wind pushes
against it insistently, but
now gently.

The decided miracle
in a small event. Time:
the miniscule containing everything.

Douglas: Bill Simon
suggests you get supply
display cards for the Green
Integer Books. Barnes + Noble
lost the copy they received
for Bill, claiming it fell
behind a shelf.

"In a bureacracy such as
this there is little value in
befriending the important and
powerful. They will watch
you all the more closely."

The ears of the powerful.
Whose ears?

What if they restrain
you even more?

One character cringes.

One character believes he can get
away with everything.

A third character, a woman, is
friends with both of them, and
can't decide which one she
wants.But she leans towards
the man who takes chances.

They try to revise the
"chorus>" (Male and female actors).

"I bow before your fortuitous
and fortitudinous neutrality."

"Your indifference is paralyzing (and exciting)."

"Still, you are glued to your seat."

"Sweets to the sweet and farewell."

"Buffeting me, brusquely
flinging me aside, momentarily
you forget why you ever
listened in the first place."

"There is a limitless well
of feeling, like a fossil, dug
into the heart of all your
forgotten hurts."

"Every one of them was
revealed in a room with
a certain texture, people
dressed in a way particular to that
moment. Even the way
people picked things up
was different than the way
it is now. Take
one to watch and watch
them until they get out of
the chair. Watch their
eyes and watch the way they
turn. Watch the way they hand
something to you. Keep your
eyes slightly averted while
you are watching."

Every time has a certain ambience.
Think of the way "The Ice Storm"
captured the 70's. And, of course, how
Antonioni portrayed the 60's. And the
50's, perhaps John Ashbery (Pollack
then, Ashbery now.)


I keep losing track of ways
to apprehend durations, intervals
of time, relationships between
different types of time. Which
is why "Happy Birthday To
You" is the biggest hit of all
time. No matter what, it comes
down to relating it to your
age, the number of years gone

What of the years when
time meant nothing at all?
When the only thing I could
relate to about the concept had
to do with how long I had
to wait for the adults to
finish whatever endless
thing it was they had to do.
This was "The Day The Earth Stood
Still?" But now it is the
opposite, it is so much better
when there is an opportunity to
slow down.

In a rush, it feels like
you have turned time's spigot
all lthe way. You are grabbing
time by the handfull, using
vast amounts of time to
attend to details- giving
time over to working things out with
or for other people.


Ah, response. So near and so
far away. I thought back to
times, times (unbelievably!)
even now sometimes are summoned forth by
the slenderest, the most gossamer
and opaque of details.

Each assertion actually comes
out to be a nod to somebody.
I climbed down the lines
of his poem as if I were
climbing down a ladder
into his most private
musings, musings which
appear at last on the
surface of a reflective surface,
some frozen liquid, ice
perhaps. Perhaps!
At last, a chance
to bathe in hesitations.
"Procrastination is the poetry
of our lives..." Charles
Bernstein- and a young
Bernstein at that.

Monday, June 16

Happy Bloomsday, Laurable! -fait accompli- hopes you have a terrific day! Scroll down a bit and find a little Bloomsday surprise waiting for you!

Bloomsday is next Monday, June 16. I have appropriated Bloomsday as my own holiday. This coming June will be my eighth celebrated Bloomsday.

Rule #1: Take the day off work as one does when observing holidays.

Rule #2: With the exception of rule number one, do not plan anything. Nothing. Not before the day. Not during the day.

Rule #3: Be symbolically aware. For further details e-mail me and hopefully I will recieve it.
posted by Laurable on 6/13/2003 03:41:43 PM | link


Behind every spate of messiness lies an undone task. You can tell- because after you've done it you *feel* like organizing.


Dribs and Drabs

1. The fading of ESP similar to the earlier fading of the aura. ESP depends on empathy. Premonitions have their base in the instinct to protect, not aggress against.

2. The hero doesn't really like groups. So s/he rises above them.


Quotations are apologies

3. Poverty offers a few
consolations, Seneca reminds
us. Such politics as this
doesn't easily lend itself to
the cause of liberalism, but
that would be a superficial
reading of stoicism. Poverty
forces an economics of use,
while luxury eventually must
resort to a metaphysics of use.
Poverty provokes a situational
or contextual access to

4. Quotation (on the other
hand?) offers immediate,
while admittedly limited, access
to the sensation of discovery.


Premonitions at first appear
in dribs and drabs.They are\
like clues. A clue is like a
legend to an unknown or alien
environment. Premonitions
deepen curiosity, they
incite research.

5. Can "essay"- try to tell-
or report- as in, report
a conversation.

6. Presentiment-
something you notice but
cannot necessarilty comment
on- it has, as yet,
an known significance;
i.e. information you cannot categorize.

7. Going backward-changing
or revising things, as a kind of time

8. Letters to, or thoughts

9. An inner dialoge is
going on (Fairbairn: an
originary breakup of the
self as a self-protective
i.e. defensive maneuver.)
Only if I speak up (within)
to my inner monologue can
I answer it.

10. Even the tendency to write on
scraps of paper is an
attempt to evade the
given economy or system of


Toni: "History only remembers
those who change it."

9/23 Check find file for
poetry into film competition.

9/26 "Time" singing again and again
like a Greek chorus, different
each time, prolonged a little like
a raga.

Jimmy's movie suggestions

6th Sense
The Fallen


From the standpoint of true
happiness all of the usual
props for enjoyment stand out
as superfluous.

An idea for a sentence
or an idea for a new
category of sentences.

Observe yourself in your
round of lesser events.
You move, again and
again, from place to
place. Look at it as if
you don't know how you
got there. Now, what
does this mean.


"You know much better than
me what is customary in
this land."

The failed poems streak
like falling stars across
the sea of understanding.
This is why a poem must
wear a mask. The poem that
announces itself
risks nol being
heard because somehow
it speaks out of turn.

It's hard to get people
to read what you write.
Keep writing anyway.


I'm less interested in
writing that makes me think
than in writing that
lets me think.

So much around and, even within me,
makes me think: news,
advertising, information. Yet other things,
let me think: music, the sea, poetry.


Toni's "bookstore spirit."


"I will be better readers."
Rod Smith
"In Memory of My Theories"

Sunday, June 15

The Sunday, June 15th -fait accompli-(((((HOT)))))(((((BLOG)))) Bloglink Crush List is divided into four features:

First:* Blogwatch* (These Blogs Just In): They've Caught Our Eye and They Are (((((HOT)))))

Second:(((((Favorites))))): We read these every day: (((((HOT))))) Selections from previous Crush Lists

Third: (((((Bloglink Achievement Crush List))))): Our first choice in a new list of ongoing blogs that are, for -fait accompli- moving beyond Crush into (((((MORE)))

Fourth :Our Sunday, June 15 (((((HOT)))))(((((BLOG)))))Crush List

New Bloglink Crush List Feature: Blogwatch (These Blogs Just In)

These blogs are ((((HOT)))) and are new and exciting to us:

*~Aimee Nezhukumatathil's gila monster~*

Heaven...Mairead Byrne

Polis Is Eyes...James Cook

Whiskey River

Dumb Monkey

Solipsistic Gazette


Caveat Lector

Keep Trying

Harlequin Knights

The Nightjar: A Logbook...Jean Gier

Zazie's Zone

this Public Address 3.0

Yoo Doo Right...Mike County
Crush List Favorites (We read these every day)

Scroll *Down* for this week's Crush List (Sunday, June 15)

prrrowess...Nada's Poems

abolone..Li Bloom

Human Verb...Noah Eli Gordon

tex files...Chris Murray

Parking Lot...Chris Corrigan

Chimera Song Mosaic...Deborah Wardlaw Pattillo

The Jetty...Cassie Lewis..


No Starting Point...Emma Barnes

Never Neutral...Ernesto Priego

We Write To Taste Life Twice...Crystal King

Mysterium...Carlos Arribas

Arm Sasser...Carl Annarummo

Process Documents...Ryan Fitzpatrick

Love's Last Gasps...Eileen Tabios' Poem Journal

Topher Tune's Times...Christy Church

Ruminate...Chris Lott
Word Placement...Clayton A. Couch

Ptarmigan...Alan de Niro

Bellona Times...Ray Davis
Ironstone Whirlygig...Amanda Cook

Mike Snider's Formal Blog

I find it exciting to hear about the explosive growth of blogging, and the increasing public interest, but sometimes I wonder how deep are the roots and how long will it last? When I worry like this I like to think about blogs, particularly in the area I am working in, that contribute something of lasting effect almost every day. When I think of this I think of Laura Willey. No doubt she will win many real awards, but anyway, we have chosen her as the first on our Bloglife Achievement Crush List , Hopefully, there will be many more.

A Laurable Log...Laura Willey

the *fait accompli*- Bloglink Crush List for Sunday, June 15:

xtina.org....Christina Strong


Nightjar 2...Jean Gier

Noahglass...Noah E.Glass

Five Fingers Strong...Alli Warren

Hiving...Jean Chu

In A Dark Time...Loren Webster

Wood s Lot...Mark Woods

Hatstuck and House (Arrest)...Stephen Kirbach

poetic grimoire and notions