7/17/01
If the quest is a question
then the question is a quest.
7/21/01
Things resting in their place.
trying too hard to understand
something that may not
be worth it. The effort of
understanding this issue is often one
of an appropriate time or place.
The process in and of and
for itself.
A question of where and how to
let thoughts fit in comfortably.
What opens it up and
what closes it. What is an
infringement on what. With a
bang or a whimper. Like a
conversation or a dialogue.
Things feed into it or
don't. Otherwise, they rest.
Noticing the small detail.
Richard Tuttle said something
about optimism. The rage,
the fury .Let it slide.
They devote themselves. A
talon. Swept in quotes.
Don't make the difficult
impossible. Who says you
can't. Slides in.
Elaboration. At least this
one. They corner it, splicing
the vastness. Or a blessing
in disguise, a bless in
disguise takes time. After
the fact. More ways than
"in more ways than one."
They should. Or should
they? Even a reverse
is more than one thing,
getting upon and making
(creating) them in disguise.
Singing or (sing-ing) singing a planet.
How to pronounce it-
who leads?- or make
something to understand.
Under a narrowing...
tendency. Or can make
it up (create with) by
and for. At last, at
least.
Quarters, folded.
A siren- attention to the
police. Cleaning it up,
clearing it up.. They
cause, or create a
tendency, a destiny, a
destination. It was, to
someone cleared it up. Devil's
erasing the crime, the comma
a copy, a retroforce in
will. Stay alive. Can
measure. Up to a force,
another kind of connective.
Just start and don't stop.
Conjunctions, ampersands,
a full stop. the rhythmic
gestation. Land, ahoy.
Name of a detective,
reflection of a game. The
narrative stretches in.
So between, alright of
(for)a game. Evidence,
or shards, applause or a
cause, sandwiched between
the present and the past.
Pieces of evidence to lead
One on, on, from writer to
reader. Under suspicion,
under assumption-some
pressure, not too much
or too little. A slight
bit of permission.
Distribution Automatique
Saturday, June 7
1/27/87
We must learn to think in terms of transformation on many levels at the same time and stop thinking in terms of development and progression. The illusion of progress is in part an undersandable yet deceptive visualization of future time arising out of a partial resolution of the oedipus complex.
Progress is an optical illusion which derives almost entirely
(Generating force not the future)
19th Century musical forms
A+B=C
(theme and variations
development=Beethoven)
Reign, reign
Go away
Development and progression- resolution in "major" and "minor" chords- triumph and tragedy- will and doubt- pessimism and optimism. Such dualities thrive on antimonies: All the unearthed clashes are never more than (very!) temporarily relieved by moments of satisfaction and integration. And integration leads to integrity- the reverse is the chain human life strives to slough off.
Whence the idea of progression. Since processes are intuitively irreversible (as are most organic processes) the illusion is fostered that all growth is organic, and all organisms are dependent on progress for survival. Is this inherent in Darwinism, Marxism, Freudianism, Einsteinism...Very possibly the answer is yes. And for this reason, at least, because the concept of progression and development is foundering as the 20th Century comes to a close, we must post-haste see things in Post-Freudian, Post-Marxist, Post-Darwin, Post- Einsteinian terms. We can no longer afford the extravagant expenditures of spirit required for the healthy upkeep of these sputtering philosophies. My prediction is that as toward the end of the last century (human beings being the great procrastinators that they are)- at the very last minute, so to speak, we will begin to see all these foundational systems in a new light. This may be because just as the concepts underlying the patriarchal systems of the divine right of kings gave way to the idea of a leader the populace "elects" to "play the role"- these changes in the dramatic structure of human power will see a new view of human "scale" arising that will transcend the current concept of "name" and identity. A different, a widening focus for human identity may evolve in which each idividual partakes of the "divine" of the "political drama" not only by means of "dramatic speeches"- or impassioned declarations of belief, or affirmations of faith, but by means of individual empowerment accessible through immensely accelerated systems of knowledge aquisition. These super sophisticated precursors developing now through the overlap of telecommunications and computerized information organization, video self-teaching methods and how-to books. "Democracy" itself is simply an enlarged classroom made available by the wiser portion of wealthy capitalists. As the classroom grows in popularity, deceptions are constantly created by the easy market which arises out of natural and artifically created knowledge-lags.
We must learn to think in terms of transformation on many levels at the same time and stop thinking in terms of development and progression. The illusion of progress is in part an undersandable yet deceptive visualization of future time arising out of a partial resolution of the oedipus complex.
Progress is an optical illusion which derives almost entirely
(Generating force not the future)
19th Century musical forms
A+B=C
(theme and variations
development=Beethoven)
Reign, reign
Go away
Development and progression- resolution in "major" and "minor" chords- triumph and tragedy- will and doubt- pessimism and optimism. Such dualities thrive on antimonies: All the unearthed clashes are never more than (very!) temporarily relieved by moments of satisfaction and integration. And integration leads to integrity- the reverse is the chain human life strives to slough off.
Whence the idea of progression. Since processes are intuitively irreversible (as are most organic processes) the illusion is fostered that all growth is organic, and all organisms are dependent on progress for survival. Is this inherent in Darwinism, Marxism, Freudianism, Einsteinism...Very possibly the answer is yes. And for this reason, at least, because the concept of progression and development is foundering as the 20th Century comes to a close, we must post-haste see things in Post-Freudian, Post-Marxist, Post-Darwin, Post- Einsteinian terms. We can no longer afford the extravagant expenditures of spirit required for the healthy upkeep of these sputtering philosophies. My prediction is that as toward the end of the last century (human beings being the great procrastinators that they are)- at the very last minute, so to speak, we will begin to see all these foundational systems in a new light. This may be because just as the concepts underlying the patriarchal systems of the divine right of kings gave way to the idea of a leader the populace "elects" to "play the role"- these changes in the dramatic structure of human power will see a new view of human "scale" arising that will transcend the current concept of "name" and identity. A different, a widening focus for human identity may evolve in which each idividual partakes of the "divine" of the "political drama" not only by means of "dramatic speeches"- or impassioned declarations of belief, or affirmations of faith, but by means of individual empowerment accessible through immensely accelerated systems of knowledge aquisition. These super sophisticated precursors developing now through the overlap of telecommunications and computerized information organization, video self-teaching methods and how-to books. "Democracy" itself is simply an enlarged classroom made available by the wiser portion of wealthy capitalists. As the classroom grows in popularity, deceptions are constantly created by the easy market which arises out of natural and artifically created knowledge-lags.
Friday, June 6
Along with some terrific poets, I've audioblogged a few of my Haikus In celebration of the publication of Jim Behrle's *Popular Mechanics* on Got to pay your dues if you wanna sing the blues. My audioblog is as yet unmarked, as I'm sure at the moment, Jim is at the Boston Poetry Marathon. Mine is the one recorded at 8:12 p.m. The titles are: 1) Writer's Block 2) Miles of Sky 3) Unearth 4) Double or Nothing 5)Afternoon of a Frown 6)Hegelian Honeymoon 6) Sinema & 7) The Thief of Time.
In fact, another irony from seeing Nick's one-liner is that I didn't even read the text of the poem yesterday when I "wrote" it. Consequently, I didn't realize until I was looking over the poem today that, actually "regret is an appalling waste of energy" was one of the googled lines .... which means Nick read the poem, while I didn't.
(from Winepoetics)
(from Winepoetics)
No wonder certain individuals would like to downgrade the value placed on blogs in search engines. Someone was looking for an apartment in the city of Piombino in Italy (south of Genoa, north of Rome, across from the island of Elba) and got this as their tenth result (for *Piombino apartment*):
..
Fait Accompli.
Nick Piombino 1:49 ... And then all of it together: my ridiculously expensive apartment
and my three jobs needed to support it; my threatened second layoff in ten ...
nickpiombino.blogspot.com/ 2003_05_25_nickpiombino_archive.html - 67k - in Cache - Pagini similare
[ Mai multe rezultate de la nickpiombino.blogspot.com ] ...
Then I googled *Piombino apartment* and got this (about the 15th result- a discussion of -Blade Runner-):
Fait Accompli
below). :: Nick Piombino 11:39 PM [+] :: ... dies. On the way back to
his apartment, Deckard sees Gaff, the assistant to his boss. ...
nickpiombino.blogspot.com/ 2003_03_09_nickpiombino_archive.html - 46k - Cached - Similar pages
..
Fait Accompli.
Nick Piombino 1:49 ... And then all of it together: my ridiculously expensive apartment
and my three jobs needed to support it; my threatened second layoff in ten ...
nickpiombino.blogspot.com/ 2003_05_25_nickpiombino_archive.html - 67k - in Cache - Pagini similare
[ Mai multe rezultate de la nickpiombino.blogspot.com ] ...
Then I googled *Piombino apartment* and got this (about the 15th result- a discussion of -Blade Runner-):
Fait Accompli
below). :: Nick Piombino 11:39 PM [+] :: ... dies. On the way back to
his apartment, Deckard sees Gaff, the assistant to his boss. ...
nickpiombino.blogspot.com/ 2003_03_09_nickpiombino_archive.html - 46k - Cached - Similar pages
Nada Gordon has called for definitions of love. Here's an attempt by me found recently in a small notebook, probably written about 1986.
Labor of Love
Everyone has a philosophy of love whether not they have articulated it- and most have at one time or another defined it for themselves or even for others. Most people, however, learn to love the way they learn most other things, by mimicry. This leads to endless complications, many comical, some tragic. For practical reasons, we mostly learn about love on the field of battle, so to speak. It is a terrifying fact that most of us learn through bitter experience the (empty) truth of the phrase, "All's fair in love and war." This is a cynical formula, however, that forgives a thousand blunders and not a few cruelties. It is an allibi that should be reserved for courts and similar forums for determinations of guilt and innocence. In our time it has become a *modus operandi* and this is not so much wrong as it is disastrous. There has to be another way. We are all fools in love and we should learn, particularly in the process of satisfying our appetites, to be as kind to others as possible. I realize this is very difficult at times, and that it is human nature to take what we can get. But the field of love takes us to the heart of human relationships, and in this arena, great vulnerabilities go hand in hand with great possibilities. In pragmatic terms, love may be defined simply. To love is to return. It is in this sense that hate is not the opposite of love, but is the result of exhausted love. Indifference is the opposite of love.
To love is to return because love is what holds things together. Meister Eckhart is reputed to have said: "Even stones have a love. A love that seeks the ground."
There are so many things, people and forces that we are pulled apart. How is a relationship to survive under such circumstances? There are so many delicious experiences available, and in this desert of daily life it is no wonder we develop a powerful "sweet tooth" early on.
If to love is to return, how do we return? The word carries with it a pristine halo which, for everyday use, won't stay on. Better to store it with your greatest treasures in your desk or jewelry box because in everyday life it will get scratched at best, or be bent out of shape at worst. Love's halo is a brief experience which has the function of a mild to powerful intoxicant or anaesthetic as the case may be. Perhaps it is best to learn to wear it, if at all, with a sense of humor, love's most durable guardian by far.
Labor of Love
Everyone has a philosophy of love whether not they have articulated it- and most have at one time or another defined it for themselves or even for others. Most people, however, learn to love the way they learn most other things, by mimicry. This leads to endless complications, many comical, some tragic. For practical reasons, we mostly learn about love on the field of battle, so to speak. It is a terrifying fact that most of us learn through bitter experience the (empty) truth of the phrase, "All's fair in love and war." This is a cynical formula, however, that forgives a thousand blunders and not a few cruelties. It is an allibi that should be reserved for courts and similar forums for determinations of guilt and innocence. In our time it has become a *modus operandi* and this is not so much wrong as it is disastrous. There has to be another way. We are all fools in love and we should learn, particularly in the process of satisfying our appetites, to be as kind to others as possible. I realize this is very difficult at times, and that it is human nature to take what we can get. But the field of love takes us to the heart of human relationships, and in this arena, great vulnerabilities go hand in hand with great possibilities. In pragmatic terms, love may be defined simply. To love is to return. It is in this sense that hate is not the opposite of love, but is the result of exhausted love. Indifference is the opposite of love.
To love is to return because love is what holds things together. Meister Eckhart is reputed to have said: "Even stones have a love. A love that seeks the ground."
There are so many things, people and forces that we are pulled apart. How is a relationship to survive under such circumstances? There are so many delicious experiences available, and in this desert of daily life it is no wonder we develop a powerful "sweet tooth" early on.
If to love is to return, how do we return? The word carries with it a pristine halo which, for everyday use, won't stay on. Better to store it with your greatest treasures in your desk or jewelry box because in everyday life it will get scratched at best, or be bent out of shape at worst. Love's halo is a brief experience which has the function of a mild to powerful intoxicant or anaesthetic as the case may be. Perhaps it is best to learn to wear it, if at all, with a sense of humor, love's most durable guardian by far.
Thursday, June 5
10/4/86
All that lies (those lies) ahead is contained (you don't know exactly where) is contained in the next step (many ahead). A seems to be saying (why such diplomacy) again. It's contained with me (why such happening, I+1= D'said she say "dislexics of the world untie." Or is it half-human to cite the difficulties (intersecting fields of Marrakech, cherry juice, plum soda, half-eggplant, and salad and raison d'etre- t'is beginning a mirror of convergence) (here's T: now). Grinning. The convergence of recognition is half exact. I wink at you and you wink back and we both know it's o.k. I started out to make a list of stones and seeing them piled that way, just thinking about that light and sent me here again, my friends surrounding me, impatiently waiting to see the pattern which will emerge. So, one of the stones is a pile of papers on the desk, another one is the desk, and piles of boxes of all the details which could be shaken away so give me some time for this. The problem is that time, in its nature, is indeterminate. Time becomes space to the extent that points are converging on a center, like bees to a honeycomb. In the nexus of organization which emerges there are far too few moments which are your potential turn than in the wide open spaces where many may intermingle more comfortably. Why the rush to these places? Obviously, because therein lies the essence of the costume, the parfum exstatique. Perhaps fate, in the end is more like a precocious child than a stern judge, in that the scale is so immense that all these numbers add up to a mere beginning- so that at the beginning of the beginning the child, banging around its new found objects, it wants to more than to be amused, that the prime rule is that no factor among all the playthings may be disallowed (the function of history). This child, now Moses, now Ghandi, now Chopin, becomes petulant and appears as Genghis Khan, Adolf Hitler, Ronald Reagan. Is it up to art and poetry to take the toys away? It isn't possible that way what can be taken are the playthings themselves and break the space of the fascination of the biggest boy on the block we must defeat him. It has to be otherwise, it has to be that we, boys and girls, must play a better game- a more beautiful game and a fairer game- one that will draw attention *away* from this bratty anti-semitic provocation jew baiting hysteria being one of the best proven ways to bring out the police. If one remains staunch in playing the more excellent game- perhaps one day him or his representation will truly blur this out. One hundred dollars to the Simon Wiesenthal Foundation.
There is a kind of nausea that enters underneath the skin and causes intense immobility. I referred to this in my piece *Stet.* The stones seem too heavy to lift.
Note: (The indeterminacy of the visual structure of words by means of letters allows the association to track the sought for cluster of experience/meaings)= Existence, Costume, Ego Structure, Essence
All that lies (those lies) ahead is contained (you don't know exactly where) is contained in the next step (many ahead). A seems to be saying (why such diplomacy) again. It's contained with me (why such happening, I+1= D'said she say "dislexics of the world untie." Or is it half-human to cite the difficulties (intersecting fields of Marrakech, cherry juice, plum soda, half-eggplant, and salad and raison d'etre- t'is beginning a mirror of convergence) (here's T: now). Grinning. The convergence of recognition is half exact. I wink at you and you wink back and we both know it's o.k. I started out to make a list of stones and seeing them piled that way, just thinking about that light and sent me here again, my friends surrounding me, impatiently waiting to see the pattern which will emerge. So, one of the stones is a pile of papers on the desk, another one is the desk, and piles of boxes of all the details which could be shaken away so give me some time for this. The problem is that time, in its nature, is indeterminate. Time becomes space to the extent that points are converging on a center, like bees to a honeycomb. In the nexus of organization which emerges there are far too few moments which are your potential turn than in the wide open spaces where many may intermingle more comfortably. Why the rush to these places? Obviously, because therein lies the essence of the costume, the parfum exstatique. Perhaps fate, in the end is more like a precocious child than a stern judge, in that the scale is so immense that all these numbers add up to a mere beginning- so that at the beginning of the beginning the child, banging around its new found objects, it wants to more than to be amused, that the prime rule is that no factor among all the playthings may be disallowed (the function of history). This child, now Moses, now Ghandi, now Chopin, becomes petulant and appears as Genghis Khan, Adolf Hitler, Ronald Reagan. Is it up to art and poetry to take the toys away? It isn't possible that way what can be taken are the playthings themselves and break the space of the fascination of the biggest boy on the block we must defeat him. It has to be otherwise, it has to be that we, boys and girls, must play a better game- a more beautiful game and a fairer game- one that will draw attention *away* from this bratty anti-semitic provocation jew baiting hysteria being one of the best proven ways to bring out the police. If one remains staunch in playing the more excellent game- perhaps one day him or his representation will truly blur this out. One hundred dollars to the Simon Wiesenthal Foundation.
There is a kind of nausea that enters underneath the skin and causes intense immobility. I referred to this in my piece *Stet.* The stones seem too heavy to lift.
Note: (The indeterminacy of the visual structure of words by means of letters allows the association to track the sought for cluster of experience/meaings)= Existence, Costume, Ego Structure, Essence
Wednesday, June 4
10/1/86
The word earnest invented the end of sincerity. If one only listened to
the fullest extent to the intonation of each word and
rang its metal against the stone of reality
1/2/86
It's a mistake to think of all sure
movement as a quickly completed
gesture.This is probably because
most satisfactions feel brief, and this
can come to be experienced as a
lack of complete satisfaction. But in a
world of work, all satisfaction is partial.
Only the retrospecive assessment distances me
from the fragmentary. But the whole
thrust of even the fullest satisfaction is
propulsion towards *another* full
assessment. We produce and weigh, produce
and weigh. Any weighing which follows a
production inevitably brings the concept
of *more.*
The Buddhists got it almost right.
It's the wanting others to do that breeds
illusion (fantasy)- it's imagining
what others might do that breeds illusion
(fantasy)- it's thinking of what others
should do that breeds fantasy-illusions.
The universe answers all questions with
the sun.
The word earnest invented the end of sincerity. If one only listened to
the fullest extent to the intonation of each word and
rang its metal against the stone of reality
1/2/86
It's a mistake to think of all sure
movement as a quickly completed
gesture.This is probably because
most satisfactions feel brief, and this
can come to be experienced as a
lack of complete satisfaction. But in a
world of work, all satisfaction is partial.
Only the retrospecive assessment distances me
from the fragmentary. But the whole
thrust of even the fullest satisfaction is
propulsion towards *another* full
assessment. We produce and weigh, produce
and weigh. Any weighing which follows a
production inevitably brings the concept
of *more.*
The Buddhists got it almost right.
It's the wanting others to do that breeds
illusion (fantasy)- it's imagining
what others might do that breeds illusion
(fantasy)- it's thinking of what others
should do that breeds fantasy-illusions.
The universe answers all questions with
the sun.
10/1/86
It comes down to this. In order to
be victorious over unnecessary suffering
we must stand ready to be implacable
in the face of all tests of will. The
universe need not be defeated or tamed
in order to gain mastery over torture.
Nothing more is demanded than the
unwillingness to relinquish the possibility
of happiness. Something negative can help
to make us clear but it will never
be generative. We must not necessarily
persuade the universe to be sympathetic
or compassionate or even completely authentic.
Not that this is impossible but I believe
something else is demanded. More than a
few centuries have been devoted to this
cringing attitude of begging mercy or
beseeching the gods for deliverance. Nor
must we be indifferent to its indifferance.
Or, most of all, be indifferent to its
temptations. We must do more and something
far less submissive and self-sacrificing.
We must convince it of the lack of
necessity for death. No smaller demand is
possible. While we must die, we need
not die in the face of death, nor must we
beg forgiveness, although we have no choice.
We must eat and celebrate, we must drum
and we must demand the end of killing. Let
us tell the gods the killing must stop.
We can promise to cut away the already
dead without a grimace. We have done
this before and we'll do it again. But the
universe must be no longer permitted to
kill in our largest grip of
thought or rhapsody, or enlarged
or finely tuned perspective, We must
deny to our heart's fullest conviction
the necessity of death. If we cannt
know what it is, we must dare it to
enter, to tell us what it is. My brother and
sister looked into the face of death
and lived to tell the tale.The poet
was right, we must demand no less: give no
dominion to death, banish it forevermore.
It comes down to this. In order to
be victorious over unnecessary suffering
we must stand ready to be implacable
in the face of all tests of will. The
universe need not be defeated or tamed
in order to gain mastery over torture.
Nothing more is demanded than the
unwillingness to relinquish the possibility
of happiness. Something negative can help
to make us clear but it will never
be generative. We must not necessarily
persuade the universe to be sympathetic
or compassionate or even completely authentic.
Not that this is impossible but I believe
something else is demanded. More than a
few centuries have been devoted to this
cringing attitude of begging mercy or
beseeching the gods for deliverance. Nor
must we be indifferent to its indifferance.
Or, most of all, be indifferent to its
temptations. We must do more and something
far less submissive and self-sacrificing.
We must convince it of the lack of
necessity for death. No smaller demand is
possible. While we must die, we need
not die in the face of death, nor must we
beg forgiveness, although we have no choice.
We must eat and celebrate, we must drum
and we must demand the end of killing. Let
us tell the gods the killing must stop.
We can promise to cut away the already
dead without a grimace. We have done
this before and we'll do it again. But the
universe must be no longer permitted to
kill in our largest grip of
thought or rhapsody, or enlarged
or finely tuned perspective, We must
deny to our heart's fullest conviction
the necessity of death. If we cannt
know what it is, we must dare it to
enter, to tell us what it is. My brother and
sister looked into the face of death
and lived to tell the tale.The poet
was right, we must demand no less: give no
dominion to death, banish it forevermore.
9/29/86
You need
A clock
That ticks
Not too loud
Not too soft
Finally words are peeling away from the
first level of thinking Don't put up with
this, or pull up, push-pull, don't stop.
(So far the tick-ticking is not tick-toc.
It's tick-tick,which is faster). I don't
mean to hurry you, but the urgency to blend this
set of words quickly by means of some interior
measure, some infernal automatic metronome
that beat-beats its words at me as
impeccably as a clock. No, that's not fair,
there couldn't be time for all this foolishness
between two beats of a chime, between two
clumsy bongs.
May be an apprehension of scale. A small
bang to measure a big bang by an every bigger
bigger bang.
Human, a human alive and moving, things
must be at hand. And if everything is done
to make this be, if there is an illusion of
free-float based on this then it may be
possible to *hurtle forward* into a different
time zone by means of the same maneuver
mentally that before would have led
to falling or a feal of falling (failing)
Sometimes somebody shows up here I
recognize- a part of myself also summoned forth.
Why be reticent about this?
9/30 Titles are self-commands.
You can take a test. Give yourself
your own exam. then grade it and
take it again, etc.
You need
A clock
That ticks
Not too loud
Not too soft
Finally words are peeling away from the
first level of thinking Don't put up with
this, or pull up, push-pull, don't stop.
(So far the tick-ticking is not tick-toc.
It's tick-tick,which is faster). I don't
mean to hurry you, but the urgency to blend this
set of words quickly by means of some interior
measure, some infernal automatic metronome
that beat-beats its words at me as
impeccably as a clock. No, that's not fair,
there couldn't be time for all this foolishness
between two beats of a chime, between two
clumsy bongs.
May be an apprehension of scale. A small
bang to measure a big bang by an every bigger
bigger bang.
Human, a human alive and moving, things
must be at hand. And if everything is done
to make this be, if there is an illusion of
free-float based on this then it may be
possible to *hurtle forward* into a different
time zone by means of the same maneuver
mentally that before would have led
to falling or a feal of falling (failing)
Sometimes somebody shows up here I
recognize- a part of myself also summoned forth.
Why be reticent about this?
9/30 Titles are self-commands.
You can take a test. Give yourself
your own exam. then grade it and
take it again, etc.
Tuesday, June 3
Six Degrees of Separation Department
On Monday in her blog Well Nourished Moon Stephanie Young wrote about unpacking her library in her new house in Oakland and quoted from an obscure chapbook she came across that she likes very much. Coincidentally, this same chapbook, "Fears of Your Life" by Michael Bernard Loggins was very extensively quoted and discussed in the June, 2003 - Harper's-, in a section called -Readings- right next to a humorous piece by Charles Bernstein called "The Difficult Poem"! It was noted that the zine was published by Creativity Explored, an art center in San Francisco for developmentally disabled adults.
On Monday in her blog Well Nourished Moon Stephanie Young wrote about unpacking her library in her new house in Oakland and quoted from an obscure chapbook she came across that she likes very much. Coincidentally, this same chapbook, "Fears of Your Life" by Michael Bernard Loggins was very extensively quoted and discussed in the June, 2003 - Harper's-, in a section called -Readings- right next to a humorous piece by Charles Bernstein called "The Difficult Poem"! It was noted that the zine was published by Creativity Explored, an art center in San Francisco for developmentally disabled adults.
2/13/84
Lately, out of nowhere, I will get a distinct feeling of one aspect of my identity as it was experienced during various periods of my life.
A simple sketch,
The syntax (sin tax) is the price we pay for sense (cents)
Description- in order to eat, in a restaurant, we must name the food. Thus the marketplace is completely composed of descriptions, while the identity is composed of perceptual matrices.
The attempt to mimic identity through descriptions is the central fraud of neurosis and literature. This use of literature is transferential in nature. The automatism of identity creation, beginning with dramatic literature and continuing through novel writing is the very automatism from which escape was sought through automatic writing and Dada creations.
The error of generational opposition- is that it does not go back (or enough.) We are as yet reacting to the confines of the conventions remaining from the literature of hierarchical forms. These, which have remained as forms of nostalgia, reflect an -accumulated- horror which is ever inceasing with the passage of time. The horror of Kafka's "Harrow" is paralelled by Hitler.
Mime is infantile, childish.The theatre of the imitation of (material) physical existence is in its nature athletic and related to the Roman Circus. Until it is replaced by the theatre of ideas, it will be embattled, as it is situated in the remorseless war machine of an obsessional counter-phobic reaction to the fact of death.
12/13
In writing the passages on 12/13/84 I realized the "Pongeian" reversal effect for the first time. Poetics is the discovery of the possibilities of this reversal, in Ponge. It is a question of actualities.
Identity and stasis.
12/15/84
I was looking at the word metapsychology and "saw" the word morphology. This experience captures the essence of what I am now understanding.
Lately, out of nowhere, I will get a distinct feeling of one aspect of my identity as it was experienced during various periods of my life.
A simple sketch,
The syntax (sin tax) is the price we pay for sense (cents)
Description- in order to eat, in a restaurant, we must name the food. Thus the marketplace is completely composed of descriptions, while the identity is composed of perceptual matrices.
The attempt to mimic identity through descriptions is the central fraud of neurosis and literature. This use of literature is transferential in nature. The automatism of identity creation, beginning with dramatic literature and continuing through novel writing is the very automatism from which escape was sought through automatic writing and Dada creations.
The error of generational opposition- is that it does not go back (or enough.) We are as yet reacting to the confines of the conventions remaining from the literature of hierarchical forms. These, which have remained as forms of nostalgia, reflect an -accumulated- horror which is ever inceasing with the passage of time. The horror of Kafka's "Harrow" is paralelled by Hitler.
Mime is infantile, childish.The theatre of the imitation of (material) physical existence is in its nature athletic and related to the Roman Circus. Until it is replaced by the theatre of ideas, it will be embattled, as it is situated in the remorseless war machine of an obsessional counter-phobic reaction to the fact of death.
12/13
In writing the passages on 12/13/84 I realized the "Pongeian" reversal effect for the first time. Poetics is the discovery of the possibilities of this reversal, in Ponge. It is a question of actualities.
Identity and stasis.
12/15/84
I was looking at the word metapsychology and "saw" the word morphology. This experience captures the essence of what I am now understanding.
12/15/84
This afternoon I was wondering what the cultural artifacts of my theories surfacing in the conscious mind of the world would look like. Today I bought a sweatshirt that pictures a man with Freud and Heavy Metal on the bookshelf behind him and he is saying, "I see no synthesis of poetry and ideology, save in the dialectic between meaning and chance," and his girlfriend is answering, "Where's my dinner you bloody poseur."
I hadn't thought of that.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, that from the viewpoint
of poetics, all actualities
are substantiated forms of poetic
theory. This is true because it is from poetic theory that all other theory derives. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx In contemporary science the "elegance" factor is still a central
consideration and in the marketplace
xxxx it is "style" that counts, or plays a
very great role in the success of a product;
in technology scale plays a greater and greater
role as well as authetic and accurate reproducing of the
visual and acoustic image; xxxxxxxxxxxxxx also
immediacy of access and xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
instantaneousness.
12/20
I have only a few friends, but with those few I am a part of friendship everywhere.
12/22
On the subway yesterday-xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx a think black
man walks by mexxxxxxxxx mumbling to himself,
"He's drunk." A long argument between all
three, the man at the end of the subway
seat, the woman at the other.The conductor
goes back to his xxxxxxbox. Duscussion
between woman and man to my left
blotted out.Then the doors open! Man get
off and says "He's drunk." Next stop
black woman gets off and says "He's drunk."
Then, we talk- the next stop the doors
don't open a long time- open and I say,
"He's drunk."
12/25/84
Perhaps use a Pollack quote at the
beginning of the first article-
This afternoon I was wondering what the cultural artifacts of my theories surfacing in the conscious mind of the world would look like. Today I bought a sweatshirt that pictures a man with Freud and Heavy Metal on the bookshelf behind him and he is saying, "I see no synthesis of poetry and ideology, save in the dialectic between meaning and chance," and his girlfriend is answering, "Where's my dinner you bloody poseur."
I hadn't thought of that.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, that from the viewpoint
of poetics, all actualities
are substantiated forms of poetic
theory. This is true because it is from poetic theory that all other theory derives. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx In contemporary science the "elegance" factor is still a central
consideration and in the marketplace
xxxx it is "style" that counts, or plays a
very great role in the success of a product;
in technology scale plays a greater and greater
role as well as authetic and accurate reproducing of the
visual and acoustic image; xxxxxxxxxxxxxx also
immediacy of access and xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
instantaneousness.
12/20
I have only a few friends, but with those few I am a part of friendship everywhere.
12/22
On the subway yesterday-xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx a think black
man walks by mexxxxxxxxx mumbling to himself,
"He's drunk." A long argument between all
three, the man at the end of the subway
seat, the woman at the other.The conductor
goes back to his xxxxxxbox. Duscussion
between woman and man to my left
blotted out.Then the doors open! Man get
off and says "He's drunk." Next stop
black woman gets off and says "He's drunk."
Then, we talk- the next stop the doors
don't open a long time- open and I say,
"He's drunk."
12/25/84
Perhaps use a Pollack quote at the
beginning of the first article-
(12/10/84)
And his feet show it, they're longfellows. Square root to Square Garden. All the pages stages and strut and statues, squares and hippies. Ha-ha. Remember to forget here. It's hour upon the square, C squared or Not c-squared, that is the question. Whether 'ts automatic is not the question, facts pile up while attention drifts. Lesson by lesson, play by play, the our is wonton- who else would care? Finally leading us back to the essential drift- partial sentences, an all purpose plan, partly gesture, could all remain.
Sam's the man! "words were what were whole," bachelor of arts, android. Babbler of hearts, Hamlet, ham lloyd, Lennie the gimp.
Later...Mainly interested in actions we can repeat, we forget the rest, the one (at a) time numbers. Again and again, that's the ticket, this time without an accent. "Say it again," I said to my father and he mimicked me, it must have drove him crazy, if I were hard to train. There anyway, in between, froze me out of time. Taking it all back- not such a big bet, a safe cause, we pass it on (and out).
Pavorotti listens to the orchestra and the orchestra listens to him. Ron made everything o.k. A message from T. At long last, reminding myself again and again, every moment, check them all once or twice. Over instrumentalized, a box of chocolates, a bored soprano. Each reflected in all the faces of a pen, picture a signpost full of hieroglyphs, structuralistsxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.
Scurrying all over the Westside Wall of Words. Women are very very special in all of this, a valentine, I love you too. Now back to my philosophical musings, which, at that one furious moment if I look too closely, I won't say it *I was bored*! This was *horrible* like fading
Star Trek completely dependent on phoney vacuum cleanersxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Commenting is contextualizing is seeing---------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Counting is contextualizing)
-------------------------------------------
--------------------------------
-----------------------------------
Counting is
-----------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------
contextualizing
Then -------------------text I wrote this----------------------text
Maybe I shouldn't publish this kind of thing
-------------------Before by N.Piombino--------------------------
And his feet show it, they're longfellows. Square root to Square Garden. All the pages stages and strut and statues, squares and hippies. Ha-ha. Remember to forget here. It's hour upon the square, C squared or Not c-squared, that is the question. Whether 'ts automatic is not the question, facts pile up while attention drifts. Lesson by lesson, play by play, the our is wonton- who else would care? Finally leading us back to the essential drift- partial sentences, an all purpose plan, partly gesture, could all remain.
Sam's the man! "words were what were whole," bachelor of arts, android. Babbler of hearts, Hamlet, ham lloyd, Lennie the gimp.
Later...Mainly interested in actions we can repeat, we forget the rest, the one (at a) time numbers. Again and again, that's the ticket, this time without an accent. "Say it again," I said to my father and he mimicked me, it must have drove him crazy, if I were hard to train. There anyway, in between, froze me out of time. Taking it all back- not such a big bet, a safe cause, we pass it on (and out).
Pavorotti listens to the orchestra and the orchestra listens to him. Ron made everything o.k. A message from T. At long last, reminding myself again and again, every moment, check them all once or twice. Over instrumentalized, a box of chocolates, a bored soprano. Each reflected in all the faces of a pen, picture a signpost full of hieroglyphs, structuralistsxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.
Scurrying all over the Westside Wall of Words. Women are very very special in all of this, a valentine, I love you too. Now back to my philosophical musings, which, at that one furious moment if I look too closely, I won't say it *I was bored*! This was *horrible* like fading
Star Trek completely dependent on phoney vacuum cleanersxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Commenting is contextualizing is seeing---------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Counting is contextualizing)
-------------------------------------------
--------------------------------
-----------------------------------
Counting is
-----------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------
contextualizing
Then -------------------text I wrote this----------------------text
Maybe I shouldn't publish this kind of thing
-------------------Before by N.Piombino--------------------------
Monday, June 2
Here's another google referral I liked. Someone asked google about "narrative technique pavese the beach" and was referred to fait accompli, about the sixth result:
fait accompli - [ Traduzca esta página ]
... Cesare Pavese. ... The technique of unresolved relationships. ... also, fear), telling a story
MG Giving out directly a kind of direct interpretation of the narrative. ...
nickpiombino.blogspot.com/ - 49k - En caché - Páginas similares
fait accompli - [ Traduzca esta página ]
... Cesare Pavese. ... The technique of unresolved relationships. ... also, fear), telling a story
MG Giving out directly a kind of direct interpretation of the narrative. ...
nickpiombino.blogspot.com/ - 49k - En caché - Páginas similares
12/10/84
The first thought *was not* don't watch the words, watch the feelings. Philosopher yes, literature no, I was walking down the block and thought, photography will be the way I'll do it. But the first thought was, that the last thought is really what's behind the first thought, I reduced a little bit before something really happened that it was all happening because I already knew something was about to happen. Meaning, I *knew* it, insert paragraph a. Pages of notes, hundreds of examples, hundreds of kinds of sentences. Insert December 10th into the text.
I still can't decide, I'm not sure if it's done. As a poet I don't have to, I can be having as many conversations as I want to, but if I'm going to say it infinite numbers of times, at least I ought to say it. If I regard you as coming into the room like a magician, that's a terrible image, and why? What part do you have in this, accused, accuser, bad tear, indeed. How is anybody going to write their way out of "hear" by not naming names. How is anybody going to listen to this, is the end. So, schnook, put it in the beginning, don't get testy out there, moon, starts and planets indeed, we were always talking about each other. I was about to add, nice little bit of historicity there, as if, like chums, we both knew it all along.
Context is seeing. If X=X, then X=X. See it, again. Intermittant, spasmodic. Make a decision. As vague as the world is, there's something inside. The opposite. Seeing it as we do, we look there. The media is the message, have a heart. Taken easily, moving back among, uneasy strategies, uneasy savages, the something is bright. Admit it, you don't know everything. Go ahead, hit me, say it, by now we're uneasy with each other. Anyway, so much time having gone by and easy at the same time. So much feeling, it's not incidental. At first I hold back, hiding everything, and little by litte. Art should be talked to, implying, silly man, that you should hear something, not *say* something. Big deal, that's just another commercial, I could say anything; when he sings, he's afraid to eat and when he eats he's afraid to speak, etc, etc, I could call this that, etc., etc., but this would be seen; perhaps, as an aside, a new way of doing my homework such that this follows this and that that. 8th street and 2cd Avenue, of course, Astor Place a thousand times if I've seen it once. Forgive me, there for a haircut (Paul McGregor's, Astor Haircutters). What's in a name, that anything could be as sweel as sweet as your cute little feet, sexist pig. A writer conducts and the orchestra reads, note by reed, strings by reed. Applause!
The first thought *was not* don't watch the words, watch the feelings. Philosopher yes, literature no, I was walking down the block and thought, photography will be the way I'll do it. But the first thought was, that the last thought is really what's behind the first thought, I reduced a little bit before something really happened that it was all happening because I already knew something was about to happen. Meaning, I *knew* it, insert paragraph a. Pages of notes, hundreds of examples, hundreds of kinds of sentences. Insert December 10th into the text.
I still can't decide, I'm not sure if it's done. As a poet I don't have to, I can be having as many conversations as I want to, but if I'm going to say it infinite numbers of times, at least I ought to say it. If I regard you as coming into the room like a magician, that's a terrible image, and why? What part do you have in this, accused, accuser, bad tear, indeed. How is anybody going to write their way out of "hear" by not naming names. How is anybody going to listen to this, is the end. So, schnook, put it in the beginning, don't get testy out there, moon, starts and planets indeed, we were always talking about each other. I was about to add, nice little bit of historicity there, as if, like chums, we both knew it all along.
Context is seeing. If X=X, then X=X. See it, again. Intermittant, spasmodic. Make a decision. As vague as the world is, there's something inside. The opposite. Seeing it as we do, we look there. The media is the message, have a heart. Taken easily, moving back among, uneasy strategies, uneasy savages, the something is bright. Admit it, you don't know everything. Go ahead, hit me, say it, by now we're uneasy with each other. Anyway, so much time having gone by and easy at the same time. So much feeling, it's not incidental. At first I hold back, hiding everything, and little by litte. Art should be talked to, implying, silly man, that you should hear something, not *say* something. Big deal, that's just another commercial, I could say anything; when he sings, he's afraid to eat and when he eats he's afraid to speak, etc, etc, I could call this that, etc., etc., but this would be seen; perhaps, as an aside, a new way of doing my homework such that this follows this and that that. 8th street and 2cd Avenue, of course, Astor Place a thousand times if I've seen it once. Forgive me, there for a haircut (Paul McGregor's, Astor Haircutters). What's in a name, that anything could be as sweel as sweet as your cute little feet, sexist pig. A writer conducts and the orchestra reads, note by reed, strings by reed. Applause!
Chet Weiner read at the Bowery Poetry Club with Stacy Doris today. Chet's reading included an exciting new piece which sounded like a science fiction film script. I spoke with him after his reading and he confirmed this. This adventurous and very abstract work transported his listeners to a dream like and phantasmagorial environment the strangeness of which was well elicited by its complex and quick flowing elliptical language. Stacy Doris read, or rather spoke and read, mostly spoke on the Bowery Poetry Club stage today. Without ever saying it, despite her wit and, wry demeanor and running patter about the microphone, which became an interesting parodic take on the possibilities and pretentions of poetry readings, how much she has missed her New York contingent was made clear today on the BPC stage. She directed her attention to her many poet friends and co-conspirators including Bruce Andrews, Tim Davis, Rob Fitterman and Kim Rosenfield. Each time she began to read she remembered something else she had to tell us. Towards the end, she read three or so poems from a book she has been working on for three years. The audience was obviously stunned by the profundity and beauty of these poems- they are quite a departure from much of her often hilarious and consistently charming previous work. She has had to move to San Francisco where she is now an assistant professor at San Francisco State University. But this summer she is going to Greece to continue work on this amazing new book of poems. While we await these new masterpieces, she will be missed.
We had to exit from the dinner afterwards at Marion's on the Bowery to head quickly over to Ocularis in Williamsburg, Brooklyn to see some films by Marianne Shaneen, Mike Kuchar and others. In a group that included quite a number of memorable and suprisingly absorbing short films (I commented later to the curator how he had made a very interesting collage out of this group of about 20 3-7 minute films, a collage that finally guided the viewer and listener into some powerful moments of synaesthesia) Marianne Shaneen's films shined brightest. She discussed these films on a recent blog:
///Froth///
home /// archives
Thursday, May 22, 2003
Crazy canadian filmmaker Guy Madden on the radio- when talking about films that influenced him he mentioned one of my all-time favorites, the 1934 version of Midsummer Night's Dream directed by Max Reinhardt (with a feral demented Mickey Rooney as a boy in the role of Puck)...
I myself made an (unfinished) film from the Reinhardt film- after seeing it the first time I was so pixelated that I went back to the theater and watched it again, taking still photos of the screen in the movie theater, and incorporated the resulting luminescent ghostly stills into re-filmed film of the original.
Marianne 4:43 PM
These films of Marianne's reveal spectral shapes of light moving in sinister ways around the screen, undulating, advancing and retreating, suggesting unseen presences among us- or presences we may be unwilling to see. Toni just read a passage to me from George Eliot's *Daniel Deronda* which coincidentally (I actually don't believe in coincidences anymore) corresponds: "But it is a matter of knowledge that there are persons whose yearnings, conceptions- nay, travelled conclusions- continually take the form of images which have a foreshadowing power: the deed they would do starts up before them in complete shape, making a coercive type; the event they hunger for or dread rises into vision with seed-like growth, feeding itself fast on unnumbered impressions." Make no mistake about it: Marianne Shaneen's films reveal as much about the power of what can be seen from within as what is normally absorbed by the five ordinary senses. This following her recent powerful reading at the Poetry Project, as well as her bold anti-war activities recorded over the past winter on her blog Froth tell us that Marianne Shaneen's vision is one of the most encompassing and challenging accounts on the contemporary scene. How she can be all this, do all this and remain so warm, charming and funny is one of those phenomena, like those in her film, that may have to remain cloaked in mystery, at least for awhile.
We had to exit from the dinner afterwards at Marion's on the Bowery to head quickly over to Ocularis in Williamsburg, Brooklyn to see some films by Marianne Shaneen, Mike Kuchar and others. In a group that included quite a number of memorable and suprisingly absorbing short films (I commented later to the curator how he had made a very interesting collage out of this group of about 20 3-7 minute films, a collage that finally guided the viewer and listener into some powerful moments of synaesthesia) Marianne Shaneen's films shined brightest. She discussed these films on a recent blog:
///Froth///
home /// archives
Thursday, May 22, 2003
Crazy canadian filmmaker Guy Madden on the radio- when talking about films that influenced him he mentioned one of my all-time favorites, the 1934 version of Midsummer Night's Dream directed by Max Reinhardt (with a feral demented Mickey Rooney as a boy in the role of Puck)...
I myself made an (unfinished) film from the Reinhardt film- after seeing it the first time I was so pixelated that I went back to the theater and watched it again, taking still photos of the screen in the movie theater, and incorporated the resulting luminescent ghostly stills into re-filmed film of the original.
Marianne 4:43 PM
These films of Marianne's reveal spectral shapes of light moving in sinister ways around the screen, undulating, advancing and retreating, suggesting unseen presences among us- or presences we may be unwilling to see. Toni just read a passage to me from George Eliot's *Daniel Deronda* which coincidentally (I actually don't believe in coincidences anymore) corresponds: "But it is a matter of knowledge that there are persons whose yearnings, conceptions- nay, travelled conclusions- continually take the form of images which have a foreshadowing power: the deed they would do starts up before them in complete shape, making a coercive type; the event they hunger for or dread rises into vision with seed-like growth, feeding itself fast on unnumbered impressions." Make no mistake about it: Marianne Shaneen's films reveal as much about the power of what can be seen from within as what is normally absorbed by the five ordinary senses. This following her recent powerful reading at the Poetry Project, as well as her bold anti-war activities recorded over the past winter on her blog Froth tell us that Marianne Shaneen's vision is one of the most encompassing and challenging accounts on the contemporary scene. How she can be all this, do all this and remain so warm, charming and funny is one of those phenomena, like those in her film, that may have to remain cloaked in mystery, at least for awhile.
Sunday, June 1
Since the Buffalo Poetics list is private, I can't really quote from someone's post. But I recommend highly taking a look at Kazim Ali's post yesterday in response to some remarks made by George Bowering. Occasionally a post may reach to the level of poetry. This one certainly did. The poetics archives are available online at the Electronic Poetry Center to anyone. You can gain access to it through my Hompage which is on the links to your left. Click on Home Page; then UB Poetics; then May 2003; then number 12, Kazim Ali.
6/22/96
If the thing is going to fall out of its
slot as soon as you pull it off the
shelf what good is it? I
could have told you before thisxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
it had a feeling of time past but this
would not have influenced your conclusion.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
*
There is an air of insouciance
in the abstract writing of Ted Berrigan and
Charles Bernstein that you won't find
in John Ashbery and Gertrude Stein.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx (Precursors, Jackson
Mac Low when it is on the fringes of
nonsense, as much great
humor). Humor tells us that there
truly exists a non-business
aspect of life. While this is
implied in Ashbery's work, in
Mac Low and Bernstein's you live in
it. Insolence is the key- a tone
you will find liberally represented in
the work of Andrews, DiPalma, Watten,
'Hejinian, Silliman, Davies,and the
L=A writers on the whole.
I feel that many readers and
commentators find this insolence
intimidating.Although the details
of revolt may not be foregrounded
the attitude is liberally represented
almost anywhere you look.
6/29/96
Sharon Cameron p. 465 Emily Dickenson
I heard a fly buzz-when I did
The stillness in the Room
Was like the stillness in the Air
Between the Heaves of Storm
The eyes around had hung them dry-
My early poem Sound and Silence
takes...sound particularly of the present...
Even when confused with other sounds
sounds take on a striking
individuality in their occurance
When thilngs become a given they lose
their attachment to particular personalities.
Cage and Mac Low helped move me
closer to that.
The attempt to enunciate a
particular direction fades into a
surrounding presence- a
storm- no- a field- no
a backdrop of particularities.
The usual is "there" and you can
go to "it." The sound is "there"
but "it" comes to you. *You*
must be receptive to receive it.
Poetry- not to be able to speak
of it (in order?) to hear it.
Combinatory or separate.
Waiting.
A different genre- ominous or detached.
Noise. Disturbing sounds, interrupting sounds.
Occurance, movement, approaching, departing.
"And I'll be your aural eyeness."
p.623- Finnigan's Wake
If the thing is going to fall out of its
slot as soon as you pull it off the
shelf what good is it? I
could have told you before thisxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
it had a feeling of time past but this
would not have influenced your conclusion.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
*
There is an air of insouciance
in the abstract writing of Ted Berrigan and
Charles Bernstein that you won't find
in John Ashbery and Gertrude Stein.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx (Precursors, Jackson
Mac Low when it is on the fringes of
nonsense, as much great
humor). Humor tells us that there
truly exists a non-business
aspect of life. While this is
implied in Ashbery's work, in
Mac Low and Bernstein's you live in
it. Insolence is the key- a tone
you will find liberally represented in
the work of Andrews, DiPalma, Watten,
'Hejinian, Silliman, Davies,and the
L=A writers on the whole.
I feel that many readers and
commentators find this insolence
intimidating.Although the details
of revolt may not be foregrounded
the attitude is liberally represented
almost anywhere you look.
6/29/96
Sharon Cameron p. 465 Emily Dickenson
I heard a fly buzz-when I did
The stillness in the Room
Was like the stillness in the Air
Between the Heaves of Storm
The eyes around had hung them dry-
My early poem Sound and Silence
takes...sound particularly of the present...
Even when confused with other sounds
sounds take on a striking
individuality in their occurance
When thilngs become a given they lose
their attachment to particular personalities.
Cage and Mac Low helped move me
closer to that.
The attempt to enunciate a
particular direction fades into a
surrounding presence- a
storm- no- a field- no
a backdrop of particularities.
The usual is "there" and you can
go to "it." The sound is "there"
but "it" comes to you. *You*
must be receptive to receive it.
Poetry- not to be able to speak
of it (in order?) to hear it.
Combinatory or separate.
Waiting.
A different genre- ominous or detached.
Noise. Disturbing sounds, interrupting sounds.
Occurance, movement, approaching, departing.
"And I'll be your aural eyeness."
p.623- Finnigan's Wake
12/2/84
For the Special Ed Hearings
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXThe passing of the
Public Law 94-142 ushered in the first
possibiities thawt the knowledge now existing
in Psychology, Physical Rehabilitation and education
could be xxxxxxxx *applied* for the
help of xxxx children directlly. Finally, we
have moved in these fields from theory
to the entire social application of the
theories. However, as long as this
xxx action was in coming, it appears
xxxxxx that we are here not only
questioning the value, but how the
money is to be used.- (What? this
is harder than I thought.)
(Motherwell in NY Times Magazine Dec 2,
1984- Free Association, psychic automatism,
identity- scale-authenticity...)
(Poetry Calender Nove 1984- One night: Blaine,
Writing and Psychoanalysis, Money: the same week's
"Collage"- Blaine- missed it)
Ease of rudeness. How long does it take to be sure?
Still worried about Bruce's formulation of
language-centered writing as outside the
whole issue of identity- "words were what
were whole"- at the end of subjectivity-
It is the instinctual relationship between objectivity and
subjectivity which is changing, just as
the relationship between men and women, and
all the permutations possible emerge
as part of *actuality* and therefore not
denied by what is *considered* objectively...
He is saying, for the purposes of writing
there is no such things as "I"- or
that the writinng need not be filtered
through some I- yet the poems,
in being presented as written by Bruce
Andrews are the product of an
identity (12/5 -or of a mind belonging- associated
with an identity)
Words refer neither to the object not to the
subject by means of a mediated self, but
by means of a *desire* producing articulation
of linguistic energy not referring nor representing, describing
or defining actuality as it is constituted of and
by language. As a result, identity is
subsumed as one tonality of the music and not
a particulary interesting one at that.
In such a use of language knee-jerk
systemic uses or contexts of writing
are eliminated, one by one, until all
that remains is the actuality of words.
By this means the actuality of experience
inhabits the signals which are transmitted
by these constellations of "frequencies"
and "amplitudes" or meaning.
12/5/84
*Every one of us is involved."
12/7/84
"We will not pay the sin-tax."
Syntax= sin/tax
language= long gaze, long gauge
words=xxxxxxx voids
thought= thaw out/ thou ought
think= the ink
imagine= I'm a gene
Have all you want of what you have
For the Special Ed Hearings
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXThe passing of the
Public Law 94-142 ushered in the first
possibiities thawt the knowledge now existing
in Psychology, Physical Rehabilitation and education
could be xxxxxxxx *applied* for the
help of xxxx children directlly. Finally, we
have moved in these fields from theory
to the entire social application of the
theories. However, as long as this
xxx action was in coming, it appears
xxxxxx that we are here not only
questioning the value, but how the
money is to be used.- (What? this
is harder than I thought.)
(Motherwell in NY Times Magazine Dec 2,
1984- Free Association, psychic automatism,
identity- scale-authenticity...)
(Poetry Calender Nove 1984- One night: Blaine,
Writing and Psychoanalysis, Money: the same week's
"Collage"- Blaine- missed it)
Ease of rudeness. How long does it take to be sure?
Still worried about Bruce's formulation of
language-centered writing as outside the
whole issue of identity- "words were what
were whole"- at the end of subjectivity-
It is the instinctual relationship between objectivity and
subjectivity which is changing, just as
the relationship between men and women, and
all the permutations possible emerge
as part of *actuality* and therefore not
denied by what is *considered* objectively...
He is saying, for the purposes of writing
there is no such things as "I"- or
that the writinng need not be filtered
through some I- yet the poems,
in being presented as written by Bruce
Andrews are the product of an
identity (12/5 -or of a mind belonging- associated
with an identity)
Words refer neither to the object not to the
subject by means of a mediated self, but
by means of a *desire* producing articulation
of linguistic energy not referring nor representing, describing
or defining actuality as it is constituted of and
by language. As a result, identity is
subsumed as one tonality of the music and not
a particulary interesting one at that.
In such a use of language knee-jerk
systemic uses or contexts of writing
are eliminated, one by one, until all
that remains is the actuality of words.
By this means the actuality of experience
inhabits the signals which are transmitted
by these constellations of "frequencies"
and "amplitudes" or meaning.
12/5/84
*Every one of us is involved."
12/7/84
"We will not pay the sin-tax."
Syntax= sin/tax
language= long gaze, long gauge
words=xxxxxxx voids
thought= thaw out/ thou ought
think= the ink
imagine= I'm a gene
Have all you want of what you have
12/1/84
...The fact that long ago I split my career down the middle and became a therapist, is anathema to other writers. Susan Sontag's comment. Not just to writers but to artists. Artists prefer to involve themselves in an extremely hierarchical- though in a superficial way homogeneous subculture which tends to eat alive whatever morsal of clear-headed self-assessment that might exist inside. The work always comes first to an artist. When it is authentically responded to, nothing is sweeter. But when the production is remorseless and mechanical the creation resembles nothing more than a clean xerox machine, automatically addressing all the copies to just the right people It's nice, but it's not the only thing.
What else? What else is the desire to create that wants nothing more than to burn steady and brightly, not under fluourescent shadows, but in a conflagration which, in a single, shining second, completely transforms the "material" into ascending waves of pure energy.
The hardest thing about being a modern artist is all the waiting. I have waited 20 years for a moment like I had at Charles' house last weekend. Even so, it was not about my poetry- yet this means even more to me somehow. This is becuse I know that what is lacking in the intellectual climate of today is common wavelengths, let alone common ideals. This may be because of the complete success of behemianism in the most sophisticated circles- which means mainly a general fantasy in an artistic subculture that original ideas and authentic creations are more interesting and valuable than the pap that is generated by the entertainment industry.
..
...The fact that long ago I split my career down the middle and became a therapist, is anathema to other writers. Susan Sontag's comment. Not just to writers but to artists. Artists prefer to involve themselves in an extremely hierarchical- though in a superficial way homogeneous subculture which tends to eat alive whatever morsal of clear-headed self-assessment that might exist inside. The work always comes first to an artist. When it is authentically responded to, nothing is sweeter. But when the production is remorseless and mechanical the creation resembles nothing more than a clean xerox machine, automatically addressing all the copies to just the right people It's nice, but it's not the only thing.
What else? What else is the desire to create that wants nothing more than to burn steady and brightly, not under fluourescent shadows, but in a conflagration which, in a single, shining second, completely transforms the "material" into ascending waves of pure energy.
The hardest thing about being a modern artist is all the waiting. I have waited 20 years for a moment like I had at Charles' house last weekend. Even so, it was not about my poetry- yet this means even more to me somehow. This is becuse I know that what is lacking in the intellectual climate of today is common wavelengths, let alone common ideals. This may be because of the complete success of behemianism in the most sophisticated circles- which means mainly a general fantasy in an artistic subculture that original ideas and authentic creations are more interesting and valuable than the pap that is generated by the entertainment industry.
..
Saturday, May 31
O.k. Nick, but what does it mean?
posted by Laurable on 5/30/2003 02:12:59 PM | link
Let's see, Laurable in the P category. Kasey must have meant: perspicacious, personable, persuasive, pragmatic, pertinacious, pert, pretty, pleasant, perfect, philanthropic, paradoxical, particular, perceptive, patient, pithy, peppy, perky, perpetual, persistent, petit, phantasmagorial, phenomenal, philosophical, philotechnical, pioneering, pleasing, playful, pleasant, pleasurable, pluralist, peachy, poetic, poised, polished, politic, polymathic, popular, positive, potent, powerful, precious, precise, preeminent, preferred, prepared, preponderant, prevailing, prized, probing, prodigious, productive, professional, profound, profuse, prolific, proleptic, prominent, prompt, protective, prototypical, provident, prudent, public-spirited, punctual, punctilious, and purposeful.
What else could he possibly have been thinking of?
posted by Laurable on 5/30/2003 02:12:59 PM | link
Let's see, Laurable in the P category. Kasey must have meant: perspicacious, personable, persuasive, pragmatic, pertinacious, pert, pretty, pleasant, perfect, philanthropic, paradoxical, particular, perceptive, patient, pithy, peppy, perky, perpetual, persistent, petit, phantasmagorial, phenomenal, philosophical, philotechnical, pioneering, pleasing, playful, pleasant, pleasurable, pluralist, peachy, poetic, poised, polished, politic, polymathic, popular, positive, potent, powerful, precious, precise, preeminent, preferred, prepared, preponderant, prevailing, prized, probing, prodigious, productive, professional, profound, profuse, prolific, proleptic, prominent, prompt, protective, prototypical, provident, prudent, public-spirited, punctual, punctilious, and purposeful.
What else could he possibly have been thinking of?
This blog has an awesome page of links:Chris Lott...Ruminate On the page is a link called: more. Click on that!
11/30/84
Post-actualism comes into being long, or perhaps, not-long after the actualities have set in. Today's form of tough realism has prepared us for an art movement which will reveal the actualities of inner and outer experience in the most vivid and authentic forms possible. By this means actualism and post actualist forms will evolve the relationship between art and science which will harness the energies of science by modifying human needs rather than tormented fantasies of death and destruction. Never has it been clearer, with the advent of Adolph Hitler, that technology in the hands of brutal, demonic personalities could permanently injure or even destroy the human race. This will not be stopped by a view of art which condones insensitivity, mockery or irrational behavior in the spirit of self-expression. Freedom of expression does not include expression of a freedom to repress or humiliate, hurt and annihilate. These are the forces which isolate people from one another and which do not further communication and understanding. Actualism will show us that there is no ideal form of communication and understanding, whether Freudian or Marxist, Christian or Republican. With actualism, no one's identity may be reduced to that of any other individual or group. Actualism will demonsrate that the identity construct is so complex that it can encompass not only many perspectives in one temporal plane but in the direction of all temporal axes.
Multi-identity has been the direction of literature since in order to protect itself, the self-construct splits itself into various directions. Current psychanalytic theory favors a diagnostic category called the "borderline" syndrome which is partly a misinterpretation of what is happening when a person's self-construct is fragmented.
In order to construct a viable identity in today's society a human being must encompass an increasing array of purposes, intentions, goals and needs. When the identity is overwhelmed by presssures, it splits. This is an adaptation to the total actuality of the person's experience, if not some aspects of the reality shared with others. Paradoxically, the cultivation of the means of authenticating written experience through associative networks of syntactical expression, permits and even urges a wider expression of facets of the inner identity in the act of writing. This does not only include the active portions of a particular facet, but also the signal functions which participate in the formulation of perceptual processes. The world is seen through the lens of who we are. If this view is to be evidenced, it must always admit new methods authenticating the evidence of actualities , since these actualities are constantly changing in tenor and mode. Actualism, by promoting the inclusion of associative expressions of various levels of the self (such as roles, responsibilities, identifications with groups, philosophical viewpoint, etc) in written expression, promotes the widening of various wavelengths of communication. Actualism must come into existence in order to permit the establishment of the authentification of documented communications via associative matrixes rather than visual-perceptual replication. We must learn to code our messages much more subjectively if we are to encourage access to our individual inner processes and be enabled to freely and generously exchange and share information cocerning all the actualities of our experience. Conventional linguistic forms are shaped to fit individual facsimiles of the then current mode of social communication. As old hierarchies dissolve, the authenticity of certain forms of syntax also dissolves. The psychological need to maintain a sense of a continuous connection of the inner associative stream to the evolution of external events promotes the adaptation of conventional usages of sylistic linguistic forms. With the devlopment of electronic means of information dispersal comes a further need to transform syntactical forms into consistent units of information...
Post-actualism comes into being long, or perhaps, not-long after the actualities have set in. Today's form of tough realism has prepared us for an art movement which will reveal the actualities of inner and outer experience in the most vivid and authentic forms possible. By this means actualism and post actualist forms will evolve the relationship between art and science which will harness the energies of science by modifying human needs rather than tormented fantasies of death and destruction. Never has it been clearer, with the advent of Adolph Hitler, that technology in the hands of brutal, demonic personalities could permanently injure or even destroy the human race. This will not be stopped by a view of art which condones insensitivity, mockery or irrational behavior in the spirit of self-expression. Freedom of expression does not include expression of a freedom to repress or humiliate, hurt and annihilate. These are the forces which isolate people from one another and which do not further communication and understanding. Actualism will show us that there is no ideal form of communication and understanding, whether Freudian or Marxist, Christian or Republican. With actualism, no one's identity may be reduced to that of any other individual or group. Actualism will demonsrate that the identity construct is so complex that it can encompass not only many perspectives in one temporal plane but in the direction of all temporal axes.
Multi-identity has been the direction of literature since in order to protect itself, the self-construct splits itself into various directions. Current psychanalytic theory favors a diagnostic category called the "borderline" syndrome which is partly a misinterpretation of what is happening when a person's self-construct is fragmented.
In order to construct a viable identity in today's society a human being must encompass an increasing array of purposes, intentions, goals and needs. When the identity is overwhelmed by presssures, it splits. This is an adaptation to the total actuality of the person's experience, if not some aspects of the reality shared with others. Paradoxically, the cultivation of the means of authenticating written experience through associative networks of syntactical expression, permits and even urges a wider expression of facets of the inner identity in the act of writing. This does not only include the active portions of a particular facet, but also the signal functions which participate in the formulation of perceptual processes. The world is seen through the lens of who we are. If this view is to be evidenced, it must always admit new methods authenticating the evidence of actualities , since these actualities are constantly changing in tenor and mode. Actualism, by promoting the inclusion of associative expressions of various levels of the self (such as roles, responsibilities, identifications with groups, philosophical viewpoint, etc) in written expression, promotes the widening of various wavelengths of communication. Actualism must come into existence in order to permit the establishment of the authentification of documented communications via associative matrixes rather than visual-perceptual replication. We must learn to code our messages much more subjectively if we are to encourage access to our individual inner processes and be enabled to freely and generously exchange and share information cocerning all the actualities of our experience. Conventional linguistic forms are shaped to fit individual facsimiles of the then current mode of social communication. As old hierarchies dissolve, the authenticity of certain forms of syntax also dissolves. The psychological need to maintain a sense of a continuous connection of the inner associative stream to the evolution of external events promotes the adaptation of conventional usages of sylistic linguistic forms. With the devlopment of electronic means of information dispersal comes a further need to transform syntactical forms into consistent units of information...
Friday, May 30
Bill Marsh
nominee for the -fait accompli- Oxymoron of the Year Award has written a manifesto for bloggers titled -Escaping the Garret- that is witty, wise and potentially of great practical benefit, if topically applied, as needed. Don't miss this piece!
nominee for the -fait accompli- Oxymoron of the Year Award has written a manifesto for bloggers titled -Escaping the Garret- that is witty, wise and potentially of great practical benefit, if topically applied, as needed. Don't miss this piece!
The sun paid a brief visit to the city today so we zipped right out to Central Park. After a short walk in Toni pointed to a tree on the right with a hole in the trunk. Two of the cutest little birdie faces peeked out and started chirping to beat the band. After what must have seemed like an eternity to the bird babies mom came back with a bit of food: they pointed their beaks in the air and mom poked it right in. Mom seemed frantic and took the bit of bread I gave her for them quickly to them. I left some under the tree and we walked on. Later, near the Shakespeare Theater it started to rain. We ran under the awning stretching out from the roof of the building. When we looked out we noticed that a nest had been built on the neck of Juliet on the Romeo and Juliet statue in front of the theater. A woman next to us mentioned how poetic this was.Two more birdies peeked out from the nest. Nobody had to tell us this was pure poetry!
Jim Berhle's new sonnets are terrific. Here are two gems to fondle:
29.
I would trade truth
for beauty
and a player to
be named
later
85.
do it in fever and
be done with it
just headlights and
lampposts
and at weekend
heartbreaks endure
heartbreakers and alphabets
all debts are paid in silk
29.
I would trade truth
for beauty
and a player to
be named
later
85.
do it in fever and
be done with it
just headlights and
lampposts
and at weekend
heartbreaks endure
heartbreakers and alphabets
all debts are paid in silk
from ululations... Nada Gordon
(7:15 AM ) Nada
On the Rasa
This Daumal text, in part a translation of a translation (from Sanskrit via French), really illuminates the idea for me, particularly in regard to poetry....
Earlier, the same text asks,
What, then, ultimately is poetry?
Poetry is a word whose essence is savor.
We will now explain the meaning of "savor". Savor is "the essence" in terms of the substantial reality. That is to say, savor is the life itself of poetry, without which there is no poetry. "Savor" (rasa)is, etymologically, that which is "savored" (rasayate). The term includes savor-emotions and savor reflections....
The faults are that which veil it (poetry).
The faults, cacophony, superfluous words, are analogous to infirmities, e.g. blindness or lameness, which affect (the person) through (the medium) of his own body: they affect (the poem) through sounds and meanings....
The virtues, ornaments, and allures are called "agents of construction."
from double visions of Johanna
Phone call from my impostor. This and that. Eavesdrop:
"But poetry is much more than logic," she said.
( Muffled noise.)
"It's more than language," she insisted.
( )
"More than philosophy."
"More than science."
"More than death."
"More than imagination."
"More than love."
posted by Johanna @
(7:15 AM ) Nada
On the Rasa
This Daumal text, in part a translation of a translation (from Sanskrit via French), really illuminates the idea for me, particularly in regard to poetry....
Earlier, the same text asks,
What, then, ultimately is poetry?
Poetry is a word whose essence is savor.
We will now explain the meaning of "savor". Savor is "the essence" in terms of the substantial reality. That is to say, savor is the life itself of poetry, without which there is no poetry. "Savor" (rasa)is, etymologically, that which is "savored" (rasayate). The term includes savor-emotions and savor reflections....
The faults are that which veil it (poetry).
The faults, cacophony, superfluous words, are analogous to infirmities, e.g. blindness or lameness, which affect (the person) through (the medium) of his own body: they affect (the poem) through sounds and meanings....
The virtues, ornaments, and allures are called "agents of construction."
from double visions of Johanna
Phone call from my impostor. This and that. Eavesdrop:
"But poetry is much more than logic," she said.
( Muffled noise.)
"It's more than language," she insisted.
( )
"More than philosophy."
"More than science."
"More than death."
"More than imagination."
"More than love."
posted by Johanna @
11/27-28/84
(1) Check out "Observing ego" with Mark.
(2) Change or *eliminate the Roy Shaefer quote*
By concentrating only on time, I hold
time for one whole minute. The w-hole.XXXXXX
XXXXXXX For a minute I felt
like I was holding back time
itself by experiencing the completeness
of time's meaning, time had
no longer any meaning at all
and I was free of it again, by
being xxx xx immersed absorbed into the
experience itself *through* its meaning.
More evidence that anxiety originates
through holding back, through an
incompletion of the act, its fragmentation.
The moments of actually being invited to read
and running into Jeremy were jarring.
So there is something there. Her calling within
5 days of Charles showing me the Watten
piece is interesting. But this gives me 2 whole
molnths.
Nov. 29-Feb 9 or *5 weeks*
35 days
35xxxxxxx pages to choose from
11/30/84
It is 70 days. Look how anxious I was.
70- days.Still a tremendous amount of time.
"Fitting things in" creates time.
Time is expanded both by expanding the intervals
(the duration of an experience)-"I'm not
going to call it anything"- and by "making space"
by "fitting things in." Collage making is a fine
example of the complexity and economy of this
process.The larger and smaller parts can
be almost endlessly combined within a
tremendous range of scales. New elements
can be easily accomodated. Eventually, however, the
sheer immensity of the number of elements
xxx creates a language of representative
xxxx forms which xxxx allows access of new
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx images or xxxxxxxxxxxx
shards of language which act as transmitters
or resonant receivers of various otherwise
hidden or less obvious wavelengths of actuality.
(1) Check out "Observing ego" with Mark.
(2) Change or *eliminate the Roy Shaefer quote*
By concentrating only on time, I hold
time for one whole minute. The w-hole.XXXXXX
XXXXXXX For a minute I felt
like I was holding back time
itself by experiencing the completeness
of time's meaning, time had
no longer any meaning at all
and I was free of it again, by
being xxx xx immersed absorbed into the
experience itself *through* its meaning.
More evidence that anxiety originates
through holding back, through an
incompletion of the act, its fragmentation.
The moments of actually being invited to read
and running into Jeremy were jarring.
So there is something there. Her calling within
5 days of Charles showing me the Watten
piece is interesting. But this gives me 2 whole
molnths.
Nov. 29-Feb 9 or *5 weeks*
35 days
35xxxxxxx pages to choose from
11/30/84
It is 70 days. Look how anxious I was.
70- days.Still a tremendous amount of time.
"Fitting things in" creates time.
Time is expanded both by expanding the intervals
(the duration of an experience)-"I'm not
going to call it anything"- and by "making space"
by "fitting things in." Collage making is a fine
example of the complexity and economy of this
process.The larger and smaller parts can
be almost endlessly combined within a
tremendous range of scales. New elements
can be easily accomodated. Eventually, however, the
sheer immensity of the number of elements
xxx creates a language of representative
xxxx forms which xxxx allows access of new
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx images or xxxxxxxxxxxx
shards of language which act as transmitters
or resonant receivers of various otherwise
hidden or less obvious wavelengths of actuality.
2/28/96
The return to sound, the return to the sea, the part of nature with its own voice. This is its translation from the original thoughts. The sea increasing, the thoughts unceasing. A metaphysical equation connects the two. Always going back to the beginning, the sea and the sounds of the sea in one unceasing displacement. Nothing can cover it or hide it. Sheer naked energy that can't be stopped.
The poet asks: what intentless signal could I bear to dream? The sea is an abyss, I stand wordless at its precipice. At the boundaries some things coalesce.
All of my poems are about going away..
3/29/96
The Symbolic Universe
Not male or female
But female in relation to female
female in relation to male
male in relation to female
male in relation to male
not war or peace
but peace in relation to war
war in relation to peace
not black or white
but their relation
4/5/96
In the secret room of secret
writing there are no secrets. You
do it for another reason. Absolutely
what is eliminated.This was first.
Avoid the bombs with an s-weave.
Something gets stuck on the edges.
Even with the slightest bit of that
you'd know what you tested. If this
isn't one long English lesson, what
is it? You can hear the echoes.
You can hear the lessons. Starting right
back there at the beginning with an
ideologue.As long as you can watch.
It is spinning. As long as you can
breathe.
This is a test.This is a test of
what you can make of it. What you can
make of remembering, what you can
make of listening, what you can make
of living. If it isn't philosophy, what is
it? What it is, it hard to be serious
about. No time to be serious.
It is more like wrestling than dancing,
To enter into a whirlpool of helplessness
for no other reason than to get some
words on a page. For no other reason than to
read. Words on a page.
A displacement of cravings. Is it
you or is it me? A fear: some symmetry.
As dew drives up a flower, the
ink dries upon the page, the words
dry upon the mind. It's just that
if it's in your/my/our vicinity
we will want to control it.
Can I close the book? To
play the priest you must hide.
The inverse of reasoning is not
going crazy, not sleep, not an
avoidance. Be willing to end. To stay,
to go back.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx It's quiet on the
sidelines. A gardner would not
perfume her own flowers, nor a
poet her poems. This was heard on
Cocteau's radio.
A circle is drawn. Are the
books reading me?
The return to sound, the return to the sea, the part of nature with its own voice. This is its translation from the original thoughts. The sea increasing, the thoughts unceasing. A metaphysical equation connects the two. Always going back to the beginning, the sea and the sounds of the sea in one unceasing displacement. Nothing can cover it or hide it. Sheer naked energy that can't be stopped.
The poet asks: what intentless signal could I bear to dream? The sea is an abyss, I stand wordless at its precipice. At the boundaries some things coalesce.
All of my poems are about going away..
3/29/96
The Symbolic Universe
Not male or female
But female in relation to female
female in relation to male
male in relation to female
male in relation to male
not war or peace
but peace in relation to war
war in relation to peace
not black or white
but their relation
4/5/96
In the secret room of secret
writing there are no secrets. You
do it for another reason. Absolutely
what is eliminated.This was first.
Avoid the bombs with an s-weave.
Something gets stuck on the edges.
Even with the slightest bit of that
you'd know what you tested. If this
isn't one long English lesson, what
is it? You can hear the echoes.
You can hear the lessons. Starting right
back there at the beginning with an
ideologue.As long as you can watch.
It is spinning. As long as you can
breathe.
This is a test.This is a test of
what you can make of it. What you can
make of remembering, what you can
make of listening, what you can make
of living. If it isn't philosophy, what is
it? What it is, it hard to be serious
about. No time to be serious.
It is more like wrestling than dancing,
To enter into a whirlpool of helplessness
for no other reason than to get some
words on a page. For no other reason than to
read. Words on a page.
A displacement of cravings. Is it
you or is it me? A fear: some symmetry.
As dew drives up a flower, the
ink dries upon the page, the words
dry upon the mind. It's just that
if it's in your/my/our vicinity
we will want to control it.
Can I close the book? To
play the priest you must hide.
The inverse of reasoning is not
going crazy, not sleep, not an
avoidance. Be willing to end. To stay,
to go back.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx It's quiet on the
sidelines. A gardner would not
perfume her own flowers, nor a
poet her poems. This was heard on
Cocteau's radio.
A circle is drawn. Are the
books reading me?
Nick's Bloglink Crush List (most recent links)
abolone..Li Bloom
We Write To Taste Life Twice...Crystal King
The Wily Filipino...Benito M. Vergara, Jr.
Mysterium...Carlos Arribas
Arm Sasser...Carl Annarummo
The Brutal Kittens...James Meetze
Process Documents...Ryan Firzpatrick
Love's Last Gasps...Eileen Tabios' Poem Journal
Topher Tune's Times...Christy Church
Last Week
prrrowess...Nada's Poems
Tympan...Tim Yu
Porthole Redux ....Catherine Meng
Mr.Tong Bliss' Journal...Joe Massey
Human Verb...Noah Eli Gordon
tex files...Chris Murray
Parking Lot...Chris Corrigan
Black Spring...Meno ter Braak
Chimera Song Mosaic...Deborah Wardlaw Pattillo
The Jetty...Cassie Lewis..
double visions of Johanna
No Starting Point...Emma Barnes
Technorati Cosmos
Mike Snider's Formal Blog
Never Neutral...Ernesto Priego
abolone..Li Bloom
We Write To Taste Life Twice...Crystal King
The Wily Filipino...Benito M. Vergara, Jr.
Mysterium...Carlos Arribas
Arm Sasser...Carl Annarummo
The Brutal Kittens...James Meetze
Process Documents...Ryan Firzpatrick
Love's Last Gasps...Eileen Tabios' Poem Journal
Topher Tune's Times...Christy Church
Last Week
prrrowess...Nada's Poems
Tympan...Tim Yu
Porthole Redux ....Catherine Meng
Mr.Tong Bliss' Journal...Joe Massey
Human Verb...Noah Eli Gordon
tex files...Chris Murray
Parking Lot...Chris Corrigan
Black Spring...Meno ter Braak
Chimera Song Mosaic...Deborah Wardlaw Pattillo
The Jetty...Cassie Lewis..
double visions of Johanna
No Starting Point...Emma Barnes
Technorati Cosmos
Mike Snider's Formal Blog
Never Neutral...Ernesto Priego
Thursday, May 29
So what does Category P mean?
posted by Laurable on 5/29/2003 12:53:03 PM | link
Oh, Laura, a fairly astute observer of the graduate student scene has explained to me that poetics students often become obsessed with "positioning." Of course Kasey Mohammed is entitled to his opinions and observations. But I find this need to create hierarchies in an emerging situation such as this self-serving and mildly destructive. Not kick-ass, just asinine. Divide and conquer is the classic approach of the timidly and unimaginatively ambitious. Shades of the Buffalo Poetics list.The stale aroma of the classroom in May.
posted by Laurable on 5/29/2003 12:53:03 PM | link
Oh, Laura, a fairly astute observer of the graduate student scene has explained to me that poetics students often become obsessed with "positioning." Of course Kasey Mohammed is entitled to his opinions and observations. But I find this need to create hierarchies in an emerging situation such as this self-serving and mildly destructive. Not kick-ass, just asinine. Divide and conquer is the classic approach of the timidly and unimaginatively ambitious. Shades of the Buffalo Poetics list.The stale aroma of the classroom in May.
11/24/84
Feeling very excited, but also feeling a bit overwhelmed. So many thoughts and fantasies, feelings, strange murmurings. Bachileanus Brasilieros. Then Carmen.
International Journal of Psychoanalysis
Postgraduate Journal?
Book to Univ of So Ill Press?
Poetry manuscript
11/26/84
Visualized identity=narrative-
you "see" the identity by means of
contextual descriptions
Dickens' -contextualized image-
the "click" of the woman's purse being shut
Mann's-visual/contextual descriptions (letimotifs)
as writing-noise in the background- such as the
air purifier- imaginitive noises- Foreman-Zorn
identity- understood as distortion-free of idiosynchrasies
November- the magic month- late November
orange notebook- Marrakesh
optical instrumentality-
description of visual-perceptual experience
life is simply a test of will
we'll have to go back to baby-talk to
express the least sense out of what we
experience
The only explanation I can see that the development
the science of love preceded that of
beauty is that the need for a lover is
more insistently and demandingly felt than the need for an
identity
?
Identity is an aesthetic achievement insofar
as the self, in order to be responded to,
must resonate harmonically with other
selves.
?
11/27-28/84
There *is* something out beyond the edge of the visible universe. It is hearing the ear
thinks, seeing the eye thinks. Out beyond
there where nothing is seen, in a single pulse
the universe repeats itself with every breath.
Normally, the eyes see. But when one is
listening, light itself translates the
signals into bird's movements, strumming air
with its harnessings, transfiguring a past scrap heap
of posturings in the lattices of a sparkling
hesitancy. Dripping with sweat, the angel mutters
to her or himself, down with this, hurling a
strictly documented universe, graduated, gyrated
and expostulated in the grainy
screening-room of history. Lifted high and
carefully deposited on the shelves, the words
stretch and yawn and then start to move, scramble madly, from
one volume and meaning to the next. In a
deft stroke of recognition the words run off the
books- onto the shelves, failing, obstinately, to utter
a sound or thought.
.
Feeling very excited, but also feeling a bit overwhelmed. So many thoughts and fantasies, feelings, strange murmurings. Bachileanus Brasilieros. Then Carmen.
International Journal of Psychoanalysis
Postgraduate Journal?
Book to Univ of So Ill Press?
Poetry manuscript
11/26/84
Visualized identity=narrative-
you "see" the identity by means of
contextual descriptions
Dickens' -contextualized image-
the "click" of the woman's purse being shut
Mann's-visual/contextual descriptions (letimotifs)
as writing-noise in the background- such as the
air purifier- imaginitive noises- Foreman-Zorn
identity- understood as distortion-free of idiosynchrasies
November- the magic month- late November
orange notebook- Marrakesh
optical instrumentality-
description of visual-perceptual experience
life is simply a test of will
we'll have to go back to baby-talk to
express the least sense out of what we
experience
The only explanation I can see that the development
the science of love preceded that of
beauty is that the need for a lover is
more insistently and demandingly felt than the need for an
identity
?
Identity is an aesthetic achievement insofar
as the self, in order to be responded to,
must resonate harmonically with other
selves.
?
11/27-28/84
There *is* something out beyond the edge of the visible universe. It is hearing the ear
thinks, seeing the eye thinks. Out beyond
there where nothing is seen, in a single pulse
the universe repeats itself with every breath.
Normally, the eyes see. But when one is
listening, light itself translates the
signals into bird's movements, strumming air
with its harnessings, transfiguring a past scrap heap
of posturings in the lattices of a sparkling
hesitancy. Dripping with sweat, the angel mutters
to her or himself, down with this, hurling a
strictly documented universe, graduated, gyrated
and expostulated in the grainy
screening-room of history. Lifted high and
carefully deposited on the shelves, the words
stretch and yawn and then start to move, scramble madly, from
one volume and meaning to the next. In a
deft stroke of recognition the words run off the
books- onto the shelves, failing, obstinately, to utter
a sound or thought.
.
call Olga
call Richie, Mom
get *blinds*- put them up and vacuum
11/24/84
Once again I'm aware of the anxiety I feel
about making moves forward. As I collect the
objects to do it, I feel it welling up. The old
position was to sit still, hoping the waves around me
would settle.Now I'm learning to tolerate that
dizzy, nauseous feeling inside that slows me
down to a snail's pace because part of me
believes this will be soothing. I don't want
to live (all the time) in that twilight, that misty
world.
But I also recognize that I've earned
the right to live in that world as much as
I choose. It is also the world of reveries
and ideas.
(Then I left and went out and
accomplished a number of things- bought a
jacket and shirt, found a chair, Toni's radio,
picked up the blinds, straightened the house).
Leaving a t.v. on for backgound noise of the "average expectable environment."
Experience (1)........................Experience (2)
situation.........signal decay
_______________________________________________
thought.......variant a............variant b..........variant c...............variant d
)........................)............................).......................)............................)
..................such as rational......such as............such as...............such as memory
..................deduction................ludicrous...........connected
...............................................................................anticipatory
.................................................................................thought
....................................................association
call Richie, Mom
get *blinds*- put them up and vacuum
11/24/84
Once again I'm aware of the anxiety I feel
about making moves forward. As I collect the
objects to do it, I feel it welling up. The old
position was to sit still, hoping the waves around me
would settle.Now I'm learning to tolerate that
dizzy, nauseous feeling inside that slows me
down to a snail's pace because part of me
believes this will be soothing. I don't want
to live (all the time) in that twilight, that misty
world.
But I also recognize that I've earned
the right to live in that world as much as
I choose. It is also the world of reveries
and ideas.
(Then I left and went out and
accomplished a number of things- bought a
jacket and shirt, found a chair, Toni's radio,
picked up the blinds, straightened the house).
Leaving a t.v. on for backgound noise of the "average expectable environment."
Experience (1)........................Experience (2)
situation.........signal decay
_______________________________________________
thought.......variant a............variant b..........variant c...............variant d
)........................)............................).......................)............................)
..................such as rational......such as............such as...............such as memory
..................deduction................ludicrous...........connected
...............................................................................anticipatory
.................................................................................thought
....................................................association
1/29/86 Rocket's Red Glare
Is there any immediate threat to national security?
(No, but the-)(crossed out) (to himself: Ghastly.
They won't listen to me anymore.)
What? 72 Seconds. Wait a minute.
Can that! What I want to know is,
is there a threat? Is this an indication
of subversive activity? (Namely)(crossed out) are the
Russians involved?
I don't beliveve that is possible, Mr. President. (They must think I'm getting feeble-minded. You know how much that computer cost you? -crossed out)
(Not in any way forthcoming. Who is this not-forthcoming person, if not my father.
That's how I had to hold myself back. In order to have him, I...)
Is there any immediate threat to national security?
(No, but the-)(crossed out) (to himself: Ghastly.
They won't listen to me anymore.)
What? 72 Seconds. Wait a minute.
Can that! What I want to know is,
is there a threat? Is this an indication
of subversive activity? (Namely)(crossed out) are the
Russians involved?
I don't beliveve that is possible, Mr. President. (They must think I'm getting feeble-minded. You know how much that computer cost you? -crossed out)
(Not in any way forthcoming. Who is this not-forthcoming person, if not my father.
That's how I had to hold myself back. In order to have him, I...)
1/30/86
This is the note I wrote today at the coffeeshop: For the article- a theory without unity- a unity of looser states of mind- looser boundaries- may allow for an expansion of strength- perhaps at the cost of some ambiguity of focus.
The cost, postponement in attaining the ideal.
The purchase: the hope of having any theory at all (ref: Duhem) (this added in later)
Higher and lower lines- sum lines a line can indicate that the lower thought- came later- in recognition of the fact that....
What is this aberration?
The problem with measurement is that the things most worth measuring cannot yet be measured by any device. But as we discard the scale towards simple material ( a philosopher is a slave of philsophy; the poet is shackled to his or her poetry)
2/1/86
Suddenly, once in awhile, a sense of the total *rush* of time on one level- In this experience we sense that time- while moving from then to now- is also a huge rising tide -going forward at ever greater rates of intensity- (the last phrase crossed out in the notebook) that to observe (crossed out) it at all is to feel a sense of its totality- whilch is of undreamed of immensity -magnified in all the...(crossed out, last word unreadable) senses.
Exactly at the point of metaphor (crossed out)
The entire language dissolves-
a vapor in the imagination of experience
gathered at the threshold (crossed out)
Poet: A Four Letter Word
I think to speak
I search for... (crossed out) the telling the saying
the language dissolves
leaving (crossed out) a trauma of experience
not fit for a dog
I tried to be frank
And sarcasm paid
Its eloquent witness
A translation of fraud
A lying (crossed out, unreadable) mustache
The absence of history
fluorescent fortune cookie
booby, booby
scuba duba
don't deny
a separate Cuba
2/2/86
I
These were the conditions of the poem:
A bright sun and distances neither too near or too far
And an element of ruse, so near here in the absence
An emphasis of shape and strangeness, ushering in
An elongated tense (peculiar that asks, but
Primarily speaks its explanations in faults)
Kinds of primary qualities, associations, basks
A self-conscious *hauteur,* leans over to pick the
Flower from her- parenthesis- awake- key signature
II
This is the note I wrote today at the coffeeshop: For the article- a theory without unity- a unity of looser states of mind- looser boundaries- may allow for an expansion of strength- perhaps at the cost of some ambiguity of focus.
The cost, postponement in attaining the ideal.
The purchase: the hope of having any theory at all (ref: Duhem) (this added in later)
Higher and lower lines- sum lines a line can indicate that the lower thought- came later- in recognition of the fact that....
What is this aberration?
The problem with measurement is that the things most worth measuring cannot yet be measured by any device. But as we discard the scale towards simple material ( a philosopher is a slave of philsophy; the poet is shackled to his or her poetry)
2/1/86
Suddenly, once in awhile, a sense of the total *rush* of time on one level- In this experience we sense that time- while moving from then to now- is also a huge rising tide -going forward at ever greater rates of intensity- (the last phrase crossed out in the notebook) that to observe (crossed out) it at all is to feel a sense of its totality- whilch is of undreamed of immensity -magnified in all the...(crossed out, last word unreadable) senses.
Exactly at the point of metaphor (crossed out)
The entire language dissolves-
a vapor in the imagination of experience
gathered at the threshold (crossed out)
Poet: A Four Letter Word
I think to speak
I search for... (crossed out) the telling the saying
the language dissolves
leaving (crossed out) a trauma of experience
not fit for a dog
I tried to be frank
And sarcasm paid
Its eloquent witness
A translation of fraud
A lying (crossed out, unreadable) mustache
The absence of history
fluorescent fortune cookie
booby, booby
scuba duba
don't deny
a separate Cuba
2/2/86
I
These were the conditions of the poem:
A bright sun and distances neither too near or too far
And an element of ruse, so near here in the absence
An emphasis of shape and strangeness, ushering in
An elongated tense (peculiar that asks, but
Primarily speaks its explanations in faults)
Kinds of primary qualities, associations, basks
A self-conscious *hauteur,* leans over to pick the
Flower from her- parenthesis- awake- key signature
II
Wednesday, May 28
This from Ryan Fitzpatricks Process Documents yesterday:
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
If you listen to Kasey Mohammed, being in the "EE" section of his links bar is a fate worse than death. I don't know. It's not so bad. What if I have no desire to "improve my station" in blog-life. What if implying a hierarchy in his linking system is reifying the inequality inherent in the capitalist system. Maybe it doesn't matter, because blogs are essentially dumb like most things. I only do this for kicks anyway (and they keep getting harder to find).
posted by ryan 9:24 PM
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
If you listen to Kasey Mohammed, being in the "EE" section of his links bar is a fate worse than death. I don't know. It's not so bad. What if I have no desire to "improve my station" in blog-life. What if implying a hierarchy in his linking system is reifying the inequality inherent in the capitalist system. Maybe it doesn't matter, because blogs are essentially dumb like most things. I only do this for kicks anyway (and they keep getting harder to find).
posted by ryan 9:24 PM
(1/28/86)
No longer possible------------
--------past hurricane "aids" earthquake rocket crash future------------
"event comet going through the fabric of current space-time"
---------------no longer possible
common properties: Something ordinarily stable, expectably invulnerable, becomes vulnerable (loose and less resistant in its structure)
1) The air wall "caving in" to the hurricane
2) The earth "giving way" to the earthquake
3) The bodies of the ill people :giving way" to the disease
4) The ship's balance of systems gets jostled by something it ordinarily could fend off
If the particles lose confidence in the structure, they will pull apart, leaving the texture with "holes" that "allow" potentially destructive forces to penetrate the protective shell. the particles overall belief in the structure governs in the past, this unified movement- (Hofstadter's concept in which things suddenly all go a different way- I don't remember how to spell it? Sphexish- or something like that).
When the particles lose trust (Reagen's 60 Minutes, Alexander Cockburn article)- the texture fragments- the trust builds up the ladder- this is why for centuries people have believed in faith in God- something about space-time responds to faith- because something about space-time gathers momentum towards the idea that what we believe about the world is *authentic*- when doubt is vanquished, the universe holds together. Doubt rises, llike a tide. To stay above it, you need only follow it with one lazy eye- forget to do that and fate might land right on top of your head.
The multiplicity of this book is partly a source of excitement. Then again, it seems spineless- unfocussed. The romantic is needed to spur multiplicity- which is dangerous because faith becomes less and less available.
The bottom line is- predicting is not controlling- to sense the tide is coming can only help by letting you know how to use it-
*Nothing* is totally predictable.
In order to be considered worthy of receiving the final bit of information- one might have been considered worthy-This, in itself, must have been prepared for, in some way. *This* is why one h as to be *involved* with what one does. Otherwise you'll not be considered worhy of the outcome. An outcome, considered inauthentic, is ultimately not considered real- and thus is deprived of any actuality.
Therefore, many things having no intrinsic power over anything else- even of themselves- have such a power- this must be rejected.
(Consider a book as a series of cryptic remarks, meta-memories and *instructions* and advice- this is an aspect of Stevens' poetry).
No longer possible------------
--------past hurricane "aids" earthquake rocket crash future------------
"event comet going through the fabric of current space-time"
---------------no longer possible
common properties: Something ordinarily stable, expectably invulnerable, becomes vulnerable (loose and less resistant in its structure)
1) The air wall "caving in" to the hurricane
2) The earth "giving way" to the earthquake
3) The bodies of the ill people :giving way" to the disease
4) The ship's balance of systems gets jostled by something it ordinarily could fend off
If the particles lose confidence in the structure, they will pull apart, leaving the texture with "holes" that "allow" potentially destructive forces to penetrate the protective shell. the particles overall belief in the structure governs in the past, this unified movement- (Hofstadter's concept in which things suddenly all go a different way- I don't remember how to spell it? Sphexish- or something like that).
When the particles lose trust (Reagen's 60 Minutes, Alexander Cockburn article)- the texture fragments- the trust builds up the ladder- this is why for centuries people have believed in faith in God- something about space-time responds to faith- because something about space-time gathers momentum towards the idea that what we believe about the world is *authentic*- when doubt is vanquished, the universe holds together. Doubt rises, llike a tide. To stay above it, you need only follow it with one lazy eye- forget to do that and fate might land right on top of your head.
The multiplicity of this book is partly a source of excitement. Then again, it seems spineless- unfocussed. The romantic is needed to spur multiplicity- which is dangerous because faith becomes less and less available.
The bottom line is- predicting is not controlling- to sense the tide is coming can only help by letting you know how to use it-
*Nothing* is totally predictable.
In order to be considered worthy of receiving the final bit of information- one might have been considered worthy-This, in itself, must have been prepared for, in some way. *This* is why one h as to be *involved* with what one does. Otherwise you'll not be considered worhy of the outcome. An outcome, considered inauthentic, is ultimately not considered real- and thus is deprived of any actuality.
Therefore, many things having no intrinsic power over anything else- even of themselves- have such a power- this must be rejected.
(Consider a book as a series of cryptic remarks, meta-memories and *instructions* and advice- this is an aspect of Stevens' poetry).
1/28/86 the Orange Notebook
Last night, Toni and I talked about reincarnation. Today, after her doctor's visit, we returned some books to the library and I picked out: Finnigan's Wake, a book of Stevens, Emily Dickenson and *Timewarp.* The last book pushed me over the edge into my childhood. The coincidence of a cold brought other strong associations. Staying home from school, being sick and being taken care of. But another theme, often overlooked, is me taking care of *her.* Like the time we came back from Germany for a visit to her mother and I endlessly entertained her playing cards, talking about books I was reading. The more I travel back, the more real those memories are to me becuse they are the form and substance of how I experience what I am experiencing now.Another theme is banishment and defeat, but that for anothet time- yes, the mind weaves, moves across a shuttle and possibly in the perihelion of this axis...(now back to *Timewarp.*)
Idea for a story: a man has a tremendous need to discover a system which gives him exact results. Obsessed with documentation, authority, authenticity, certitude. He chooses the most exact of all. Through a labyrinth of investigations, he finally comes upon someone whho says: "Trust me, I knew the absolute value." He goes from discipline to discipline, finallly discovering one where you do not have to take the word of one another. When he realizes this, it is not long after that someone comes to him who is observed with knowing where and when the absolute value can be established.
Last night, Toni and I talked about reincarnation. Today, after her doctor's visit, we returned some books to the library and I picked out: Finnigan's Wake, a book of Stevens, Emily Dickenson and *Timewarp.* The last book pushed me over the edge into my childhood. The coincidence of a cold brought other strong associations. Staying home from school, being sick and being taken care of. But another theme, often overlooked, is me taking care of *her.* Like the time we came back from Germany for a visit to her mother and I endlessly entertained her playing cards, talking about books I was reading. The more I travel back, the more real those memories are to me becuse they are the form and substance of how I experience what I am experiencing now.Another theme is banishment and defeat, but that for anothet time- yes, the mind weaves, moves across a shuttle and possibly in the perihelion of this axis...(now back to *Timewarp.*)
Idea for a story: a man has a tremendous need to discover a system which gives him exact results. Obsessed with documentation, authority, authenticity, certitude. He chooses the most exact of all. Through a labyrinth of investigations, he finally comes upon someone whho says: "Trust me, I knew the absolute value." He goes from discipline to discipline, finallly discovering one where you do not have to take the word of one another. When he realizes this, it is not long after that someone comes to him who is observed with knowing where and when the absolute value can be established.
1/23/86
Upland. Fort Thunder, lynx
Mix- Jollity.
I'm not an ordinary elevator man
Either- polka- dot
Sphinx- take that part out
Ranging, Start over.
Order me about- al letter.
Stars stay about (some..)
"Leave that out, too."
Sans letter, sans danger
Out of time comes things and litter
and over about moments whether
In poetry it is style which is the
pedal tone, the bass tone, the
oine and only point which can be
held past a moment. The presence
of this style can amount to only a
trace of a nuance of emphasis beyond ordinary thought and speech.
But there are poetic styles which
go further, which challenge what can
now be ascertained as an existent
possible stance towards the current artistic
situation.
It is as if one were bending out the
impact of words to make them come at the
mind from the opposite of a vantage point
Here s/he is reading, reading, reading
Reading the lids of jars, laughter's frequency,
Light's harmonic, a treasured vernacular
Circular starlit humming, the spin close to
orbit, squalor. A prince is a royal entrance
to Egypt, night's labyrinth of columns, earth's
atmosphere, colonization, testimony.
Picture to image to image/souind
Some kind of memory image
Other tagged whence
airlift tossed remark to settle
harmonic memory (cold oscillate)
Changes, cloying,
deadmaster protest. Earth clone, cyclops,
whereby zoos (Banya Luka). Clips,
steps, archaic stretegy- parachutist,
eclipse, railway-hurry. Steps, into, out
of. Ip. Cit. Norway/haiku- tunnel,
frequency (end frequency). I think. Op. Cit.
France (Normandy).- Lip, clip Clips, pucker-
chop-chop.
Dentist, aunt, journey.
Upland. Fort Thunder, lynx
Mix- Jollity.
I'm not an ordinary elevator man
Either- polka- dot
Sphinx- take that part out
Ranging, Start over.
Order me about- al letter.
Stars stay about (some..)
"Leave that out, too."
Sans letter, sans danger
Out of time comes things and litter
and over about moments whether
In poetry it is style which is the
pedal tone, the bass tone, the
oine and only point which can be
held past a moment. The presence
of this style can amount to only a
trace of a nuance of emphasis beyond ordinary thought and speech.
But there are poetic styles which
go further, which challenge what can
now be ascertained as an existent
possible stance towards the current artistic
situation.
It is as if one were bending out the
impact of words to make them come at the
mind from the opposite of a vantage point
Here s/he is reading, reading, reading
Reading the lids of jars, laughter's frequency,
Light's harmonic, a treasured vernacular
Circular starlit humming, the spin close to
orbit, squalor. A prince is a royal entrance
to Egypt, night's labyrinth of columns, earth's
atmosphere, colonization, testimony.
Picture to image to image/souind
Some kind of memory image
Other tagged whence
airlift tossed remark to settle
harmonic memory (cold oscillate)
Changes, cloying,
deadmaster protest. Earth clone, cyclops,
whereby zoos (Banya Luka). Clips,
steps, archaic stretegy- parachutist,
eclipse, railway-hurry. Steps, into, out
of. Ip. Cit. Norway/haiku- tunnel,
frequency (end frequency). I think. Op. Cit.
France (Normandy).- Lip, clip Clips, pucker-
chop-chop.
Dentist, aunt, journey.
Tuesday, May 27
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
Why sleep when you can blog?
posted by Tim | 2:59 AM
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nick? Are you still awake? Nick?
posted by Tim | 2:59 AM
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well done, Tim. You definitely won this round! Good blogging too.
Let's see what happens later...
Why sleep when you can blog?
posted by Tim | 2:59 AM
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nick? Are you still awake? Nick?
posted by Tim | 2:59 AM
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well done, Tim. You definitely won this round! Good blogging too.
Let's see what happens later...
Remember *Little Shirley Bean*? This just in from Corina Copp!
Hi all. See below for what seems to be another fairly relevant matter....
love cori
On June 2, the Federal Communications Commission is planning on
authorizing sweeping changes to the American news media. The rules
change could allow your local TV stations, newspaper, radio stations,
and cable provider to all be owned by one company. NBC, ABC, CBS and
Fox could have the same corporate parent. The resulting concentration
of ownership could be deeply destructive to our democracy.
Congress is supposed to guard against monopoly power. But the
upcoming rule change could change the landscape for all media and
usher in an era in which a few corporations control your access to
news and entertainment. Please join me in asking Congress and the
FCC to support a diverse, competitive media landscape by going to:
http://www.moveon.org/stopthefcc/
You can also automatically have your comments publicly filed at the
FCC.
When the folks at MoveOn.org talk to Congresspeople about this issue,
the response is usually the same: "We only hear from media lobbyists on
this. It seems like my constituents aren't very concerned with this
issue." A few thousand emails could permanently change that perception.
Please join this critical campaign, and let Congress know you care.
Thanks.
Hi all. See below for what seems to be another fairly relevant matter....
love cori
On June 2, the Federal Communications Commission is planning on
authorizing sweeping changes to the American news media. The rules
change could allow your local TV stations, newspaper, radio stations,
and cable provider to all be owned by one company. NBC, ABC, CBS and
Fox could have the same corporate parent. The resulting concentration
of ownership could be deeply destructive to our democracy.
Congress is supposed to guard against monopoly power. But the
upcoming rule change could change the landscape for all media and
usher in an era in which a few corporations control your access to
news and entertainment. Please join me in asking Congress and the
FCC to support a diverse, competitive media landscape by going to:
http://www.moveon.org/stopthefcc/
You can also automatically have your comments publicly filed at the
FCC.
When the folks at MoveOn.org talk to Congresspeople about this issue,
the response is usually the same: "We only hear from media lobbyists on
this. It seems like my constituents aren't very concerned with this
issue." A few thousand emails could permanently change that perception.
Please join this critical campaign, and let Congress know you care.
Thanks.
1/23/86 Soundings of the Ordinary/Actual
It is in the abstract universe
that difficulty with (the) enactment
takes place.
"Nothing" is stopping you.
"It" takes too long.
All that I said about inspiration
was wrong. Minus that.
"Then" you weren't listening.
The Minotaur didn't have a name yet.
Things are so gentle in the sunlit
island of entitlement. All that you
breathed one could call birds (or "boids.")
"Scudder" or something like that.
Enticements of the interval.
Rhythm is "something wrong."
Merits of the literal.
You accept that something is yet to happen.
(a cinch))
or, a conch
to spare (explode)
Proximity is All
On this certainty
Atoms are built
What slips between...
Wraps itself
in (title) calm...(call him) (colon)
"Call Collect" a memory-
representation of something else
in the same way that "space"
"needs" "time" to happen in
and things "need" intervals
to separate them so much
All enlarges itself to the scale
tht time starts to be experienced
in proximate values
Intervals are characteristic
Such is the literal
why words change scale
such is the social (lower class-caste-case-)
The poor (treated) like animals- more smells, more work, experiences slow, dull, interminable, filled with desperation, envy, rage, remorse
The sound of a brush scaping again and again across a canvas
Sing,will you!
Or be not abandoned and alone.
:Less than a year ago, a lot of slipping
and sliding, scrapping and shaking.
Vitamin C.
Mathematics, physics, philosophy of science.
Names and names of things.
Things across a river. Rustling,
gathering points towards...
Safety...the airlines whose...
sifting
whose blimps...
erasures...shift
poor animals in a rut
tighten, tighten
"don't disagree!"
isolates hardly ever
happen (bracelets...forgiven)
(Hampton's=pads/priceless)
figment, fragment
more meant
movement/Silicon/looseleaf/cylinder
Wait: things seen as other than things
where all the owners are distant,
and cranky and difficult
Dear Publisher: I will try to back my poem safely into your magazine:
I am not entwined.
I am innocent (interest)
I have applied Before.
(Applaud)
(Forest tumbles.Type tree-
harlow's, harry's out- type glum
Fair St.)
She maybe never tasted such futurity,
Striped and grim,
F sharp minor, petrol fumes
License/winner/folk/trot
It is in the abstract universe
that difficulty with (the) enactment
takes place.
"Nothing" is stopping you.
"It" takes too long.
All that I said about inspiration
was wrong. Minus that.
"Then" you weren't listening.
The Minotaur didn't have a name yet.
Things are so gentle in the sunlit
island of entitlement. All that you
breathed one could call birds (or "boids.")
"Scudder" or something like that.
Enticements of the interval.
Rhythm is "something wrong."
Merits of the literal.
You accept that something is yet to happen.
(a cinch))
or, a conch
to spare (explode)
Proximity is All
On this certainty
Atoms are built
What slips between...
Wraps itself
in (title) calm...(call him) (colon)
"Call Collect" a memory-
representation of something else
in the same way that "space"
"needs" "time" to happen in
and things "need" intervals
to separate them so much
All enlarges itself to the scale
tht time starts to be experienced
in proximate values
Intervals are characteristic
Such is the literal
why words change scale
such is the social (lower class-caste-case-)
The poor (treated) like animals- more smells, more work, experiences slow, dull, interminable, filled with desperation, envy, rage, remorse
The sound of a brush scaping again and again across a canvas
Sing,will you!
Or be not abandoned and alone.
:Less than a year ago, a lot of slipping
and sliding, scrapping and shaking.
Vitamin C.
Mathematics, physics, philosophy of science.
Names and names of things.
Things across a river. Rustling,
gathering points towards...
Safety...the airlines whose...
sifting
whose blimps...
erasures...shift
poor animals in a rut
tighten, tighten
"don't disagree!"
isolates hardly ever
happen (bracelets...forgiven)
(Hampton's=pads/priceless)
figment, fragment
more meant
movement/Silicon/looseleaf/cylinder
Wait: things seen as other than things
where all the owners are distant,
and cranky and difficult
Dear Publisher: I will try to back my poem safely into your magazine:
I am not entwined.
I am innocent (interest)
I have applied Before.
(Applaud)
(Forest tumbles.Type tree-
harlow's, harry's out- type glum
Fair St.)
She maybe never tasted such futurity,
Striped and grim,
F sharp minor, petrol fumes
License/winner/folk/trot
6/85
Fifth Avenue was very slow and the driver overheard me mention the accident to Toni. It was the driver who told me about the woman being pinned under the crane.
Something inside me suddenly felt the full force of what must have been her actual pain. Then the outrage of the fact that this was due to human carelessness. And then all of it together: my ridiculously expensive apartment and my three jobs needed to support it; my threatened second layoff in ten years. The long years spent in school-now up to 22 of my 42 years and still owing $20,000 to the bank)- all of it. I could feel her pain because it was also me and those like me under that crane- the price of "building up" New York's face again- yet another operation to conceal New York's flabby chin. And what is the flab? The moral flab- the lack of caring, understanding- even simple responsibility- in a society build on and even more addicted to desperation and artificially created longings.
And then a strange thought entered my head. What if my legs were chopped off? I would be forced to spend the rest of my life writing all day and all night- something I could never do now. Toni compared losing my job to having a chance to really use my full potentials. But this is wrong because without legs I really can't *help*- or have the feeling I can provide the legwork that really assists others.
Fifth Avenue was very slow and the driver overheard me mention the accident to Toni. It was the driver who told me about the woman being pinned under the crane.
Something inside me suddenly felt the full force of what must have been her actual pain. Then the outrage of the fact that this was due to human carelessness. And then all of it together: my ridiculously expensive apartment and my three jobs needed to support it; my threatened second layoff in ten years. The long years spent in school-now up to 22 of my 42 years and still owing $20,000 to the bank)- all of it. I could feel her pain because it was also me and those like me under that crane- the price of "building up" New York's face again- yet another operation to conceal New York's flabby chin. And what is the flab? The moral flab- the lack of caring, understanding- even simple responsibility- in a society build on and even more addicted to desperation and artificially created longings.
And then a strange thought entered my head. What if my legs were chopped off? I would be forced to spend the rest of my life writing all day and all night- something I could never do now. Toni compared losing my job to having a chance to really use my full potentials. But this is wrong because without legs I really can't *help*- or have the feeling I can provide the legwork that really assists others.
6/1/85
(The image of) The double quality of time- one- the feeling of *plenty*- this in the sense of (the moment's) actuality's relentlessness- the other- in the planning of activities- there is a pressure- to accomplish things- to actually do them, to finish them- there is a different quality to time during such experiences.
To *produce* experience is one of the pressures of the experience of what Arakawa had called *blank.* There is a side of experience which feels tabula rasa, in which there is an inward sense of resistance to the relentless force of reality and its actual manifestations. This side of experience is akin to sleep, reverie, exhaustion, even delirium and hallucinations in its extreme forms.
These two sides of experience- one, which flows out of all that has accumulated, the other in which time is also timeless and unmoving- still and permanent as a painting, a hieroglyphic symbol carved in stone. The huge statues of Easter Island are always there, unchanging, watchful. This side of time is also always *in wait.* Even as we are wholly engrossed suddenly in some sequence of events, some future possibility...a few days ago a woman was crushed under a crane. Her legs may still have to be amputated. Toni said maybe her Karma was to point to dangers with her life- she had almost been injured in a cable car accident in Switzerland and her husband died of cancer. For six hours she lay there.
I first heard of the incident on the radio in the afternoon. I was listening to some pop music when an announcement was made that all the traffic waas totally gridlocked around the Upper East Side due to an accident with a crane. I finished work at my office and left with Toni in a cab to go see a friend's husband's film at MOMA.
4/4/85
A Play- The Characters
Reader
Poem
Talk
Idea
Word
(a theoretical construct which is
ANONANONANONANO ANON)
4/7/85
I still like ANON for the title of my book.
I am writing the theoretical construct- Now for the play- Gods- in the background *two* levels- the human level and the -mind- level- which is reflective and analytical
So events on the left are discussed on the right- and ocassionally actions reach across the two frames- this is partly observable in Woody Allen's *Purple Rose of Cairo.* - by presenting this oscillation- a resonance can be "heard" emanating from parts of reality we can't "see." We "hear" the parts we can't "see" and "feel" the parts we can't "say" or "think."
For one to assume a focal point of obtaining authenticity- in our age it is visual information- visual confirmation (as in Rilke quote in the Currents of Attention article) is to overly develop one aspect- of sensory experience at the cost of the deemphasis of the other senses. The visual is the timeless sense- while the others fade in and out- the visual attains a constancy unparalleled by the other senses- and thus an unparalleled monumentality . Yet the scale of the visual includes all but the infinite although the soul resides there. The other senses in the infinitesimal durations- contain the heart of infinitude. Thus- the tower of babel was presented with limits and language at the same time- we lost immortality in order to speak- but with language came diversity and wholeness- "words were what were whole" as the poet Bruce Andrews puts it: and Genesis: "in the beginning was the word."
4/11/85
(music like *Call Collect*)
(1) Film- close-ups of all the electronic connections for an automatic recording to trace all the succeeding calls on any call coming in and giving a printout of this.
(2) The idea of books which you hold in your hand (Freud's Mystic Writing Pad)
(The image of) The double quality of time- one- the feeling of *plenty*- this in the sense of (the moment's) actuality's relentlessness- the other- in the planning of activities- there is a pressure- to accomplish things- to actually do them, to finish them- there is a different quality to time during such experiences.
To *produce* experience is one of the pressures of the experience of what Arakawa had called *blank.* There is a side of experience which feels tabula rasa, in which there is an inward sense of resistance to the relentless force of reality and its actual manifestations. This side of experience is akin to sleep, reverie, exhaustion, even delirium and hallucinations in its extreme forms.
These two sides of experience- one, which flows out of all that has accumulated, the other in which time is also timeless and unmoving- still and permanent as a painting, a hieroglyphic symbol carved in stone. The huge statues of Easter Island are always there, unchanging, watchful. This side of time is also always *in wait.* Even as we are wholly engrossed suddenly in some sequence of events, some future possibility...a few days ago a woman was crushed under a crane. Her legs may still have to be amputated. Toni said maybe her Karma was to point to dangers with her life- she had almost been injured in a cable car accident in Switzerland and her husband died of cancer. For six hours she lay there.
I first heard of the incident on the radio in the afternoon. I was listening to some pop music when an announcement was made that all the traffic waas totally gridlocked around the Upper East Side due to an accident with a crane. I finished work at my office and left with Toni in a cab to go see a friend's husband's film at MOMA.
4/4/85
A Play- The Characters
Reader
Poem
Talk
Idea
Word
(a theoretical construct which is
ANONANONANONANO ANON)
4/7/85
I still like ANON for the title of my book.
I am writing the theoretical construct- Now for the play- Gods- in the background *two* levels- the human level and the -mind- level- which is reflective and analytical
So events on the left are discussed on the right- and ocassionally actions reach across the two frames- this is partly observable in Woody Allen's *Purple Rose of Cairo.* - by presenting this oscillation- a resonance can be "heard" emanating from parts of reality we can't "see." We "hear" the parts we can't "see" and "feel" the parts we can't "say" or "think."
For one to assume a focal point of obtaining authenticity- in our age it is visual information- visual confirmation (as in Rilke quote in the Currents of Attention article) is to overly develop one aspect- of sensory experience at the cost of the deemphasis of the other senses. The visual is the timeless sense- while the others fade in and out- the visual attains a constancy unparalleled by the other senses- and thus an unparalleled monumentality . Yet the scale of the visual includes all but the infinite although the soul resides there. The other senses in the infinitesimal durations- contain the heart of infinitude. Thus- the tower of babel was presented with limits and language at the same time- we lost immortality in order to speak- but with language came diversity and wholeness- "words were what were whole" as the poet Bruce Andrews puts it: and Genesis: "in the beginning was the word."
4/11/85
(music like *Call Collect*)
(1) Film- close-ups of all the electronic connections for an automatic recording to trace all the succeeding calls on any call coming in and giving a printout of this.
(2) The idea of books which you hold in your hand (Freud's Mystic Writing Pad)
Monday, May 26
10/23/80
9 months of no writing in this book. The articles for L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E- finished. More like a death- a reversal of the cycle. None months to die.
Melodramatic. I just had another thought about language. Memory is lexical (crossed out with questionmark added). To see a sign is a reminder.
Combination of OBJECT REPRESENTATION (SIgn) and SIGNIFIER.
2) To see specific printed letters is a reminder of (1)
1) original "meaning" or set of associations
1) original "meaning" or set of associations
2) later associations when the script is again (noticed/seen/remarked)
3) The "original" reading experienced as "meaning"
a) the rereading establishes a net of associations
b) the set of associations
4) the later associations reminders of associations to experiences
Dependence> independence
closeness> distance
self> other
You felt what you felt-
why should you say to yourself that these feelings brought about a specific reaction i somebody else?
argument
anger provokes anger
But to say that means to say that what you feel was caused by some previous interaction
My love for you is not what makes you love me
My hate for you is not what makes you hate me
9 months of no writing in this book. The articles for L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E- finished. More like a death- a reversal of the cycle. None months to die.
Melodramatic. I just had another thought about language. Memory is lexical (crossed out with questionmark added). To see a sign is a reminder.
Combination of OBJECT REPRESENTATION (SIgn) and SIGNIFIER.
2) To see specific printed letters is a reminder of (1)
1) original "meaning" or set of associations
1) original "meaning" or set of associations
2) later associations when the script is again (noticed/seen/remarked)
3) The "original" reading experienced as "meaning"
a) the rereading establishes a net of associations
b) the set of associations
4) the later associations reminders of associations to experiences
Dependence> independence
closeness> distance
self> other
You felt what you felt-
why should you say to yourself that these feelings brought about a specific reaction i somebody else?
argument
anger provokes anger
But to say that means to say that what you feel was caused by some previous interaction
My love for you is not what makes you love me
My hate for you is not what makes you hate me
7/78
By a systematic relieving of guilt, an analyst is able to assist an analysand... a relief from the pressure of responsibilities.This is true. But the fictive muse might entirely neglect her object. These mutterings from the unconscious precede a more organized perception of time. So many selves are required.
Dr.Fielding- owe $180. Patient owes me $200.
The technique of unresolved relationships. All the things I couldn't say to someone.
X said what she sees in my work are unresolved relationships. How about mine? The writing is, in the end, about these relationships. Someone else felt my writing "exploited" the audience. My relationships do have a "distant" quality to them now.
Will power. Avoidance of responsibilites. For six months I carried "Two or Three Things I Know About HIm" in my briefcase. But my relaxation techniques seem to be related to fear. Plainly, because I was so afraid, I backed into a corner, like Gregor Samsa in -Metamorphosis.- I withdrew into a world of words, books and writing. I took forays into the world of people and then withdrew into my solitude.
It's just that when I don't have to make a move, in terms of those responsibilities, I don't want to. I would rather live in a world of my own creating during that time. There is a story in my secretiveness too, and I want you to know it. And so he begins taking small photographs of his most familiar landscape, his own thoughts. True, they were all thought before. But even the way I press my pen down so hard on the page has a personal history. Perhaps I loved making those words so much my teachers would read. Maybe it's just a way to get out my anger. I do like tightening up the muscles in my arm when I write. Maybe it was my sport instead of baseball, which the other kids played, but which I, especially in my childhood, withdrew from. It's frightening how personal my exposure, my (emotional) rape by my mother was. She wanted to own me completely, make me completely her slave, perhaps. Or maybe she ws still so angry at her father for deserting her and her mother for another woman.
So, it is all these unresolved relationships. How I leave the feelings there to accumulate like a pile of leaves waiting on the lawn to be burned.
Seemed kind of wary.
Assumed.
The problem of space= the human relationship to space.
Harcourt, Brace= 888-4444.
The letters, checks and bills.
Impatiently waiting. Need for a certain kind of support- different kinds- also related to fear. All this concentration on preoccupations can be directly translated into poetry. Making a plan, a move (also, fear), telling a story M.G. Giving out directly a kind of direct interpretation of the narrative. This would feel like making a personal choice, a form of committment.
By a systematic relieving of guilt, an analyst is able to assist an analysand... a relief from the pressure of responsibilities.This is true. But the fictive muse might entirely neglect her object. These mutterings from the unconscious precede a more organized perception of time. So many selves are required.
Dr.Fielding- owe $180. Patient owes me $200.
The technique of unresolved relationships. All the things I couldn't say to someone.
X said what she sees in my work are unresolved relationships. How about mine? The writing is, in the end, about these relationships. Someone else felt my writing "exploited" the audience. My relationships do have a "distant" quality to them now.
Will power. Avoidance of responsibilites. For six months I carried "Two or Three Things I Know About HIm" in my briefcase. But my relaxation techniques seem to be related to fear. Plainly, because I was so afraid, I backed into a corner, like Gregor Samsa in -Metamorphosis.- I withdrew into a world of words, books and writing. I took forays into the world of people and then withdrew into my solitude.
It's just that when I don't have to make a move, in terms of those responsibilities, I don't want to. I would rather live in a world of my own creating during that time. There is a story in my secretiveness too, and I want you to know it. And so he begins taking small photographs of his most familiar landscape, his own thoughts. True, they were all thought before. But even the way I press my pen down so hard on the page has a personal history. Perhaps I loved making those words so much my teachers would read. Maybe it's just a way to get out my anger. I do like tightening up the muscles in my arm when I write. Maybe it was my sport instead of baseball, which the other kids played, but which I, especially in my childhood, withdrew from. It's frightening how personal my exposure, my (emotional) rape by my mother was. She wanted to own me completely, make me completely her slave, perhaps. Or maybe she ws still so angry at her father for deserting her and her mother for another woman.
So, it is all these unresolved relationships. How I leave the feelings there to accumulate like a pile of leaves waiting on the lawn to be burned.
Seemed kind of wary.
Assumed.
The problem of space= the human relationship to space.
Harcourt, Brace= 888-4444.
The letters, checks and bills.
Impatiently waiting. Need for a certain kind of support- different kinds- also related to fear. All this concentration on preoccupations can be directly translated into poetry. Making a plan, a move (also, fear), telling a story M.G. Giving out directly a kind of direct interpretation of the narrative. This would feel like making a personal choice, a form of committment.
Toni's sister Beryl and her husband Bob came down from Arlington, Mass to make a holiday visit this weekend. To celebrate her 70th birthday, Toni's stepmother Barbara suggested that we drive up to Storm King Art Center near Cornwall. Though it was a cloudy day everyone still wanted to go. The drive up the Palisades Parkway was pleasant as usual and the sumptuous country style breakfast we had in Cornwall was more than pleasant: It was naughty to have pancakes with eggs and sausages but what the hell, we needed strength to cover all that area at Storm King where hundreds of sculptures, many of them monumental in scope, may be seen in an outdoor setting of rolling hills, streams and trees. We boarded a tram and got an overview of numerous sculptures, but everyone agreed to get off and wander around when we caught sight of the Andy Goldsworthy stone fence he constructed there in 1997-1998 over a period of about 4-6 months. The museum collected the stones and with 4 or 5 helpers Andy Goldsworthy reconstructed a gorgeous fence made out of stones fallen from old stone fences, which were piled by hand and kept stacked by gravity alone, circling beautfully around tree after tree and ending up at the edge of a stream, to be picked up again on the other side. I bought a nice color photo of the site covered with snow in winter later in the museum shop as well as a slide of the fence. The groundsperson explained to me that a bunch of students had carelessly walked along the top of the fence the other day and some people were stealing the stones. For those of you who are as yet unfamiliar with Goldworthy's work, I suggest you see the film about it, that was recently released, if you can. There are numerous books with plenty of photos of his work in wood, ice, stone and other materials. Somehow, for me, this fence made most of the other numerous monumental sculptures, mostly constructed of steel, look like quaint leftovers from an age obsessed with metal girders and skyscrapers. Goldsworthy's work celebrates the earth, stones, contemplation, stillness, grace and, that apparently hopelessly outdated concept, "nature." This work offers time travel par excellance! I also enjoyed a huge, but subtle piece by Richard Serra, a collection of David Smiths, a small gathering of items by Nam June Paik, but in addition to the Goldsworthy, most of all a monumental piece made out of cedar and graphite by Ursula Von Rydingsvard, whose recent show followed Goldworthy's at the Gagosian Gallery.
Barbara, who used to live in Nyack with Toni's father, the late Bill Simon, who was a fine songwriter and musician, about ten years ago, suggested we stop over there for coffee on the way back. I got a chance to visit a compact used bookshop I like very much and found a small hardbound book of short pieces by Samuel Beckett called "Fizzles," from 1977 with the bright yellow Grove Press book jacket still intact and a book about the musical theories of Claude Debussy by Leon Vallas which I had long ago taken out of the library and regretfully returned.. I got into a conversation with the owner about his own book collection and he told me he liked to collect memoirs by bookstore owners like Vincent Starrett's *Born in a Bookshop* and another one by Madeline Stern. He also told me about his collection of hobo's writings. A number of these interesting wanderers were typesetters who would get short term jobs and write memoirs, typeset them on the sly and sell them! Later, on the drive back to the city Bob suggested a book of essays by Camus: "Summer and Nuptials." Never heard of that one. Dinner at Mogodor, of course, on St Mark's and back to Barbara's for Chinese Checkers, beer and cheese and looking at old photos. I didn't feel like Chinese Checkers so I read an article in the Sunday Times Arts and Leisure section about photoblogs (one recommendation was fotolog.net). Suddenly the Times is very interested in bloggers! But the articles, as usual, have been fuzzy and neither exciting nor informative. The Times is often lacking in two crucial aspects that make for absorbing reading: sensitivity and insight. I've had it with the Times: The New York Times is over if you want it!
Barbara, who used to live in Nyack with Toni's father, the late Bill Simon, who was a fine songwriter and musician, about ten years ago, suggested we stop over there for coffee on the way back. I got a chance to visit a compact used bookshop I like very much and found a small hardbound book of short pieces by Samuel Beckett called "Fizzles," from 1977 with the bright yellow Grove Press book jacket still intact and a book about the musical theories of Claude Debussy by Leon Vallas which I had long ago taken out of the library and regretfully returned.. I got into a conversation with the owner about his own book collection and he told me he liked to collect memoirs by bookstore owners like Vincent Starrett's *Born in a Bookshop* and another one by Madeline Stern. He also told me about his collection of hobo's writings. A number of these interesting wanderers were typesetters who would get short term jobs and write memoirs, typeset them on the sly and sell them! Later, on the drive back to the city Bob suggested a book of essays by Camus: "Summer and Nuptials." Never heard of that one. Dinner at Mogodor, of course, on St Mark's and back to Barbara's for Chinese Checkers, beer and cheese and looking at old photos. I didn't feel like Chinese Checkers so I read an article in the Sunday Times Arts and Leisure section about photoblogs (one recommendation was fotolog.net). Suddenly the Times is very interested in bloggers! But the articles, as usual, have been fuzzy and neither exciting nor informative. The Times is often lacking in two crucial aspects that make for absorbing reading: sensitivity and insight. I've had it with the Times: The New York Times is over if you want it!
Sunday, May 25
(7/78)
Historicity
The thought before is substituted for the anterior reference. Time in moment-to-moment tension is dissolved and diffused in the form of various perspectives of scale. This hypertrophy of scale is observable in contemporary abstract art and largely formalized including concepts of self-reference and documentation- in the tiny collages of Kurt Schwitters. Schwitters' association with the Dada movement- and deepened by his reaction to Nazism- fixes him in the historical frame which is for the moment overemphasized and ignores the space/thought dimension of his work. The promise of Surrealism- fusion of thought and language forms- also of a...
Tottering in its confused association with Freudianism- did not lead to the mecca of instant self-enlightenment. Before long too, the beats were to again vastly enlarge the possibilities for line to line scale and it's di...
7/8/78
As presently we will see the tides are still searching out their newest shapes and colors and the words for connection are still the same. I see your expressions in the coded messages of my feelings. You weren't kidding when you said I was happy. Soon we will answer to the gestures this sharing implies. Sunset also has a place in the vocabulary of history. Feelings go in lines too and afterwards another long kiss. No eyebrows raised the sun is in your greeting...Let's hurry, one foot after another, always a single word drawn into a series, the preceding enters onto the following like a ruin of small mistakes. the coming together draws closer the frayed ends of the present, past and future.
7/20/78
Losing pace with the historicity article, the reports from BCG, the correspondance for L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E. I just don't feel like doing it. After the feelings about Roof IV and what happened with X, *I just don't feel like looking at it.* The wall I told Fielding about. After that point, I may be entering into vulnerable areas that may cause some pain. I am happy about my relationship with N but I also feel afraid. But I face away from writing work when I'm struggling with trust. Now I'm thinking of being published in the magazines and mixed up in this other thoughts, about security. So many people have said to me there isn't any, even some analysts, but I don't believe this. And the symbol of that feeling for me is the sea in summer. The dream of love, the eternal sea in summer. Scylla and Charybdis, responsibility and trust on the one shore- no, that is not what I mean- I mean the two voices I was thinking about the other day, it has to be allowed to be able to come out like that.What is the realization of a language I ask myself and the Call Collect Neil wrote asked me that- will I never achieve my sense of organization? Part of me likes the dissolving, a different sense of time Alan called it.
This started with the thought about the man who turned his apartment antique shop- art gallery into an exclusive restaurant. Certain things I'm afraid to buy. Like an electric typewriter. I paid back all the money except to Cheska- I have $1113 plus cash for the month- but I'm still scared. I guess it's because I'm always afraid of losing my job. But *that fear* must be countered by a real committment to study, analysis and actual effort.The recurring objects of his fantasy- he was waiting for them to appear and they did.
*So historicity has to do with waiting, if it is to mean anything. * Life as it is lived also guides our choices.
Needlefish a voracious eater of small fishes. Uses a web for bait, to catch the fish. Red shell money-gathered by the diver in the deepest part of the lagoon. He uses 30 cent goggles. He has earned his pay.
The nautilus, a creature of the night, is rarely seen except as bones.
The sharks in the water help you if you do good by them, or they will kill you. A pig is sacrificed, they collect the skulls of pigs sacrificed.
Shell money- different colored shells ground in a certain way.
A priest swims out and offers the shark a pig. It's the first time the skulls have been brought out in 30 years. The eldest priest has the most skulls. it's a heavy burden. They pray for the shark to arrive. He takes the sacrifice eagerly.
The sharks didn't attack the people.
The sea snakes talked to the shark and all fish the shark had chased into the cave escaped. This happened in Time Before.
8/15
I don't remember when I wrote that but I saw it on t.v. The article about writing dreams.
Can I really keep my dreams? Can I color them pastel colors again and again in memories. Like a bunch of fires built along the beach. Beacons. No, bacon. No memory. Just by.
The signature was mine, take it- the nature of its essence maybe will be our essence once. I try to keep it, but it keeps slipping away from me. I keep on fishing for it, like the collector of conches, they are also your words and I'm thinking about each separate name. And for the moment I'm in your frame. It's not like slipping into the word star machine- and the rust collects stamps- also a lot of rags are held in locks, in voices- I'm...an ocean just for you...twice in the parts of once or twice, ashore. Someone comes by to clean it up, to protect it. I'm afraid of this person, because the person who can help me is also still part of my dreams and I don't need better glasses than that. Whether or not you can fill it for the one who is lost now.
"You'll forgive me," he says "if I admit to you immediately that I like to have some money in the bank." He turns and looks away with a wistful expression on his face. "I remember the times I felt differently. I still had my recklessness and my taste for gambling with my life. I wasn't really much of an artist anyway, though I knew some very good ones." He pointed to his furnishings. "Now I console myself with a little extravagance, and the love of my dear wife."
His pince-nez.
Historicity
The thought before is substituted for the anterior reference. Time in moment-to-moment tension is dissolved and diffused in the form of various perspectives of scale. This hypertrophy of scale is observable in contemporary abstract art and largely formalized including concepts of self-reference and documentation- in the tiny collages of Kurt Schwitters. Schwitters' association with the Dada movement- and deepened by his reaction to Nazism- fixes him in the historical frame which is for the moment overemphasized and ignores the space/thought dimension of his work. The promise of Surrealism- fusion of thought and language forms- also of a...
Tottering in its confused association with Freudianism- did not lead to the mecca of instant self-enlightenment. Before long too, the beats were to again vastly enlarge the possibilities for line to line scale and it's di...
7/8/78
As presently we will see the tides are still searching out their newest shapes and colors and the words for connection are still the same. I see your expressions in the coded messages of my feelings. You weren't kidding when you said I was happy. Soon we will answer to the gestures this sharing implies. Sunset also has a place in the vocabulary of history. Feelings go in lines too and afterwards another long kiss. No eyebrows raised the sun is in your greeting...Let's hurry, one foot after another, always a single word drawn into a series, the preceding enters onto the following like a ruin of small mistakes. the coming together draws closer the frayed ends of the present, past and future.
7/20/78
Losing pace with the historicity article, the reports from BCG, the correspondance for L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E. I just don't feel like doing it. After the feelings about Roof IV and what happened with X, *I just don't feel like looking at it.* The wall I told Fielding about. After that point, I may be entering into vulnerable areas that may cause some pain. I am happy about my relationship with N but I also feel afraid. But I face away from writing work when I'm struggling with trust. Now I'm thinking of being published in the magazines and mixed up in this other thoughts, about security. So many people have said to me there isn't any, even some analysts, but I don't believe this. And the symbol of that feeling for me is the sea in summer. The dream of love, the eternal sea in summer. Scylla and Charybdis, responsibility and trust on the one shore- no, that is not what I mean- I mean the two voices I was thinking about the other day, it has to be allowed to be able to come out like that.What is the realization of a language I ask myself and the Call Collect Neil wrote asked me that- will I never achieve my sense of organization? Part of me likes the dissolving, a different sense of time Alan called it.
This started with the thought about the man who turned his apartment antique shop- art gallery into an exclusive restaurant. Certain things I'm afraid to buy. Like an electric typewriter. I paid back all the money except to Cheska- I have $1113 plus cash for the month- but I'm still scared. I guess it's because I'm always afraid of losing my job. But *that fear* must be countered by a real committment to study, analysis and actual effort.The recurring objects of his fantasy- he was waiting for them to appear and they did.
*So historicity has to do with waiting, if it is to mean anything. * Life as it is lived also guides our choices.
Needlefish a voracious eater of small fishes. Uses a web for bait, to catch the fish. Red shell money-gathered by the diver in the deepest part of the lagoon. He uses 30 cent goggles. He has earned his pay.
The nautilus, a creature of the night, is rarely seen except as bones.
The sharks in the water help you if you do good by them, or they will kill you. A pig is sacrificed, they collect the skulls of pigs sacrificed.
Shell money- different colored shells ground in a certain way.
A priest swims out and offers the shark a pig. It's the first time the skulls have been brought out in 30 years. The eldest priest has the most skulls. it's a heavy burden. They pray for the shark to arrive. He takes the sacrifice eagerly.
The sharks didn't attack the people.
The sea snakes talked to the shark and all fish the shark had chased into the cave escaped. This happened in Time Before.
8/15
I don't remember when I wrote that but I saw it on t.v. The article about writing dreams.
Can I really keep my dreams? Can I color them pastel colors again and again in memories. Like a bunch of fires built along the beach. Beacons. No, bacon. No memory. Just by.
The signature was mine, take it- the nature of its essence maybe will be our essence once. I try to keep it, but it keeps slipping away from me. I keep on fishing for it, like the collector of conches, they are also your words and I'm thinking about each separate name. And for the moment I'm in your frame. It's not like slipping into the word star machine- and the rust collects stamps- also a lot of rags are held in locks, in voices- I'm...an ocean just for you...twice in the parts of once or twice, ashore. Someone comes by to clean it up, to protect it. I'm afraid of this person, because the person who can help me is also still part of my dreams and I don't need better glasses than that. Whether or not you can fill it for the one who is lost now.
"You'll forgive me," he says "if I admit to you immediately that I like to have some money in the bank." He turns and looks away with a wistful expression on his face. "I remember the times I felt differently. I still had my recklessness and my taste for gambling with my life. I wasn't really much of an artist anyway, though I knew some very good ones." He pointed to his furnishings. "Now I console myself with a little extravagance, and the love of my dear wife."
His pince-nez.
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