Distribution Automatique
Wednesday, April 30
Device: imagine each line separately- as if hearing them in a foreign language.- This is what I meant by the title "Translation Sans Original."
Another "subject to change." The moment I declare anything I'm already breathing in the heady element of spontaneity. I'm "holding the floor" and now I can "go where I want with it." Of course, this freedom is much more apparent than real. A fascinating, thorough and profound documentation of this fact can be found in the books of Erving Goffman.
1) Imagine each line separately as if hearing it in a foreign language.
2) Translate from teh French, lets say, into English- or an "imaginary" French.
Later: Not a "plenitude of reasons/things but a single reason/thing.
(12/31/90)
Improvisation- as in the example of the conquering Spanish- arises often from a risky or unfamiliar situation being taken on. A kind of artificial sense of improvisation can be evoked by treating a familiar situation as if it were an unfamiliar situation. "Procrastination is the poetry of our lives" is also partially because to procrastinate a repetitive task is to then force yourself into an improvisatory situation when it could have been a prepared situation. this might have been as much a part of the aesthetic aspect of the psychoanalytic situation as it is of the scientific one.
For 1991- one notebook. And thereafter, one notebook at a time. the two times before that I've been workikng in multiple notebooks were periods of confusion. This *includes* poetry. The "scrapbook" didn't work out either.There should be a separate small reminder book- not the electronic lists reminders. This should also be spiral ringed.
(1/1/91)
Tuesday, April 29
Stephanie Young likes to notice the banner ads. This one now above Drew Gardner's blog:
USA Horn: Sax Specialists
Expert advice, sales & service. Major brands. Competitive pricing.
www.USAHorn.com
(Drew is great musician- plays piano and other instruments- and recently, while accompanying his readings)
Drew- feel better soon.
I still don't need drugs! I saw this most recent post at Nick's blog:
"Thanks, [+] :"
You're Welcome Nick!
Love,
[+]:
posted by David at 4:17 PM
Some pretty wierd stuff turned up on FA today due to my stuggle to follow Jonathan's patient efforts to walk me through writing links into my message. After several hours, (I was picturing Jonathan getting ready to tear out his hair watching me go through this) I managed to do one link correctly. But then the rest of the message still appears as a link.
David Hess proves once again he can find something to salvage- and savage!- out of almost any type of idiocy.
"Thanks, [+] :"
You're Welcome Nick!
Love,
[+]:
posted by David at 4:17 PM
Some pretty wierd stuff turned up on FA today due to my stuggle to follow Jonathan's patient efforts to walk me through writing links into my message. After several hours, (I was picturing Jonathan getting ready to tear out his hair watching me go through this) I managed to do one link correctly. But then the rest of the message still appears as a link.
David Hess proves once again he can find something to salvage- and savage!- out of almost any type of idiocy.
Even though Stephanie Young's poem postcards sent to me got misdirected because she dropped one digit off the address, somehow I am sure the whole thing is my fault. I'm not saying this to be "charming," accomodating or self-effacing. I am quite literally sure it is my fault.
She's right, though, about why the cards got lost. Because Stephanie put the right zip code on the cards some wonderful, conscientious post office person actually tracked me down at my address on the same avenue (West End Avenue).Stephanie wrote 68, but the address is 680. The postal employee actually wrote in the "0" and you can see that it is squeezed in in a different hand. I called the postoffice today and they said there's a good chance more will come through! And she spoke with her supervisor and said I could call back on Friday. Hang in there, Stephanie, we'll get this book together yet!
Sandra Simonds, of Sandra's Poems, has given me the sad duty to report that she has closed her blog. But she is not unhappy! She wants to catch up on her reading and she and Andrew Mister have things to do like maybe leave Missoula, Montana and move to San Francisco. I have no doubt at all that here in blogland you will be sorely missed! Very best wishes to you and Andrew and l hope you will come back and see us! -fait accompli- and most other blogs- love receiving letters! And please keep reading us!
This just in! Blogger getting married! Toldja the guy had a big heart! (see -bloggers consent!- under "recent entries" on Brandon Barr's site)
wedding site/
Trudy and I sent out most invitations to our wedding on Friday, which is one of the many reasons I haven't been posting much lately (along with a stack of essays to mark and a few to write, and zero-motivation or interest in getting them done). I created a small wedding site with a little mini-blog to coordinate information about the wedding, which is in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, on July 5th.
Posted by brandon barr at 04:48 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Links to your left, please.
wedding site/
Trudy and I sent out most invitations to our wedding on Friday, which is one of the many reasons I haven't been posting much lately (along with a stack of essays to mark and a few to write, and zero-motivation or interest in getting them done). I created a small wedding site with a little mini-blog to coordinate information about the wedding, which is in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, on July 5th.
Posted by brandon barr at 04:48 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Links to your left, please.
Why am I so constantly amazed that I can't have everythilng when for so long I had nothing?
Worry is a kind of rehearsal for action or- more- a throwing of logs on a small bit of burning flame to incite oneself- to action, often of an indendiary kind.
(4/28/92)
Taste- but how much?
Whatever you do
The world pours in
Drink of it deeper and deeper
Still hungers drive the thoughts
Forward pulling time ahead of themselves, drinking
*
Celan- the "gravity" of the downward reading-
(
)
(
)
(
)
(
)
also- some qualities of Trilce
"Imagining" I'm magining
All that "looking forward and looking backward"- necessary, but so foolish. I imagine a cup- and 5 years are 1/4 to 1/5 of that cup. I.2.3.4.5.
But there is a poetic flavor to that spendthrift attitude towards time- the irony of having "plenty of time" so much you can "throw it away." It's stupid to live as if you can "save" time- and, like the seasons, our feelings and all of it repeats and repeats, like the tides-
The only sweeteners- courage and love.
(4/29/92)
Worry is a kind of rehearsal for action or- more- a throwing of logs on a small bit of burning flame to incite oneself- to action, often of an indendiary kind.
(4/28/92)
Taste- but how much?
Whatever you do
The world pours in
Drink of it deeper and deeper
Still hungers drive the thoughts
Forward pulling time ahead of themselves, drinking
*
Celan- the "gravity" of the downward reading-
(
)
(
)
(
)
(
)
also- some qualities of Trilce
"Imagining" I'm magining
All that "looking forward and looking backward"- necessary, but so foolish. I imagine a cup- and 5 years are 1/4 to 1/5 of that cup. I.2.3.4.5.
But there is a poetic flavor to that spendthrift attitude towards time- the irony of having "plenty of time" so much you can "throw it away." It's stupid to live as if you can "save" time- and, like the seasons, our feelings and all of it repeats and repeats, like the tides-
The only sweeteners- courage and love.
(4/29/92)
Title: Scanning
I begin with a word which reflects a thought. The word I begin with occurs with the thought. I start where I start. I start with a word, a word for a thought.
Scanning the whole language- an instructional manual for scanning.
I thought of it first as computer instructions- instructions for programming the computer to scan the language by reading it aloud. (allowed)
(4/26/82)
I begin with a word which reflects a thought. The word I begin with occurs with the thought. I start where I start. I start with a word, a word for a thought.
Scanning the whole language- an instructional manual for scanning.
I thought of it first as computer instructions- instructions for programming the computer to scan the language by reading it aloud. (allowed)
(4/26/82)
Narrative has to commit itself to details, the same as people do in a relationship. Discovering the outcome of the game also comes by "following" it rather than be deciding it. In a narrative you can "go back" and change details- just as in everyday life you can gradually evade the "hard data." But this "hard data" will eventually erode your hard-ware.
(7/24/88)
(7/24/88)
It is energizing to be torn away from unsatisfying attempts- this increases hopes for a real success.
On the other hand- it is equally important to remember that this new construct (when de-constructed) will be found to mostly consist of already familiar aspects. But the whole will be different. It will contain everything that the earlier construct carried to a different outcome.
We will have found that earlier we had lost our way in time, when suddenly the overall direction we had been heading towards became clearly evident. Moments can now connect with each other again. Perhaps we have only discovered a new mode of making transitions. For clearly, movement never stops. But, like a driver, we are periodically, and constantly looking into the rear view mirror.
True, although we have been listening, no one actually said anything quite clear. Silence had taken over so much that the slightest routine sounds had become greatly magnified (planes, birds, cars and the rain and wind). Each car going by took on significance, a loud voice, some laughter, because such interruptions proved that duration, as such, still exists. Soon, however, our interest turns away from such small proofs. They do not, after all , constitute events in the real world of meanings. Although we are unhealthily addicted to it, time is
measured in meanings, not in moments. It is neither qualitative nor quantitative- it is transformative. Like Orpheus, we must learn not to watch it too closely, because, dizzying into the whirlpool, we may drown in the multiple voices of the future.
"Soon,soon" it seems to say to us constantly, "very soon," to any question we might put to it. Soon, you will sit down at the piano, soon your great quartet will be played and soon it will be heard, understood and blended into other recent textures of sound and soul.
It seems I've learned to collect such hopes like shells on a beach. They are evidences, but only meager ones like those passing sounds. With their bleached and muted colors, such objects hold the attention in such a way that you pocket them and later place them in our special drawers and shelves, thinking they can later be more completely deciphered.
I examine some for awhile and then sit down to play.
Once again, I've combined the possible and the impossible in harmonies that, very elusively, hold these two opposites together for a brief period of time. Over and over, I listen to the recording, trying to ascertain the spot where past, present and future seemed to combine. Of course, I wanted to stay there for as long as possible. I wondered how long I could suspend the afternoon in this way. The more I could shape the transitions, the more quickly I seemed to be able to move inside the hour. Having its own characteristics, I could characterize a series of moments by its exterior markings, instead of reverting to the metronome, or some other kind of mechanical conductor, like a tapping foot, or the sounds of the old woman upstairs walking round and round and round and creaking the floor.
(4/8/95)
Too much neatness makes me wonder.
Given a choice most of us go for a soft landing.
*
Reading Cioran's reaction to an English critic's cynical discussion of Marcus Aurelius makes me laugh with tears in my eyes.
(4/10/95)
On the other hand- it is equally important to remember that this new construct (when de-constructed) will be found to mostly consist of already familiar aspects. But the whole will be different. It will contain everything that the earlier construct carried to a different outcome.
We will have found that earlier we had lost our way in time, when suddenly the overall direction we had been heading towards became clearly evident. Moments can now connect with each other again. Perhaps we have only discovered a new mode of making transitions. For clearly, movement never stops. But, like a driver, we are periodically, and constantly looking into the rear view mirror.
True, although we have been listening, no one actually said anything quite clear. Silence had taken over so much that the slightest routine sounds had become greatly magnified (planes, birds, cars and the rain and wind). Each car going by took on significance, a loud voice, some laughter, because such interruptions proved that duration, as such, still exists. Soon, however, our interest turns away from such small proofs. They do not, after all , constitute events in the real world of meanings. Although we are unhealthily addicted to it, time is
measured in meanings, not in moments. It is neither qualitative nor quantitative- it is transformative. Like Orpheus, we must learn not to watch it too closely, because, dizzying into the whirlpool, we may drown in the multiple voices of the future.
"Soon,soon" it seems to say to us constantly, "very soon," to any question we might put to it. Soon, you will sit down at the piano, soon your great quartet will be played and soon it will be heard, understood and blended into other recent textures of sound and soul.
It seems I've learned to collect such hopes like shells on a beach. They are evidences, but only meager ones like those passing sounds. With their bleached and muted colors, such objects hold the attention in such a way that you pocket them and later place them in our special drawers and shelves, thinking they can later be more completely deciphered.
I examine some for awhile and then sit down to play.
Once again, I've combined the possible and the impossible in harmonies that, very elusively, hold these two opposites together for a brief period of time. Over and over, I listen to the recording, trying to ascertain the spot where past, present and future seemed to combine. Of course, I wanted to stay there for as long as possible. I wondered how long I could suspend the afternoon in this way. The more I could shape the transitions, the more quickly I seemed to be able to move inside the hour. Having its own characteristics, I could characterize a series of moments by its exterior markings, instead of reverting to the metronome, or some other kind of mechanical conductor, like a tapping foot, or the sounds of the old woman upstairs walking round and round and round and creaking the floor.
(4/8/95)
Too much neatness makes me wonder.
Given a choice most of us go for a soft landing.
*
Reading Cioran's reaction to an English critic's cynical discussion of Marcus Aurelius makes me laugh with tears in my eyes.
(4/10/95)
Monday, April 28
Something is lost about time from moment to moment. Perhaps true time travel is cracking the secret of the link between moments, the interval.
Waiting has a particular quality, for example. Feelings seem to have a certain duration.
Thoughts have a very special secretness and privateness. This is part of the secret of the interval. Who has not savored and thoroughly appreciated a lucious daydream that no one else may ever know - and may be repeated. No one can take these away, even from a madman, or a man asleep. It has been said that even the dead have their dreams. No one alive willl ever know, and the dead won't remember.
Young people like to laugh, but older people appreciate both the value and the duration of cynicism. Like every form of bravado, its efficacy is short-lived. Love of life- vibrance, warmth- are more lasting and responsive to the daily demands for effort and spontaneity.
(8/12/82)
Waiting has a particular quality, for example. Feelings seem to have a certain duration.
Thoughts have a very special secretness and privateness. This is part of the secret of the interval. Who has not savored and thoroughly appreciated a lucious daydream that no one else may ever know - and may be repeated. No one can take these away, even from a madman, or a man asleep. It has been said that even the dead have their dreams. No one alive willl ever know, and the dead won't remember.
Young people like to laugh, but older people appreciate both the value and the duration of cynicism. Like every form of bravado, its efficacy is short-lived. Love of life- vibrance, warmth- are more lasting and responsive to the daily demands for effort and spontaneity.
(8/12/82)
Sunday, April 27
Hearing Cori Copp's audioblog on Jim Behrle's blog and noticing Sandra Simonds' remark about dysfunctionality in blogland I got into an inner debate with some ideas that came to me about whatever I sensed they were getting at or implying in their comments about blogging. I remembered that people constantly got tired or annoyed on the Buffalo poetics list, particularly women, and would write letters to the list that they were tired of the fighting and arguing or of being completely ignored. I always found this disturbing and wondered why it kept happening. I realize that women have strong reasons for developing a highly sensitized bullshit detector. It's an absolutely necessary defense mechanism against a lot of shenanigans by men some of which are aimed their way. But what I'm thinking right now about writing and the arts in general is: if someone, even better a group of someones don't get bit carried away or outrageous nothing much happens! I don't mean necessarily getting overexcited, or crazy, but at least a bit more intense than everyday levels of becoming absorbed or engaged in ideas, discussion, expression, interaction, exchange. Surely most bloggers try to do this in some way. What kind of theater can happen if people don't get a little surprised, aroused, upset, dazzled, confused or provoked? Any given twenty minutes of television will convince you that most of life should consist of discussions of some sort of mildy provocative rehash of events reported in the news . My favorite Blake aphorisms are: "Enough! Or Too much." The other is: "If the fool were to persist in his folly he would become wise."
"The first thought of some is to consult books.
The first impulse of others is look at things."
"A man who feels things very deeply and has a sense of being intimately bound up with those things themselves cannot help being obscure.
For visibility ceases a few yards below the surface.
To feel very deeply the latent presence, the countless combinations,the sum of all the possibilities of a language transforms *the idea of a thought,* and imparts to every thought that "occurs" to us both freedoms and exigencies quite other than those which are the lot of thoughts handled on everyday lines."
Paul Valery
Analects
The first impulse of others is look at things."
"A man who feels things very deeply and has a sense of being intimately bound up with those things themselves cannot help being obscure.
For visibility ceases a few yards below the surface.
To feel very deeply the latent presence, the countless combinations,the sum of all the possibilities of a language transforms *the idea of a thought,* and imparts to every thought that "occurs" to us both freedoms and exigencies quite other than those which are the lot of thoughts handled on everyday lines."
Paul Valery
Analects
"What is called invention is in the nature of a communication.
Inventiveness in every field keeps pace with the acquisition and improvements of means of communication.
A good system of notation leads to invention.
You need to be two to invent. One man takes combinations, while the other selects, notices what he wants and what c an be of service to him in the total output of his colleague.
What is called
"genius" consists far less in the labors of the former- the act of combining-than in the promptitude with which the second man recognizes the value of what has been produced and takes that product serve his turn.*
*scorn of "natural gifts" and of all that has not been thought out."
Paul Valery
Analects
Inventiveness in every field keeps pace with the acquisition and improvements of means of communication.
A good system of notation leads to invention.
You need to be two to invent. One man takes combinations, while the other selects, notices what he wants and what c an be of service to him in the total output of his colleague.
What is called
"genius" consists far less in the labors of the former- the act of combining-than in the promptitude with which the second man recognizes the value of what has been produced and takes that product serve his turn.*
*scorn of "natural gifts" and of all that has not been thought out."
Paul Valery
Analects
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