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A friend said this might be heterophobic. But still, laugh it up. A play on "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf" by Ntozake Shange.

For Straight Guys Who've Considered Suicide When the KY Is Enough

are you worried I want you?
are you worried I jerk off
picturing you
naked
touching me?
swallowing me?
yeah
maybe I do
maybe I think about you
everynight
and there's nothing you can do
about it

Read the rest of the poem at the site for CA Conrad's book of poems, Deviant Propulsion, from Soft Skull. And then buy it and then lend it to me when you're done with it.

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In memoriam

How much can we hope to understand those who have suffered deeper anguish, greater deprivation, and more crushing disappointments than we ourselves have ever known?




How much can a man hear another's voice inside him?




Quotes from Snow by Orhan Pamuk. The first from page 259. The second from page 441.



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The Bus of Michael Haneke

“I had a dream last night,” Haneke told me toward the end of our lunch in New York. “A nightmare, to be exact. Maybe you’ll find it useful for your piece.” For a moment he was uncharacteristically quiet. He finally said: “I was sitting in a bus, and suddenly it went out of control. For some reason I was responsible for everybody’s safety, but I couldn’t get the steering wheel to work: perhaps it was broken, perhaps someone else was preventing me. People were wandering up and down the street, and the bus ran them over, unavoidably, one after another. Somehow I was responsible for this, but I was helpless to prevent it.” He took a slow, thoughtful sip of his coffee. “A pretty terrible dream, but to me it seems representative of our current situation in the world. All of us are responsible but unable to change the direction of the bus — everyone in Europe, everyone in the so-called first world, is in that same position. A horrible predicament, almost unbearable if you think about it, but the bus keeps right on rolling.”

Rest of the interview with Haneke is here.

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'Onde quiera que vayas...

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Free the Jena 6

We protest because Jena is not a rural Southern town, it is a state of mind -- not from the 1950s, but of the here and now in every American town, suburb and city from South to North and sea to shining sea.

We protest because Jena exemplifies with such brutal clarity the racialization of crime in our society.

We protest because we are moved to do so, not because any charismatic leader told us to do so.

We protest because we are following our our consciences, not polls.

We protest because we know that leaders do not draw crowds, crowds attract (more) leaders.

We protest because "we are the leaders we have been waiting for."

To read more about this statement, see Afro-Netizen. More info on Jena 6 and to help out, see Color of Change. Specially like the line about leaders not drawing crowds. Crowds attract more leaders. True true.

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Word For/Word

Stumbled on this journal which has been around for awhile it seems, but which I just discovered. Word For/Word.

There is a really interesting feature on Chilean sound and visual poetry coming out of Foro de Escritores. The Foro is described in an interview by one of its members:

The only goal is to have an open space for poets and artists to gather together every three or four weeks in a pub in Santiago (the Rapa Nui bar in the Providencia area) to show to other poets and artists their work, what they are doing or making at that moment. In that sense it is a workshop. Most of the collaborators have a common interest in language and an interest in exploration—in some cases reckless exploration of forms, formats, and media.

All this work is very worth exploring. And it's presented in a way that makes it really easy to access.

Visual image by Anamaría Briede. Man grasping throat is Gregorio Fontén.

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'







There is no unalloyed joy.









I wonder how I have missed this expression "unalloyed joy." Google registers 14,900 results. Practically a cliché. But not for me. The Word for the Day is "unalloyed" used with concepts.

un·al·loyed adj.

1. Not in mixture with other metals; pure.
2. Complete; unqualified: unalloyed blessings; unalloyed relief.

Coincindentally, there are only four mentions of "There is no unalloyed joy." And Bad Texas is currently link number one. Yes. Google it and you will see. Perhaps. Google is such a mystery.

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Haz click en la imagen para poder leer el texto.
Es que Blogger no me dejó poner espacios en el texto, y por eso.

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Javier

Come check out Javier O. Huerta in Houston...

Will present his new book of poetry, Some Clarifications y otros poemas, winner of the University of California, Irvine’s Chicano / Latino Literary Prize.

On Sunday, September 30 at the George R. Brown from 1:00 - 2:00 p.m. in Hall A-3 Room C. Which coincidentally coincides with the 800th anniversary of the birth of the Sufi poet Rumi (according to Javier).

Just met Javier a month or so ago in Monterrey at an Encuentro de Escritores. A brawny guy with a radical sense of humor, taking wanderingly new directions in his poetry. He also was raised up in H-Town so we gotta support our own, y'know? Sorry for getting all citycentric. But you should really try and come. And if you're out of town, you can crash with me.

The beginning of his poem "Rising Thunder":

I came to translate the mountain, but the mountain did not speak. I gave it a name: O Rising Thunder. But the mountain did not speak. I danced in a circle and chanted its name. I sacrificed a scorpion and left it at its feet. But the mountain did not speak.

More of his poems are at this journal Three Candles. And there is more info about him and his work in this part of the Arte Publico website. Javier also has a UnitedStatesian blog over here.

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Mejor un pájaro en la mano que cien volando.







Mejor dicho: "Más vale pájaro en mano que ciento volando." Gracias, Román.

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Señorita Cinema

Calling all Latina filmmakers! Aquí, allá, no importa donde viven. Call for Entries for an all Latina filmfest my friend, Stephanie Saint Sanchez, is doing here in Houston.
THE LONE STAR STATE'S VERY FIRST ALL LATINA FILM FESTIVAL!

We are seeking films and videos by Latina Filmakers and Video Artists for an exclusive exhibition at Houston’s Premiere venue for cutting edge art The Lawndale Art Center. This is a juried show with awards going to 1st, 2nd and 3rd place. Senorita Cinema will be a part of Lawndale’s month long acclaimed Dia De Los Muertos Program. Film Festival nights are October 12 and 13th with a possible extended run as an installation.

Formats accepted: VHS, DVD, MINI DV, DIGITAL 8

Since we want to spotlight as many Artists as possible this year we will be concentrating on short works. Any genre 15 minutes or less will be considered. This includes trailers for larger works and even music videos. Multiply entries accepted as long as the total running time does not exceed 15 minutes and are on one tape or disk.

ENTRY FEE: $15.00 JUL. 30th - SEPT. 21st
LATE ENTRY: $25.00 SEPT. 22nd - OCT. 2nd
Make Check or Money Order Out to La Chicana Laundry Pictures.
FINAL DEADLINE POSTMARKED by OCT. 2nd!

Get more info on the filmfest web page or its MySpace page. Puedes mandar cosas de México o de Latinoamérica o de cualquier lado, no tienen que vivir en los Unaites.

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Él que peca y reza, empata.





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Los hijos bastardos del petróleo

Una amiga (a la que quiero más y más) me lleva a ver la vista de Manhattan desde Jersey City, nos emocionamos, cotorreamos, tomamos dos botellas de vino y nos la pasamos super suave. Al regresar grabo un mensaje en el celular como un recuerdo:

Él: Los hijos bastardos del petróleo, o sea los texanos que no caminan. Cuéntame más.

Ella: Los hijos bastardos del petróleo son áquellos, de todas las ciudades, no solamente Tejas, Texas es la capital de los hijos bastardos, pero todos, en total, son áquellos que van en su puto carro a comprar una bolsa de leche.

Él: Una bolsa???

Ella: Una botella, perrrdón, que se encuentra (en colombia se compra en bolsas) que se encuentra a dos putas cuadras y tienen que llevarrr su puto carrrrro a caminarrr dos putos cuadras porque no imporrrta cuánto contaminamos el ambiente, porque no podemos caminar dos cuadras, eh? No vivimos en la civilización primitiva.

Él: Te pasas.

Ella: Que meto lo que se me de la gana y esos son los hijos bastardos del petróleo, que ahora camina a ver una vista, como es que la has llamado?

Él: Es una vista reconocida al nivel mundial.

Ella: Y se queja por caminar menos de veinte minutos. Hi jo bas tar do del pe tró le o.

Él: Gracias.

(Y se acaba el mensaje.)

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Los extranjeros de la noche

The city shrank between us.

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