In a bourgeois narrative the text is supposedly a mirror of that which is outside the text, so the reason that you identify with the character is that you believe the character goes in this mirror version of your life, and comes out with some bit of knowledge. This idea, which is basically impossible after Roland Barthes, is that you can know, that you can read a text, that you can learn something, that you can in a way possess knowledge: you are a centralized identity, and you as this centralized "I" are capable of knowing it. I mean it's based on Descartes. I don't live in that kind of world, so I would never go to a piece of art thinking that I can get a moral message from it, and that I'm in that much control. I think the real relations are very different.
and
We don't live in a culture where everyone has the same culture. When I teach a class, my students come in and I don't think there's one single book that I can pick that every student has read. We don't have a common culture anymore.
- From a rad interview with Kathy Acker before she died in 1997. Radical yes. .
“Hay muchas líneas interesantes en la poesía norteamericana actual. Una de ellas es Flarf, en la que poetas como K. Silem Mohammad y Katia Degentesh hacen poemas con el lenguaje de búsquedas en Google (se le llama escultura google) para revelar las patologías del discurso contemporáneo. Otra línea es el nuevo minimalismo practicado por poetas como Graham Foust, Devin Johnston y Joe Massey. Estos poetas escriben poemas tensos, oblicuos que pueden ser descritos como líricos. Hay mujeres, tal vez inspiradas en la poeta canadiense Lisa Robertson, que escriben poemas post-feministas que son barrocos y excesivos y deliberadamente grotescos (vienen ahora mismo a la mente los nombres de Catherine Wagner, Lara Glenum y Sandra Lim). Y finalmente hay poetas como Juliana Spahr, Rodrigo Toscano y Ben Lerner, quienes escriben una poesía de agudo análisis político sin el carácter necesariamente paródico de Flarf. En cada uno de estos movimientos encuentro algo con lo que me relaciono o que me inspira”.
- De una entrevista de Rae Armentrout por crg. Lee más aquí.
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RZKXPX - Sci Fi Soundtrack music from Monterrey, Mexico.
Trying to Get Home
Galveston's centuries old black community struggles to get home. White power elite in town makes decisions without input and participation from community. Sounds like the same old 2005 Gulf Coast story. Read about it in the Texas Observer, one of the best magazines here in the state.
This would be home. And this would be the space to write about these things which happen to one person and should be could be reflected in the world around one. But one does not obstinately does not use this space for that. And one hopes you understand. The parasitic internet world around us surrounds us and colludes against us at least in post-apocalyptic fantasies. Who knows what would really be the meaning of all these robotic arms and new processing brains and memory cards. Would this be a memory card.
So long as I remain alive and well I shall continue to feel strongly about prose style, to love the surface of the earth, and to take a pleasure in solid objects and scraps of useless information. It is no use trying to suppress that side of myself. The job is to reconcile my ingrained likes and dislikes with the essentially public, non-individual activities that this age forces on all of us.
- George Orwell in Why I Write
- George Orwell in Why I Write
Intricacies of Modern Arabic
Edward Said has this incredible essay, The Language of the People or of the Scholars?, a primer on the modern day complexities of the Arabic language - standard, classical and colloquials - and the intricate divisions and interconnections between these varieties across nationalities and social classes. It is so worth reading. I often use this blog as a place to leave these kinds of things that fascinate me. And I wanted to leave this here for me and for you.
All this light is dead," said Ingeborg. "All this light was emitted thousands and millions of years ago. It's the past, do you see? When these stars cast their light, we didn't exist, life on Earth didn't exist, even Earth didn't exist. This light was cast a long time ago. It's the past, we're surrounded by the past, everything that no longer exists or exists only in memory or guesswork is there now, above us, shining on the mountains and the snow and we can't do anything to stop it."
- A quote from Roberto Bolaño's 2666 in Francisco Goldman's new essay on Words Without Borders about the author, grief, death and literature.
La bienvenida oficial al DF
Al lado del Templo Mayor, rodeado de danzantes, olor a copal y breakdancers que llamaban a los espiritus de la lluvia y del sol, un hombre canoso con una colita trenzada en un traje de lino blanco y huaraches se nos acerca para ofrecernos una hoja de papel con todos los dioses aztecas listados con dibujitos de cada uno. Meneamos la cabeza y le dijimos "No gracias" mirándole en los ojos un segundo. Y nos dice, "No pues, se la regalo, quiero que conozcan algo de nuestra cultura." Y meneamos otra vez la cabeza. Nos dice, "¿De dónde son?" Y contestamos que somos de Tejas y la cara del señor se vuelve rojo y más arrugado y nos dice, "No pues, no, no les voy a regalar nada. Ustedes ni pueden entender esto. Solamente entienden Mickey Mouse y el Hombre Araña y las chingaderas de allá. No les voy a dar nada." Ya me sentía como que caliente, mi cuerpo tieso, y le digo, "Modernízate guey modernízate. No seas idiota." Y esquiva la mirada, nos da la espalda y tan pronto como apareció, el señor se va, gritando, "No, ustedes nunca van a entender nada de nuestra cultura. Nada de nada."
You get quiet. You are almost always alone. You stop going out to the city. Stop telling long, entertaining stories to make people laugh. You move into yourself and out of the world. You suddenly realize the language you used to speak is not the language you write now. You suddenly realize what condensation gathers on the window on days when suddenly the temperature drops. You cook beans in a pot made of clay, let them come to a boil and then watch them. You do small things. You write like never before because suddenly you have nothing else and it is obvious that there is nothing else. You stop reading the Internet. You disconnect from the Internet. Your friends are worried about you. You do nothing to allay their fears. You stop returning phone calls in a regular, orderly fashion. You harbor dreams of greatness and wonder how it would be achieved. You masturbate at night and continue to enjoy the moment after orgasm more than the orgasm itself. You write because your grandmother dies and suddenly that entire generation is gone. You try to imagine fictional worlds and constantly end up regressing to your own. You wonder about how your language has regressed in the last few years. Your isolation is supposed to be productive. You produce. You write many words whose quality you doubt to the extreme. You labor over words and syntax. You strain to eek something shiny and bright out of old, old words. Sometimes you are happy in your quietness and talk to yourself. This is not being quiet, you scold yourself. Alone, staring out the window you see the trees, the forest, the mountain in the distance. You have suddenly arrived to the place you have always wanted to be. The chance is yours.
(This is a reprint from the Catalogue of Feeling.)
Nimrod Call for Submissions for spring issue focused on Mexico
We are happy to share a call for submissions from Nimrod International Journal, one of the oldest "little magazines" in the country. Nimrod's Spring 2009 issue will be devoted to Mexico. They are interested in receiving poetry, short stories, and personal essays-in English or translated into English-by those currently living in Mexico, Mexican residents of other countries, and others who write about or from within the culture. Send no more than 10 pages of poetry, and stories and essays of no more than 7,500 words, in any subject or style. Translations should be accompanied by the original and, when necessary, a release from the author to publish in Nimrod. From the United States, mail submissions to: Nimrod Journal, The University of Tulsa, 800 S. Tucker Drive, Tulsa, OK 74104 [Mark both the outer envelope and the cover letter with "Mexico issue."] Outside the United States, submissions will be accepted by mail or in the body of an email to nimrod@utulsa.edu. The deadline for submissions is December 15, 2008. Please feel free to share this call widely. Visit the website for more information.
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