Whores for Gloria - William T. Vollmann
...and then they got to Gloria's grandmother's house and in the guestroom Gloria said what do you see? and Jimmy said I see a bed and a lamp and a dresser and Gloria said now turn out the lamp and we'll sit here and pretend we're watching movies all by ourselves now what movie are you watching? and Jimmy closed his eyes and saw a man trying to strangle Dinah and Dinah sobbing and struggling and pulling her knife out and stabbing the man deep in the chest so that his blood sprayed into her eyes and he came at her clutching at her to kill her laughing and bleeding and saying I am the Green River Killer and Dinah stabbed him again and again and he pushed her through the window and Gloria said why aren't you saying anything Jimmy why do you look so strange what movie do you see? and Jimmy said I see a movie about someone who likes people to walk on his face but that's because he's made out of grass and he likes it when the rain falls on his face so he can grow taller and greener, and Gloria said that's a good movie and Jimmy said what do you see? and Gloria said I don't know it's all stories and oh look here's grandmother's kaleidoscope now see how the pretty things keep getting changed into something else.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
my speed metal office mate 2
Ron (I've mentioned him before) sits next to me. He just got up, looked at the radio playing the same classic rock tunes we hear everyday, and changed the dial to 90.3 KRNU. "I'm so sick of hearing the same things." Ron is 55 years old and sits next to me. We're listening to Fleet Foxes right now and I can see Ron's foot tapping.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
i can't
tell you how often people ask me about my desktop at work.
I'll often tell people the truth: "Two of my favorite poets." to which, occasionally, people will ask if they were gay. "Yes!" I say smiling. The ambiguity of whether or not they were in a relationship (they were not) is left. It sort of just hangs in the air.
I'll often tell people the truth: "Two of my favorite poets." to which, occasionally, people will ask if they were gay. "Yes!" I say smiling. The ambiguity of whether or not they were in a relationship (they were not) is left. It sort of just hangs in the air.
a new case?
I was almost out the front of the door when a middle aged cashier picked up her intercom phone and casually said, "Code 44 to the front of the store." Code 44? I thought. I looked up and noticed a 14 to 15 year old, young, female employee grabbing a 13 to 14 year old, young man by his shirt and throwing him vigorously. Left, right, right a little more, this girl was really planted in, her stance was properly shoulder width apart; the kid she had in her control wasn't going anywhere. He was cornered in the entry way of Super Saver. The cashier continued to her passive pleas, "Code 44 to the front of the store." Slowly, an older male Super Saver employee jogged from the back of the store, reluctant to involve himself in the situation at hand. It was at that point, the cashier must have noticed the ridiculous amount of determination shown by the young, female employee desperately trying to hold on to this apparent shoplifter. She began raising her voice, "Code 44! Code 44 to the front of the store! CODE 44! CODE 44!" Out of nowhere, approximately seven large, male employees were sprinting past me toward the exhausted girl going above and beyond any possible expectations set forth for her by her employer. A scuffle ensued and the mob of Super Saver employees grabbing and holding the young man were out of my direct line of sight for an instant. I was standing directly in front of the exit. I turned to Carrie and said, "Code 44 must be code for 'All male employees to the front of the store.'" The mess of employees dragged the young man, along with a bottle of Southern Comfort (red label mind you--little punk) back into the store where I'm sure they were going to call the police. Kid wanted to have some fun, I guess. That young, female employee needs a raise. Or some time off.
Friday, January 30, 2009
listen to kyle bang
I will admit, I had read no more than three poems by Mary Jo Bang before attending the reading she gave at Nebraska Wesleyan University last night. I had heard good things from some of my writer friends over the years. I was intrigued.
The reading began with an introduction that ended with the most appropriate phrase I think I've ever heard at a poetry reading, "Now let's listen to Mary Jo Bang." The playfulness of language was so apparent in the way Mary Jo was going to read by banging out poems. Whether or not this was her given name from birth isn't necessarily important, but it did cause me to question identity, generally and in the poet herself. An interesting device, intentional or otherwise, for a reader or listener who is just beginning to invest themselves in a poet's work.
The unfortunate aspect of poetry readings, at least for myself, is that they are extremely distracting. Not necessarily because of things going on in one's periphery, rather the poems and the poet specifically. If I hear a line that interests me, it distracts my ability to focus on the next line. Missteps by the poet and a poet retracing their steps by re-reading a line without the appropriate breath all kick my attention around in ways that lose the poem. These distractions are magnified if a listener has not invested themselves in a poet beforehand.
Regardless, Mary Jo Bang mentioned her interest in experimenting with language (dare I say artifice?). But an aspect of her poetics that interested me even more was her interest in the combination of experiment and narrative. Not necessarily narrative in the way one would think of a traditional narrative poem, but rather the ability to affect a reader with some sort of conclusive feeling at the end of a poem that ties human experience together. The ability to satisfy both, feelings of bewilderment and excitement through the playfulness of language, as well as a connection to a reader in some sort of living way, is something that has interested and influenced my own writing.
Mary Jo Bang likely directs a reader more so than other poets more vested in a "Language School" approach. By directs, I'm trying to get across an idea of a reader following words, phrases, and sentences in a way that one might possibly follow a friend's voice in a conversation about baseball. My interaction with something like Lyn Hejinian's texts, on the other hand, are limiting in certain ways, but unconfined in other ways. Words are limited in their ability to produce a sort of meaning that hold traditional society's standards of utility. However because those standards are denied, a reader is freed to experience the poem for what it is, nothing more than a rock or a tree, as it were. Mary Jo Bang's texts, from what I heard last night, are similar to this to a point. She does seem to utilize language's traditional standards more so than some of her contemporaries, however, but I think she does it in a way that does miss the mark of an extremely daring poetry. Where along this spectrum of utility a poet places themselves is a question one needs to answer in order to understand a poet's poetics and approach.
Maybe it's because I've been reading and editing so many poems lately, but there were times during the reading where I had the desire to bounce some things off of the poet. I started thinking about the periods of a poet's life and how, eventually, one will likely reach a point where input from others isn't necessarily expected, or possibly even appreciated. I understand that workshops aren't at a very high level of priority for poets who have been writing for a long period of time, and even less of a priority for those few poets whose poetry has been validated as much as a poet such as Mary Jo bang. When she says a poem is finished, I guess her poem is finished. After it is in a book, it isn't polite to say, "did you ever think about doing this?" But if Walt Whitman can mess with Leaves of Grass a gazillion times after it was originally published, I don't see why I couldn't when the time comes. I guess I just don't know how it works. I'm afraid to grow up and lose all of my friends and have everyone around me too afraid to tell me when something does not work. Always tell me. Please.
The reading began with an introduction that ended with the most appropriate phrase I think I've ever heard at a poetry reading, "Now let's listen to Mary Jo Bang." The playfulness of language was so apparent in the way Mary Jo was going to read by banging out poems. Whether or not this was her given name from birth isn't necessarily important, but it did cause me to question identity, generally and in the poet herself. An interesting device, intentional or otherwise, for a reader or listener who is just beginning to invest themselves in a poet's work.
The unfortunate aspect of poetry readings, at least for myself, is that they are extremely distracting. Not necessarily because of things going on in one's periphery, rather the poems and the poet specifically. If I hear a line that interests me, it distracts my ability to focus on the next line. Missteps by the poet and a poet retracing their steps by re-reading a line without the appropriate breath all kick my attention around in ways that lose the poem. These distractions are magnified if a listener has not invested themselves in a poet beforehand.
Regardless, Mary Jo Bang mentioned her interest in experimenting with language (dare I say artifice?). But an aspect of her poetics that interested me even more was her interest in the combination of experiment and narrative. Not necessarily narrative in the way one would think of a traditional narrative poem, but rather the ability to affect a reader with some sort of conclusive feeling at the end of a poem that ties human experience together. The ability to satisfy both, feelings of bewilderment and excitement through the playfulness of language, as well as a connection to a reader in some sort of living way, is something that has interested and influenced my own writing.
Mary Jo Bang likely directs a reader more so than other poets more vested in a "Language School" approach. By directs, I'm trying to get across an idea of a reader following words, phrases, and sentences in a way that one might possibly follow a friend's voice in a conversation about baseball. My interaction with something like Lyn Hejinian's texts, on the other hand, are limiting in certain ways, but unconfined in other ways. Words are limited in their ability to produce a sort of meaning that hold traditional society's standards of utility. However because those standards are denied, a reader is freed to experience the poem for what it is, nothing more than a rock or a tree, as it were. Mary Jo Bang's texts, from what I heard last night, are similar to this to a point. She does seem to utilize language's traditional standards more so than some of her contemporaries, however, but I think she does it in a way that does miss the mark of an extremely daring poetry. Where along this spectrum of utility a poet places themselves is a question one needs to answer in order to understand a poet's poetics and approach.
Maybe it's because I've been reading and editing so many poems lately, but there were times during the reading where I had the desire to bounce some things off of the poet. I started thinking about the periods of a poet's life and how, eventually, one will likely reach a point where input from others isn't necessarily expected, or possibly even appreciated. I understand that workshops aren't at a very high level of priority for poets who have been writing for a long period of time, and even less of a priority for those few poets whose poetry has been validated as much as a poet such as Mary Jo bang. When she says a poem is finished, I guess her poem is finished. After it is in a book, it isn't polite to say, "did you ever think about doing this?" But if Walt Whitman can mess with Leaves of Grass a gazillion times after it was originally published, I don't see why I couldn't when the time comes. I guess I just don't know how it works. I'm afraid to grow up and lose all of my friends and have everyone around me too afraid to tell me when something does not work. Always tell me. Please.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
thursdays are for friends
I met with Marco yesterday (tall German professor friend not large black and white cat). Marco applied to 13 or 14 schools after his undergraduate work. Let me repeat that, Marco applied to 13 or 14 schools after his undergraduate work. ! Out of those 13 or 14 schools, he was accepted into 3. Time to start saving money for application fees? Most likely. My naivety regarding the grad school application process was glaring last evening. I'm glad this is January and not October. That's what I'm saying.
What would an attempt at an a-signifying poetry look like, DJ Spooky? I guess that's sort of what I'm interested in right now. But when I think about my brain, I think about how dumb it is. "Language is about force not representation!" Well yeah. But how do I explain that to my mother? WWJBD?
While watching the first episode of 24 I've ever seen, Mallory mentioned how much more of a badass Jack Bauer is than Jason Bourne. I've only seen one of the Bourne movies, but he seemed pretty badass. This argument will always eventually lead into the Keiffer Southerland v. Matt Damon argument. According to Bennie, Keiffer Southerland can neck down a fair amount of booze. This is where the argument stops at my house. It's all laughing from there. I wonder what their political affiliations are. Keifer and Jack, and Matt and Jason.
Read these:
A Heap of Language
I switch on the light and clear
the table. You come from the ocean
and dry yourself. Inside us, apologies inch
their way around. Most of what we say will hardly matter.
*
Poem with Trademark for a Plastic Disk Thrown From Person to Person in a Game
Fuck magic.
I throw
a Frisbee and it goes
right to you.
- Graham Foust
What would an attempt at an a-signifying poetry look like, DJ Spooky? I guess that's sort of what I'm interested in right now. But when I think about my brain, I think about how dumb it is. "Language is about force not representation!" Well yeah. But how do I explain that to my mother? WWJBD?
While watching the first episode of 24 I've ever seen, Mallory mentioned how much more of a badass Jack Bauer is than Jason Bourne. I've only seen one of the Bourne movies, but he seemed pretty badass. This argument will always eventually lead into the Keiffer Southerland v. Matt Damon argument. According to Bennie, Keiffer Southerland can neck down a fair amount of booze. This is where the argument stops at my house. It's all laughing from there. I wonder what their political affiliations are. Keifer and Jack, and Matt and Jason.
Read these:
A Heap of Language
I switch on the light and clear
the table. You come from the ocean
and dry yourself. Inside us, apologies inch
their way around. Most of what we say will hardly matter.
*
Poem with Trademark for a Plastic Disk Thrown From Person to Person in a Game
Fuck magic.
I throw
a Frisbee and it goes
right to you.
- Graham Foust
Friday, January 23, 2009
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