January 2011
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What it means to be named or call yourself ‘Ishmael.’
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“Even the community of the dead had disbanded into ashes, those shapes wheeling...”
– Cormac McCarthy, Suttree
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"Ballad Of A Thin Man," Bob Dylan →
“And without further notice He asks you how it feels, And he says, ‘Here is your throat back Thanks for the loan.’”
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McCarthy and his love affair with “shapes.”
Fucking fascinating, is what that is.
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“We must properly understand the meaning of this expression, Illusion, when...”
– Madame de Staël (1810; anonymous translation)
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So-o, whilst ein was driving this morning, mp3 player did its OH SHIT!!!! fail thing. Switched to the radio, and what did I run into?
Strauss’ second horn concerto.
OH YEAH, OH YEAH.
(Granted that I wasn’t much a fan of what I heard of the particular recording, but. Still. That feckin’ piece.)
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Today, I was surprise-attacked by Emily Dickinson.
These things sometimes happen, I guess.
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“Dear friend now in the dusty clockless hours of the town when the streets lie...”
– Cormac McCarthy, Suttree (I’m just saying. That’s a helluva way to start off.)
true and thrice-stained
though only if you asked the girl’s mother
to see it through herself
the sin and taint became wholly other
burst of fresh-flown powder.
crimson only to the tilted eye.
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On my wall, time has been caught-suspended in separation.
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“The hill rises, cresting. He has never seen the sea, and so he thinks, ‘It...”
– William Faulkner, Light In August
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“My voice formed from my life belongs to no one else. What I put into words is no...”
– Susan Howe, My Emily Dickinson
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Greg Allen’s 25 Rules for Creating Good Theater →
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“Now, here, is a life that needs you.
All the other lives you may defend:
all...”
– Clytemnestra in Charles Mee’s Iphigenia 2.0
and you are haunted in the strangest ways
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“Logic and classification had led civilization toward man, away from space....”
– Charles Olson, Call me Ishmael
Just to discover whether you’ve some voice of your own, whatever that may mean. Hard to tell, amid such clutter.
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So, today, I’m taking a bi-plane trip in my head, and we’re going to shoot some hoops along the way with any birds what happen to meet us among the crowds.
(Question: Where does this plan fall flat?
Answer: I DON’T PLAY BASKETBALL. Which is actually maybe okay, because I’m not sure birds are all that basketball-adept, either, so I guess we’d be about evenly...
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“Brown’s mobile face performed one of those instantaneous changes which...”
– William Faulkner, Light In August
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I purchased a used copy of Faulkner’s Light In August. Somebody wrote “Fuck” in very messy (oh, right, as if I’ve room to talk) letters on the side.
Oh, Fuckner.
The “k” is missing part of its letter. Kind of looks like a flying, backwards “y.” And maybe, just maybe, that’s what it is.
Wouldn’t that be somethin’?
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“He must have drunk some unpasteurized milk up there.”
Ohgod. Flannery O’Connor, you win again.
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New Play Map →
From the American Voices New Play Institute. Haven’t sufficiently poked through it yet, but c’est een-teresting…
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“And he came at last to the outer barrier where the long leathery brown algae...”
– John Steinbeck, Cannery Row
(caught me entirely off-guard. and the music, after. well played, Mr. Steinbeck. well played.)
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Waiting for Godot for Wii breaks first week sales... →
“Health experts have welcomed the latest development in gaming: ‘We were seriously concerned about the legacy that Wii was leaving our young people,’ claims Mike Smart, head of the government-funded ’Fit for Life’ campaign. ‘We were raising a generation that was physically fit but completely unable to contemplate the futility of life and the inevitability of death. These new...
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BITCHES. E-mail sent, books returned, spoken needs spoken, and I am goddamn DONE with that place.
And it feels, oh, very right.
(Granted, we’ll see how all of this works or fails to work, but for the time being? Optimism’ll work well enough.)
See, but when you say “all the eyelids in the world couldn’t block the brightness,” d’you mean every eyelid on its own (well, okay, maybe working with its skull-sharing mate) or, like, all of the eyelids stacked on top of each other?
Because I’ve got to think, stacked like that, they’d at least have a chance.
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And I’m thinking, “Oh, look, I can breathe again, maybe.”
And it isn’t a bad thought, ‘t’all.
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