Saturday, September 17, 2011

The Care with Which the Rain Is Wrong and the Green Is Wrong and the White Is Wrong, the Care with Which There Is a Chair and Plenty of Breathing

Listened to Immortals By My Side and Burdocks yesterday (via this guy and this guy), woke up with this in my head:






  • Cool. (And yes, it was a different Karkowski piece - I may of heard some of his music before, but I'd never heard of him until yesterday - but I couldn't find that piece, so I listened to the one I linked to too.)
  • Concept album.
  • Hey, some new good reads in both Because Left, Because Right.
  • This is true: I love to play the Sillyass Desert Island Game with novelists and musicians, I've never wanted to play it with poets. I point this out as a curiosity that always surprises me when I think about it, nothing more, though it surprises me more I don't think about it more since it always surprises me I don't think about it more when reminded.
  • You want more Karkowski? Sure!







TENDER BUTTONS [A LIGHT IN THE MOON]

Gertrude Stein

A light in the moon the only light is on Sunday. What was the sensible decision. The sensible decision was that notwithstanding many declarations and more music, not even notwithstanding the choice and a torch and a collection, notwithstanding the celebrating hat and a vacation and even more noise than cutting, notwithstanding Europe and Asia and being overbearing, not even notwithstanding an elephant and a strict occasion, not even withstanding more cultivation and some seasoning, not even with drowning and with the ocean being encircling, not even with more likeness and any cloud, not even with terrific sacrifice of pedestrianism and a special resolution, not even more likely to be pleasing. The care with which the rain is wrong and the green is wrong and the white is wrong, the care with which there is a chair and plenty of breathing. The care with which there is incredible justice and likeness, all this makes a magnificent asparagus, and also a fountain.



2 comments:

  1. "I point this out as a curiosity that always surprises me when I think about it, nothing more, though it surprises me more I don't think about it more since it always surprises me I don't think about it more when reminded."

    More! (You may have a career ahead of you as a Stein parodist.)

    "What was the sensible decision."

    Of course it was.

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  2. Desert islanding: easier with albums I'd wager, since our tendency to compartmentalize always sees albums as defined collections always always. Of course, the same can apply to volumes of verse, but then there's the whole anthology gig, so maybe I didn't think this through, heh.

    Or, since someone else is making the noise instead of with a poem that, no matter the writer, always sounds like us because we're the ones reading them out loud. Shrug.

    Might be easier to pick poEMS instead of poETS, though most would from the same handful of the latter.

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