Monday, March 4, 2013

I'm Talking About a Cheap Paperback Which Fans and Slips to the Floor with a Hush

There hasn't been enough Guided by Voices around this shitty blog lately, my apologies. In another offering to your Kindness, I won't tell you about my latest failed attempt to break my novel reading slump and my latest new idea how to break it. White menno enemies (because they are to the left of me). Winning hearts and minds. Turn off your computersDozens of linksBleggalgazing. Bleggalgazing. Bleggalgazing: like the header? I put them up at night, my night, I'm five hours behind Greenwich (four hours soon, whenever we toggle to Daylight Savings Time), will leave up today because (a) what the fuck and (b) there are signs of life in tablet, woot. I've also decided to lose the >>deleted bleggalgazing<< gag, I'll either bleggalgaze or not bleggalgaze and not tell you when I'm deliberately not bleggalgazing. So, bleggalgazing: Holyfuck, all but half a dozen of you don't want to read about DC United. Season lasts only eight more months. Sexism and Star Trek. The dog domesticated us. Brad reviews the new William Gass.  New Coetzee, for those of you who do. A.M. Homes, for those of you who do or, like me, want to. 338 years ago today Vivaldi's mother didn't strangle him at birth, dammit. Stockhausen. Mashayekhi. Harvey. More songs for Hitchcock's birthday yesterday. I must admit, his playing with The Motherfucking Decembrists changes everything - this may be Hitchcock's last mention here. Classical music as story-teller in digital age. I love a genuine rubiness, my heart broken good:

[It Was Jessica Grim the American Poet]

Lisa Robertson

It was Jessica Grim the American poet
who first advised me to read Violette Leduc.
Lurid conditions are facts. This is no different
from the daily protests and cashbars.
I now unknowingly speed towards
which of all acts, words, conditions —
I am troubled that I do not know.
When I feel depressed in broad daylight
depressed by the disappearance of names, the pollen
smearing the windowsill, I picture
the bending pages of La Bâtarde
and I think of wind. The outspread world is
comparable to a large theatre
or to rending paper, and the noise it makes when it flaps
is riotous. Clothes swish through the air, rubbing
my ears. Promptly I am quenched. I’m talking
about a cheap paperback which fans and
slips to the floor with a shush. Skirt stretched
taut between new knees, head turned back, I
hold down a branch,


  1. TNG was an improvement, but only marginally. Each time a creepy bastard ended up on board, Troi swooned over him. Ridiculous, given that the Enterprise had a ready-made creepy bastard to Picard's right.

  2. There's nowhere I'd rather be this morning than caffeinating with you. Brad's Middle C review was a pleasure to read. The only thing I bristled at was--"In what is surely his final novel,...". How can there be any surety about that?

  3. Fuck fuck fuck; I just started Inherent Vice (wh/ PT Anderson is supposedly making into a movie & so far which is a full-on meh) and cued up the two Per Petterson's I haven't read & now you tell me both Gass & Coetzee have new ones? Fuck fuck fuck. How can I write when there's so much to read? Thanks a whole helluva lot.

    Give Robyn a break. He's old. Also too anybody who writes Chinese Bones, Madonna of the Wasps, My Wife & My Dead Wife, Underground Sun, Human Music, & I Wanna Destroy You, gets a pass to jam with anybody he wants. At least once, no? You're a hard man, J-dog.

    Oh, & hey I read all yr the VW Uniteds posts. Just nothing to say thereupon.

  4. You were one of the six I credited with reading the United posts.

    I find myself suddenly, after this weekend, 200 pages into DFW's IJ, read it when it came out EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO! been meaning to reread, been meaning to not reread, but it's not in the first person, it's not a novel about reading about watching oneself read, it's not subject/object/object/object/subject because the author thinks s/o/o/o/s is *fun,* so I'm mildly hopeful. On the hopeful condition that it continues to work, I won't get to my pre-ordered copy of the new Gass for a month or two no matter I dig reading IJ or not.

  5. You were one of the six I credited with reading the United posts.

    I click on them, doesn't that earn partial credit?

  6. Also too turns out James Salter has a new novel coming out. ARRRRGH!