- Got my Giftmas presents to myself yesterday, BOATLOADS of Zoviet France (replacing most of what I owned dubbed onto cassettes years ago, now useless), while listening to Zoviet France for hours last night I did some link-fishing since I while I can hear music and scan books simultaneously I can't listen to music and read novels or poetry at the same time (plus I did some link-fishing this morning over coffee).
- Epic fail: a New Year's meditation.
- Bait and switch: the heavy price of social progress.
- Just as vile as the TSA.
- Fifteen feet of pure white snow: a New Year's meditation with news of another bleggal suicide and the Nick Cave you'd expect by the link's title.
- Harryette Mullen interview: If our attention is limited and if poets are valued according to the needs or preoccupations of each generation of readers, then cycles of memory and forgetfulness may be inevitable.
- Silliman's always generous litlinks.
- Fiction without holes.
- Zoviet France is in the inner circle of musicians/bands for the two rotating spots in My Sillyass Deserted Island Game.
SLEEPING WITH THE DICTIONARY
I beg to dicker with my silver-tongued companion, whose lips are ready to read my shining gloss. A versatile partner, conversant and well-versed in the verbal art, the dictionary is not averse to the solitary habits of the curiously wide-awake reader. In the dark night’s insomnia, the book is a stimulating sedative, awakening my tired imagination to the hypnagogic trance of language. Retiring to the canopy of the bedroom, turning on the bedside light, taking the big dictionary to bed, clutching the unabridged bulk, heavy with the weight of all the meanings between these covers, smoothing the thin sheets, thick with accented syllables—all are exercises in the conscious regimen of dreamers, who toss words on their tongues while turning illuminated pages. To go through all these motions and procedures, groping in the dark for an alluring word, is the poet’s nocturnal mission. Aroused by myriad possibilities, we try out the most perverse positions in the practice of our nightly act, the penetration of the denotative body of the work. Any exit from the logic of language might be an entry in a symptomatic dictionary. The alphabetical order of this ample block of knowledge might render a dense lexicon of lucid hallucinations. Beside the bed, a pad lies open to record the meandering of migratory words. In the rapid eye movement of the poet’s night vision, this dictum can be decoded, like the secret acrostic of a lover’s name.
Gonna take a lot of drugs to get used to the change chez here, though at least the poems ain't leaving 'cause they're often fine doubloons to purloin.ReplyDelete
Dive on in, R.G. The water's fine!Delete
the photo at the top of the page as i type is the neon sign for bun's restaurant, which is located in delaware, ohio, the home of ohio wesleyan university* - not counting delaware city, delaware, there are six other towns named 'delaware' in the u.s., and one in ontarioReplyDelete
the restaurant motto is 'we live but once' - YOLO, in contemporary lingo
if i went there to eat i would probably get the gardenburger
*from wikipedia, re prominent OWU alumni: "Rev. Norman Vincent Peale (1920) was the author of The Power of Positive Thinking and the winner of a Presidential Medal of Freedom for his theological contributions. Others found fame in other forms: Mildred Elizabeth Sisk (aka Axis Sally) was the first American woman to be tried and sentenced for treason, convicted of broadcasting for Nazi Germany during World War II. In 1917, she majored in dramatic arts, but did not graduate due to her failure to meet all university requirements. After serving a 12-year sentence, Sisk returned to OWU, where she received a bachelor's degree in speech in 1973."
Yes, Delaware Ohio, we go there with Planet for dinner after one of our long drives around Ohio, been at least a half dozen times. Strange to type this sentence: the best seafood I've ever got from a restaurant is in the middle of Ohio.Delete