A year ago I primarily - with the three primary colors only - created self-portraits, and when I did create with words it was almost exclusively with ink in tablets. I haven't put watercolor or pencil or gauche or ink to canvas since early Spring, I put ink in tablet until mid-summer but exclusively type now
Three weeks ago or so I inserted photos into multiple grid boxes and it posted fine itself but caused the front page to only display that post, and since that post all photos have been posted outside of the grid, and yes Im experimenting if this will break blaager (it did, it *did* break blaager just like before, fuck yay me)
I got Doctor Sevrin ears
If you are one of the few kind enough to count to 17 there is a 575 tag I will try to add to a post with 575 so you don't count to seventeen when I'm not trying to make you (no tag today)
If this post doesn't break blooger I've *two!* photos for next time, insurrection!, googler
I used penned inked penciled watercolor canvases to break out of reading and writing slumps
I am not in a reading slump I am not in a writing slump (I am in a clusterfuck slump), I've no jones to spritz palette, no plans to hotwater and thumb-clean crusty brushes (I do miss my triangle ruler), the original point of the post is not why (because I know) but a wonder will I start again when the next inevitable reading and writing slump womps, but now I'm more curious what can I do until blooger vomits on grid and I've already tested excel & google gagged on excel and do I search for and learn how to work something that wahwahs better than bleeger and bleeger's cousin sheetz, and when can I make myself vomit Enough
The clusterfuck, let me paraphrase what I paraphrase what I paraphrase daily: nothing the fuck has changed, nothing breaks kayfabe more than a deliberate kayfabe smasher can than a motherfucking kayfabe restorationist putting the shattered dumpty back on its humpty
Ira on his radio show Tuesday night played Carole King songs for her birthday, here, The Monkees, the first song ever imprinted (still) in me, a Carole King song
PORTRAIT IN THE FORM OF EPHEMERA
Mary Jo Bang
Three items in an envelope. A photograph of two, four, six, eight, nine
boys boarding a bus. Not boys, men. Dressed in the long wool coat of
winter. Something “based on the life of.” What can a moment outlast?
That question becomes a theory, theorem, mechanism. Three boys, one
girl, a tree brushing back air off her forehead. Paper, six clean
sheets, a monogrammed envelope. An index. The physical bias to existence
becomes some wedge, the inexact value of an empire of ether. Tick-tick.
The amphibian emerges from water, walks off stage. It’s as if evolution
is embodied in absence. Someone is lying on her back. She turns over.
Her breath is in the air. Or in the idea of atmosphere.
the translation of dante's inferno by mary jo bang begins
Stopped mid-motion in the middle Of what we call a life, I looked up and saw no sky- Only a dense cage of leaf, tree, and twig. I was lost.
the blurb asserts
Award-winning poet Mary Jo Bang has translated the Inferno into English at a moment when popular culture is so prevalent that it has even taken Dante, author of the fourteenth century epic poem, The Divine Comedy, and turned him into an action-adventure video game hero. Dante, a master of innovation, wrote his poem in the vernacular, rather than in literary Latin. Bang has similarly created an idiomatically rich contemporary version that is accessible, musical, and audacious. She's matched Dante's own liberal use of allusion and literary borrowing by incorporating literary and cultural references familiar to contemporary readers: Shakespeare and Dickinson, Freud and South Park, Kierkegaard and Stephen Colbert. The Inferno--the allegorical story of a spiritual quest that begins in a dark forest, traverses Hell's nine circles, and ends at the hopeful edge of purgatory--was also an indictment of religious hypocrisy and political corruption. In its time, the poem was stunningly new. Bang's version is true to the original: lyrical, politically astute, occasionally self-mocking, and deeply moving. With haunting illustrations by Henrik Drescher, this is the most readable Inferno available in English, a truly remarkable achievement.
the critic for the new york daily news said
“Bang [dwells] in depths--not only in Dante's, but our own. . . . Bang's hell is our culture, the numbing proliferation of texts, images, meanings, interpretations. For her, the perfervid busyness of our culture leads to a deadening akin to spiritual numbness. Hence the allusions to everything from Woody Allen's Crimes and Misdemeanors to the Boy Scouts to frozen Jell-O to the Hotel California--these are the fragments that have shored up against our ruins, to borrow from T. S. Eliot, who knew a thing or two about Dante, and death, and fittingly appears several times in these pages.”
Yay you! Apropos of everything and nothing, both Carole King and Kate Bush are nominated this time for the R&RHoF. The fine irony abounding being they are both in their own hall.
Here's a truly remarkable triptych of haikuing I found on the internet:
Capitalism? You’re soaking in it says Madge Plague out of control
by design and not by design by design, I’m asked to judge my self
the translation of dante's inferno by mary jo bang begins
ReplyDeleteStopped mid-motion in the middle
Of what we call a life, I looked up and saw no sky-
Only a dense cage of leaf, tree, and twig. I was lost.
the blurb asserts
Award-winning poet Mary Jo Bang has translated the Inferno into English at a moment when popular culture is so prevalent that it has even taken Dante, author of the fourteenth century epic poem, The Divine Comedy, and turned him into an action-adventure video game hero. Dante, a master of innovation, wrote his poem in the vernacular, rather than in literary Latin. Bang has similarly created an idiomatically rich contemporary version that is accessible, musical, and audacious. She's matched Dante's own liberal use of allusion and literary borrowing by incorporating literary and cultural references familiar to contemporary readers: Shakespeare and Dickinson, Freud and South Park, Kierkegaard and Stephen Colbert. The Inferno--the allegorical story of a spiritual quest that begins in a dark forest, traverses Hell's nine circles, and ends at the hopeful edge of purgatory--was also an indictment of religious hypocrisy and political corruption. In its time, the poem was stunningly new. Bang's version is true to the original: lyrical, politically astute, occasionally self-mocking, and deeply moving. With haunting illustrations by Henrik Drescher, this is the most readable Inferno available in English, a truly remarkable achievement.
the critic for the new york daily news said
“Bang [dwells] in depths--not only in Dante's, but our own. . . . Bang's hell is our culture, the numbing proliferation of texts, images, meanings, interpretations. For her, the perfervid busyness of our culture leads to a deadening akin to spiritual numbness. Hence the allusions to everything from Woody Allen's Crimes and Misdemeanors to the Boy Scouts to frozen Jell-O to the Hotel California--these are the fragments that have shored up against our ruins, to borrow from T. S. Eliot, who knew a thing or two about Dante, and death, and fittingly appears several times in these pages.”
Yay you! Apropos of everything and nothing, both Carole King and Kate Bush are nominated this time for the R&RHoF. The fine irony abounding being they are both in their own hall.
ReplyDeleteHere's a truly remarkable triptych of haikuing I found on the internet:
Capitalism?
You’re soaking in it says Madge
Plague out of control
by design and not
by design by design, I’m
asked to judge my self
fucking personnel
reviews, HR viruses
Palmolive dish soap