chris murray's *Texfiles*

"A note to Pound in heaven: Only one mistake, Ezra! You should have talked to women" --George Oppen, _Twenty Six Fragments_





Archives:





xoxo Hey, E-Mail Me! xoxo







ManY PoETiKaL HaTs LisT:

Holly's Pirate-girl Hat, chrismurray in a straw hat, Michael Helsem's Gray Wyvern NOLA Fedora. Duchamp's Rrose Selavy's flirting hat. Max Ernst's Hats of The Hat Makes the Man. Jordan Davis' The Hat! poetry. hks' smelly head baseball cap. Samuel Beckett's Lucky's Black bowler hat, giving his oration on what's questionable in mankind, in *Waiting for 'God-ot'*. my friend John Phillips's 1969 dove gray fedora w/ wild feather. Bob Dylan's mystery lover's Panama Hat. Bob Creeley's Black Mountain Felt Boater Hat. Duke Ellington's Satin Top Hat. Acorn Hats of Tree. Freud's 1950 City Fedora. Joseph Brodsky's Sailor Cap. Harry K Stammer's Copper Hat Hell. Lewis LaCook's bowler hat(s). Tom Beckett's Bad Hair Day Furry Pimp Hat. Daughter Holly's black beret. harry k stammer's fez. Cat in the Hat's Hat & best hat, Googling Texfiles: crocheted hat with flames. Harry K Stammer's tinseled berets. Tex's 10 gallon Gary Cooper felt Stetson cowboy hat. Jordan Davis's fedora. Dali's High-heel Shoe Hat. Harry K Stammer's en-blog LAPD Hat & aluminum baseball cap. cap'n caps. NY-Yankees caps. the HKS-in-person-caps are blue or green no logos nor captions. Ma Skanky Possum 10's nighttime cap. moose antler hat. propeller beenie hat. doo rag. knit face mask hat. Bob Dylan's & photographer Laziz Hamani's panama hats. Mark Weiss's Publisher's Hat. Rebecca Loudon's Seattle-TX-Hats'n'boots.




Ever-Evolving Links:


Silliman's Links
Dominic Rivron
Unidentified
Br Tom @ One & Plainer
Dan Waber: ars poetica anthology
Dan Waber: altered books anthology
chris daniels: Notes to a Fellow Traveller
Chris Daniels: Toward an Anti-Capitalist Poetry
David Daniels: The Gates Of Paradise
subterranean poets: Beijing Poetry Group
Charles Alexander/Chax Press: Chaxblog
Headlines Poetry: the latest weblog entries
Henry Gould's AlephoeBooks
Julie Choffel's Understory
Tom Murphy's former one
Jean Vengua's New Okir
Roger Pao's Asian-American Poetry
Tom Lisk: Oilcloth and Linoleum
Kevin Doran
Reb Livingston's Cackling Jackal Blog
Janet Holmes: Humanophone
Lorna Dee Cervantes
Mark Young's gamma ways
Brian Campbell: Out of the Woodwork
Shanna's DIY Publishing Blog
Galatea Resurrects: a Poetry Review
Tom Beckett
John Sakkis: BOTH BOTH
New Francois Luong:Voices in Utter Dark, KaBlow!sm is...
Old Francois Luong: Voices in Utter Dark
Margin Walker: Andrew Lundwall
Free Space Comix: the latest BK Stefans blog
Adam Lockhart, Experimentalist Composer
Antic View: Alan Bramhall & Jeff Harrison
lookouchblog: Jessica Smith
MiPOradio
Web Log -- Charles Bernstein
Google Poem Generator: Leevi Lehto
Marie Mutsuki Mockett
Feral Scholar: Stan Goff
worderos: Tom Beckett
In Galatea's Purse
Japundit
Quiet Desperation: Jim Ryal
Luca Antara: Martin Edmond
Brief Epigrams: Ryan Alexander MacDonald
Radio My Vocabulary: 4 pm Sunday Poetry Streams
Mark Lamoreaux: [[[0{:}0]]]
Hot Whiskey Blog
louder
Nick Bruno: They Shoot Poets Don't They?
Joe Massey: Rooted Fool
Kate Greenstreet: every other day
heuriskein: Tom Orange
Chiaroscuro Metropoli: Tom Beckett
Behrle's latest spout!
Fluffy Dollars: Michelle Detorie
Jane Dark's Sugar High!
The Katherine Anne Porter Literary Center
(Charles) Olson Now: Michael Kellaher & Ammiel Alcalay
kari edwards' TranssubMUTATION
Notes on the Revival: Jeremy Hawkins
PurPur: Petrus Pokus
Snapper Missives: Scott Pierce
A Sad Day for Sad Birds II: Gina Meyers
Great Works: Peter Philpot
zafusy: experimental poetry journal
Writeboard: a collaborative writing tool
John Latta: Rue Hazard
KP Harris: Croissant Factory
Stephanie Young's New Site
Stephen Vincent's New Site
Portable Press@Yo~Yo Labs
Square America
Amy King's blog
Robert: Peyoetry Hut
Muisti Kirja: Karri Kokko
Karri Kokko's Blonde on Blonde
Yummeee Blog (recipes)
Nice Guy Syndrome: Tim Botta
Left Hook
Del Ray Cross: anachronizms
Juan Cole: Informed Comment
BuzzFlash - Daily Headlines, Breaking News, Links
Aaron McCollough
Chris Lott's Cosmopoetica
Chad Parenteau
Little Emerson
Fever, Light--by Sawako Nakayasu
Second Wish
Nomadics
Alison Croggon
Radical Druid
Ron is Ron: the Ron Silliman Cartoon by Jim Behrle
Dagzine: Positions, Poetics, Populations: Gary Norris
Shadows within Shadows: Tom Beckett
Self Similar Writing: Jukka Pekka Kervinen
The Little Workshop: Cassie Lewis
Sky Bright: Jay Rosevear
Poesy Galore: Emily Lloyd
Lisa Jarnot's Blog
Poetry Hut: Jilly Dybka (has moved here)
Pornfeld: Michael Hoerman
Seven Apples: Justin Ulmer
Hi Spirits: Andrew Burke
Bacon Bargain!: Joe Massey
Ivy is here: Ivy Alvarez
Whimsy Speaks: Jeff Bahr
Umbrella: Jeff Wietor
Chicanas! (Susana L. Gallardo)
Masters of Photography
Blog of Disquiet: Gary Norris' Teaching Blog
Suzanna Gig Jig
Bad with Titles: Jay Thomas
Spaceship Tumblers! Tony Tost
Desert City: Ken Rumble
E-Po
Zotz!
Optative Mood: Tim Morris
ecritures bleues: Laura Carter
The Ingredient: Alli Warren
Skanky Possum Pouch
Slight Publications
Jewishy-Irishy: Laurel Snyder
Sea-Camel: Alberto Romero Bermo
Growing Nations: Jordan Stempleman
Tom Raworth
Entropy and Me: Hal Johnson
Scott Pierce: Snapper's Junk
Chicano Poet: Reyes Cardenas
Semio-Karl M&M
Stephen Vincent
Hoa Nguyen/Teacher's & Writers
a New Word Placements
Narcissus Works: Anny Ballardini
Richard Lopez
Tributary: Allen Bramhall
The_Delay: Chris Vitiello
Jukka Pekka Kervinen: Nonlinear Poetry
Lanny Quarles: Phaneronoemikon
Clifford Duffy: Fictions of Deleuze & Guattari
DagZine
Carrboro Poetry Festival
Steve Evans: Third Factory
DEBORAH PATILLO
SKANKY POSSUM PRESS
Tim Peterson: Mappemunde
WOOD'S LOT
Geof Huth: DBQP
Ann Marie Eldon
Jim Behrle: The Jim Side
Ray Bianchi:Postmodern Collage Poetry
Never Mind the Beasts
Diaryo
New Broom
Flingdump Scattershot
Tony Tost: Unquiet Grave
Grapez
SB POET
Mark Young's Pelican Dreaming
|||AS/IS2|||
Li's A Private Studio
Anny Ballardini's Poet's Corner
Tom Beckett: Vanishing Points
Dumbfoundry
BadGurrrlNest
Jean Vengua's Okir
Hear-it dot org: info on hearing problems
Tim Yu's Tympan
James Yeager's Modern Lives
Tony Robinson: Geneva Convention
Daniel Nestor's Unpleasant Event
Ex-Lion Tamer
Carlos Arribas: Scriptorium
David Nemeth
Ela's Incertain Plume
Mairead Byrne's Heaven
Catherine Daly
Black Spring
Br.Tom's Finish Yr Phrase
Shin Yu Pai: makura-no-soshi
Harry K. Stammer: Downtown LA
Corina's Fledgling Wordsmith
Jilly Dybka's Poetry Hut
Ben Basan's Luminations
Katey: Chewing on Pencils
YaY!! Eileen Tabios: Chatelaine Poetics !
Jill Jones: Ruby Street
Geoffrey Gatza's BlazeVox
Bill Allegrezza's P-Ramblings
Gary Sullivan's Elsewhere
GoldenRuleJones
Poetry_Heat
Bookslut
Chickee's SuperDeluxeGoodPoems
As-Is !
John Latta's Hotel Point
Sawako Nakayasu's Ongoing Show
Shanna Compton's Brand New Insects
Crag Hill
kari edwards: transdada
Fluss
Michael Helsem's Gray Wyvern
Word Placement
Bogue's Blog
Jordan Davis: Equanimity
Robert Flach's Unadulterated Text
Michelle Bautista
Ironic Cinema
Mike Snider
Farewell Tonio!

In Through the Out Door
The Blonde Brunette
Awake at Dawn on Someone's Couch is Toast
Jukka-Pekka Kervinen:Non-Linear
Xpress(ed) !
Chris Lott's Ruminate
Venepoetics
Laura: Yellowslip
Stick Poet Super Hero
Mighty Jens!
Radio UTA: Toni's Thursday Poetry Show
Tim Morris: Lection
Gabe Gudding
Constant Critic
Sappho's Breathing
Waves of Reading
Jhananin's Insite
Fanaticus
AdvExpo
Stephen Vincent
Stephanie Young: New Well Nourished Moon
Kasey Silem Mohammad's Newest Limetree
Lanny Quarles: (solipsis)//:phaneronoemikon
States Writes
Rebecca's Pocket
Simulacro
Braincase Links
Sentence
Sor Juana
73 Urban Bus Journeys
Poeta Empirica
poetry for the people: canwehaveourballback?
Ernesto Priego's Never Neutral
Nick Piombino's Fait Accompli
Weekly Incite blogresearch
Jim Behrle's first monkey
Jim Behrle's Monkey's Gone to Heaven
David Kirschenbaum's Boog City
Not Nick Moudry
Laurable
David Hess Heathens in Heat
Jack Kimball's Pantaloons
Li Bloom's Abolone
Ron Silliman
Chris Sullivan's Bloggchaff
Chris Sullivan's Slight Publications
Chris Sullivan's Department of Culture
Kasey S. Mohammad's Old-New Limetree
Kasey's Old Limetree
James Meetze: Brutal Kittens
Cassie Lewis: The Jetty
Joseph Mosconi's Harlequin Knights
Nada Gordon's Ululate
ultimate: Stephanie Young's First Well Nourished Moon
Steve Evans: Third Factory
Noah Eli Gordon's Human Verb
Jean Vengua's Blue Kangaroo
Sawako Nakayasu: Texture Notes
Free Space Comix: BK Stefans
Crosfader
Malcolm Davidson's eeksy peeksy
Marsh Hawk Press group
Catherine Meng's Porthole Redux
Josh Corey's Cahiers de Corey
Very Nice! Shampoopoetry
UTA's Lit Mag: ZNine
Wild Honey Press
Jacket
JFK's Poetinresidence
Malcolm Davidson's Tram Spark poems
HYepez: RealiTi
HYpez: Mexperimental
Aimee Nez's Gila Monster
BestMaX: Jim Behrle's jismblog
Cori Copp's Littleshirleybean
Jordan Davis: Million Poems
Eileen Tabios: Corpsepoetics [see Chatelaine above]
YaY! Liz's Thirdwish
Ultra Linking
Henry Gould's HG Poetics




Saturday, August 02, 2003

 

More Anagrammatics !!

If you haven't already, check out this crossword-puzzle-lover's site:


scroll down to Anagram Finder and try it out:



"ocean" begets
[ocean canoe]
A [once cone]
[on no] ace

"loving" begets
loving.

"ocean loving" begets
a near endless stream
of combinations
to, well,

Enjoy!


chris at 2:11 PM |

 

The poem of the future:
is already written.


chris at 1:47 PM |

 

On the dilemmas of unpacking and the ordering of books on shelves over at Aimee's --around here, they are in somewhat random clusters, sometimes determined by last use or the associative mind in musings and random reading: Barthes cozies up with Irigaray and Sappho, Hawthorne's pushing on a Benet's and a dictionary, Zora Neale's with Walter Burkert & Victor Villanueva, Cortazar's with Ai & the Bible. It's not the best way, true, but I do get an idiosyncratic map in my head of what is where, so it works. I never lose any of them or have any great difficulty finding one. Alpha order, on the other hand, might give someone like me nightmares because then I'd always have to worry that something might get out of order, and spend a lot of time reshuffling, as you point out. No one else can find anything, this way tho, so that can be inconvenient.

But hey!--best of everything in yr new house, Aimee!!


chris at 1:15 PM |

 

From Frank O'Hara:

(JULY IS OVER AND THERE'S VERY LITTLE TRACE)*

July is over and there's very little trace
of it, though the Bastille fell on its face--

and August's gotten orange, it will drop on
the edge of the world like a worm-eaten sun.

The trees are taking off their leaves. So
the purity of the streets is coming, low

in white waves. In summer I got good and sunburnt,
winter, so I wouldn't miss the wet brunt

of your storms. Then it was sand from the surf
in my bathing trunks; now snow fills up my scarf.


*Selected Poems of Frank O'Hara, (Vintage/Random House, 1974) 90-91.

Gotta love O'Hara!


chris at 4:34 AM |

 

Malcolm D. speaks

true over
ocean swell
& tradition grown
saline mass
of minute hands

or heart-rock hieroglyphics
I pick up cold as tide
& ruth would wipe

clean thought across another seaweed I
of blown detritus & more world
news.
thanks.


chris at 2:07 AM |

 

Well hey I just now heard
about the extravagence of doodle,
it's radio velvet trains,
yawning slippery vocables,
sticky whistle.

But life is short:
poetry is love not love.
I'd post a doodle
or even 2 doodles here,
anytime, to hear more
about it, ya kno?


chris at 1:25 AM |

Friday, August 01, 2003

 

Una de mis favoritas--una poema exquisita de Jose Gorostiza:

Quien me compra una naranja?*

a Carlos Pellicer

Quien me compra una naranja
para mi consolacion?
Una naranja madura
en forma de corazon?

La sal del mar en los labios
Ay de mi!
la sal del mar en las venas
y en las labios recogi.

Nadie me diera los suyos
para besar.
La blanda espiga de un beso
yo no la puedo segar.

Nadie pidiera mi sangre
para beber.
Yo mismo no se si corre
o si deja de correr.

Como se pierden las barcas
Ay de mi!
como se pierden las nubes
y las barcas, me perdi.

Y pues nadie me lo pide
ya no tengo corazon.
Quien me compra una naranja
para mi consolacion?


* Perdone, por favor: no tengo puntuacion correcto, y con Espanol, necessito mas practicar.





chris at 11:07 PM |

 

When I was in Moe's Bookstore in Berkeley last Sunday with Chris Daniels, we paused over this book that Chris singled out: Stephen Jonas, Selected Poems (Talisman, 1994). Wow--I hadn't seen it before. I really like this stuff, which encompasses a lot of the 20th c SFO writing scene (I'm adding to clarify here: SJ was mostly east coast, based in Boston, tho fascinated with west coast SFO poets-poetry). Poems hooking up with Spicer poems, jazziness, and lots of other things.

On the presentation of the book itself, I just love the dynamite cover foto where SJ is really, really getting into a smoke--very nearly a prayer over it (I quit last year so this foto sums up a certain prickly sense of physical longing that those awful but wonderful cigs put one in mind of, and cf. Richard Klein's Cigarettes Are Sublime, too, so like some of the fotos in Klein, say of Chanel, or Sarte smokin' it up).

But here's a poem with its own prickly edges:

Invocation*
(by Stephen Jonas)



"O generation gone
thoroughly to seed
yr. legislators, yr heads
of state
a great informal
racket without in-
struction in-
capable of re-
capitulation & no
distinction between
subject & object
suffices anymore
to distinguish time &
place
Long gaps appear in the
contours of the language
(as tho' a mere pencil could
indicate so much grief.)
A language whose word
of true meaning has been
severely lost.

"envoi
O lady carved in rosewood
or set in alabaster
I pray you
make us again
the tall grasses
to bend & part
before your footfall
teach us to sin
and not to sin."
(116)


*forgive the bad lining out here--Jonas has the poem spread across the page, something I haven't figured out yet but will.


chris at 1:42 PM |

 

Hey, Kasey, Thanks! --and I'm looking around for your email address but can't find it--wanted to ask, What happened to Deputy Dawg? Coming back in here after posting that question: I see the Deputy's over there--must have been a flarf loose in the works for a while this ayem. :)


chris at 1:16 PM |

 

Like Chanting:

I have a contract editing job the next 2 weeks from Ken Roemer, faculty member here, spec. in Amer Lit, esp. Native Am lit, for his new book on Bellamy's Looking Backward and reader responses to Utopian ideals (Univ Mass Press). There are a lot of statistics in the Appendices since Ken surveyed his students about the book and their interpretive readings. So yesterday and today we are reading aloud and double checking all the figures and references there, which normally would seem a bit yawny, but it started yesterday to feel like chanting, only with numbers and parentheses! More soon...


chris at 9:34 AM |

 

Blogger's on the Fritz Again But Try Jean's Recipe Anyway!

I'm getting internal error reports from Blogger when I try to post. Dunno what's wrong. Have tried twice to link to Jean's Nightjar2: she's got a yummy sounding poetry/recipe posted there, but Blogger just won't cooperate! So if anyone reading here is interested, check out Jean's recipe at

Recipe from Jean: Root Vegetable Poetry

okay, it's happening with every kind of post I try.

Trying one more time to add the link by editing this morning....


chris at 1:52 AM |

Thursday, July 31, 2003

 

Dept of Smiles

Well, take the ball and run, Tim: he did also say terrific, so, hey, it's a good thing (just thought I'd clarify a little), ya kno?

And that Hopkins "shook foil" thing has stuck with me (and probably has a similar effect on most people?) since I first heard the poem at about age 8. That's a measure of how powerfully intriguing is that image, even tho the "foil" he meant had nothing to do with the modern stuff my mother with economical drama, pulled out, shook loudly, and then tore from an oblong box in order to cover pies.


chris at 10:05 PM |

 

Perfect, Catherine, that Pema Chodron. Thanks!


chris at 6:04 PM |

 

Though I am not a fan of religions centered on a singular, omniscient deity, this poem is still an all time favorite of mine--for powerful sound, celestial melodrama come under scrutiny, question, and the need for strong reasoning and good sense:

Gerard Manley Hopkins:

God's Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs--
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.


--New Oxford Book of English Verse (Oxford UP, 1972), p. 790


chris at 6:00 PM |

 

The Dear John Deere Poems:

Before they had the slogan, "Nothing Runs Like a Deere," the tractor and heavy equipment company, John Deere, made some Annual Pocket Ledgers. In the early 1950s these were full of such useful info as detailed descriptions of the equipment: "Five Interchangeable Front Ends." And the descriptions sound so very secure in their world view, their station, their work and life. While in San Francisco I found one of these ledgers in an antique store. So, starting tomorrow I'm trying out some poetic pieces based on this gem or germ (take your pick) of knowledge.

But here's a sample of what the 87th annual (1953-1954) Pocket Ledger contains:

"One-two-and four row integral planting, listing, fertilizing..."



chris at 4:51 AM |

 

Translated and published by Chris Daniels, in Meta (/other) poems, a couple of Paolo Laminsky poems I really like for today ; the poems and the translation so well done that my critical side has no desire even to think another thought:

Iceberg

*___An arctic poetry,
of course, is my desire.
___A pallid praxis,
three lines of ice.
___An exomorphic sentence
where any living sentence
___would be no longer viable.
Sentence. No. None at all.
___A null lyric,
reduced to pure minimum,
___the spirit's blinking,
the unique unique thing.
___But I speak, and speaking, incite
a swarm of equivocations
___(from a monologue-hive?).
Yes, winter, we're alive.


Full Pause

___Place where one makes
what's already made,
___the page's white,
sum of all text,
___there was a time
when, writing,
___one needed
a page exempt.

___No page at all
has ever been clean.
___Even the most Saharan,
Antarctic, mean.
___There's never been
a page all blank.
___Deep down in such
pallor all shriek.


*These lines leading into the poems are my way of showing that the poem lines are indented. Blogger doesn't allow for indented text. While not perfect, this method does keep the readerly spirit of the poetry lines this way.


chris at 4:18 AM |

 

Photos from the Calif trip are in:

Well, my photos are back and they all turned out great. I've got doubles, so can send some out.

Great shots of Stephanie, smiling (always smiling and sending out the good will--you go girl) with Nick (right after "The Dance"). Catherine, and Chris Daniels, just smokin'! at 21 Grand.

I loved this trip, everyone... . I have to find a way to post photos here, that's all there is to it.




chris at 3:35 AM |

Wednesday, July 30, 2003

 

Finally: and with thanks to James Meetze at Brutal Kittens blog who's added some more definition to the pumped up muscle that is

New Brutalism!

I had the pleasure to meet James at Friday's Mama Buzz reading--James, Hey! Keep on...


chris at 8:09 PM |

 

Yes, Tim, thanks! Sure, that works: another trip, maybe to Chicago. That lifts the spirits feelin low here today--am due to go to Chicago and to Boston this year if all goes as planned. Chicago's in March, I think. Hey, would get to meet Li Bloom! too, maybe. So, will be checking this out, looking forward...


chris at 12:33 PM |

 

Uh-Oh. The women are in trouble now: Crush List Cartoons popping up on the horizon at Jim's ...
Hah! Thanks, Jim Behrle--I needed a good laugh really bad!


chris at 12:09 PM |

 

Quite a Quest:

Now I'm feeling really low: I miss California!
I'll have to find something here in Texas today to feel up about.
Is there anything?
It should be quite a quest.


chris at 12:05 PM |

 

Okay. I have now listened carefully to Continuous Peasant's Exile in Babyville three times through and will listen some more, now, too.
Opinion: Wow--Superb. Manages to Rock and to goof rock, too. That's not easy to do/accomplish:
Keep On, Chris Stroffolino!


chris at 3:31 AM |

 

What It's Like to Be Back or Just to Be in Texas, YaY!


Okay: Continuous Peasant (YaY!!) and a glass of cheap white wine and Ah! yes! back in Texas. To be more specific, as it is said here, Ar/linnn/ton, darllllllinnnn. A place that's kinda like a big motherly belly spread out between Dallas and Fort Worth, with no girdle. But damn it all Ladybird, who needs one anyway, Laura?--life is just too fat around here to hem it in.

Yes: it's no secret that Texas is not always good in my mind: with. by. for. me. andmanyothers. I see that Kasey has changed my icon on the limetree blogroll from the Texas! bumper sticker with a superimposed scary skull, to a nice Deputy Dawg kind of rep riding around. It is like that around here: cuts both ways (as any good cowboy or jukebox or prisoner or cop or governor or exgovernor or state court justice will tell ya).

But what's it like right here where I am? Right now, over a hundred degrees. That, even tho it's after midnight. My plants!The flowers on the concrete and wrought iron balcony in the apartment complex that legally allows only plastic furniture on balconies--well, my plants died while I wz away--kids forgot to water them. And, well, it's damned musty here--the air inside and out always smells musty to me except for about 10 days in winter when cold air comes in and kills off some of those must making organisms. Yeah. Yuk. or yeah, what a great cartoon: attack of the must-making organisms. gee, how funny can life get, anyway?

I walked 2 fast miles at 9:30 p.m. Very hot but walked fast anyway. Most people don't bother going outside at all except to swim in pools in the apartment complex or on the residential streets where I walk, they must hang out inside in whatever airconditioning their system can manage (my apartment's system must be fading out because I had it on 75 but it was about 88 inside today. I'll have to call them tomorrow--these upstairs apartments really soak up the sun and heat.

Anyway 2 people were outside in lawn chairs trying to relax. They are these 2 guys who live with their mother and a dachsund named Sandy who always barks at me so I bring her doggie treats and now she barks for the doggie treats. The 2 guys were listening to a ball game--the shouting of the crowd echoed all the way down the block past at least 10 driveways, in that otherworldly white noise kind of way. Maybe a little like what Spicer meant about ghosts and radios being pals. There is something about that sound that carries and haunts, sure. I wave, keep going--I have to go to the store for water yet (the tap water tastes the way the air smells: musty).

So let's see: something good about here? Well, people are pretty much about the best you could find anywhere. Maybe it's that universal entropy principle at work, the one up on my sidebar corner, quoting Chris Daniels (hi, chris d. !) to the effect that an extreme environment is a "cosmic killing jar." That (therefore) makes "honesty, compassion, and creativity" the primary saving graces for life. So that "decency wins" when all is finally said and done with. Also, when all is retold.

In such extreme circumstances people sometimes forget their habitual petty snipings, competitive urges for outdoings, and general tendencies toward things like meanness and war. They go out and like one another. Darn it!--can't we all just make impossible environments for one another so we can all just get along?



chris at 1:02 AM |

Tuesday, July 29, 2003

 

Hold the FrancoPhone/NotPhone: All Notions from French Theory May Not Be Useless

Foucault & Big BirdAmong the Living Beings



Maybe begin by thinking Art. Or get more specific and just think Blog. Then go to question. Say Okay: to what does the following quote refer--or what many things are implicated?

"This enclosed, segmented space, observed at every point, in which the individuals are inserted in a fixed place, in which the slightest movements are supervised, in which all events are recorded in which an uninterrupted work of writing links the center and the periphery, in which power is exercised without division, according to a continuous hierarchical figure, in which each individual is constantly located, examined, and distributed among the living beings, the sick, and the dead--all this constitutes a compact model of the disciplinary mechanism." M. Foucault, "Panopticism" (316)*


Why care what all those French philosophers had to say last century? I dunno. Really. They are like pop-up heads at carnival, ya kno? Ya take the hammer and just see how fast you are at knockin em out or back down into their formica pseudo neck holes. Maybe win a teddy bear to give away to someone who cares. So: have begun rereading Foucault's Discipline and Punish. Interesting again (now) because of new institutional formations (well, yeah, blogging is one), thus new modes of discourse and community--for socializing processes. Poor Foucault, though. So almost macabre, especially in the end with all that talaquepaquetalky about s+m. and he wasn't even hinting around. whattaguy. I'm teaching a theory and writing course for fall semester, so am re-questioning the terms of such concepts and paradigms as Foucault's. And why they hold so much sway. The answers are probably obvious, but maybe not--maybe something will, um, pop up...

Foucault is interesting--that sixties Parisian radical teacherly icon. His students loved him--or were terribly devoted and I mean terribly in a very literal sense. Check out the 60s interviews with him and his students. Or, not interesting. Perhaps the better term of reference should be that M. Foucault, given his moment, was useful in the extreme. A la Extremely Influential. Not unlike Big Bird. He really was the Big Bird of the theory crowd, at least over here on these hallowed US shores, land that we love (i hope you hear the familiar tune in there). He was Just Different from other teachers, dynamically, surprisingly, so that like Big Bird, he has the finite exigence of a moment but some other yellow or feathery things that carry over. Yeah, hugs (Big Bird mythos) were wanted right along with the rest of the critical mind stuff (FrancoPhone crit-mythos). Is that even possible, having both hugs and crit? Sure. Do these have to be compatible or continuous or seamlessly melded? No, not if this is the example. But anyway, I want to say that M. Foucault's presence via his work is still "useful" (as in use value)--both for critical thought and for meta critique, such as I am hinting at here (only hinting--not quite ready to go there exclusively). There is something abouy that neat set, the mechanisms of meta and critical thought, as having use value: does the phenomenon have or can it really afffect/effect, and how? Is influence even something that can be decided? Why care?

So, on the learned-acquired (though also inherently genetic or set up to be?) mechanism of the disciplining gaze, M. Foucault pronounces:

"Inspection functions ceaslessly. The gaze is alert everywhere. ... Everyday the intendent visits the quarter of his charge, inquires whether the syndics have carried out their tasks, whether the inhabitants have anything to to complain of; they 'observe their actions'." (315)*

Well it's sounding a little like blogging, no? And a little like there might also be a need for some kind of feathery, pseudo winged disciplinarian or teacher, say a Big Bird? Just to smooth over the edges of stark discovery: what Elizabeth Bishop means (sorry, I know it's the second time I've cf'd her in 24 hours, but some days are just EB days around here) about knowing what it causes in the form of lack and what we miss and what we want really bad sometimes in life, especially the life that seeks to know important and interesting things like how to get off this planet, or how to take care of it. She writes this in "The Moose" :

"It is like what we imagine knowledge to be:
dark, salt, clear, moving, utterly free,
drawn from the cold hard mouth
of the world, derived from the rocky breasts
forever, flowing and drawn, and since
our knowledge is historical, flowing and flown."--Elizabeth Bishop, "The Moose"**

Ya know?
Myself? I rarely make it past those terrrifying "rocky breasts" of knowledge. Gee. Why didn't someone tell me it was going to be like that, I have to wonder every time. So, yes, a little feathery yellow is our due: there is a Big Bird huggy function, thank goodness. But how much of that do we need, and how much before it becomes stiffling so that we become incapable of seeking what ever else we need or want to know? Well it is the Foucault function that fills in the blank number 2 circles on that test page.

But this panopticonic version of what ails us does go on, and I should say here that these quotes refer to institutions such as prisons, asylums, schools (not to leave out schools of thought, either):

"Every day, too, the syndic goes into the street for which he is responsible, stops before each house: gets all the inhabitants to appear at the windows (those who live overlooking the courtyard will be allocated a window looking onto the street at which no one but they may show themselves); he calls each of them by name; informs himself as to the state of each and every one of them... if someone does not appear at the window, the syndic must ask why. ... This surveillance is based on a system of permanent registration: reports form the syndics to the intendents, from the intendents to the magistrates or mayor..."

And so on goes the bleak creepy story of a centralizing, hierarchical power relation. Is it always so secretly planned out, so hideously centralized, so bleak? Obviously not for many: lots of folks are plenty satisfied (they suppose) and happy as pigs in heaven (a marked cliche, or not), for instance, merely to watch TV--decidedly a hierarchical, centralizing mechanism--for their world view which informs, then, their critical thought (if any). World's just fine that way, right? And oh boy!--do those folks ever vote...

But when is it bleak? (some say always)--in what modes, ways, what to do about it? Many say recognizing it is beneficial. Is it? If recognizing means being then equipped to change the mechanism and perhaps the mode, then okay. But does that happen? It's obvious to me that mechanism and mode in blogging are similar or seem to fit these same characteristics. Foucault goes on, famously (many think infamously), to offer no opinion of his own in this matter of the hegemony of the panopticon as symbolic social structuration. He is the cipher, the one who describes from a distance. So, in blogging what mechanisms discipline the meaningfulness of blogging? What is included and what excluded as a result?

Not to forget: objective distance is supposed to be a prime state of being--self constructed (best case scenario is when it results from self-discipline)--but is it expected at levels which are just not possible in reality? How to manage (supposedly) objective distance? Don't we sense this dfficulty?--especially with this new mode, blogging, where writers are on the line, literally online, using sitemeters, technorati, linking and checking in and out for reception and response which in turn structure community, thus disciplinarity.

How much critical distance is necessary? Too much would require stopping the inherently personalizing, often wildly subjective flow--even given that bloggers use, they invent and make useful, personae from which to write, just like every kind of writer does.

So here are some contradictions to think on for a while--the limits of blogging as mechanism and mode involving the uses of and affects from an inherited and socially sanctioned disciplinarity.

I'm just thinking it may be useful to give Big Bird due credit if he's been functioning, and more functional, than is M. Foucault--in ideas and human connections--all this time.

*Quoted from Ways of Reading: an Anthology for Writers, David Bartholomae and Anthony Petrosky, eds. Fifth Edition (Boston: Bedfor St. Martins, 1999).

**Quoted from Elizabeth Bishop, The Complete Poems: 1927-1979 (New York: Farrar Straus & Giroux, 1989) 66.


 

Powered By Blogger TM