Sunday, February 22, 2004
unlike tonio... i had to take this four
times before i found one i could live with... one that came close
enough... it was also fun to see how the questions shifted depending
on the previous answer...
simply don't know what to believe, but you're willing to try anything
once. Western values, Eastern values, hedonism and minimalism,
you've spent some time in every camp. But you still don't have
any idea what camp you belong in. This makes you an individualist
of the highest order, but also really lonely. It's time to chill
out under a tree. And realize that at least you believe in ferries.
Take the Book
Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.
Saturday, February 21, 2004
wish i could be like a bird in the sky
it would be if i found i could fly
to the sun and look down at the sea
sing cuz i'd know how it feels to be free
been reading another big chunk of Midnight's
Children... thinking about some who don't like the book... i don't
mean students but comments made in various forums (fora?... yuck)...
reminds me that i never very much enjoyed having to defend my
own taste in reading... or art or film... or...
a symptom of laziness... i suppose... no critical
standards? but i know what i like? what pleases me... and yet...
at the same time... i hesitate
to state my preferences because i want the world to approve...
i'm gonna be withit... always wanted to be one of those who can
just blurt... damn the torpedos... but the opinions of others
always mattered... too much maybe...
all my pleasures are guilty... i guess... cuz whatever i treasure...
somebody's gonna call it trash... vive la difference...
New York Times: Movies: New York Times Review: FILM REVIEW; Times
They Are Surreal in Bob Dylan Tale
: As a movie, ''Masked & Anonymous,'' directed
by Larry Charles, a master of the sitcom domain making his big-screen
debut, is an unholy, incoherent mess. As a Bob Dylan artifact,
though, it is endlessly, perhaps morbidly, fascinating.
last night i watched "masked and
anonymous"... which i found to be kind of fun and mystifying
and stupid all at once... i really liked it... and then there
are the many seriously bad reviews it received... see MRQE:
Masked and Anonymous (2003)
... guess i'll always be a sucker
for any movie propelled by dylan's tunes...
Borders: Haitian UPDATEAt
the same time, we also want to write to round out the picture
a bit and to assure our friends and supporters that in much of
the country life continues on as normal. Everyone is alert; radios
are tuned into the news wherever there is electricity, a generator,
or enough batteries to keep the signal coming. Yet, most Haitians
are still focused on the stuff of life, like making sure there's
enough food and water; and they don't have much time (unless they
at some point consider the political situation completely unbearable)
loren over at In
a Dark Time
is reading "Wendell Berry's Poems, from 1964-1968
Friday, February 20, 2004
murray's tex files
presents a useful poem by paul hoover...
it starts like this...If
a monkey drives a car
down the colonnade facing
and the palm trees to the left are tin
we don't understand it.
We want poems we can understand.
want a god to lead us,
renaming the flowers and
color-coding the scene...
Thursday, February 19, 2004
read this: Commonweal:
The language of redemption: the Catholic poets Adam Zagajewski,
Marie Ponsot & Lawrence Joseph.
Wallace Stevens, one of the great modernist poets
of the last century, wrote that 'after one has abandoned a belief
in God, poetry is the essence which takes its place as life's
redemption.' Yet, modernism--the period of literary innovation
during which T. S. Eliot, Virginia Woolf, and James Joyce wrote--never
succeeded in creating a poetry entirely without a belief in God.
Ultimately, more than art was needed in the twentieth century's
ongoing search for redemption.
one tradition, poets continued to pursue an alternative to the
either/or of God and poetry, searching for a synthesis between
theology's 'account' of the divine and poetry's own human, yet
God-like, 'making.' Right up to the present, they have sought
out a contemporary language to speak about expressions of immanence
and transcendence, the quotidian and the ineffable, without ever
once using those terms; their subjects--common or arcane--are
drawn from a world that is constantly unfolding, believing in
the possibility of redemption rather than loss. They are, in a
word, Catholic, and while they are not necessarily writing about
religion, their poetry is shot through with the elements and activities
of a 'cosmos'--in its literal sense of 'order'--that contains
the possibility of a world with and a world without end.
Joyce Kilmer... Alice Meynell... Joseph Mary Plunkett
i don't know about these guys...
some rememories of hours in the basement
church... the rolling incense... the drone of the saint names...
our response in serious strangeness... ora pro nobis... subtle
bumps and shifts to dispel monotony... catholic boy daydreaming...
i wonder how many catholic writers would count the benediciton
experience as some kind of poetical rhizome...
see suzanne's hot/cool litany...
who have written...
once i tried litany... a very
attractive form... but didn't get very far... it seems to demand
a conceptual simplicity that i just couldn't muster...
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"I am struggling, amid all the
current political uproar, to keep clearly in mind that it is not
merely because our policies are wrong that we are so destructive
and violent. It goes deeper than that, and is more troubling.
We are so little at peace with ourselves and our neighbors because
we are not at peace with our place in the world, our land. American
history has been to a considerable extent the history of our warfare
against the natural life of the continent."
(Wendell Berry,"Some Thoughts about Citizenship
and Conscience," 1969)
a sporadic circular conversation (?)
in aplit today... based on homework writing... we hear from more
voices than usual... which is a good thing... a very good thing...
because they are such smart insightful voices...some people need
these prompts... i may be one of them
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
why am i not home listening to johnny
cash... the man comes around... or cassandra wilson... glamoured...
or sandinista!... why am i not...
... a review of Paul Schmidt's translation of the
plays...The result is a
surprisingly lively Chekhov, colloquial and clear, which will
come as a revelation to those who know the playwright through
the widely read but rather stiff British translations of Constance
Garnett and Elisaveta Fen. Everything about Schmidt's book, from
the organization and footnotes to the language itself, is meant
to clear away the obscurity and sentimentality with which Chekhov
is often burdened. The plays that emerge are funnier and more
muscular than one might have expected.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
word had it that until i gained fifteen
or thirty pounds and leapt from a 15 collar size to a 17... word
had it that i looked a little like michel foucault... now i look
like... tor johnson
hey... i shaved my head yesterday...
but this is not news... thirty-five minutes to go... that's news...
this session does not end until... 5:00
one class of apes got me off track today...
talking about my high school date... i had one... and then i became
a carmelite... and never had another... so there... they were
impressed... or something... probably something
i'm sitting in the computer lab 505...
typing surreptitiously... when i should actually be doing... i
don't know what... all the students seem busy enough... the moderator
is in control...and im a her humble servant... doing... no essential
work... catching up on my blog-reads... the new science corridor
opened for classes today... and it is full of beautiful light...
i want to go stand there... in the light...
Monday, February 16, 2004
also just finished the last set of recent
aplit essays... problems with
understanding and identifying "narrative voice"
2) distinguishing among "illusive," "elusive,"
3) spelling "ludicrous"...
it's all "ludacris" these days
just finished BOY
MEETS BOY by David Levithan
... for some reason, i'm only good
for quick & easy reads these days... so i pick up this YA novel...
and am delighted... have i mentioned how much i like YA lit?...
it's a hidden world... (often even to teens themselves)... full
of wonders... but i don't get to go there very often... BMB begins:Now away we go.
9 p.m. on a November Saturday. Joni, Tony, and I
are out on the town. Tony is from the next town over and he needs
to get out. His parents are extremely religious. It doesn't even
matter which religion--they're all the same at a certain point,
and few of them want a gay boy cruising around with his friends
on a Saturday night. So every week Tony feeds us bible stories,
then on Saturday we show up at his doorstep well versed in parables
and earnestness, dazzling his parents with our blinding purity.
They slip him a twenty and tell him to enjoy our study group.
We go spend the money on romantic comedies, dimestore toys, and
diner jukeboxes. Our happiness is the closest we'll ever come
to a generous God, so we figure Tony's parents would understand,
if only they weren't set on misunderstanding so many things.