the light in my closet burnt out. but today i finally went grocery shopping, did laundry, watered the plants, did dishes, went to the gym, cleaned the kitchen. geez the most fun part of my day was working on this crazy essay (the one about THIS)…it’s getting closer and closer, i may be through another draft while watching football tomorrow. the essay is fun because i make jokes. i like making jokes, but nobody ever laughs ;(

the essay has many subtitles. one is:

“makes soapy mess”: the praxis of a pragmatist flarf

if you dont think that’s funny, you can stick it “both in and out of their hispanics”!

basta! i go dream now….

here is a song i heart FOR YOU SUNDAYERS:

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8 thoughts on “

  1. craig, in case my email didn’t percolate: nicholas dot manning at ens dot fr

    I’ve been rereading through all the MM related comment threads. It was a discussion which I found personally really quite disturbing back in may, and nothing’s changed. It’s great that you’re writing bout it.

    Also, specifically on this Magee quote: “The question I was trying to explore and perhaps answer was, given a culture where all this vile language exists, what does a language-maker like myself *do*. Ignore it? That doesn’t seem viable to me. Condemn it? A poem doesn’t condemn anything very successfully.”

    Thinking about Paul Celan this week, I was wondering whether Celan didn’t offer us a superior example of the way in which a poet may take the language of violence in a culture (the Shoah and nazism in C’s case) and purge it, transform it, make it one’s own. For Celan so tears apart German, its syntax and its sense, that it is like stripping away the shit by the very “activeness” of one’s poetic. In stark contrast to the apparent passiveness (when compared to Celan, and no matter what they say) of some flarflike processes.

    However, this is something which I suggested to KSM a while ago, but he didn’t want to have a bar of it: responding simply that Celan still made part of a certain lyrical tradition, or at least a certain reinterpretation of a lyrical tradition, whereas flarf was something entirely ELSE.

    As if Flarf had emerged from the goddamn primeval swamp, with no progenitors . . . Isn’t that a common undertone?

  2. craig, too easy.

    sailing to byzantium
    by w.b. yeats

    Consume my heart away; sick with desire
    And fastened to a dying animal
    It knows not what it is; and gather me
    Into the artifice of eternity.

  3. craig, too easy.

    sailing to byzantium
    by w.b. yeats

    Consume my heart away; sick with desire
    And fastened to a dying animal
    It knows not what it is; and gather me
    Into the artifice of eternity.

  4. craig, too easy.

    sailing to byzantium
    by w.b. yeats

    Consume my heart away; sick with desire
    And fastened to a dying animal
    It knows not what it is; and gather me
    Into the artifice of eternity.

  5. craig, too easy.

    sailing to byzantium
    by w.b. yeats

    Consume my heart away; sick with desire
    And fastened to a dying animal
    It knows not what it is; and gather me
    Into the artifice of eternity.

    [[am having trouble posting comments… so i’m sorry ahead of time for any multiples]]

  6. i’ll try to step it up katy 😉 and thanks for that little passage!

    thanks for posting nicholas, def agree that celan powerfully transforms the language…and perhaps this does have political undertones to it. his poems seem to posit a linguistic space that subverts fascist discourse….

    whether or not this is a superior example is another question. part of my essay dances around this a bit.

    and yes, Flarf is always conveniently something ELSE isnt it 😉

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