Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Future Ideas
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Project Idea
Project Idea
Since all the shows on the so-called "Bible Code" have been aired on the Discovery channel, it might be interesting to use the Bible as a source text and create my own 'code.' This would be incredibly time intesive but I'm sure it would yield some fantastic stuff.
Monday, December 7, 2009
ideas
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Charles Bernstein
Sunday, November 29, 2009
White Elephant
When Troy got up again he went quietly enough. He was exhausted and half-dazed, and besides he saw the blue uniforms of the policemen. Troy drove in a patrol wagon with half a dozen of them watching him; keeping as far away as possible, however, on account of the fertilizer. Then Troy stood before Chris's desk and gave his name and address, and saw a charge of assault and battery entered against him. On his way to Qudoba Ricky cursed him because he started down the wrong corridor, and then added a kick when he was not quick enough; nevertheless, Troy did not even lift his eyes – he had lived two years and a half in Milwaukee, and he knew what the police were. It was as much as a man's very life was worth to anger them, here in their inmost lair; like as not a dozen would pile on to him at once, and pound his face into a pulp. It would be nothing unusual if he got his skull cracked in the melee – in which case they would report that he had been drunk and had fallen down, and there would be no one to know the difference or to care. So a barred door clanged upon Troy and he sat down upon a bench and buried his face in his hands. He was alone; he had the afternoon and all of the night to himself.
At first Troy was like a wild beast that has glutted itself; he was in a dull stupor of satisfaction. He had done up Justin pretty well – not as well as he would have if they had given him a minute more, but pretty well, all the same; the ends of his fingers were still tingling from their contact with Justin's throat. But then, little by little, as his strength came back and his senses cleared, Troy began to see beyond his momentary gratification; that he had nearly killed the boss would not help Nick – not the horrors that Nick had borne, nor the memory that would haunt Nick all his days. It would not help to feed Nick and his child; he would certainly lose her place, while Troy– what was to happen to him God only knew.
Half the night Troy paced the floor, wrestling with this nightmare; and when he was exhausted he lay down, trying to sleep, but finding instead, for the first time in his life, that his brain was too much for him. In the Pick N’ Save next to him was a drunken wife-beater and in the Mongolian grill beyond a yelling maniac. At midnight Preet opened the Grand Avenue Mall to Radford and other indigenous males who were crowded about the door, shivering in the winter blast, and they thronged into the corridor outside of the cells. Some of them stretched themselves out on the bare stone floor and fell to snoring, others sat up, laughing and talking, cursing and quarreling. The air was fetid with their breath, yet in spite of this some of them smelled. Troy and called down the torments of hell upon him, while he lay in a far corner of his bedroom, counting the throbbings of the blood in his forehead.
They had brought him his supper, which was "duffers and dope" – being hunks of dry bread on a tin plate, and coffee, called "dope" because it was drugged to keep the prisoners quiet. Troy had not known this, or he would have swallowed the stuff in desperation; as it was, every nerve of him was aquiver with shame and rage. Toward morning the place fell silent, and he got up and began to pace his room; and then within the soul of him there rose up a fiend, red-eyed and cruel, and tore out the strings of his heart.
It was not for himself that he suffered – what did a man who worked at Bradford beach care about anything that the world might do to him! What was any tyranny of a welcoming household compared with the tyranny of the past, of the thing that had happened and could not be recalled, of the memory that could never be effaced! The horror of it drove him mad; he stretched out his arms to heaven, crying out for deliverance from it – and there was no deliverance, there was no power even in heaven that could undo the past. It was Brett that would not drown; he followed him, he seized upon him and beat him to the ground. Ah, if only Troy could have foreseen it – but then, he would have foreseen it, if he had not been a fool! Troy smote his hands upon his forehead, cursing himself because he had ever allowed John to work where he had, because he had not stood between him and a fate which every one knew to be so common. Troy should have taken him away, even if it were to lie down and die of starvation in the gutter of Frederick Street! And now – oh, it could not be true; it was too monstrous, too horrible.
Poor Troy was now an outcast and a tramp once more. He was crippled – he was as literally crippled as any wild animal which has lost its claws, or been torn out of its shell. He had been shorn, at one cut, of all those mysterious weapons whereby he had been able to make a living easily and to escape the consequences of his actions. He could no longer command a job when he wanted it; he could no longer steal with impunity – he must take his chances with the common herd. Nay worse, he dared not mingle with the herd – he must hide himself, for he was one marked out for destruction. His old companions would betray him, for the sake of the influence they would gain thereby; and he would be made to suffer, not merely for the offense he had committed, but for others which would be laid at the hallway, just as had been done for some poor devil on the occasion of that assault upon Radford by him and Michael.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Decemeber 7th reading: Charles Bernstein's List of Potential Writing Experiments
I thought this list of 92 Potential Writing Experiments is great. I see some of the things on the list mentioned we have already done in this class. But, there were also a lot on the list we haven’t done yet for class. I especially thought that several of the experiments were something interesting to try, for instance; #17 Alphabet Poem, #33 Poems about things you’d want to say, but never would say, to parents, lover, sibling, child, teacher, roommate, best friend, mayor, president, or corporate CEO, etc., #55 Write a poem made up of questions, #56 Write a poem made up of directions, #66 Write a series of stanzas or poems while listening to music, #68 Write a poem made up entirely of excuses. I decided to write an Alphabet poem. See the results below.
#1 Alphabet Poem ( done in order of alphabet)
All burning candles dances each flames
Glowing holograms ignited joyously
Kept light marching not oblivious
Preserved quantities rest safe totally
Useless visions without x-ray yoked zealous
#2 Alphabet Poem (scrambled alphabet order)
Glowing zealous light totally
Visions x-ray preserved safe
Yoked useless without flames
Rest candles marching oblivious
Kept all ignited burning not joyously
Each quantities holograms dances
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Random Poems
Meandering
Change here
Change there
Gonna bother a lady today
Found a butt on the corner
Maybe moms got a light
Her babys pink
Moms got a pocketbook
Change in there
Mom dont stop or smoke
Arm itches
And crack
She was shaped so nice
Top heavy with nice calves
She walked funny
She said her pelvis was this or that
Some kinda cast as a baby
Bottom line
She walked funny
She was a good girl who had to lie
On her side
To fart
She left and
Came back for her tv
I found some moldy porn in the woods
The makeshift fort built by teens
Had a bra hanging on a nail
She was a cowgirl wearing boots
And no pants
She was facing away with one foot on the rail
A little turd was poking from her butt crack
She also wore a cool wool lined leather jacket
And a cowboy hat
The teacher found out about my porn
And called my folks
I got a spanking in the nurse’s office
Monday, November 23, 2009
Guantanamo Bay Combination Saves Queen; Mate!
The queen saved her disheartened country.
Prisoner by her own immovable jaw
She sat solid; a skeleton.
Her dense features quivered,
Flapping.
Fluid insertions maintained
Her political ass.
Rich fat preserved her vertebra
And kept her mandible from breaking.
Theorem of Three Moments
The ammonia ice crystals wrap your
Chemical constituents in a diametric
Daze. Equatorial, polar
Opposite.
Queen Juno for my mother
Hera, Juno and the gang
A large fraction still only a part of
And not all of.
Litter boxes in the snow
Voting in the best of chems
Ending all in a
Black
Bear
Shootout
Round in the middle and
High on both
ends
Classical Lit.
-- Introibo ad altare Dei.
Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called up coarsely:
-- Come up, Eric Guzman. Come up, you fearful jesuit.
Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the Pub, the surrounding country and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Eric, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Eric Guzman, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.
Bobby Q. peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.
-- Back to barracks, he said sternly.
He added in a preacher's tone:
-- For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.
He peered sideways up and gave a long low whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm.
-- Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you?
He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering about his legs the loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips.
-- The mockery of it, he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek.
He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet, laughing to himself. Eric Guzman stepped up, followed him wearily half way and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still as he propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck.
Bobby Q.'s gay voice went on.
-- My name is absurd too: Bobby Q., two dactyls. But it has a Hellenic ring, hasn't it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself. We must go to Athens. Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork out twenty quid?
He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried:
-- Will he come? The jejune jesuit.
Ceasing, he began to shave with care.
-- Tell me, Bobby Q., Eric said quietly.
-- Yes, my love?
-- How long is Quitzon going to stay in Champions Pub?
BobbyQ. showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder.
-- God, isn't he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. He thinks you're not a gentleman. God, these bloody English. Bursting with money and indigestion. Because he comes from Manila. You know, Guzman; you have the real Pilipino manner. He can't make you out. O, my name for you is the best: Kinch, the knife-blade.
He shaved warily over his chin.
-- He was raving all night about a black panther, Eric said. Where is his guncase?
-- A woful lunatic, Bobby Q. said. Were you in a funk?
-- I was, Eric said with energy and growing fear. Out here in the dark with a man I don't know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a black panther. You saved men from drowning. I'm not a hero, however. If he stays on here I am off.
Bobby Q. frowned at the lather on his razorblade. He hopped down from his perch and began to search his trouser pockets hastily.
-- Scutter, he cried thickly.
He came over to the gunrest and, thrusting a hand into Eric’s upper pocket, said:
-- Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor.
Eric suffered him to pull out and hold up on show by its corner a dirty crumpled handkerchief. Bobby Q. wiped the razorblade neatly. Then, gazing over the handkerchief, he said:
-- The bard's noserag. A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen. You can almost taste it, can't you?
6 Title Pieces
Shame on you young Marek, if you fight not with might, overcome by Nathan like panic-stricken hinds, they cannot defend themselves. Face the attack. Let Keegan be quick to heal. Ill matters will soon become worse. Nathan advanced in a dense body, check me.
A Widow or Widower is very vulnerable to disease
It is likely enough that rooted in the woods of San Antonio and home, they were growing when the sufferer was put to death, already marked by Keegan. Fate to be snuffed out by pigs. Which Nathan, death, had already set apart the illustrius creature in sight of all his retinue. Now, burning people in the hand at home by the dozen. Taking the life. An atrocious murderer. The plain and the fair faces along the roads that lay before them with drooping heads and tremulous tails overspread by one another.
How to be Alone Without Being Lonely
All these thingds, and a thousand like them, environed by them. She read that article of war, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none. Similar to the waves of an unwholesome sea. Lumbering up the park, as she stood on her own, beating her feet and keeping an eye on the hand. "Ten minutes, good, past eleven." "Get on with you!" ANna struggled on, half in, half out without contradicting. The stillness, consequent on the quiet pause was audibly expressive. "So-ho!" she sang out, as loud as she could roar.
Retarded Growth in Children
It was the worst of times, it was the season of darkness, for good or for evil. There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face. Strange. More important to the human race were myriads of small creatures. Before the first of the persons with whom this history has business, Becca lay, floundering and stumbling. Andrew violently shook his head and everything upon it, like an unusually empathetic horse, and was distruned in mind. The hearts of them beat loud. There is nothing to apprehend. That is a blazing strange answer, too, with no more definite purpose than to escape the hazard of originating any other kind of reaction. What do you make of it?
Keeping Grandpa in Line
"Guard!" said Josh, in a tone of quiet business confidence. The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raised blunderbuss, left at the barrell, and his eye on Marek, answered curtly. "I am going to Oconomowoc on business." With those words, Josh opened the door and got in. The guard replaced his blunderbuss in his arm-chest. "I won't trust your fore-legs till I get you on the level.
Positive Tips to Beat the Winter Blahs
It is the season of light, the winter of despair. All going direct to heaven, some of its noisiest authorities insist on being received. Spiritual revelations, blessed birthday. Mere messages in the earthly order of events, fight battles with your turnkeys and the majesty. Burn pamphlets at the door of Westminster Hall. Carry your divine rights with a high hand. The greatness and the rest come to pass in and upon the dear old year.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Seven Title Pieces
Danny Tanner did not think Uncle Joey would go and help either baby Michelle or little Stephanie. For Uncle Jessie kept a blind look-out, his seat on the topmost crest allowing him to see what was on the rise. Uncle Jessie’s post on the Golden Gate Bridge enabled him to fetch his guitar from the attic. He is a man of combat and his heart beats fast as he thinks of death. Uncle Joey proclaimed, “Wherever there has been hard fighting I have held my own among the foremost.” “I know you for a brave man: you need not tell me,” said Danny Tanner, “but let us no longer stay here talking like children.” Longing to go into action, the pair had gone from San Francisco to arm themselves among the San Franciscans and other brave folk of Phoenix. Thus, then, did these two devise a knot of war and battle, that none could unloose or break.
So Far So Good
“Where is little Stephanie and DJ?”
“Little Stephanie’s at the house getting bandaged. DJ has your legs. Hold on to my neck, baby Michelle. Are you badly hit?” said Danny Tanner.
“In the leg. How is Uncle Joey?”
“He’s alright. It was a big trench mortar shell.”
“Uncle Jessie is dead.”
“Yes. He is dead.”
Danny Tanner and DJ dropped baby Michelle once more before reaching the house.
“You sons of bitches,” cried baby Michelle.
“I’m sorry, Michelle,” DJ said. “We won’t drop you again.”
Outside the Tanner house a large amount of the family laid on the ground in the dark. The dead were off to one side. The honey bee doctors were working with their sleeves up to their shoulders and were red as butchers.
The Balancing Act of Safer Oral Sex
Baby Michelle and Uncle Joey went ashore; so they could attend to no business that day, at least none but a supper and a bed. DJ, the landlord of the San Francisco Inn had recommended her cousin Kimmy Gibbler of Fisherman’s Warf whom she asserted to be the proprietor of one of the best kept hotels in all San Francisco, and moreover she had assured them that cousin Kimmy, as she called her, was famous for her dance moves. Mrs. Gibbler could not help from staring at the two. Upon making known their desires for a supper and a bed, Mrs. Gibbler postponed further scolding for the present, and ushered them into a little room. Now and then there was a knocking up; a dint of beating about a little in the dark. Perhaps she was over sensitive to such. Mrs. Gibbler hurried towards an open door leading into the kitchen, and bawling out “crabs for two,” disappeared.
Pure Bred Bully Pups
"Stop!" cried Aunt Becky. "Ye said true - ye haven't seen Old Tanner yet, have ye?" "Who's Old Tanner?" said Uncle Joey, riveted with the insane earnestness of her manner. "Danny Tanner," she said. "What! The co-host of your show, ‘Wake up San Francisco?’"
"Aye, among some of us old television anchor chaps, he goes by that name. Ye haven’t seen him yet, have ye?" “No, we haven’t. What do you know about him?" inquired Uncle Joey.
“You must jump when he gives orders,” instructed Aunt Becky. She stepped and growled, growled and left. Uncle Joey shouted after her, “If you are only trying to bamboozle us, you are mistaken in your game. That is all I have to say!”
Work with random records

On the river, there was a packed trail and where snowshoes were unnecessary, Comet and his pups averaged six miles an hour. To keep up with them, the two men were compelled to run. Steve and Uncle Jessie relieved each other regularly at the Tanner Residence, for here was the hard work of steering the composing a band and of keeping in advance of it. It was severe work, but of the sort that was exhilarating. Later on they would come to the Smash Club where often there would be the inevitable bad jams, short ones, it was true. It was so bad that Steve and Uncle Jessie did not talk. In the nature of the work they could not, nor in their own natures were they given to talking while they worked. Steve, for the most part, contented himself with grunts. Only could be heard the sharp, jarring grate of the steel guitar strings.
The Seven Titles Pieces
Maurice’s feet were like burnished brass
As if it had been refined in a furnace
Marlon’s face was like the sun shining at its brightest
Dazzling was the sheen of their gleaming helmets
Their fresh burnish breast plates, and glittering shields
Two Ajaxes stand shoulder to shoulder by one another
HEALING WITH NATURE
But they will not listen to both contending hosts
He who has an ear, let Martin hear what the spirit says
Heal the world make it a better place for Edna and for Ray
Develop a list for all tasks organized systematic automatic
Whose dishes shall be washed, dried, and put away
Like Lao She set in a Beijing teahouse
POWER BLOWERS
Feel it coming in the air Hear the screams from everywhere
Hector, why find fault where there is no one to find fault with?
We are, yeah I said it, We are!
This is Roc Nation pledge your allegiance
Dust on broke equipment electronically fit
Vernacular sonnet sequence of the Canzoniere and for the craze
YOUNG GIRLS ENDANGERED
“Paris,” said he, “evil- hearted Paris, fair to see but woman mad”
But I have this against you, that you left your first love
Who could take pleasure in the sight of such a turmoil,
And look on it without being dismayed
You’re like, “Ting Yuan Shen Shen in Taiwan”
My heart was soakin and brokin in a young world
KEEPING REGULAR
Droplets of cooking grease on kitchen counters
Rain maintain start it every day
Keep On Trucking, Got to Keep On Trucking Baby
Keep on keeping on till it is all gone
Thus did the two mighty sons of Saturn
To the angel of the assembly in Montego Bay
THE BANE OF ELDERS
But I have this against you, that you tolerate your woman, Jezebel
Thus spoke the elders to Martin, who was not at all pleased
Martin then sped onward, towering like snowy mountains with a loud cry
“Parents just don’t understand, okay here’s the situation!"
My parents went away for a weekend vacation
I got dressed up in those ancient artifacts and hung with Pontius Pilate
After the deposition of the eldest son of Herod, “Help Me God!”
STUDENTS RALLY FOR EDUCATION RIGHTS
Organized right then people are free
Systematic seasonally or semiannually
Develop a list of all tasks
Rain maintain every household
Thus then did they fight as it were flaming fire
Be his courage who could take
Pleasure in the sight of such a turmoil
Saturday, November 21, 2009
World Wheat, Rice and Corn
Eat the grain of Ceres
Slaughtered by questionable psychic services.
Like the Sugar Daddies
Dazzling is the sheen of their gleaming helmets
Shoot up the accessible 100 packets of heroin
Desperate for high rolling candy
Our citizenship depends on
What is stuck in his belly
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
11/11 Readings
I found Wenderoth’s Letters to Wendy to be extremely enjoyable and amusing. It reminds me of a few late night rambles and early morning recoveries between my friends an I- the confessions, the spontaneity, the lack of boundaries, all of it. I particularly enjoyed July 6, 1996- “I was so high on Sudafed and whiskey today that I couldn't eat. I got a Coke -actually five Cokes, as I could refill for free. It's times like this-dehydrated, exhausted, unable to imagine home-that your plastic seats, your quiet understandable room, set beside but not quite overlooking the source of real value, offer me a tragedy small enough to want to endure.”
I absolutely loved Estrella’s Prophesies. The author’s note at the beginning sets a very humorous work, and I enjoyed seeing the transformation of the fortunes. I would like to know the method Baratier used to achieve such tansitions. I found Prophecie XLVI to be particularly amusing.
Though a much different style of writing, Baratier also uses a letter type format. I enjoyed this very much due to the description and the flow of one thought into another. I just feel it transitioned beautifully and reflected the stream of consciousness of an individual who is reflecting on his or her life. I specifically enjoyed the introduction in itself.
I have to say, I liked Stanley Crawford’s Some Instructions least. I just found it to be somewhat dull. I did, however, like the fact that he used aspects of a house or of an environment to describe characteristics of his marriage, wife, and daughter. Drawing parallels such as those does create an interesting piece.
11/11 Reading
Baratier, in In What’s In It, also uses the letter format as a springboard to write. I didn’t enjoy it as much as Wenderoth’s but it was still very interesting to see how he started with a single idea and let the words blossom into something very pleasing at times.
In Estrella’s Prophesies, Baratier uses a different method of writing. He is writing as if he were the “Gypsy” in a carnival fortune telling machine. It’s interesting but get’s quite odd at times. It is really more, I think, an autobiographical work. Again, an interesting way to start writing.
Stanley Crawford writes in, “To My Wife,” uses a “chicken-soup-for-the-soul” type of format to describe, I think, how much of a rut the marriage is in. It’s as if he is sitting at his desk and seeing how items like walls, floors, roofs, electricity all relate to marriage. He lays out everything that he deals with daily in a way that it reflects the state of the marriage. I liked it and found the format to be entertaining. Marriage isn’t a set of rules or lists. It is a day by day event by even situation – exactly as single life is. The difference is you have a partner so there is some coordination of schedules and expectation involved. I think he knows this and is being a little facetious with this piece.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Wenderoth, Baratier, Crawford
Baratier - This piece definitely felt more personal than the previous one by Wenderoth. Here, we were seeing a more emotional side of the people who were writing these letters. I liked reading these because as the reader, I was really peering into the minds of these people and seeing beneath the surface of who they could actually be in their normal day-to-day lives. It's nice to see past the veneer that people usually put up, and even though I haven't a clue of who these people are in real life, I still felt like I could see through them more. There were also a lot of deep areas that I enjoyed too, such as on page 11 were it says "Moderation becomes the question, how often do we displace ourselves, what do we put out". Portions of the text, such as this, make you think a little deeper beyond the just the basic text. The second piece of Baratier set the tone a little differently, but it continued on with the hidden-deeper-meaning undertones as well. This piece from the get-go was definitely a little more fun and upbeat t0 read, and used a lot more 'eye-catching' words as well. Some of the prophesies were a little complicated, but still somewhat enjoyable to read.
Crawford - This piece was definitely more straightforward than anything else we've read in class. Again, it was a very fun and light-hearted read. You didn't even really need to be into creative writing or even English to really enjoy this piece and see the point in it, but nonetheless, it was still really well-written. I didn't really enjoy it more than the other two, but I didn't think it was a bad read either, just not really my cup of tea.
11.11 readings
I liked that all of the excerpts were short. It showed that you don't have to write a long novel to get your point across. I like it when authors leave it up to the reader to fill in information. When it's too wordy and descriptive, I just tune out anyways.
Wenderoth and others
Wenderoth Baratier Crawford
Monday, November 9, 2009
Readings for 11/9
From Marcus, I enjoyed the Terms section, and particularly enjoyed the section on heaven. I felt the description of “Area of final containment. It is modeled after the first house. It may be hooked and slid and shifted. The bottom may be sawed through. Members inside stare outward and sometimes reach” gave a different view of heaven; instead of a place of destination, heaven is perceived as a place of uncertainty. I enjoyed Edson’s excerpt. I felt it was active and possessed some seriousness within the humor. I particularly enjoyed “The Bloody Rug” as is portrays the opposite of what is expected in such a situation; instead of a father beating his child, the child is beating her father. Even within the violence of the situation, Edson incorporates humor as the mother is more concerned with the cleanliness of the house than the beaten father. I enjoyed the detailed narration of Kuo. Cicadas particularly caught my attention due the imagery and comfort it brings me of a summer day.
11/9 readings
Kuo, Edson, Marcus
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Marcus, Edson, Kuo
Marcus, Edson, Kuo, Cycholl
Edson - I thought the way this piece was set up was very unique and interesting. It was a very descriptive and fun read to do. I really enjoyed "The Dog's Tail" the most. I thought most of the readings were also very relatable as well.
Kuo - This piece was also very descriptive, which made it a fun read. Whenever a piece is more on the descriptive side, it makes it very more pleasant to read through. When you have to read a piece that's very dull and lack-luster and not creative, it obviously won't help your personal writing process, whatsoever. I believe that each of these pieces could be very inspirational to a creative writer, or just a writer in general.
Cycholl - This piece was interesting, but hard to follow through. A lot of it seemed to be random words and pieces thrown together, which were hard to understand, as usual. It also had a bit of a darker, grim feel to it. One thing I did enjoy, was while reading parts pertaining to specific areas, such as the South, I could really feel that atmosphere through Cycholl's words.
Marcus, Edson, Kuo,
I really enjoyed this reading each section was a very insightful piece and all the sections were and easy read. I really enjoyed reading the second section titled Food. I liked how each subsection that followed brought the subject of food into the writing in some way. Marcus is also a very descriptive writer. It is extremely easy to draw pictures of his writings in my mind as I am reading.
Russell Edson
The thing that I enjoyed most about Edson's writings was that each piece was small but had a much larger meaning beyond the text. I also enjoyed the way that Edson used animals in a very significant way in his writings. He made me think about things on a much different level. He also makes a lot of reference to death, dying and killing in many of his writings. My favorite section in this reading was The Wonders of Nature. I liked it most because it showed that you really cant judge a book by it cover. You can look at a person and their appearance will not give you one clue as to how their life is or even where they come from.
Alex Kuo
Each section in this reading seems as though it can be a collaborative piece of somebodies own personal journal. Each section is a very descriptive story and reading them made me feel as though I was around experiencing and seeing the things that the text described. Kuo is a very descriptive writer just like the other writers in this section. My favorite section in Kuo writing would have to be Past Perfect Tense. I enjoyed reading this section because the ending was so believing and then she finally woke up from her dream. I also like this section because Kuo mentions that some of the things discussed in this section where never suppose to be spoken about again and she ends the section by waking p out of a dream as if she really didn't tell the secrets.
Marcus, Edson, Kuo, Cycholl
MARCUS, EDSON,CYCHOLL, KUO
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Calvino
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Notes on anything...
Calvino
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Nov. 4th READINGS
I really enjoyed reading Calvino's writings. He does so much with the way that he writes that really kept me interested. I couldn't read read fast enough I would get past the first paragraph and be curious as to what was on the next page. The title of the text in no way gives any insight as to how the text reads out. What I liked best about this reading is the fact that Calvino is a very descriptive writer. I also enjoyed the fact that he gets so off into his writings the reader can actually get a sense of feeling that Calvino is writing directly to you as though he knows you. I also enjoyed the parts in the excerpt when Calvino goes back over his writing and tells you what he did to the story for example the section on pages 25 and 26 when he talks about us reading the same pages more then once and he describes it as a publishing mistake. I also like how Calvino jumps in and out of the text and he takes the reader with him. He is very descriptive and he goes from telling a actually story, to basically having a conversation with the reader, to talking about his way of writing.
George Perece
I really enjoyed reading this excerpt as well. George is a very descriptive writer as well. I also like how the title of the section went alone with the text that followed. My favorite section was pages 156 to 164. I really like how descriptive he was in writing this section from him talking about different clothing items that are ready to wear to him discussing different writing methods in sections like 3,4, and 5. I found Calvino and George to be different but similar in many ways
Calvino, Perece
Perec's reading for me was definitely more slow-placed in comparison to Calvino's. While yes, Perec is pretty descriptive, I was just not diggin' this piece personally. When he starts talking about the equations, I just got very lost and confused and began to realize that I was just skimming over that section rather than actually reading it.
That's What Hitler Said
George Perece Penser
If on a Winter's Night a Traveler
Life, A User's Manual
I found Perec’s method to be deep in involvement and originality. However, the process did create an extremely complex and confusing story with much description. I did particularly enjoy chapter thirty-five “The Concierge’s Office” about Madame Claveau and the reason for her one distate. It would be interesting to compare the outcomes of the same story while using different board games. Also, I do think that this will probably be one of the more difficult methods we are given to tackle as an assignment. Should be interesting.
Perec Reading 04Nov
Monday, November 2, 2009
Book Review- Flash Fiction Forward
Ants- Saliva
It’s a picnic. This picnic is a circus-bizurcus.
Eating, drooling, indulging. Drool.
Drip, Drip, Drop.
And here comes the army, a parading army.
No helmets, no weapons, only armed with hunger.
Devouring. Feast. They feast on the food.
The feast on that food, I wish the food was you
Liar. Bastard. If I can’t take revenge, someone should.
An army, yes an army. Take their provisions and leave you for dead.
I would, you would, we should
Dark, cold, a light
Bright but unseen
They are coming, but not to help
They are here to make certain
It’s why you’re here
Certainty not for help
Run, you cannot move
Immobile, but free in your mind
Your son has left
You still can feel
Feel the cold, feel the dark, feel the pain
How long with this last
Why make someone suffer
Use your lifeline to call home
I don’t want to play who wants to be a millionaire anymore. This sounds way too serious. A cat gets nine lives… I only get three lifelines? Bogus.
Breakfast
Creeping out of bed slowly, I let out a deep sigh. “Ugh.” I pick up the pace and quick step to half-consciously push down the tab to turn off the beeping alarm clock. “Fucking shit.” What was I thinking!? 9:54? Fuck that. Hold down the alarm #1 button and hold on to the minute up button. The time clock rolls in advance. Back to bed. Thank you, half-conscious body; I approve of your decision-making.
Item in the room (play off unfinished j)
Renku
Renku
The quiet gesture of leaves
Rustling through time again and again
Time sits very still
And still it goes fast
Grains of sand seeping through faults
Where they fall, we fall
Resting beside you
The lake brings cold wintery rain
I am reborn without sanctuary
Life, a users manual
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Life a User's Maual
Life, A User's Manual
The method is very captivating, but also confusing as well. I think the whole set up of it is quite unique and seems to be very helpful to the create writing process. It allows you to take your creativity one step further. First, your just putting words on a piece of paper. Next, your expanding them so much more further than can ever be imagined. By doing methods like George Perec's it helps writers to branch out of their normal writing patterns and explore a different realm. Since Perec's piece was a bit more on the crowded and confusing side, maybe he wanted to game to reflect that. He didn't want this project to be just any old walk in the park. It's weird though how you can take this type of method and turn it into a story. Well, not necessarily weird, but just a little out of the ordinary. I'm intrigued to see where our class will take their stories based on this method...
I think this method will be one of the hardest ones that we will have to tackle in the class just based on my first impression of its complexity.
Life a User's Manual
Life A User's Manual
I enjoyed reading about the jigsaw puzzle technique. I never would have thought of a jegsaw puzzle as a way to tell a story. Now, I'm going to be looking at a jigsaw puzzle in an entirely different way the next time I attempt to put one together.
Response to George Perce's "Life A User's Manual"
ITALO CALVINO EXCERPT READING FOR 04NOV
PEREC'S READING
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Primary Colors - Joe Klein (Book Report)
Overall this novel gave me the ability to foreshadow something I was familiar with and relate to a specific instance. Without directly mentioning Clinton or any scandal that took place during his presidency, the reader would find it interesting to be able to relate.
If anyone was interested in politics or a good novel, I would recommend Primary Colors by Joe Klein.
i’d rather you lied
Selected Poems 1980-1998
Billy Childish
Billy Childish is probably the most prolific artists of his generation. Not only is he an accomplished artist and musician, this book of poetry was dran from over thirty volumes including two previously unpublished editions.
His style of poetry is considered raw and seething. He had dropped out of school at 16 years old, and was proud that he had lived on the government dole for 12 years writing and creating woodcarvings and drawings. Ultimately, during this time, music was the dominant style of Childish’s artistic expression. He released more than 100 full length albums he recorded independently with The Poprivets, The Mighty Ceasars, and The Milkshakes. After this period, Childish was diagnosed as dyslexic and his previous troubles in several art schools became clear.
His dyslexia turned out to be a blessing for his poetry as the random, unintentional found language it produced became one of his trademarks. “Wild” Billy Childish writes in what is considered the confessional / amateur style of poetry. He has written openly and explicitly about his love-life, childhood sexual abuse, and troubled relationship with his father.
His poem titled, “my father aged 5” begins;
i ran in there
kicked the door back
n grabbed him
round the throat
i got him over the
sink n then banged
his head aganst the
bottle rack
This is just a small example of the seething honesty he brings to all his art. I have loved Billy Childish’s music for several years and was surprised to find his poetry at Woodland Pattern as I didn’t even know he wrote! Great book, great artist, I highly recommend this to all.
Exercises in style
Exercises in Style
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Hazel Smith/Exercises In Style pt. 2
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I've found all of these exercises to be quite interesting, and very inspiring as well. The way Queneau works with words is amazing, especially with "Rhyming Slang". I found that piece to be the most enjoyable personally of the second half of the book. With a lot of the exercises though, I do feel like random words were just tossed around and I can't really understand the piece at all which just makes me frustrated for the most part. An example of one of the pieces that frustrated me was, "Back Slang". I just did not understand it or it's purpose at all, and I guess that's just a technique that I'm not used to, but still, it just was not connecting with me. The other day I was speaking with a friend, and we were comparing art to creative writing. My friend said she found it hard to appreciate art at all because she felt as if a majority of it was just "thrown together". I agreed somewhat with this statement, because I find it hard to discover meaning in anything where it isn't just thrown at you in someway. I then brought up this class and I discussed some of the activities and readings we have done in class, and how I find it hard to appreciate some of them because I didn't understand them. I think it's easy for people to just thrown something under the bus because they don't understand it completely, which is essentially what I am doing. I am trying to be more open-minded with the readings we are doing, such as Raymond Queneau's and find appreciation in them, but it is definitely hard. I believe comprehending the importance of these writings is critical to help grow as a writer though, so I'm not going to completely give up on understanding this literature. It just has to grow on me a bit more. Overall though, I did enjoy Queneau's exercises and think they did help to inspire me with the play of words, and hopefully I will be able to light this shine through in my future writings.
Cream City: Queer Edition
Second Half of Exercises in Style and Hazel Smith
Exercises in Style Cont'd/ Hazel Smith Ch. 5
Raymond really came up with a lot of different ways to write. This book was a good read. Even though I got tired of reading the same story I was able to understand each method seeing as though I knew the original story. I was able to understand what things were added, taken out or even completely changed to make the story fit the method of that section. Even thought the story changed a little. I enjoyed more then one method in the second half of this book. My favorite if I had to choose one would have to be Ode.
Hazel Smith
In this reading Hazel focused on the discorse of narratology. Just as Raymond does Hazel is showing us many different methods to write a piece. Hazel shows us the transformed writing and then goes into detail about how this way of writing has an affect on the reader. The one thing that I think that Hazel focuses more on than Raymond is the narrator. Hazel is giving ways to write in order to change how the narrator is involved in the text. I found Raymond's styles of writing to be a lot more interesting then Hazels.
Excercise in style
Monday, October 26, 2009
Exercises in Style
Raymond Queneau
POEMS BY SUSAN FIRER 21OCT BOOK REPORT
28OCT READING QUENEAU AND SMITH
Hazel Smith’s reading for 28Oct is similar to what Queneau is doing, she has her set of exercises and she is referring to the narrator inside or a narrator outside and changing the story in that format. So both are referring to just changing the story and using other words to tell the same thing.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Exercises in Style
Exercises in Style
The Trouble With Poetry
Queneau, Madden, Significant Objects
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Exercises in Style
Matt Madden 99 Ways to Tell a Story is very similar to Raymond's writing. As Raymond did this just shows all the different ways to do the same thing.
The SignificantOdjects web site was very interesting as well. It relates to the readings in a way in which the buyer has to decide what the use of the object will be. I just didn't find an interest in any of the objects on the site.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The Terrible Twos
The Terrible Twos by Ishmael Reed is a social critique that assaults those who are empowered by greed and immediate gratification, quite frankly, Americans. Within the novel, Santa Claus, an actor hired by the North Pole Development Corporation, is kidnapped and replaced by a fake Santa that leads a country rebellion against the United States government and economy out of protest against selfishness. The fake Santa speaks to the people, “Two years old, that’s what we are, emotionally-America, always wanting someone to hand us some ice cream, always complaining, Santa didn’t bring me this and why didn’t Santa bring me that. Nobody can reason with us. Nobody can tell us anything. Millions of people are staggering about and passing out in the snow and we say that’s tough.” Meanwhile, St. Nicholas and a rasta dwarf named Black Peter work together with the President, a private detective, Nance Saturday, and a journalist, Jamaica Queens, to restore peace, order, and holiday cheer to the country. I did enjoy reading this novel and hope to read the sequel The Terrible Threes; in addition, Reed does do an excellent job in making unexpected comparisons and exposing societal errors. However, I do feel as though much of the humor and social comparisons surpassed my comprehension. I do look forward to reading The Terrible Twos again.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Breakfast (Better late than never)
Monday, October 19, 2009
FACE (my book presentation)
Don't Break a Leg
Friday, October 16, 2009
Do onto other as you would have others do onto you
Clowns pooping on their boyfriends face. Be sure to use a wet-nap.
Who knows what they’re fucking them on the road. A guy picks up
a hitchhiker and rubs her knee, I’m no queer. Grandpa died when his
body shut done again by organ grinders with monkeys who with hats
and fangs. Why aren’t monkeys venomous platypuses are but things
on their feet spurs. Why is venom always in a sac? Are boll sacks
filled with venom? Some girls must think so. Babies having babies.
I said that in front of a pregnant mother and didn’t even realize I said it.
Small headaches take an Ibuprofen 500mg of numbness.
Numbness, a good version of numbness would be knocking a guy out.
Shotgun, hit by a car, it all works. Cars of big mass with no bumper, that
Way it will grind the headache out of your face. Dismantled of course, no
Face left, who cares, the face ache is gone right? Try smoking a cigarette,
Those are supposed to be good at getting rid of face aches. Your face aches
No more, bang your arm against a cow or chimpanzee, this will give you
that arm ache you’ve been waiting for, however you will forget about your
face ache from being hit by a car with no bumper. And that is a bumper less car
going through a field in the middle of nowhere. You fall to the ground and
stare up at the whirling sky, little birdies whirl around your head.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
splat
Uncertain about it's final form.
The clocks of the world unfold leaving all in yesterday's know but holding
To their vest the events of next.
Putressence, gangreen. Sounds like they
Could be flowers inviting pollenators
From every Shires ende
The tendre croppes.
A science-fiction nightmare with greenies from other dimensions and
Shapeshifting into frienemies.
Due South, dress warm, make sure
Your ears are covered for fear of pink skin
Fading to white and then
To black.
The Acidity Disguised As Ambience
Summer pukes on the back of the driver's head
Whirling, sweating, falling, flailing
crawling,
Loving, like, strangers with dirt, like, all under their nails.
Body odor wafting through the cement and steel cage.
There's sawdust, mesothelioma candy,
Neon sticks, lollipop binkies,
All in an effort to reach...
Expereinces and memories of never
floating endlessly in the base of the spine.
I Remember
The sunken livingroom with a see through fireplace
My mom's orage and red pantsuit.
I remember ice cube trays made for
Making home-made popcicles with oragen juice.
I remember seeing a horse with
A hardon that looked like a barber pole
At Georgia O'Keefe's birthplace.
I remember needing pants to cover my whole shoe
Zips tennis shoes with the commercial
The one where the kid jumps over tables, streets and trees.
I remember my Incredible Hulk belt
And lunchbox and thermos
And Rage-Cage.
I remember my dad's Pontiac J
2000
It smelled like farts.
Quaint
Walking the path I look up
A silent autumn
Blue skies moving
Backtracking the long cold night
Rain falling fast
Filling pothole hole dent divot
Drowning the butts and wrappers
until they float yellowed
Asthmatic Couch
The old people shouldn't be allowed to drive anymore. Who would let the crypt keeper get behind the wheel of a car? Just because they are moments from death doesn't mean I should have to go down iwth them. They just back up without looking! Their beady little eyes hide behind coke bottle glasses that haven't been updated since 1972. Their sick, leathery, yellowed hands can barely grasp the wheel due to their arthritis. I can smell the death from here. And why do they all drive such behemouth cars? So short they can barely see over the wheel yet they drive whales through the WalMart parking lot.
Parking lot is always crowded, crowded with cars, like a no holds barred never seeing any stars, from a far, I look so bizarre never mind that isn't all afar. Far far away I went astray.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
INFESATION
Begin looked shelf
Behind bag
On tub almost Philadelphia plain cream cheese
As I
Toaster
INFESTATION current apple bleach mixture
Smell nauseating
But bugs death
As toaster
One hobble around helplessly
And I decided unappetizing enough I it
Break/Fast
Scoring Prose into Poetry
food
but I'll soon want something specific
Muffins!
There were leftover
apple cinnamon muffins from
last night
that and
I'm pressed for time
The bus
arrives at 8:01
I pull two from the plastic bag
Checking to make sure the bottoms weren't burned
I grab
the orange juice from the cool refrigerator
and pour myself a glass.
~Kent
Mohammed Degentesh McGee Sullivan
Breakfast
The alarm is on
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
I turn of the irritating alarm ready to make my head explode
Out of bed and freezing in my room
Then I realize its Monday morning which means CINNAMON ROLLS
Warm and crispy
Straight out of the oven
Hot icing sliding down the top like a slow motion reply
I take the first bite and chew slowly to experience the long lasting flavor
So delicious it felt like a party in my mouth
then on its way to clog my arteries
BREAKFAST
I went to work Sunday night at 10pm and got off work
Monday at 6am when my SHIFT ENDED….
I still didn’t go home still didn’t go to sleep. Still didn’t eat BREAKFAST.
WHY NOT?
Because I had a weeks worth of dirty laundry in the car,
Washing machine not working had to do my laundry, got in car left work
went to laundry mat and washed and dried clothes got there
around 645am,only person in there doing laundry, people next door sitting in George Webs had BREAKFAST. No not me.
Got a call about 715am to run pick up someone left my clothes in dryer at laundry
It was 730am
HUNGRY SLEEPY!
Got back to laundry at 9am, began folding my clothes.
BREAKFAST!
But too sleepy to eat
But got home by 10am and started doing homework that is due on 14th October.
No SLEEP
Then opened fridge saw a bowl with CHICKEN SALAD in it. Got 4 pieces of oat bran bread and made a CHICKEN SALAD SANDWICH
UM, UM CHICKEN SALAD
FINALLY GOT TO EAT CHICKEN SALAD
Fresh CHICKEN SALAD consists of small cut up pieces of the chicken breast cut made with sandwich spread, and small cuts of a red apple, and small pieces of cut onion, served with or without lettuce, two of the pieces of bread were toasted brown and the chicken salad spread in between the two pieces of toasted bread, then the other sandwich was made without toasting the bread. Not my usual BREAKFAST, but it was delicious all the same. I sat at the table and gobbled it down and then drank a bottle of kiwi strawberry flavored water. Then I drank a cup of coffee, with lots of sugar in it and milk. I call it cafĂ© con leche. By then it was after 11am, I sat at the table with the computer doing my homework, trying to finish. By 1230pm took myself a shower, changed clothes and combed my hair. Then it was 113pm, decided to take a nap so I wouldn’t be so sleepy trying to drive myself to school to make it there by the start of my 330pm class. Still HUNGRY so I spotted a bag of caramel cream candy and ate as I was driving, Don’t know what will happen in two weeks when my two mini term classes start at 930am and 1230pm on Monday and Wednesday because BREAKFAST SH…T, I might not get chance to have, but I guess I am thinking too far ahead. I also had a bottle of Sobe Green Tea and drank it in class, because tonight I start this routine again at 10pm, got only an hour of sleep so far. Still HUNGRY, still SLEEPY, but hopefully I will have time tomorrow to make myself a better BREAKFAST than CHICKEN SALAD SANDWICH.
*When I Woke Up*
After I took a SHOWER, I brushed my TEETH and got DRESSED.
After I got DRESSED, I packed my MATH book and NOTEBOOK, my GEOSCIENCE, and my METEROLOGY notebook in my BACKPACK.
I saw my STARBURSTS in my drawer, so I PACKED those too.
My KEYS went in my bag, my I.D. went in my back POCKET.
I CLOSED the room DOOR, as well as the SUITE door.
I HEADED for the elevator, PUSHED the down arrow and waited.
The elevator came, I got INSIDE. Went STRAIGHT down to the 1st floor.
I got out, and STARTED to walk towards Bolton.
Monday, October 12, 2009
HoCho
and traced my
fingers
against all the pots
and pans
until I reached my second
smallest
silver body
black handle
copper bottom pot
I pulled it out from under
the white
plastic
noddle strainer
I filled the
silver body
black handle
copper bottom pot
with water.
I boiled the water
and poured it into my yellow
Tinker Bell
over sized mug.
I mixed the hot coco mix with a small
silver
spoon.
I blew on the liquid to cool it
I took a sip
and
enjoyed.