oh, okay, here is one of Robert Grenier’s comments on my class work. I know it is pretty unreadable but I think the gist is that I am awesome, you should buy my books, and generally you should bow to me. you can forgo the bowing if you would simply buy this book.

It Started Here…

 

The following is from the one creative writing class I took in high school, when I was 17. I began writing the year before. I am glad that Mrs H noted my predilection for rewriting. I am sure I did not do a lot of that rare thing, but any time a young writer makes such effort, it is worth noting. I also found one of the comments that Robert Grenier made for a poetry class I took at legendary Franconia College, a study of American poetry. I cannot put my hand on the one in which he notes that I spent my time either writing or playing ping pong. living in Franconia meant that Littleton, NH represented Big City Lights. click the image to read the report.

 

a few thoughts in an unfocused post:

1st) Anny Ballardini and Obododimma Oha (denizens of the Wryting-L list) have collected poetic responses to the recent election in USA at the site Anny oversees, Poet's Corner. the specific link is here, but check out all the work collected at the site, including a poem by Ezra Pound's daughter. I was invited to contribute to the project (Anny is one of the really supportive poetry folk out there--stay out of NYC, Anny!!!), but had nothing fitting, and I did not write to fit. work by Your Servant can be found on the site, however, including a couple of poems for the Autumn anthology

2nd) I know I should be more adept with my links. some are out of date, others could be added. Ron Silliman's excellent harvesting of links, which lose some usefulness with the less than evocative captions that he supplies, shows a terrific span of attention. in the same vein, but more so, of course, is Wood's Lot, which left my link list some while back because of my inability to do justice to (id est: read) it all just made me sad. a stunning range of material.

I have added links to more of my work (work I neglected to link to earlier), to the right there, yonder, which you might feel inspired to tap. you can even buy what excellent Carl Annarummo created of my wordage: Walden Book, a sort of preamble to Days Poem, which you already cherish as 1000 pages of awesome. Walden Book is the early buzz of the same obsessions, not to give any stories away. the internet, cor, it fills up with your work.

Important Advice

I was looking at a recent book by a butler, about manners and how to get along. Sensible advice but I quibble with his description of how to open a bottle of sparkling wine. He was doing fine until he ripped the cork free with a loud pop. Big Drama, but lives are at stake. For SAFETY'S SAKE, read on:

1. Remove the wire cage from the bottle, always keeping a finger or thumb on top of the cork. Corks can pop without your help, and with devastating force. Could be a bad thing.


2. Hold cork in one hand, bottle in the other. Keep the bottle horizontal. The reason? The pressure is upward from the surface of the wine. Holding the bottle vertically can inspire a rapid exodus of the contents of the bottle towards unprepared regions. You can wrap the bottle in towel or napkin, for a better grip and added safety, but you will look a bit poncy. Also, wear a Kevlar suit.


3. Twist the cork slowly. I have heard it advised that one should twist the bottle. In my experience, it is easier to twist the cork. Do whatever you think is right. Just because I have professional experience does not mean you should listen.


4. Ease the cork out. The trapped gas will help.


5. As the cork reaches the point of extrication, maintain a firm grip on the cork and let the gas slowly hiss out as you raise the bottle to a vertical and remove the cork entirely. Oh darn, did not spill a drop.


6. Pour wine into glasses, not the ones modeled after Marie Antoinette's breast--oh those French!--but tall flutes. Flutes are made with a rougher surface. Bubbles emanate from those rough points. Oo, the bubbles tickle your nose!


7. Hail the New Year, lads and lasses.

you ought to take time to read this blog, by the former Stephen Ellis now ycelpt Bob Button and likely to take on other aliases. page down a bit for a lovely Youtube performance by Leo Koetke (on the Tonight Show!!!), but do not ignore the words.

my informant sent this link to Charles Olson reading "The Librarian". additionally I am informed that today is Frank Moore's birthday, born 1923. yesterday was Olson's 99th annivérsaire. there are several other videos of Big Fire Source on Youtube. I realize that that sort of moniker is weighty and wearing but I am sure Duncan meant it straight up. I am now beyond slavishness towards my teachers but I am still much invigorated by Olson's work.

saw Batman the Dark Knight. it exceeded expectations. it is based more in a human reality than these comic book movies usually manage. Heath ledger was certainly riveting. of course, that is how it works, the crazy, intense one is the centre of attention. as has been noted, Satan is far more interesting in Paradise Lost than Adam or Eve. that given, Ledger still made every moment crackle. Cesar Romero played the role campy, pretty much as Bob Kane envisioned the character. Jack Nicholson was Jack, creepy yet fun. Ledger’s Joker was disturbing. late in the movie he deliver unto Batman an examination of Batman’s moral dilemma that was splendidly biting and well-aimed. Joker himself is hors de combat of that problem. he’s a terrorist without the moral clause. the sense of the city being terrorized, in the current political sense, was strong and compelling. Aaron Eckart as the white knight DA was good. he’s startlingly goodlooking in a brisk public servant way, and entered the role of Two-Face smoothly, I thought. no need to go entirely Willem DaFoe. Michael Caine as Alfred was good, cockney Alfred, and Morgan Freeman as Lucius Fox, worked well as well. do not go cheap on the little roles in these things. Batman as Dark Knight is wearisome. he’s got issues just like the criminals, but is far less evolved. Christian Bale as Wayne has life to him, but no Batman has succeeded in being more than a costume. which is the point, I suppose, of the character. the movie was well-contained, did not allude outside itself to other entries in the franchise, and its themes held thru out. I haven’t seen the latest James Bond movies, but I think they tried to just start over, treat them more like separate movies. there was that obvious sense in Iron Man that this began the series. it worked nonetheless, but one fears the attenuation that likely will occur. one need only look at the Pirates flicks following Black Pearl, and the 2nd Matrix was so awful that I could not watch the 3rd, tho that is supposed to be better and resolve the 3.

Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, check. 1st one is still the best. this one has the same self-conscious manipulation as The Last Crusade, the urgency to touch all the franchise keynotes and let the plot take care of its own. the result is even more muddled than Last Crusade. I even found it visually cluttered. it looked remarkably cheesy, which is surprising given that as a film technician Spielberg aint no slouch. the movie starts with some malarkey about Russians invading Area 51 to steal, oh, you know, the Crystal Skull, or some hint to its whereabouts. the movie simply accepted that certain forces must push the plot, and dealt something to suffice. Indy is accompanied by a Brit who, it turns out, is a double agent. and a triple agent, except no one likely believed that reconciliation. but Indy gets away, and survives a nuclear bomb test by hiding in a refrigerator. I believe everything I see. there’s a brief 50s blackball theme, then Indy meets Shia LaBoeuf, who arrives looking like Brando in The Wild Ones. decent rapport exists between Ford and LaBoeuf, albeit a contrived tension, plotwise. on a vague hint, they fly to Peru, in search of that crystal skull. the Russians remain in the story, poor man’s Nazi. I did not mench Cate Blanchett being the nutsoid in charge of the Russians. she’s Stalin’s head of psychic research, or some such. which sounds more like a Hitler thing but anyway.she’s a dully campy dominatrix. is she a good actress??? her Galadriel was probably not her fault, the director forced her to look like such a bemused drag. I cannot remember what else I have seen of her. the plot was muddled beyond repair. the crystal skull attracted metal, but only when convenient to the plot. the action set pieces were lacklustre and did not seem to worry about plausibility. one accepts that Mythbusters might bust certain imaginative elements in a movie, but not that Jamie and Adam would not even bother to probe the possibilities. that is how it seemed with this movie. the movie was enjoyable enough, since I like Ford, and Spielberg’s failures are still largely competent. the crystal skull belongs, we learn, to ETs, so we end up with Richard Dreyfus’ friends with a somewhat more malign aspect. I do not know the budget of this flick but it looked cheapo. I wonder about Lucas, who has twiddled away his most interesting projects for the sake of merchandise and 2nd rate productions. I imagine that the plan was to slip River Phoenix into the Indy franchise, back in that day, and death kinda precluded that. LaBoeuf might be the next chance to move on, because Ford’s not good for many more punch outs. the movie ended smarmily, so maybe we should just tuck the baby in and say goodnight.

traffic to this space tripled because of searches on Emma Bee Bernstein, indicating the interest in her. Beth and I did our share, just wanting to know a little more. I did not intend to write a poem to her (see link below), but it was immediately identified as such by someone on the Wryting-L list. intent is a difficult thing in poetry. I (hope to) let feeling find the words, rather than, say, replicate the feeling in a structured response. if there is a School of Quietude, its sin is boosting emotional moments into crass simulacra. some things are too large in feeling, and too essential, death certainly, that we cannot play them like that. when Olson tells Blackburn that he did not know it was a subject, he lets boundaries find themselves. when I write ‘E’ in my poem, I really meant the letter, mostly. that was a safe distance, you might safe, tho I did invoke her name. i like the poem, because I see language passing thru me, mostly, rather than me at the steering wheel, sorry if metaphors are mixed.

quickly but respectfully reported

I guess that I appreciate Ron Silliman's death watch. my interest in the obits page has yet to reach the lurid point, but I do take note. and it is so stark to see a name, Emma Bee Bernstein, that I readily compute as 'someone', not that I have met Bernstein or Bee, tho I could have dined with them after their presentation at Tim Peterson's series, along with the rest of the audience. the picture on Ron's blog is a casual snap, a frame in the life movie. I know no more about her death, and do not even need details. I think of Charles Bernstein as an edifice, as a focal point for poetic divergences and such, I mean, oo, Bernstein = this or that. neither this nor that, however, hardly comprises the person who has lost his Emma. I have spoken as many words to Charles Bernstein as I have to Princess Diana yet the picture of her with the doleful end date caught me, and not just because I can insert Erin for Emma to bring it home. death don't have no mercy, certes. clasp hands, dear ones.

I guess you could check out the 139th installment of Antic View. Antic View has links to a lot of Jeff Harrison's work. Please peer upon it with your best eye. It is unique and delightful work, idiosyncratic yet inclusive. that Socratic Republic of Plato is a word-twisting place, suspicious of intent. we have this political economy of vocabulary (lumpy mouthful), in which the dedication of employment of words is respected. whereas the life of words, as living history of the joining space between people, is paved with too much intent. too many poets suck out loud, to put it bluntly. they suck the meme of intent, the sort of intent that can make Sarah Palin the map of Republican expanse. I think Jeff Harrison is a poet who arrives in a better light, less willful and more respectful. I believe strongly that his nation is aligned with the best vibrations. I will declare my own intentions towards a similar assonance. I read Antic View coldly, because I know that it is not titillating anyone, and that it adverts upon me, and well as on Jeff. I take our dilemma as poets seriously, and feel that Antic View charges the reader as well as ourselves. what do you need, dear Reader, to be incited???

I note Jeff Harrison's review of Walden Book (scroll down the page) at Galatea Resurrects. buy a copy and support Carl Annarummo's press and good work.

2 new installments to Antic View. Jeff Harrison admits to writing only about one poem a month, and I do not seem to be doing much more than that lately. yet we both feel productive. hm.

a couple of interesting social networking options. I've tried a few:

• Myspace, simply too ugly even to start with


• Twitter, could be useful but it did not stick with me. do we really need too much???


• Facebook, overwhelmed by structure, and people counting coup, but it seems useful, tho it also seems like a lot of work. come on, be my Facebook Friend!!!!!

I like these 2, however:

1. Goodreads, advert the books you are reading, write reviews. I like reading what other people are saying, and it is fun to write my own wisdomisms.


2. Wakoopa, reviews and usage data of computer applications. Wakoopa can tally what applications you use, how much, plus you can learn about what others are using. really useful!

{revised, 12/9/08}

saw 2 movies. 1st Khartoum, which I saw on Hulu. a spectacular historical drama from the 60s, and really, it was a spectacle, with grand vistas and all that. 19th century British interests in Khartoum are besieged by Islamic forces following a visionary called The Mahdi. the story begins with the British sending an army to quell the nascent uprising. the army goes Custer-like into a trap and all 10,000 are wiped out. the Mahdists are now well-supplied with guns. back in England there is this backroom talk with Gladstone and such, how to save face, rather than save Khartoum. all these proper English accents sound like Monty Python, deciding how to cut bait without looking like it. the machinations are appalling and confusing, but the gist is that Charles Gordon is chosen to go save face for the British Empire. Charlton Heston pays Gordon. I think the point is that Gordon, a Christian fanatic, will stay at Khartoum to the death, that being how Gordon rolls, meanwhile Britain can get the rest of its interests out of the area. something like that, I need another shot at the movie to get this clear. the point is that Heston is onstage now. he has his pompous, hammy mannerisms, but he is fun to watch. and those mannerisms are not as exaggerated as they could be, Cecil B. deMille isn't directing. Gordon is a little like Obi Wan in Bridge on the River Kwai. he is not quite over the edge like Obi Wan, that is, the point of his duty is clearer, but he is still buggy. his 2nd in command is Stewart, who is there to keep an eye on Gordon. he attempts to run a blockade on the Nile with British citizens at Khartoum while Gordon awaits the Mahdi. shades of Dien Bien Phu. the Mahdi is played by Laurence Olivier, merely exotic to my mind, Iago minus 7. the show always has to be Heston, I think. not in the sense of chewing scenery, tho he is good for that, it's just that he is so commanding in his stiff, somewhat noble, somewhat silly way. even when up against the like of Yul Brynner, who is one hell of a screen presence himself, Heston just keeps you looking at his ridiculous grandeur. Gordon and the Mahdi meet near the end for a parley. they realize that their fanaticism is similar. in the course of conversation, the Mahdi shows Gordon the heads of some of the blockade runners, and the hand of Stewart. ah, all is lost. so Gordon goes back to Khartoum, the Mahdists attack and c'est ça. the battle scenes were done with a certain grace. since no one in the fighting were important characters there was never that exult of action and heroism, just this thronging of energy. I was surprised how well done the movie was. and not dated. I almost watched Casino Royale, the 60s version. which, surprisingly, was directed by John Huston, and starred most of Hollywood's 60s elite, all to no avail, from the few minutes that I saw. it was too dated for me. it was a Bond spoof but the comedic timing was dreadful, color was garish, and Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass playing Burt Bachrach was congestive, not to my taste. there was a legitimate Shakespearian quality to Gordon, not that Heston was really up to that stature. knowing that Heston went from Hollywood icon to IRA loony (then Alzheimer's???) adds a dollop of substance to his expansiveness. I do not think I know who is a good actor anymore. the laden consciousness of 'great' actors really tires me. Heston's earnest hamminess works in this movie, I guess because the director kept the screen wide and commanding, so that the tussle of actorly ego could not overwhelm scenes. the historical story certainly carries a freshness.

also saw Get Smart. this surprised me by having good pacing without the antic imperative of many comedies (I am thinking of Steve Martin's Pink Panther). the actors had good rapport, tho 99 was played generically. could 99 have been played strongly? she was strictly support team in the tv series, sense to be placed against Max's nonsense. Steve Carel played the role earnestly, that is, played Smart as an earnest fellow, less pompous than the tv character. the plot was stupid but flowed well enough. regularly sown throwaway jokes served to keep the standard plot from weighing heavy.

I guess it is Christmas season. I cannot wait to see a Very Brady Christmas again, or that one with Mr Magoo, beloved by millions. I am right now listening to a Christmas jazz favourite, mellow guitar trio, oop, time for the bass solo. anyway, Thanksgiving was nice. we went to friends. getting last minute goods to bring on Wednesday, we were surprised that Whole Foods was quite quiet. wondering if this is an economic indicator. it is if subjective reports count. the after dinner music was John Fahey's Blind Joe Death. it was recorded 45 years ago! woot. yesterday we had errands to run. did not seem busy as we were oot and aboot. we were inspired to visit the mall, just to look around. the lots were filling in the outlying areas but not yet stuffed. I wanted to traipse thru the mall itself. a very long line waiting for cashiers at Sears. someone was stationed at the Sears entrance into the mall, with flyers for eyeglass bargains. saw that elsewhere: effort, that is, to sell. lots of sales, one place adverting 65% off. just down the road a Linen 'n Things closed, a Tweeter is in process, and Circuit City is gettin' ready. we did not really go into many stores. I wanted to see Apple both to see the new stuff there and to judge how this do-no-wrong is holding out. certes, it was crowded. 2 people at the door with leaflets about the 1-day black friday sale. the prices of which were not fancy at all. oh, in the window were large representations of Santa and Herbie (or is it Hermie?) from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. do they pay for that? anyway, lots of people. Beth and I ogled the iPod Touch. the phone aspect of the iPhone is of least interest to me, and combined with all the other features, the battery hardly keeps a charge. so give me a dedicated phone and a Touch. seriously, give them to me. an Apple employee answered our questions efficiently and sans commish. it is a good business model there, with lots of expertise floating around, no central cash register, and plenty to play with. innovation will get a company thru these times. companies with 'n in their names will fail. the only other store we looked into was Coach. several people milled around, and lots of sales people. it is a stalwart brand that will hang in there, I imagine. so that was all there was for Black Friday. short line to be scared by Santa, but maybe people were not bringing the kids on this mission of savings. I should mench seeing Stephen Colbert's Christmas Special. it was awful. I still like Colbert, and continue to be amazed at how well he plays the character and the irony above it. the marketed part of him, the synedoche of his image standing for a slew of disparate things, all tires me. his special was really cheesy. he was satirizing those homey specials of yore, Perry Como or Andy Williams wearing sweaters and pretending to have a family celebration. Colbert did nothing different, except that he undermined any sliver of sincerity. he had numerous singing guests who were all uncomfortable. the worst was Toby Keith. who was not so bad as a guest, but his song, with him wielding a gun to defend Christmas, simply did not work. it was an embarrassing effort, as was the show itself. wheel off the tricycle time, it would appear.

Lanny Quarles has made available a book in pdf form: Nosering Cellphone. I commend your attention to it. I have also updated his blog url in my links. I also add another Quarles blog. earthshaking!

I have it on excellent authority, my own, that in this post by Ron Silliman he is channeling me or otherwise influenced by my patented frame of peregrinacious wandering. seriously, tho he follows threads, this post is much more ramble table than I expect from him. good job! and he manages to mention the Beau Brummels!!! the source of all knowledge, Wikipedia, informs me that the original Beau Brummel was the 1st to introduce the suit and tie for men, and he recommended polishing one's shoes with champagne. I am doing that right now.