New Age Spiritual Wanna-be Gets World-View Validated By African Alkaloid
At one point, I heard him scream out, "No! No! No!" He saw a possible future for himself if he didn't kick heroin - becoming a dishwasher, sinking into dissolute old age with a bad back and a paunch. He asked what he could do to help save the world. He was told: "Clean up your room!"
—Daniel Pinchbeck/Guardian UK
8.11.03
7.11.03
For myself, I cannot live without my art.
But I have never placed it above everything.
If, on the other hand, I need it, it is because it cannot be separated from my fellow men, and it allows me to live, such as I am, on one level with them. It is a means of stirring the greatest number of people by offering them a privileged picture of common joys and sufferings. It obliges the artist not to keep himself apart; it subjects him to the most humble and the most universal truth. And often he who has chosen the fate of the artist because he felt himself to be different soon realizes that he can maintain neither his art nor his difference unless he admits that he is like the others. The artist forges himself to the others, midway between the beauty he cannot do without and the community he cannot tear himself away from. That is why true artists scorn nothing: they are obliged to understand rather than to judge.
Albert Camus
speech at the Nobel Banquet, Stockholm, December 10, 1957 (translated)
But I have never placed it above everything.
If, on the other hand, I need it, it is because it cannot be separated from my fellow men, and it allows me to live, such as I am, on one level with them. It is a means of stirring the greatest number of people by offering them a privileged picture of common joys and sufferings. It obliges the artist not to keep himself apart; it subjects him to the most humble and the most universal truth. And often he who has chosen the fate of the artist because he felt himself to be different soon realizes that he can maintain neither his art nor his difference unless he admits that he is like the others. The artist forges himself to the others, midway between the beauty he cannot do without and the community he cannot tear himself away from. That is why true artists scorn nothing: they are obliged to understand rather than to judge.
Albert Camus
speech at the Nobel Banquet, Stockholm, December 10, 1957 (translated)
link :::wood s lot:::
...the sharp little waves dusted with snow,
fish in their tin armor.
That's what I like about disappointment:
the way it slows you down...
—
...She played the flute, he played the fiddle
and the moon came up over the barn...
Disappointment
Tony Hoagland
from What Narcissism Means to Me
Poetry Daily 11.07.03
6.11.03
...Not because you love my voice...
Yellow From a Distance
Karen Whalley
Verse Daily 11.06.03
Animal Housing Projectile
'Thus began the reign of the self-satisfied preppie, which turned out no better than the reign of the self-satisfied hippie. These boys had been presented with a platinum credit line of forgiveness even before their consciences had dropped. And they put it to use.'
—Ray Davis is the Count of Monte Christo with a Tek-9
W.S. Merwin
Q: So many of your poems describe the place that you’re in, but also what you’re feeling about it. How do those poems come about?
A: Robert Louis Stevenson said a writer should always have two little books: one to read and one to write in. I have had a little notebook ever since I was in college. So I take notes. Sometimes, out of them, something comes. I really don’t know how poems happen. I know they begin by hearing something in language.
—
Q: Some of your poems talk about living in the moment, not trying to live so far in the future. We all struggle to do that, don’t we?
A: I think that we have to do it all the time. One of the things about the human mind is the imagination which is the source of everything wonderful and the source of being able to put ourselves into other people’s situations and to recognize that suffering is universal and to recognize that other people’s joys and sorrows are not so very different from our own. But it’s also something that insinuates itself between us and what is immediately around us. Even in moments of great joy and pleasure, we find ourselves thinking about something else or imagining something else. We live with both of these things. I don’t think that you can undo that, but you can become aware that it’s so. That makes that scrim between you and the world around you become a little bit more transparent. So that you can live a little bit more in the present. But I think you have to keep reminding yourself.
—Johnette Rodriguez/Providence Phoenix 10.24-30.03
Tina Manley is everywhere
even Iran
Baghdad
Moscow
Guatemala
link Sprezzatura
5.11.03
Edwina White
She has just exhibited “Skin Tight’- a series of portraits of missing persons tattooed on suede and is currently working a series based on a New York Times crossword (July 25, 2003).
She mentors a student whose name roughly translates as Sweet mother of god.
Edwina will exit Brooklyn for a month come late September to exhibit new works at the Magma Clerkenwell Bookstore, London, to catch the last days of the Art of Chess show at Somerset House- and visit a vampire club somewhere in Berlin.
Edwina White at Kate Larkworthy
—
google for Edwina White led to a list of m-c's favorite illustrators
—
and thence to Love Letter To The Land: the slugs are resting in the earth now
by Katherine Dunn
fisherwoman
fly fishing
4.11.03
autothaumaturgist: person pretending to be mystical or mysterious
3.11.03
76 blowjobs
from Jason Salavon
They forage at night from the bottom of streams and ponds. Platypus automatically close their eyes and ears in water. To locate prey, the platypus use their bill. The platypus bill has hundreds of tiny receptors which respond to touch and tiny electro-currents produced when invertebrates move in water.
Platypus
Biological Diversity
Earlham College, Richmond, Indiana
Vachel Lindsay and Charlotte Mew enter the mop-bucket of eternity
Mediocrity is never passive; it avenges itself for its deprivation.
...the painter no longer in touch with people who don't look at pictures begins to die as a painter. The actor whose life has moved from the marketplace to the studio acts falsely. The novelist grown remote from people who don't read, becomes untrue to people who do read. The thinker who loses contact with people who don't think at all, no longer thinks justly. As the critic whose only wellspring is the work of other men at last gets to know all there is to know about literature. Except how to enjoy it...
Nelson Algren
...the painter no longer in touch with people who don't look at pictures begins to die as a painter. The actor whose life has moved from the marketplace to the studio acts falsely. The novelist grown remote from people who don't read, becomes untrue to people who do read. The thinker who loses contact with people who don't think at all, no longer thinks justly. As the critic whose only wellspring is the work of other men at last gets to know all there is to know about literature. Except how to enjoy it...
Nelson Algren
in Michael Ventura's Letters at 3 AM
Austin Chronicle 10.31.03
link path thru languagehat via commonbeauty
Bark roofs adjoin a pathway through a mountain village
Yao cun
Chinese Rural Architecture
Olivier Laude
Atlas Magazine 6
the green life of change
—
...The present marred with reason gone,
And past and present both as one
#
—
the silent and impartial stream of time, where the periodicals of fashion will have done with stilted praise
#
—
The gypsy knocks his hands and tucks them up,
And seeks his squalid camp, half hid in snow,
#
—
The pigs sleep in the sty; the bookman comes—
#
—
19th century English poet John Clare
Humanities Web
Ready to Go eBooks
Univ. Toronto Representative Poetry Online
Old Poetry
2.11.03
"pro-social" message
There is another, less-often discussed aspect to the Wiggles' success, and it has something to do with the Blue Wiggle, Anthony Field (once named Australian Bachelor of the Year, and who has kept many mums entertained while their children watched Dorothy the Dinosaur). But Anthony is married now...
—Caroline Overington/Sydney Morning Herald 11.03.03
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