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Death of the Author? had it coming, to be honest, after what happened to all those darlings

Hey look if Pynchon's new one is getting nicked for a smegma joke, we'll be in damn good shape "His comedic sense is considerably more fallible—'Shadow Ticket' is not the first of his novels with a sophomoric smegma joke—but, when it lands, it lands" www.newyorker.com/magazine/202...

“Hey. Let us play with my maniacal rubber squeaky strawberry. Look at me. Touch me. Hark. I am squeaking. I am making I will put my wild berry inside Kant’s critique of pure reason—“ - Radu at 11:33 am

..the chips are down. - Alain Jouffroy, speaking in italics

Just got an email from a scam academic journal asking if I wanted to "explore new advances in White Psychodrama" and it's just got me like: buddy, I can watch the news myself.

Staring at the teen’s Odilon-like creature today and letting it speak romanian to its nearby friends.

Renata Adler still tearing through my mind this morning.

And it is the fire that separates us in the shadow where your outlines drifts away For a moment without breathing Your breath passing by has burned me - Pierre Reverdy, "Corridor"

As part of the JHI Blog forum on political economy, Marie Louise Krogh examines Hegel's rare reflections on the 19th century international coffee industry as an entry point into the theoretical stakes of political economy in the midst of European imperialism.

LONDON LAUNCH ANNOUNCEMENT! 23 September, @burleyfisher.bsky.social with Nathalie Olah - tickets here!!! burleyfisherbooks.com/products/lau...

And this matter of the commas. - Renata Adler, PITCH DARK

not touching you is a silence in the discourse of touching you but is a word in the phrase of looking at you - Ulalume González de León, “Syntax” (translated by Terry Ehret, John Johnson, & Nancy J. Morales)

Dear humans, join me online for a zoom workshop with Geneva Writers Group this Tuesday, Sept. 23. Registration is below. 🫶 genevawritersgroup.wildapricot.org/event-6344676

Check out all the opportunities and events we've found for you, including from @frazzledlit.bsky.social @genevawriters.bsky.social @alinaetc.bsky.social @thebrb.bsky.social @thin-skin.bsky.social @fahmidangroup.bsky.social @writefestbe.bsky.social & many more 🖊

Robert Creeley’s essay on poetics and Emily Dickinson, the girl next door drive.google.com/file/d/1fUeM...

Master—but if I had the Beard on my cheek (like you) and you — had Daisy’s petals and you cared so much for me— what would become of you? Could you forget me in fight, or flight or the foreign land? -Emily Dickinson, “To Recipient Unknown”

I hate the metaphors. - RC for your midnight or morning

Two brazen gems by Vaneigem.

“Walter Abish should be on every bookshelf in these times,” she sighs to her dog Radu.

Does anyone have a copy of Walter Abish’s “ARDOR/AWE/ATROCITY”? It was published in the New Directions journal decades back and I can’t find it anywhere else, nor am I sure where to find the archives? 🙏

If you only knew…

I thought it might amuse @rrgould.bsky.social to see the books in my sandwich stack this weekend. :)

Eliot Weinberger on how he learned to write and why he dropped out of Yale to travel—- from Srikanth Reddy’s delightful interview in current issue of Paris Review—

Eliot Weinberger on the role played by Mad magazine in giving him a countercultural option to the realm of the fathers:

You are invulnerable. - Jorge Luis Borges, "To Whoever Is Reading Me"

Hans Richter’s “Horse’s Head” in ink from 1918, composed like the Dada heads to emphasize the musical play of the black and white spots and reducing the horse’s importance as a theme.

In a sense, the text is the writer’s skin— - Walter Abish on “this incestuous intimacy” 🖤

Eliot Weinberger went to a hippie high school which Denise Levertov’s son also attended. She was the first poet he ever met. Decades later, when someone said to Denise, “ I heard you knew Eliot when he was a child,” Denise replied: “ Eliot was never a child.”

They practiced it diligently, and were filled with contentment. - Mark Twain in the epistolary “Letters From Earth,” a letter from Satan on Adam and Eve staying busy after the fall

Looping Hefeitz's performance of Vitali's Chaconne in G Minor has ruined me the way Duras ruined her own face in order to put the lover in a book she could not stop re-writing. A memory she couldn't stop re-screening. That loopiness with the look of le loupe in it. youtu.be/K0iB84__atU?...

Smitten by this mirror portrait of Hans Richter in Southbury, c. 1969, as photographed by Inge Morath.

"What does the lover demand from the body of the beloved in order to secure certainty. Little things. Eternity." "I want to sit at the edge of what is permissible and find words for the unspeakable. Ultimately, if I fall, I think I hope the page will catch me" @alinaetc.bsky.social, in an interview

"With the mission of democratic education itself at stake, I expected resistance, even from those who were administering the neoliberal university as a corporate autocracy, treating education as an enhancement of human capital." www.bostonreview.net/articles/a-g...

Running into a poem you loved is like bumping an old friend at a pub. Thus do I find Robert Creeley's "The Rain," six stanzas I copied on the back of my AP econ spiral notebook in high school, and re-read often during that neolib seminar. Ooof the splendid enjambment of that “semi-/lust”

great, just great, I'm going to write another book

But the Lady is indefinable, she will be the door in the wall to the garden in sunlight. I will go on talking forever. - Robert Creeley, "The Door" (for Robert Duncan) 🖤

What is the point. That is what must be borne in mind. Sometimes the point is really who wants what. Sometimes the point is what is right or kind. Sometimes the point is a momentum, a fact, a quality, a voice, an intimation, a thing said or unsaid. The point changes and goes out. - Renata Adler

Is there a place for us, do you know it well enough that without thought it can be found? I think, and therefore I am not, who was to have been, as you, something else. - Robert Creeley, "Young Woman"

Robert Creeley's "A Token," a sort of speechlessness.

A face that is no face but the features, of a face, pasted on a face until that face is faceless, answers by a being nothing there where there was a man. - Robert Creeley, "The Sign Board"

Did you know her. Did you love her, brother. Did wonder pour down on the whole goddamn town. - Robert Creeley, "The Memory"

No one should fear what they cannot see And no one's to blame, it's just hypocrisy www.youtube.com/watch?v=9eme...

Trump’s presidency has been catastrophic for almost every MAGA-head I know, esp. the small business owners. But their sense of loyalty to group identity is stronger than their self-interest. It’s all about that flag. Jean Genet was right about flags.

I don’t think I had ever read this, though I knew one of the lines: www.ubu.com/vp/Poor.Old....

I am making myself feel less crazy by writing an early-Dire Straits vibe song in E minor, so I can make my son do a bunch of volume pedal swells.

Oh god, let's go. This is a poem for Kenneth Patchen. Everywhere they are shooting people. People people people people. - Robert Creeley’s "Please" — the poem I needed tonight

Thinking of everyone who is resisting ICE on the streets tonight.