WORKSHOP

"6 a.m."

people in motion
as the world keeps on spinning
frantically
looking for pause
life glides by
as if on ice
it is kept cold

the heart speaks
seldom listening
to the word

it hurts to breathe
the pollution of
man
stopping, waiting
going, fading
how many faces
can one dismember
in a single sitting
and they wondered

the cigarette burns
into oblivion
as life crawls
from the depths
of the darkest
corner
to the illuminating
sun

"black bird"

it's funny how things end up. you alone, breathing in a forgien air that is oh so familiar. jumping from moment to moment, hoping something will distract consciousness. the world is outside. through the doors of decisions. white painted innocense pearing through as the crow calls your bluff from decades ago. it's been done. they've all seen it. the lights, the action, the people cheering the names. when is it over?

the mind works faster than it ever has. fallen below again. staggering to a new dawn. clocks. fallen from the heavens. bellzebub. forsaken. holy son beaten and mangled and unrecognizable. disciples follow but the road is endless. searching for an answer. questions are all that lie in the ruff. looking for the diamond. trite.the

crows. outside. they call from afar. my name.

Poems for Workshop

Tuesday

Quickly descending the wet concrete steps
A family of crows emerges noisily from the grass
my foot in a shallow puddle goes pish
earthworms stranded on the sidewalk


Walking quickly

As I drink coffee I get hot
Looking at you make me hot
it is hot inside but cold outside
inside my body is hot
if I were cut open I'd steam
like my hot words in the cool air
as we walk quickly
throught the light rain

Smoke and Seashells

Seashells and cardboard masks,

the old farmer picking

grapes, mines full of smoke.

Birds drop into the sea, rolling

down thermals, and all crumbles

over nothing.

Our goal is creation,

our destiny may be

the honey and the milk.

On the edge the land is

constantly crumbling,

cascading in the cold sea.

I pick at the sand

in search of little seashells.

I like the oval ones that

shine all copper in the sun.

They stole it, the black

letters, black caps and silver

badges. Towers like treetops

fill the city skyline. Smoke pours

out of the window where

a woman in a white apron leans out,

to catch the letter on the breeze,

the letter from her lover, gone

to Louisiana last year,

that magic letter written on metal foil

that shines all copper in the sun.

Toasted America with Rice

Old Spanish nun,

where are your eyes?

The necklace of the holy

in the stern golden garden

No one here looks angry,

The blue square in the silver sky

Tower of babble,

go to sleep world America!

The din of continually failing

Communication, each meaningless cry

A different pitch, same drawn out breathe

Quiet poet sitting in the dark corner

What are you writing?

The rhythm of steps and

The angle of the eyes

My ragged cap and

A bottle cap on the concrete

The troubling fetus

each day our people birth us

troubling news on the table

next to toast and eggs

notes on the weather... assbackwards late

the weather makes me think ethereal experience your not supposed to completely understand. like a phillip glass piece or a painting thats nothing but blackness. i wont lie, i have a hard time appreciating this kind of literature. it seems whimsical, which is cute and all, but i can't seem to get over the whole publishing thing. maybe its the fact that i am an aspiring writer, and when i see stuff thats published that i find juvenile, i repsond with bitterness. i guess my real desire is to have the author, or some figure of literary authority, defend this work and explain to me where the value lies. thats why i think im so over critical. i dont take experimental literature at face value. i need substance that speaks of forthought and disciplne. while there are moments of clarity for me, namely the residence at c__, the day sections just seem tedious and over fanciful. i write that kind of stuff when im drunk or on drugs, and while it maintains a certain value to me (mostly nostalgic) i would never assume that there was value to anyone else. it reminds me of an experience i had the other day where i was playing my guitar, but in an unusual way. i had it resting vertically between my legs as i sat. i began to tap hysterically on the harmonics in an attempt to create a sweeping melody hidden in the percussive sounds of the tapping. my friend did the same with a ukalale. we were both on drugs mind you. we had a fantastic time and thought that what we had created was magnificent. when i attempted to recreate similiar music the next day, the magic was gone. the point im trying to make is that we all have interal experiences that are valuable to us, and there is certainly no harm in sharing them. i think oftentimes we overindulge writers and artists by appluading their work, even when we dont understand it. anti-essentialism, the beleif that their are no necessary and suffificent conditions for something being a peice of art, leaves the door wide open to anything. that being said, any artist can create anything they want, and as long as they want to call it art, or as long as their is a community willing to embrace it as art, it instantly becomes art and therefor worth appreciating. i think this is a popular trend among writers and artists, and i do not agree that just because you can call it art does it add value to it. as mone of my favorite sayings go, "just because you can, it doesnt mean that you should."

Weather

The premise of the work, a poetic study of weather reportage, reveals much to me about the text. Some of the language is borrowed from weather description, lines such as "a slight cloud drifts contrary to the planet" are an example of this. By searching the text for this kind of language, we can view the crossover realm between the object data Robertson studied and the poetry it inspired. This realm is not always in the sentences themselves but in the transition between sentences. Before I knew about the premise of the book, I could not understand why the words were written, I could not surmise the intention behind a single line. Now, not only can I see the weather language, but many of the concepts in the work are more clear. The language of weather description is a perfect parallel with the language of poetry. Both strive to impart the reader with an understanding of the state of an environment. The results they achieve, however, are entirely different from the experience of the state of that environment. Robertson writes without giving us the illusion of experiencing the state of her consciousness, which would have inevitably changed, like the weather, from the state the description describes.

Writing Experiment (Week 10)

Here are some writing experiments for this week:

1. With notepad in hand, go for a 20 - 60 minute walk, paying attention as much as possible to only one color; record all the things found in this one color; take your notepad home and compose a story or poem based on all your observations.

OR

2. Make up a poem of 26 words so that each word begins with the next letter of the alphabet, or write a story in which each sentence contains four words that begin with the same letter, starting with 'A' and moving through 'Z'.

Weather

Whereas some authors write within conceptual systems, suggesting them with their fragments, robertson casually passes over systems, ideals, ideas, suggestions of academic trends. They become objects in her poetry, her poetry is like a wind of objects. Somehow this poetry is commentary on contemporary philosophy but its hard to grasp. Almost concrete, almost conceptual, very stream of consciousness, is refined meditation an oxy-moron? Does Robertson really want to write philosophy but is too lazy so she writes SOC poetry?? Quite enjoyable, however too confusing, theres no reason to drop philosophical anecdotes into this kind of poetry, it lies in contrast with the function of the poetry.

Discussion Questions (Week 10)

Here are this week's discussion questions:

• Consider the difference between repetition and permutation. In what way does Lisa Robertson's The Weather engage with these two processes. How does repetition and permutation (identicality and difference) affect or reflect the words, phrases, sentences themselves?
• Can you critique/make interpretation of the way Robertson read "Tuesday" aloud. How is pacing or rhythm an active component of the book? Can you compare her reading to the way the words are laid out on the page: sentence length, word choices, visual shape, etc.
• Return to the title again, why "weather"? What is weather? what does it do? what do we know about or do with weather? What is anologous to the way weather works, or to the way we interface with weather?
• How might this book be read in terms of gender? race? class? sexuality? Is it possible to discuss The Weather in the same way that we discussed the more explicit contexts analyzed in Deborah Richards' Last One Out?
  
• How is The Weather similar to the other books we have been reading in this class (several have mentioned Fitterman and Rowntree's War)? How does it differ in its writing strategies? What ARE those strategies? Where can we make meaning in what the book says and where can we make meaning in what the book does?

Lastly, a few of you requested more information on the other writers we listened to in class. Here are a few links for you to follow:

• Kurt Schwitters: here's a link to the full audio of him reading his Ursonate, plus the visual score.
• Christian Bök: This is a recorded reading and interview of Bök (pronounced 'book') on the PENNsound website, a great place to find writers reading their work (it's already linked to our Neato Links here on the class blog).
• Allen Ginsberg: here's a link to an audio recording of "A Supermarket in California" and also some writers on Allen Ginsberg and other cool info.
• Jack Kerouac: A whole slew of readings and sound bytes.
  

Writing Experiment (Week 9)

Here are some experiments for you to try this week:

1. Erasure: Take a text of your own or someone else's and crossout MOST of the words on each page, retype what remains as its own poem. For a beautiful example of a "treated text", an erasure that's done ON the surface of the source text, have a look at Tom Phillips' A Humument.

OR

2. Time Warp: Create a short piece of fiction by writing just 3 sentences at a time but ONLY at the top of every hour of the day. How many hours in a row can you keep up the exercise? For how many days? It's ok (and probably necessary) to miss a few o'clocks (for sleeping especially - or are you willing to set your alarm every hour?), just pick up the exercise where you left off. At the end of the day or days, compile your sentences onto a single page. Feel free to leave them as is, rearrange them, tweak the transitions, or build largely upon them, but DON"T toss any sentences away.

This week I'd also encourage you to comment on the writing experience (challenges, insights, discoveries, analogies) and compositional context (where were you, what time of day, what materials were you using, what mood were you in, what else was on your mind just prior to or just after the exercise, who was the last person you'd talked to and about what did you discuss, what was the last thing you'd eaten, what was in the news/on the tv that day, what was on the radio/your iPod, what was the last thing you'd spent money on, what was your last worry, your last excitement, your last laugh). The idea is not to extrapolate meaning or read your work through these particular recollections necessarily, but rather to build a partial picture and awareness of the local contexts that surround a singular act of writing at a given time in your life. These reflections will of course count toward your note-taking requirement this week.

Discussion Questions (week 9)

Here are a few discussion questions for this week. Answer as many or as few as needed to get some ideas down in note form:

• How might "weather" be defined (by you/the dictionary/Wikipedia)? Are there multiple and distinct definitions? What does "the weather" mean to you? What personal associations do you make with the concept of weather? With the phrase "the weather" (as a piece of language)? How is the weather commonly understood/discussed/thought of/observed/represented scientifically? socially? in pop-culture? politically? Has our conception of/relationship to the weather always been the same throughout history (don't bother with research, but make a conjecture)?
• What's immediately noticeable about the Lisa Robertson's The Weather? What's interesting/commendable about the book? What's uninteresting? What's not immediately obvious but observable over time/after reflection? Can you describe or make observations on the style of the book? the form of the book? What kind of information is Lisa Robertson presenting us with in The Weather? What kind of vocabulary/diction? How is information/tone/language presented to us in the book? organized? What's the overall tone of the book? Does that tone change throughout or is it constant?
  
• Relate your responses to the first two sets of questions together. How does the title relate to the book's style? to the book's content? the book's form? How does the title affect how you read/make meaning of the book? How does the book change or augment your associations with weather?
  
• Given the publication date, what social/cultural/national/personal/historical/political events or relationships (contexts) might expand or illuminate our understanding of what the book is doing? (I'm not asking you to find allusions in the book, but rather, asking you to reflect on the social/cultural/etc. landscape of the last five years as a way of contextualizing Robertson's writing strategies or how the book continues to be meaningful today - that is, how does this book reflect/react to/question/relate to the cultural contexts which surround its production & presentation).
  

Last one out

I particularly like when Richards blends poetry such as in the first two sections of the book. The experiential content of the poetry interacts dynamically with the external content, be it the movie in the second section or the myriad definitions, articles, and floating words in the first. Thats Love is kindof note-book style, its more like tthe process parts of the book of jon, notes and brainstorms generated before writing poetry. This stuff is cool, especially because it interacts visually with the reader. The last section has less of this quality, it is more cross-genre deconstruction which is a weird combo. There is less dynamic interaction and more play of concepts.

workshop for thursday

The Rebellion of the Leopard

We paid the check and we sallied out without incident
as we walked towards everything outside in rain
the girl with the impression of Aaron
the trousers of the leopard.

"you are so as, in the news or something"
Its nasal voice of the south of Jersey did that my skin crawls.
"that shit that it presses so. A business is right that you also know.
He is everything on the money, they does not say the truth unto him."
He watched it with an expression that shouted scorn simultaneously and the diversion.
"please spare the details" that he said.

The diversion fell immediately of its face. Its lip was stirred up in synch
with its eyebrow whereas it was dazzled in her.
"Ugh" rolled towards outside as if the second nature
"is rebelling so trustworthy of you?"

And reasons raged ahead in the middle of stiffled sobs and the unequal breathing
and she looked extinguished as if their feet burned simultaneously
and buried in the concrete lip of Aarons still was stirred up
and a cigarette maintained were put too much firmly towards
outside whereas we watched her disappear by always


In the Hall of the Mountain String Band


all is silent with the exception of labored breathing
and thunderous appluase from the mighty zeus

out pops a screaming child
born into the world screaming in silence
and asleep within moments
sleeping the sleep of lions fed

in silence the music grows
ten years since the day
and a soft tune that reminds the crowd
of necessary moments of silence
when the calamity was too great to bear
and moments of blaring triumph
when the mundane silences where to loud hear

the guitar came in first with sweeping and subtle melody
to warm its listeners like hot apple cider on a cool falls day

then the bass slinks in at frequencies so low and sparse
its impossible to imagine what that bass had in mind

the rhythm of bongos and cymbals in the distance
signal the oncoming war, the oncoming music of eternity

and ever so gently the mandolin sweeps in
like a lonesome breeze across the back of a sweltering neck

in the scalding desert where stagnant air and silence is king
the music grows when the silence is patient
and the cacaphony waits for its moment to strike
like lightning that touches down but once
and never again

and one more random thought

Ok, what was the color, make and model?
It's cranberry and...
Cranberry's something you eat, son, your car was red.

Writing Experiment (Week 8)

Here are this week's writing experiments:

1. Write a 30-line poem or a 15-sentence paragraph. Copy-paste each line/sentence into this free online translator and choose a language into which your words will be translated. Now copy-paste the translated writing into the translator and re-translate the line/sentence BACK into English. Recompose your poem/paragraph with your new translations. Try several languages. Try translating a single line/sentence more than once. Don't worry about poor transitions, grammar, glitches, nonsenses, etc. Be humoured. Be amazed.

OR

2. Write a “conversation” in which no words are said. This exercise is meant to challenge you to work with gesture, body language (or, as a baseball announcer I heard once misspeak it, body English), all the things we convey to each other without words. We often learn more about characters in stories from the things characters do with their hands than from what they say. It might be best to have some stranger observe this conversation, rather than showing us the thoughts of one of the people involved in the conversation, because the temptation to tell us what the conversation is about is so great from inside the conversation.

[I'm appropriating the above experiment from this cool website of fiction exercises I just discovered...have a peek at the rest]


ps. this post's pic comes from collage artist Bernie Stephanus whose work I also stumbled into online yesterday.

Discussion Questions (week 8)

Discussion questions for this week:

• How does the form of each book section interact with the content? In what ways are the two inseperable? What does the form allow Richards to do or to say that she might not have been able to otherwise?
  
• In what contexts are race and gender being represented? Try to identify the ways in which the authour is "framing" these representations (frames of reference).
  
• What words seem to play a center role in the book? What words change meaning or accrue new meanings as the book progresses?
• Can you identify different "voices" in the text? Who's saying what? Where do voices sound/look/feel different? Is the authour's own voice consistent/singular? Is it even identifiable?
• How are "easy" or obvious or surface meanings being complicated, problematized, deepened?
  
• In what ways is history being incorporated into the work? What kinds of histories are incorporated? How do the varying histories inform/complicate/question each other?

Book of Jon notes

Book of Jon

Much more enjoyable than the first two texts. It seemed a little more accesable. I have thus far not really enjoyed that actual reading of our previous texts, though the discussions were fruitful. Book of Jon had a flow to it that felt more like a scrapbook than anything else. the transitions from traditional prose, to poetry, to non-sequiter lists was almost seamless. i also love her imagery and how she moves, in the middle of a piece, from a seeming interview with her father, to a luscious poem about the depths of heroin. i almost wanted to do some it sounded so unique (im not serious.) She plays it off so well. Her father was a junky and it ruined his life. it ruined many others life as a consequence. sikelianos has a way of translating her relationship with her father that is not so much resentful, just weary from the weight of her love for a man that was constantly testing her limits. the obituary in the end was touching. i lost a very close friend a long time ago to suicide and i wish i had the balls to write something as poignent as that. she and ehr family describe all the little things about jon that made him a wonderful man. they are not concerned with the things that held him back from being a greater man. that is all past. the things we miss the most are the things we love. were always ready to forget about the bad parts of a person or the past as soon as we realize we shall never have any of the small things.

Writing Experiment (Week 7)

You may test your mettle with the following experiments:

1. Write a poem or short story with one or more other people, alternating words, lines, sentences, or stanzas, writing sequentially or simultaneously, perhaps collaging, rewriting, editing, supplementing the version handed to you. This can be done in person or via e-mail. Write with a friend, family member, congress representative, dentist, or stranger.

OR

2. Thinking Backwards: Write a two page poem or story. If a poem, reverse or alter the entire line sequence bottom to top, or for the more daring, reverse the entire word order. If you're writing in prose this week, rewrite all the events so that they occur in reverse chronology, beginning with the end and ending with the beginning.

*We are indeed readin Last One Out by Deborah Richards
**Please do not forget to bring in an anonymously written mid-term evaluation of course

Week 6 experiment

.....
Walks to town, but seen all before
Sleepy towns never change
Still never standing, but
Never standing still

formal acrobatics

This book contrasts with War and the Activist by having a personal and not a general subject. In Activist, the subject was the relationship between the media and the public, activists and each other, and activists and the government. In war, the subject was society. In taking on such subjects the writers immediately take on the burden of working conceptually, of generalizing their knowledge to comment on macroscopic entities. On the other hand, Eleni takes her personal experience with her father, emotions, and writing process, to create a picture of herself. These book share the quality of "formal acrobatics" (b.flis freestylin in the classroom) which allows for a more dynamic presentation of the subject. Shit, I've only got five senses, and they all work simultaneously exept when one or more are impinged. This medium is constant. Text that changes to account for the varying morphology of the mind is pretty cool. Text that changes in order to fuck with perception is fun for some people but is kindof exclusive and novel.

BOOK OF JON NOTES

Reflection question: What specifically makes The Book of Jon seem more personable/relateable than War, the musical, or than the Activist?- In my opinion, The Book of Jon is far more relatable than the others because of the mere nature of it. It is a daughter's memoirs of her dead heroin addict father; there are few things more depressing. The author, however, depicts her father in such a human way that, as a reader, I am able to connect with the person that he was. On the complete other hand, War, the musical and the Activist keep the reader at a distance. The paranoia that sits in the style in which they are written keeps he reader afar, looking for something more concrete. Sikleanos has a style of writting in which the form is similar, however, the content grabs you and takes a hold of your emotions. It makes you think about yourself in reflection of the book, and you come to know this person Jon who in a way touches and inspires your heart. It's refreshing to read a piece of literature so rewarding.

Class Workshop Project

On a clear night I decided to leave my far too familiar room. I tied up my boots, put on a new shirt, and pulled my favorite jacket tightly around myself. But when I got to the show, something cause my eyes to turn quickly away and stair at my weathered shoes. A boy with silent lips and screaming eyes made me dream of snowflakes and yarn. I wanted to hide myself along with my doubts and fears and just steal glances all night long. Too many opportunities to speak, far too many to count.

Every time he passed by my breaths became coarse and felt like pennies falling down my rib cage. The waves caused the echoes that played in tune with the butterflies in my stomach. They drummed on their rag doll cages like the slamming doors on a train. That’s where I wanted to be as the minutes packed their bags and left, on a train, away from the words sticking to the roof of my mouth, and the fears wrapped like a scarf around my throat. Where the old seats carried me past the people I watched for so long. Past the houses I’d never enter, and the stairs I was never to climb. Away from the boats I’d never sail, and the museums I’d never visit. Away from the imaginary worlds where I’ve lived in, and away from these eyes that hardly ever cry. But then the lights turned back on and a new band took the stages. And he still stood there lost in the hive with his back towards my eyes hiding behind a curtain.

I could even talk during the ride home. The car was filled far beyond capacity with kids squawking about the music, the set lists, and the bands. They pondered questions about the music. All the while, I could only as the question: How could I have been so cowardly? I could not even manage the courage to look in my window’s reflection’s eyes.When I had arrived home,

I waited to hear the car door shut before I could even look at the stars. I couldn’t find any of the constellations, so I opened a book and found a fraction of the known ones. More questions flooded my mind. Was I broken? Where my eyes that clouded from sorrow and uncertainties. I cleared my thought, rubbed my eyes, and shouted “Good Night”. I wasn’t sure to who it was for. The boy, the stars, all those doubting questions. It was for all of them. I was ready to head in side, but I turned and looked up again, to find a constellation of my own. I traced a leaf, falling from eyes that could hardly cry....

Discussion Questions (week 7)

Here are questions to consider for this week:

• We talked in brief about Sikelianos' source texts, where she locates or finds information about her father. Can you trace and identify the variety of sources (texts, persons, objects, etc.). Can you comment on how these sources reflect, conflict with, question, or inform the representation of Jon himself? How do these sources enlarge/limit our understanding of Jon? of the narrator? How does perspective here contribute to meaning?
• What specifically makes The Book of Jon seem more personable/relateable than War, the musical, or than the Activist? Between these three books, can you compare tone? style? perspective? voice? arrangement? narrative? time/chronology? In what ways are these three books similar? What concepts, questions, ideas, or frustrations from the previous two books might actually help enlarge your understanding/appreciation of The Book of Jon that would have been otherwise unnoticed/unappreciated?
• Katie mentioned an earlier ambiguity of the narrator's gender in the book. What role do you think gender plays in the representations of Jon? Where in the book might questions of gender roles play importance? Can you make any connection between the formal arrangements of the book and the way gender roles are revealed/portrayed within the text?

Here are some additionally interesting nuggets:

• An eclectic interview with Eleni Sikelianos in Here Comes Everybody
• Eleni Sikelianos reading her work (please be patient through the small introduction)
  
• Another interview with Sikelianos in Chicago Postmodern Poetry

Reminder *1*: Please read (both above and below this post) the work labelled as for workshop this Thurs., and try to bring in to class some brief notes for each of those writers. They will bring in (20) copies of their work for us to look at.

Reminder *2*: Please type up an anonymous mid-term evaluation of the course to bring in for next Tues. You might include all that you're enjoying thus far, what you're not, ideas for change or revision in class format, comments on my teaching style/practices, what you've been learning, how your ideas about writing, texts, books, creativity have been engaged or altered. The more feedback the better. I don't want your name on them so you can speak frankly.

Writing Experiment (Week 6)

This week's writing experiments are:

1. Write an autobiographical poem without using any pronouns (ie. I, You, He, She, They, etc.). (Aim for 30 lines)


OR

2. Starting with one sentence, write a series of paragraphs each doubling the number of sentences in the previous paragraph and including ALL the words used previously.
(Aim for AT LEAST 6 paragraphs)

Book of Jon notes

The book of Jon seems to blend certain principles of poetry with the format of a memoir. A poem, being the generator of meaning and not meaning itself, is usually closer to raw experience with myriad sensory images and disconnected frames of reference. When applied to a memoir, the results are quite striking. Instead of artificially organizing her scattered memories into a unified narrative, Eleni creates a series of independant poems/anecdotes that give a colorful and, despite their being scattered and discontinuous, full acount of her fathers life. The Book of Jon doesnt make me wonder what is made up and what is factual, instead, the subjective nature of experience and the crucial role of imagination in memory is made clear by the form of the book, which seems to actually mirror the form of memory, fluctuating and unstable, subjective and non-chronological.

No letter A....

Week 5 Experiment
If you were to ever see the moonrise
While the world stopped turning
Could you ignore
The grey in my eyes
If you were to see the cliffs turn smooth
When the ponds discovered how to see their reflections
Could you give up
Your own
Once more, no
No surprises
No sunsets
No, never,
But not once is there no never….

Discussion Questions (week 6)

Here are this week's discussion questions:

• How many different kinds/forms of writing can you identify in the book? How do these forms interact or conflict with each other? with the subject matter? What form seems most useful? most unusual? most clear? most confusing? most interesting? most informative? most innovative?
• What contexts do you share with the narrator? with Jon? What social/cultural/political/personal contexts does the book comment on or point toward?
  
• Where/when is there a shift in attitude toward Jon? In what ways is he variously represented to the reader? Can you identify any correlation between these shifts/changes in attitude/representation and formal activity (large or small, at the level of the section/page through the level of the individual letter/punctuation)?
  
• Can you characterize the language used throughout the book? What does an Eleni Sikelianos sentence sound/look/feel like? Could you try an imitation sentence or paragraph in writing about yourself or a family member of your own?
  

Writing Experiment (Week 5)

Here are this week's writing experiments:

1. Write a serial poem (numbered or clearly separated parts within a whole), or else a short fiction with distinct movements or transformations (see the Myung Mi Kim poems and the Carla Harryman story in your packet for examples). Consider how pauses, changes, and silences (stoppages) interact with your movements or segments. Consider how association or disjunction might help you to find creative "threads" or themes between parts of the whole. Consider how (re-)ordering and (re-)placement creates differing trajectories, associations, meanings.

OR

2. Write a poem or short story excluding one (or two!!, or three!!!, or four!!!!) of the five vowels ("Mars Cheese Castle" uses only an 'a' and an 'e' - see more substantial examples below). Any word containing an unselected vowel must be excluded. (A desk dictionary may help you in this quest for expressivity in the face of constraint). Consider how constraint both hinders and helps the writing process. Consider how the absented letter(s) affect expression, sound, tone, mood, visual surface, word choices, and meaning.

I would like you this week to devote some portion of your note taking to observations and commentary on the writing process and the end result of the creative writing you do (whether you attempt this week's experiment or not).

examples:

• Christian Bök’s Eunoia , a book of poetry where each chapter only uses one vowel (clickable chapters on the left, clicking on poem turns page)
• Georges Perec's A Void , here's a teensy excerpt of a full length novel written w/o the letter 'e' (try to imagine writing just this last bullet w/o an 'e' ?!

*** I've decided to cancel our Tues. class before Thanksgiving on Nov. 21st. Please make note on your syllabus or day-planner ***

Snippet of my blog

The phone. I said something. I was on the phone. Cell phone. It was an involved conversation. I was walking with someone. Female. Some one I’m closed to. We were walking to class. We entered, and I put my bag on a chair, intending to leave the room again (as I was still on the phone). And there was B. Flis, sitting with a notebook open before him. He was angry with me. He told me to leave the room while I was on the phone. That made me annoyed, as I was already going to do that.

At some point one of my molars came out, and I was spitting blood. It was a big molar too. My teeth fall out in my dreams when I’m stressed. Usually it’s my front two teeth, but once all my teeth fell out. I always spit blood. The more stressed I am the more blood I spit out.

Discussion Questions (week 5)

This week's discussion questions are:

• How does textual appropriation (found text) inform your reading of War, the musical? What are your ideas on appropriation in general? How is Fitterman's use of appropriation the same as and different from visual collage? How does Fitterman's use of appropriation relate to the following concepts: war, music (entertainment), commercialism, class, art.
• List all possible definitions for the word "order" (we mentioned several in class - chronological, military, social, legal, consumerist, etc.). Are there other definitions or connotations not listed in the dictionary? How does the book relate to, reflect, or utilize these differing ideas of "order"? Where do we find explicit uses or references to "order" in the text?
• Discuss the concepts of composition and arrangement and how those might inform our reading of the text. Do those terms also have multiple definitions? What is the book composing/arranging? what is it composed/arranged of? Is Fitterman a writer? a composer? an artist? a scam-artist? a historian? How might you define or classify what he is doing?
  
• Reflect on the nature of collaboration. What does it entail? imply? What significance does Fitterman's and Rowntree's dual participation in the production of War, the musical play on your initial reading of the text? How does collaboration inform, contradict, question, or confuse the construction of meaning in the text?

Some bonus features:

• Robert Fitterman reading some of his newer work (part of his Metropolis project) earlier this Spring.
• Some visual/textual work by Dirk Rowntree on Ubu Web
  

writing experiment 4

Image Search Results

To see a bald man dance with a tiger
The belly roll jiggling, tail in the breeze.
A bikini-clad ass in a fruit pie
Raising the Bar to gripe for attention.

Empty red sockets in an ashen face
Fill the holes to complete the dead man's stare.
A message of sorrow, a small, bored dog.
Drown your sorrow in a hand crafted mug!

Clint Eastwood asks if you're feeling lucky,
But before you can answer he halves your face
So your luck has drained, along with your blood
A stone depiction of your former self.

Memories, family, all that you are
When the winds of the Storm take you away.

Excerpt From notes about war, the musical

"Rob, the book is too short."
"Uh, did we put in 40 blank pages?"
"Yes."
"Uh, did we make every word in the title take up a page?"
"Ya."
"Did we put Dominoes at the end?"
"Ya."
"Pictures of stairs?"
"Yup."
"Hey, I got it! Let's repeat the same lines we already used in a conversation, but the other speaker can spit out porno titles!"
"Brilliant!"
"Now, look at this!"
"What is it?"
"I call it, the Pet Rock!"
"Brilliant!"
That's a hypothetical, but very possible conversation the author of this book had when he got to the songs I just got to. I'm trying to use humor to ease the pulsing vien in my head that's bulging in sheer rage. It's kind of working. Oh no, here's another song!
More repetition.
More repetition.
More repetition.
More repetition.
Kind of annoying, no?
More repetition, only instead of intersecting porno titles into the other half of the conversation, they use piglatin! Brilliant!

Writing Experiment (Week 4)

Here are the experiments for this week:

1. Google-Image-ism: First write a 14 line poem (sonnet) OR a paragraph (or prose poem) with 14 sentences (a sonnet?). Then, using just the first line/sentence, type in AS MANY key words into Google Images as you can that will bring forth images. Select any image from the search result and write a new line or sentence that responds to the image (describes, evokes, questions, insinuates, furthers, parallels, or inhabits what you're looking at - anything goes). Repeat this process anew for every line or sentence. Perhaps you could post one or a few of those images to your personal blog in addition (not required).

[You can find and search with Google Images by first going to google.com, and then clicking on the Images link]

OR

2. Time & History: a) Write a poem or a short story where all action/events occur simultaneously, including three events (significant or banal) from today's news.
or b) Create list of dates with associated events, real or imagined or both. (wikipedia is helpful in searching specific years and even days).

Discussion Questions (week 4)

Discussion questions for this week:

• Why does Fitterman's book (according to title) take the form a musical? What is a musical? Does it have multiple definitions? How does this book use/relate to/comment upon music? What's so important (or unimportant) about music?
• What is the book's attitude towards war or "war-time"? How does this attitude manifest itself in the form/forms of the book?
  
• What does the form (or forms) of the book allow Fitterman to say or to do that might not be possible without that/those forms?
  
• Discuss an image, a series of images, or a visual moment that occurs in the book. What is the relation between text and image in this book? Is there a difference here? How can we define or distinguish those differences?. How can we "read" this visual information?
  
• Discuss any two of these concepts in relation to each other and to the book: excess, waste, wealth, changes of time, temporality, rate of information, entertainment, comfort, pleasure, pain, war, distraction, distortion, noise, perspective, size/scale, reproduction, repetition.
  
• What does War, the musical seem to criticize? What does it seem to embrace or endorse? How do we know we're reading/looking at a criticism/endorsement?
• What would you describe as being most complex about War, the musical? as most simple? What do you like most about the book? the least? What knowledge/ideas can you take away from the book as a writer?

Here are some secrets worth knowing:

• The accompanying video and music to War, the musical
• Fitterman interview for an earlier book, still very relevant to War, the musical
• An online book of his, but I'm linking for the small introduction.
• Lastly, for those with **TIME**(!!!), a lengthy essay on Fitterman (worth even skimming)
  

Wings intro

The rain was pounding on the hood of the jeep as we flew down rout 9. We needed to pick up trash bags so that our house would seem less of a shithole if the landlady showed up. Doctor was driving at top speed, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white on the streering wheel, his eyes focused intently on the road, blinking only when beads of sweat rolled in. I have never wished to be sitting in the backseat so much in my entire life. We pulled into the Stop and Shop parking lot, tires screetching in protest around the 60 degree bend. The Jeep skidded to a halt in front of the Bank Of America ATM and Doc jumped out. Jonas joined him, as both of them needed money for booze and the trash bags. I was already covered so I turned on the radio and went fishing for some decent music. I hit Free Bird on 102.1 near the beginning when Doc came sprinting back into the car. "Jonas!" he bellowed. "Jonas! Get the fuck in here!" He honked the horn twice before Jonas got in, calmly smoking a cigarette. "Can somebody open a window please?" he asked pleasantly.

Harold & Maude

A young man infatuated with death, mostly his own
And a fiery old woman with life in her bones
Meet at funerals and in a half stole hearse
Became friends, in good time and worse

War, the musical....

Starting this book with a severe cold is not a good idea. I opened “War, the Musical” and though “What the hell was in my room-mate’s cold medicine?” Once it became clear to me that I wasn’t the fucked up one, it was the book, I calmed down. I’m going to get out from the start, I feel like the author was trying to hard to lose the reader, as if they got an ego boost from confusing a person and making them not only lost in words, but fifteen bucks poorer. The prelude to the book let us know that the author knew how discombobulated the book was and how puzzled the reader would be. Does Fitterman have a complex control issue here? Does he get sick kicks from confusion? Chaos?

notes on war the musical part 1

as i mentioned in class, i think commenting on war, consumerism, capitalism, and american addiction to oil are all cheap shots. any mildly educated liberal goes off on all of these subjects given even the slightest opportunity. and whats the the text? another cheap shot in my mind. i think some of it would be suitable in the graffiti medium, but i found it tedious. im sure the suthor meant something by it, but i found it largely inaccessable.

Sample of creative writing: The Damnation of David Shaw

“I have many names in many cultures. You already have preconceived images of me but they are not true, I assure you. You know nothing about who I really am. I am the archangel Lucifer. Satan, sometimes, and many others.”

He instantly rises and steps back aghast from Lucifer before he can finish.

Shock

Excitement

Intense Fear

Intense Loathing

Lucifer lets it Sink into David.

“Prince of lies… King of Darkness! Demon! Begone from my holy visage! God protects me!”

“I thought this might happen… given your background. That’s why we’re scared for you”

“Scared? What, scared that you would lose me to the arms of God for dispatching you vile children? Scared you might have to battle the forces of good for this righteous crusader?” he wrathfully preaches.

A sigh.

“No… I want you to go to heaven and be with Them.”

“Lies! You’re here to cast me into fire and brimstone!”

Writing Experiment (Week 3)

This week's writing experiment will be thrilling and multi-dimensional:

1. Compose a short story (2pg ?) in which the main character is not physically present in the narrative (this is interpretable as it might take on several different solutions).

OR

2. Loosely translate the general narrative of your favourite movie into a sonnet (a 14-line poem-- don't worry about rhyme or meter unless you care to). Be witty and liberal in your conversion.

Don't forget to read and bring in your notes (initial reactions, observations) on Robert Fitterman's War, the musical to class on Tuesday. While you are only responsible for having read the first half, I strongly encourage you to finish it in one sitting if possible.

Thoughts on The Activist.....

Once I cracked the binding of The Activist, I got lost in the writing of only the first chapter. It was not a lost that made me confused, but a lost that dragged me into the story. I felt like it was coming straight from the speaker’s mind, as if it was a stream of consciences. It got a picture in my head of the author sitting down at a type writer, writing on a long strand of telitote paper, sort of like how Jack Kerouac wrote “On the Road”. As I continued, it reminded me of the way I find writing in a journal appears. Long wordy sentences, obscure reference, and yet a clear picture coming to mind. I appreciated this, because I knew in the beginning it was about some one reporting on some sort of events. I didn’t know it would be on a radical activist group, or suburban guerilla warfare; but I knew that some for of reporting would take place.

fragmentation in activist

There seems to be some sort of balance between the ambiguous and impersonal and the specific and personal. In post-modern fiction, an integration has occurred where the author uses more ambiguous and impersonal elements to transfer more of the meaning-bearing elements into the reader. Because less meaning is explicitly conferred within the text, the meanings conveyed will have a lot to do with the readers meaning generating structures. This method, however, makes the specific elements and sections of continuous narrative stick out more by contrast.

Why would the author utilize ambiguity and fragmentation in her narrative if it only emphasized the specific/personal elements? My guess is that there is supposed to be a special dynamic between the clear aspects of the Activist and the fragmented aspects. At the same time that certain continuous sections or repetitive themes jump out at the reader, the inter-subjective chaos of the activists renders these elements in an unstable way.

This dynamic is barely held together by the time the second section featuring the reporter comes around. Every image and piece of dialog, such as “America for Americans!” or a clear statement of intention by the reporter seems like the author is giving something away. Then on the return to the hideout of the activists, the fragmentation is quite stark by comparison. The atmosphere, however, is interesting at this point. Monique’s hideout is a quiet house with familiar things like telephones, refrigerators, sleep and sex. There is a tense feeling but calm, like the eye of a storm. This I quite liked.

JE

Discussion Questions (week 3)

Discussion questions for this week:

• How would you define or characterize a typical "Renee-Gladman-sentence"? What habits or repeated tendencies can you find in Gladman's sentence structures/style? What effect do those habits or tendencies have on the text's narrative? flow? mood? enjoyablity?
  
• What are all the different meanings of the word "authority"? In what different ways is "authority" addressed in The Activist? How do we excercise "authority" in our own lives? as writers? as citizens? as students? as X?
• What role does ambiguity play in the book? What about transformation? Can you discuss examples where ambiguity or transformation effects both FORM and CONTENT? What is the effect? How can you "read" or make meaning of ambiguity?
• What is the difference between reporting and confession in this book? Where/How are personal language and public language distinguished in The Activist? Where/How are they converged or confused?
• What did you like best about the book? What was your favourite section? What did you like least? What section did you care for the least? What revisions might you make if you were editing the text? Did you make any useful discoveries about or observations on writing? reading? thinking? acting?

And some hidden tracks:

• Gladman discussing her own ideas about writing and narrativity, here and here
• A recording of Gladman reading her work (not the BEST sound quality, but still a great reading)