Thursday, August 31, 2006
For half the cost, if that matters, rather than splurging on BAP 2006, try Talisman 32-33 (2006). Essays on occasions of the wild side, the retro-est poems evah, and classic memoir of Ted Berrigan amiably penned by Joel Lewis. Lewis's Jersey (offshore) stance vis a vis downtown maintained, persists; but Berrigan and the Berrigans were his family; he's been touched.
posted byJack 5:53 AM
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
 Today the Polar Bear in the Blog Tunnel Trophy goes to scrappy, potentially eponymous Isabella Argento (link at right under the A's) for less than a week of begging, magnetic, flip-awesome-avatar dramaturgy, and exemplary social realism. It gives me a freeze block of pleasure to hand out I.A.'s award on the centennial of Our Polar Bear trademark. This is a sanguine coincidence I'm ontologically solid with, witch.
posted byJack 4:51 AM
Monday, August 28, 2006
Reading Jean Cocteau, watching General Hospital. As translated by Richard Howard, Cocteau complains of Auden's translation of Knights of the Round Table: A poet is posthumous -- dead -- stone dead. He can do absolutely nothing about the way in which his works circulate in the world. Better to be unknown than betrayed. Unknown and betrayed, that is a poet's fate.
posted byJack 8:32 AM
I better watch it, Inner-Tweety blurts. I could turn this into a deadpan watch over Boston, a terrific place to practice the dark art, but blogworthy, nah.
posted byJack 6:48 AM
Post~Twyla: A postlanguage verse-critique in 250 parts.
posted byJack 5:18 AM
Friday, August 25, 2006
Sent Twyla pdf's three days before factory approval. Mark the changes.
Lose half the italics; Buddha-Mr. Gray, now a love note; Casanova shifts to Scooter.
posted byJack 9:11 AM
The ad above my hotmail inbox reads, "Get more sleep. Work closer to Boston."
posted byJack 7:27 AM
There's another slant to male deadpan that I brought up earlier, and I offer it here as a corrective to my bad, dumb, ill-etched attempts to tie the sentiment and affect to a conventional political spectrum. Deadpan is merely conditioning in both its range of intentionality and agency and its lexical tactics. The partisan schema, situated from right of ur to far right, is subsumed by take-downs, targets stuffed with inflammables, straw (text), clustered pellets (biodata), etc., whose immolation compels male gut pleasure. The instant take-out. You can't have deadpan without it.
Granted, on a more personal note, I can try sweet talk, seeming to have an apolitical, even a liberal, esthetic agenda to cry-baby my way into the hearts of voyeurs.
But then I blow it by teaching someone to hate what I hate.
posted byJack 4:15 AM
Thursday, August 24, 2006
posted byJack 9:34 AM
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
We come to these tables late but not too late: http://galatearesurrection3.blogspot.com/ -- & -- http://dusie.org/ -- kudos, Eileen Tabios & Susana Gardner, respectively!
posted byJack 2:39 PM
posted byJack 6:25 AM
Monday, August 21, 2006
What a mess.
posted byJack 7:07 AM
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
posted byJack 5:58 AM
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Dang varmit, I'm taking this bait. A fine blogger laid down the prop last week of hetero-male sentimentality. Or other wording to the same affect. (I don't have time anymore to fact-check. This is blogging.)
I really, spookily don't know where to begin, Hud -- how about either end of deadpan?
Over to the left, Bill Knott hoots and rails against Charles Molesworth, fuck-stopper Charles Molesworth! among others at Poetry, fetus-killing Poetry! Seems Poetry has ignored Knott's poems for 33 years and ruined his reading career. Knott tears into Christian Wiman, Daryl Hine, names I'd like to put to rest, but now thanks to this, they and their empurpled specters circulate freely, again. Then Knott links and lashes Gluck, Lehman, Silliman. It's routine kvetch done with some economy, noirish bravado, complete with fillip, "If only mouthwash could talk."
To the far right, the latest incarnation of mutton-chopped Yosemite Sam, bully who couldn't shoot straight, and whose principal contribution to fun in poetics was to say something stupid and keep saying it: Kent Johnson. Yosemite was thrust mouth-first into celluloid mid-20th century by American cartoonists intoxicated by Austro-Prussian blunderbuss. Male doggedness, you might say. Similar influence breeds Stateside contemporaneously. You find it in military culture, in political discourse, and in a kind of counter-poetics as practiced by, among others, Kent (whom I like enough to call him on it). I've decided to intake his recent Lucipo posts as hangdog chow. [Here's a link to August archives. Read from midway down, starting with his "Notes on the Sexualities of Poetry."] The kid is hilarious. What other conclusion can I draw from Kent's self-inflicted taxonomy that offers gayness and beastiality as categorical tags for 'post-avant poetry.' Rick Santorum should know about this. (He probably already does.) When Kent intones that homosexuality is "downright fashionable" I'm waiting for the other foot to drop, the right one he keeps shooting.
posted byJack 5:21 AM
Monday, August 14, 2006
posted byJack 5:49 AM
Friday, August 11, 2006
Tone poems, eda, heart sutras
put me in the mood for head-on.
A higher state of alert operators are standing
by. You get locked out, we'll open your door.
Yearning in an academic setting,
widow, you're a correlation.
It's so pathetic
you could take a sabbatical.
Aren't you from the makers of local cable
your hair latticed, bed wetter celebrity spokesperson?
posted byJack 6:01 AM
Thursday, August 10, 2006
posted byJack 9:29 AM
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
At the intersection of 32nd Street and Park Avenue in Manhattan, a Poetry House branch sits on the northeast corner. A branch of the Poetry Project is across the street. A Boog City discount center stands over the southwest side. And taking up the fourth corner spot: the new bargain outlet for Newyorkpoet.blogspot has unexpectedly shut its doors, not more than a short sprint from its sister operation, the upscale Greatestlivingpoet.blogspot spa and service center up the block.
Too many poetry branches? Maybe.
Big outfits in poetry have been on a branch building binge in the last few years, trying to grab and hold onto customers. But this recent push may be nearing its final frontier. Poetry readership growth is expected to slow, and some data suggest that poetics organizations and bloggers are stealing customers from each other rather than enlarging the overall size of the market. Higher interest in graphic novels and new Internet-only viz poetry portals have led some consumers to move their readership 'investments' into products offering higher entertainment yields. And prices for poetry real estate and online venues have been soaring nationwide, especially in New York.
“I just think the building frenzy in branch poetry is probably nearing its peak,” said Crag Hill, Scorecard.typepad’s chairman and chief executive, who is credited with igniting the poetry branch building boom in Manhattan, starting in 2001. “Maybe I am dreaming, but I think we are going to look back at this period and say this is the top.”
Tony Tost, Unquietgrave.blogspot's chairman and chief executive, said, “We think there is some saturation, but that is typical for poetry readership where there is a herd instinct.” But even though it may seem as if there is a branch on every corner, poetry industry executives argue that most major American cities are still open to more poetry. In metropolitan areas like Fort Greene, Bolinas, Boulder and Ithaca, the amount of money that retail poetry firms are taking in is significantly outpacing the number of new branches being built.
The rush into poetry real estate and virtual space reflects a fundamental shift by the industry. A decade ago, most big poetry companies were shedding their branches, not building more. They steered their customers away from rhyming lines and encouraged them to use copying machines, the post office, and braille message services both to read and write poetry, which were less expensive to operate than stores or websites. Today, there has been a serious change of heart. Poetry companies view their branches as gold mines, not costs. Their addicted customers can generate a steady stream of fee income. And once a single poet hooks his or her customers, the company can sign customers up for new products, spurring overall sales. All the while, branches can collect millions of free comments in cheap "dialog boxes" that can be set up either in real space at retail poetry emporiums or online in virtual spaces, such as poets' MySpace pages and blogs.
The upshot is that big poetry firms are treating their branches, the real ones and the ones online, more like traditional retail outlets than ever before. The pioneering Jism.blogspot’s New York regional manager is a former bookstore executive who talks about his “distribution network.” Jism, the founding corporation which has changed its name many times, from Kickthepodium to Americasbestpoet, and most recently to Newyorkpoet and then to Greatestlivingpoet, promotes its evening and weekend hours for updated postings and reader response, referring to its branches as "stores." And across the industry, there is greater focus on branding, reader/customer service and placing more products like tequila mugs and stretch t-shirts.
And in what may be one of the industry’s telltale signs, Jism's success riding the retail wave has made it poised to overtake Obey Corp., the corporate entity behind such bloggers as Ronsilliman.blogspot and many, many blog followers. Obey's coast-to-coast network of 5,700 hits per hour towers currently over the 894 Jism hits nationwide. But maybe not for long, given Jism's explosive growth plan in comment box outreach.
The New York metropolitan area, the country’s wealthiest market, has in many ways been emblematic of the national resurgence in retail poetry. Five years ago, a retail poetry branch in New York City was an endangered species; many were closing or moving from corner storefronts to cheaper locations on second floors of bus depots or homeless shelters. Today, it is hard to miss one if you stroll down any street where MBAs and MFAs rub shoulders.
The figures tell the story of a rapid buildup of branches that may be difficult to sustain in New York. The data suggest that instead of attracting totally new customers, the big poetry interests are hoping to take readers and money away from one another -- a pattern consistent with the cluster of poetry branches at some corner locations and high-traffic spots. “It seems like we are over-branched, but in Manhattan you have a bunch of relatively affluent people stacked on top of each other into the sky,” said Jane Dark, a frequent spokesperson for Janedark.com’s retail and marketing poetry practice.
“We are behind and understrengthed in our home market, the frickin U. S. of A.,” said John Ashbunny, the head of Jism’s North American retail operations, as he noted plans to build a total of 100 comment box inserts per hour nationwide by the end of this week.
posted byJack 10:50 AM
Controlling and indecisive. No wonder your ex-es are zooper glib.
posted byJack 8:16 AM
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Project Runway, a creative process reality shtick, well known to poetics blog readers, is a third of the way through Season 3. Last week we witnessed the school yard drama of Keith getting his comeuppance, booted off because he 'broke rules' and was tattled on. (And PR is nothing less than serious about its internecine gossip cum integrity. Mechanics of decision making are behind the scenes, but like Diebold, PR remains officially honest.) We accept then the demise of PR's cutest male and undoubtedly most sophisticated operator of all three seasons. He seemed to throw out designs that impressed judges even while baring their teeth, but no matter, he is gone. Note, most of the remaining males do not deserve to and won't last, and I sense from the preview edits, most of them will be off the show in the coming weeks. In the end, I'd like to see a threeway among Uli, Alison, and Laura (but Laura displays some of Keith's hauteur, an arrogance that comes with a sort of maturity, and she is not half the designer that Keith is, so she may not make it). Best of the men: Robert and Kayne, the tattler.
posted byJack 12:07 PM
Another big Q. and A. and pronouncement for you, Condoleezza...
winner of this month's Gangsta Gold Insouciance Award.
I know. I mean, what a magical week.
Your area is interpretive search for a road map to wholeness?
It's hard for me to take credit. I'm a floater of "cynicism" in relation to whatever topic I adopt.
The whole thing just snowballed.
Well, you're certainly the woman of the hour. Congratulations to you.
It all makes for a storybook ending to a rather tumultuous summer vacation...
a vacation in which oligarchy not only imitated restraint through liberty, it toppled it.
posted byJack 10:29 AM
August or these last few summer weeks are the birth season of half of the living avants and so half the blog roll, which itself keeps moving, new sites for Murphy, Behrle, and Vengua at right. A massive happy birthday, all. (I'm in a gracias a la vida que me a dado tanto mood.)
posted byJack 6:33 AM
posted byJack 1:31 AM
posted byJack 12:58 AM
Monday, August 07, 2006
posted byJack 5:48 AM
Sunday, August 06, 2006
posted byJack 2:44 PM
Friday, August 04, 2006
It's noteworthy that Murph has a new, plainer, and I would guess less constrictive soutane.
posted byJack 10:44 AM
Ant bully. There's always one.
posted byJack 8:36 AM
The coding is simple, fear-y one.
A cauldron of rage and love that's not great.
But if it involves me it's great.
posted byJack 6:16 AM
I forget what I vocalize, because the office sweats
like the beach to be mean.
Just to be mean. Lower your monthly payments,
the only employment for non-celebrities.
Burp through the microphone, hurl, and stare back.
posted byJack 6:00 AM
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Can you tell a genuine replica of what's going on
around your neck?
Call it heads.
We beat the point spread.
posted byJack 3:54 AM
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