Rauan Klassnik
http://rauanklassnik.blogspot.com
author of three collections: Sky Rat (Spork, 2014), The Moon's Jaw (Black Ocean, 2013) and Holy Land (Black Ocean, 2008) ... ----- @klassnik ------
Spectacle & Pageantry Always Trump Ethics
o, the humanity!
[ No, this post isn’t about the current state of Politics in the “greatest nation that’s ever existed”, or The Vatican. But it is me being, as usual, angry and amused, reductive, pessimistic, excited, juiced up, judgmental, and making sweeping generalizations about humanity, our plight, our collective cultural soul, blah, blah — note: I am a big fan of the Tour de France, absolutely care and absolute also do not care about the cheating. And I will be following as much of this year’s Tour as I can.
I think, really, that I care more about the Tour de France than I do about humanity ]
So, anyways,
In less than 48 hours the 100th edition of the Tour de France will begin with huge fanfare. Does it matter that Lance Armstrong finally came clean (in his way), admitting he’d cheated his way, coldly and methodically (Armstrong headed up, according to USADA, “the most sophisticated, professionalized and successful doping program that sport has ever seen”), to his record 7 consecutive tour titles? READ MORE >
Reb Livingston’s Poetry Home
“not impressed” — “not impressed at all”
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When Reb Livingston saw Joe Hall’s Poetry Road she wasn’t impressed. Wasn’t impressed at all. Hell, she told me, more shit goes on in my Poetry Home (where I’m working on my novel, Bombyonder) than all that stupid-ketchup-&-knives, “Poetry Schmoetry Road” bullshit. And so Reb and I did a little interview and photo shoot (her husband, aka “man-meat,” took the shots. Poor devil!).
And the rule, again, fyi, for the interview was that Reb could only answer with language from Bombyonder– samples here and here.
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Besides Beyonce’s “All the Single Ladies,” Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” and the entire Bette Midler canon, what sort of music and sound things or voices have you been listening to in the ol’ lonesome Poetry Home??
Songs on the fly
The unconscious lizard
A zipper up his ass
Silently managed
Mice crammed into books
The offspring’s first meal
A dead bird blasted
Someone’s dick
Is breaking
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When Chris (yr monogamous partner of a long, long time) is out of town how do you deal with the physical loneliness and strange arousals of an empty, abandoned Poetry Home (all the bible salesmen, mermen, mail men, athletes, pool boys, James Francos, Nicolas Cages (ahem), hunks, man-sluts, etc, etc, yawn) ??
Snickering like dragons
Hands pawing, probing my privates
Scared, vile and leaking
Pina (Bausch) The Movie — Cults and Transcendence (??) — Selling Out (??)
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Pina, the movie, Wim Wenders’ movie, about Pina Bausch, the German dancer and choreographer, is a beautiful and strange thing about which much has been said– and I’m going, here, to put my 2 cents into the conversation regarding the inhumanity of the “characters” in the performances; the heavily-emphasized “cult” aspect of Pina and her dancer/followers; and, lastly, the fact that the movie, for all its strangeness, all its ability to jar, alienate and electrify seems to be a tamer and lesser version of what it could have been.
(It’s worth noting, also, that Pina died, unexpectedly, two days before production was set to have begun). READ MORE >
Joe Hall’s Poetry Road
“all the horns”
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Joe Hall is currently about two-thirds done with a 35 day reading tour in support of his new book, The Devotional Poems, and while staying with me here on his Seattle stop, Joe and I did a little interview and photo shoot. (The rule, fyi, for the interview was that Joe could only answer with phrases and lines from his new book.)
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Besides Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” & Bob Seger’s “Turn the Page” what sort of music and sound things have you been listening to on the ol’ lonesome Poetry Road?
In the motherfucking sounds and motherfucking light
All the horns that do not blow
A stethoscope and a quarter ounce
Getting loose, kind of stupid
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Away from Cheryl (yr monogamous partner of over 7 years , whose absence you named your DC Reading for:“Cheryl’s Gone”), how do you deal with physical loneliness and arousal of the Poetry Road (all the Sirens, deserts, Mermaids, thorn-stimulants, wenches, etc, etc, yawn,…)???
I wake up and my balls are dragging behind me
Like wet paper bags of trash
So I murder that huge ball of pink grasping
Hands
With one shrinking word
Waiting on tender feet
Blotched faces to the flames
I never meant to go, to flee, to leave you READ MORE >
Seattle Author Spotlight (2) — Maged Zaher
Thanks for all the great feedback on the Author Spotlight I did on Richard Chiem! So many flowers (awwww)! So much chocolate (awwww)! And even a phone call from the president which, sadly, went to voicemail. It’s really all been kind of overwhelming (sigh, swoon). But, here anyways, now, is the 2nd Spotlight– on Maged Zaher!
Maged Zaher is very engaging, warm, likable, and was born in a great year (1967, a year in which Rauan Klassnik and Aase Berg were also born.) Maged is currently up for Seattle’s “Stranger Genius Award” which comes with a $5,000 prize. So, congrats, man, & good luck!
(Brendan Kiley, in The Stranger’s write-up on Maged Zaher, describes our Spotlight Author as a “merry melancholic” and goes on to say that “in Zaher’s work, intimacy is the gold medal, but also something to be feared.”)
It was a real pleasure hanging out with Maged for a couple of hours earlier this week. Maged likes to talk poetry, ideology, politics, sociability, soccer, etc, etc. And he’s totally cool with strong, differing opinions which, well, suited me just fine!
This spotlight, then, is comprised of a brief bio, a short interview and a couple of photos. So, say hello now to Maged Zaher!
READ MORE >
Tao Lin: Extremely Sincere or Total Put On (??)
Tonight (I guess it’s last night by now), in the basement of The Elliott Bay Book Company here in Seattle, Tao Lin read a section of his new book, Tai Pei, to a crowd of about 70-80 people, most of whom were fans.
I’ve read very little of Tao Lin but being a part of the Indie Lit community I have heard his name quite a bit. And I do know that lots of people really like “Tao Lin” and Tao Lin’s writing. And lots of people really dislike “Tao Lin” and Tao Lin’s writing. And as we walked into the bookstore one of my new Seattle buddies underscored this with the phrase “very polarizing.” My friend was referring to Tao Lin’s writing but I guess he could just easily have been referring to “Tao Lin.”
Tao began by apologizing for being late (the reading had been pushed back from 7 to 8pm) and explained that he’d missed his 9:30 (a.m.) flight and then his new flight was delayed. Tao sounded a bit under the weather. A bit like he had a sore throat. But, the reading seemed to go ok.
The Q & A, though, is where things got interesting. And pretty quick. The 2nd question was about Tao’s use of Gchat and Gmail. This was, evidently, a touchy subject for Tao and from then on the Q & A, for the most part, was Tao bemoaning the negative reviews (and tweet) Tai Pei has received so far. READ MORE >
Kim Kardashian & T.S. Eliot
I’m pissed! Kim Kardashian has just given birth, and well, this sucks. Sucks because this deprives us of a month full of pregnant Kim. A month full of big, beautiful Kim. A month full of tabloid shots in which Kim could grow into more astronomically and giddyingly, attractively large.
But, life goes on, as it must. (Sigh.) But I can yet glory in really big Kim! So, what follows are some cobbled together notes that I was working on but which kind of got lost in all my LeBron fantasias, among other things:
our Idol (& her man)
Standing in line to pay for our bananas and tick medication I notice that pregnant Kim Kardashian looks HUGE (unrealistically huge) on the cover of all the tabloid magazines. “They must be enhancing these,” I snicker to my wife as I rub anxiously at my neck. “O, no,” she replies, cocksure. “I bet she looks exactly like this.”
And I’m like “huh?” but realize, there and then in our honest, local Fred Meyer, that people aren’t making fun of or laughing at Kim’s exploding monster-physique they are, instead, idolizing it. READ MORE >
The Fassbinder Diaries
The Fassbinder Diaries by James Pate is now available. I had the pleasure of blurbing this (along with Johannes Göransson and Ken Baumann). The book contains many strange and beautiful pieces, including Pig Beach which you can read here. Pig Beach is one of my favorite contemporary poems In fact I like it so much I’ve mixed bits of it in to some of my readings:
The human sand pink and the pig wall burnt.
The beach light bright in the pig eye.
You can get The Fassbinder Diaries here
5 Points: Happy Rock
Happy Rock by Matthew Simmons (Dark Coast Press)
— do you like Mothers exploding?
— hopeful suicides?
He produced a rope of fake pearls. They cinched them under her breasts, coiled them around her neck.
Marie said: “This seems wrong, though. I don’t like being tied.”
Eugene agreed, and they never used the pearls around neck or over her wrists, or around her ankles again.
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. . .Eugene barely hears the phone ring. But it rings. On the roof, Eugene is laying down sod. He lays it over the shingles. He has a bucket of worms. He lays down the sod and sprinkles it with worms.
— Blood dried in a Rush groove? (just a drop. a single rose drop)
— Smashed-up windows falling like snow & crunched underfoot (the highlight of yr life)?
you can order Happy Rock here
O, Lebron
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I know it hurts, dude, but let me tell you about this puffball sitting in white sunlight in the middle of nowhere. And I inject this puffball into your neck, balls and butt. And you fall on to your hands and knees. And you’re soft and suave as a Pomeranian barking up philosophies, experiences, Robert Hass’s silkiest poems (and I wish I’d rescued you from a fairy tale). And you don’t stop.
o, my puffball!
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I am, though, standing in front of the mirror. And I’m holding a bowling bowl. And I smash my face with it. . . And I am you, LeBron James (blah, blah). . . And I haven’t written a sonnet in a thousand years (blah, blah). . .Pigs are buried, dancing, in every second. . .Blood lashed on the hardwood. READ MORE >