In the theme of Michael Bay memes lately, here:
Demon Brother: 6 Thoughts on Heart in Fiction
I’ve heard / been asked a lot about the concept of ‘heart’ lately, and last night I couldn’t sleep. So here:
1. Writing your heart out to me does not express heart. What expresses heart is the well wrought idea, sentence, conception. I, a reader, care because you care, and how the saying is said shows. If you could not take the time to say something to me in a way I might remember, I will not remember. Misconstruing a subject matter as ‘human’ only goes so far, which is, often, not far at all. I can always go outside.
2. The reader can always go outside. The question is not ‘Why are you telling me this?’ but ‘In what way are you saying this that would make me extricate this now from anything anyone before or after you has ever said?’
Two New: Wag’s Revue & Rabbit Light Movies
Wag’s Revue #2 features an interview with T.C. Boyle, a handful of K. Silem Mohammed’s exactly-anagramatized Shakespeare sonnets (must be seen to be believed), Mathias Svalina, Kenneth Goldsmith, Stephen Elliott and more.
Rabbit Light #9 features poemfilms of Joshua Beckman, Dorothea Lasky, Graham Foust, caconrad, Brandon Shimoda, and more.
Uncategorized / 13 Comments
June 29th, 2009 / 12:26 pm
June 29th, 2009 / 12:26 pm
baby htmlgiant
found all these “so cute” baby photos, figured i’d post them. figured “why not.”
baby blake screaming lyrics to happy birthday
little jimmy chen chen listening to berenstein bears book on tape
Famous Blue Raincoat
Wait, I thought Leonard Cohen’s Famous Blue Raincoat was a letter of concession that Cohen wrote to a mutual friend who successfully courted his wife, encouraging him to treat her well. Damn, that was romantic. Too bad I’ll never think of that song the same way again.
But when will David Lynch eat Peaches’s panties?
These two remix videos for Sunday today gave me a nice one, thus:
Miss Piggy singing Peaches ‘Fuck the Pain Away’ (via clusterflock)
David Lynch eats panties
Power Quote: David Markson
I want to wash when I meet a poet.
– Reader’s Block, p. 45