Post-post

Take a break and have a little fun with Bulhak's Postmodernism Engine. Or should I say, a Postdiscursive neo-Dada Inter-(con)texual/textural Abstract Machine that decenters phallo-Dad(a)-author-centricity?

I generated an essay on Burroughs and Feminism. Fascinating.

Suppose That You Were Supposed To

Lars Palm has started up an ebook (ad)venture in writing called Ungovernable Press. I'm happy to report that Supposed to Sound is available for reading and download via the UP blog, as well as two works by Lars himself. From what I understand, there is much more to come.

The ebooks use a reader called Scribd, no download for which is necessary. I'd suggest checking out the reader, even if you're not all that interested in reading poems. I'm enthusiastic (can't you tell?) about the po(e)tentials for textual dissemination via weblogs with the Scribd platform.

Adieu.

Another Day Word

The following definition comes from Ambrose Bierce:

Politics, n. Strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles.

Psyche

The following bit is from an interesting little article that popped up on Wired. Frank O'Hara once joked that there was "nothing metaphysical about tight pants," echoing W.C. Williams' sentiments regarding metaphysics that he was more than wont to voice. Descartes roll over, but I don't see how the psychic function of the individual subject does not cognitively process information in a singularly material way and, moreover, I don't see how the processing of language-information radically differs from that of image-information:

"One way around all this may be to figure out 'how human beings recognize objects in the real world and duplicate that functionality in a series of algorithms.' But here's the catch: 'Recent research has indicated that humans use not one algorithm, but multiple algorithms for the task of object recognition - depending on the object being recognized and the situation at hand."

"Sometimes, people use 'template based algorithms' -- like matching an object to a database. Sometimes, they look for particular features. In other situations, they watch for geometric icons, or geons. 'These three algorithms are used in conjunction with a fourth algorithm, a contextual cueing algorithm, which limits the overall search space. Finally, human spatial memory is able to mentally rotate objects in order to match the object to different representations'."

Once upon a time, there were a select group of workers called computers. They did computations for a living, and they used algorithms to do so. Machines replaced their primary function of computation, but computers are still tools or instruments with which we interface. I'm using algorithms right now to process how to italicize this present sentence. The buttons on the screen (or the hot-keys, as it were) merely serve as extensions of this processing. Perhaps I'll write more on this in the future, but in the meantime, check out a book called The Universal Computer, or, better yet, a book by Berlinski: The Advent of the Algorithm.

Adieu.

Gist In Case

Or, rather, just in case you missed it, Jerome Rothenberg's blog.

Grenier

LATE

for John Dowland

you will not
save things or
make them perfect

music is power
yo
lustrous ox

lightly the
transfigured leaves
ok on that

Dodo Way

Mars lander discovers white material? Scientists hope for ice:

"Here's a closer look at the white material in the trench now called 'Dodo-Goldilocks' that was uncovered by the robotic arm aboard the Phoenix. The white material was first noticed on June 3 but more has been exposed as the robotic arm has dug deeper. Since the white material is only on one end of the trench, NASA scientists theorize that they could have hit the edge of a slab of ice." (Read more here.)

Where there is ice, there once was life? Are they hoping to find traces of life to simply find such traces? To what end is all this? One skeptical suggestion that seems implausible to me, but that piques my interest nevertheless: Where once there was life, there is oil.

The ostensibly humanist project of digging into martian terrain has never struck me as innocent. The very naming of the trench "dodo" suggests the death-drive of Western culture. Here today, dodo tomorrow, and crude the next. The phrase "traces of life" is suspiciously morbid.

As for the so-called curiosity of "Goldilocks," doesn't the moral of that tale instruct one to not meddle?

Do Go

Saturday June 14 8 PM

NICOLE PEYRAFITTE - VOICE
& MIKE BISIO – DOUBLE BASS

Café 5C - 68 Avenue C at 5th street. New York City

(delicious light fares + teas, coffee, beer & wine available)
$8 COVER+ $5 MINIMUM

A multilingual performance by singer, painter & cook Nicole Peyrafitte, accompanied by bass player Mike Bisio. Tonight they will offer a selection of Peyrafitte’s originals, contemporary poetry/texts by Pierre Joris, Henri Michaux, Frida Kahlo, Occitan songs and their signature song…or is it a dish?

Natural + Listless

A few years ago, I took a trip to Ithaca with Jess Mynes. At the time, Aaron Tieger was living in Ithaca, writing great poems and, among other things, working as part of the Soon collective that hosted a reading with me and Jess. Just as a good friend will do, Aaron played the part of tour guide, showing us around the area, and it was then that I found a slice of shale with a seashell imprint. Two things made one integral thing: the shale was no longer simply shale, which is itself formed by compaction, and the seashell was no longer, yet had made its print, what Olson called "typos" or the imprint, the actuality of creation. You could say that it was impressive. (And, as I type this, I also think of Gerrit Lansing's "Honey From the Rock": "rock of what imprints us in the shakes of being where we are.") When I sat down to write "about" the trip in my notebook, "Naturalistless" was the result: Two things as one integral thing, formed in couplets that themselves are wholes. I literally wrote the impressions of the topos or topology of the place in compressed rhythmical "slices" or parts.

There is more to the story, even for such a modest sequence of poems. Suffice it to say that, somewhere along the way, I sent the poems off to Carl, and wow did he do a magnificent job with this little chapbook. Carl on the project:

"A few years back my wife and I were hanging with Chris Rizzo at this bar called Charlie's Kitchen over in Harvard Square. After a few beers he pushed over this packet of poems called 'Spare Parts' and says 'let me know what you think'. I remember going home and reading it and saying 'i wish i could write this good'. I didn't write a poem for five months. 'Naturalistless' is the ultimate compendium of his spare parts. These poems are whole sentences chopped down to two words, joined. It is both a refreshing poetic statement and a future bookshelf mainstay. Also, Christopher Rizzo is the man behind the unparalleled Anchorite Press."

If you're interested in procuring a copy, here's a link to The Greying Ghost Press. $5 ppd. Needless to say, I'm thrilled to see these poems out in the world. Thank you, Carl.