Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
I've developed phobia of contact: the greater the distance, the greater the anxiety. Phone and email have become Derridean monstrosities. It's not that I don't want to talk to you. It's that I am terribly anxious to touch the phone, to place receivers to my ear—to feel the soft pads of the buttons. I don't know why.
For long stretches I'll wait to dance with you, my friends. I may even dream about you. Perhaps I am worried that you'll talk for hours on end, keep this body awake, all of it after I've asked one simple question about Mookie Wilson's lifetime batting average.
Since falling ill I've stolen away to a single room for most of the day. 2 liter Pepsi bottles are neatly lined against the wall, forming a perimeter within the perimeter of the space that houses me. That unhouses me. Andy Warhol's.
It's not that I dislike the outdoors or fear that you, of all people, would forget to can me with the beans, pack me neatly in the freezer, and be the wind for the flag I made from your unnecessary clothing. This body shrinks in contracture whenever confronted by something it desires. The neck, the arms, the chest, the back, the first cranial nerve that wraps round the face, the eyelid, the chin, the left leg, the adrenals. All are action potential, their frequencies tuned to the relative distance I am from semen stains. Therefore, often, I am absent.
Then I should just come out and say it. Despite it all, sometimes I'm simply too goddamn tired to talk. I'd rather watch Nancy Grace. And I do, almost nightly. The girl’s dismembered body dredged from the pond of sensational retrobutionism.
My mother died a week ago and a student said yesterday, marveling: "you leave it all outside the classroom." I think she used the verb "to push." I didn't respond as I wanted to: "that's because I'm hiding something." But also maybe this fence keeps me in my world? Or this fence keeps you in your world? Unfortunately, once you hear that the word "pig" comes to mind.
I haven't driven at night for 3 years. I haven't gone to the bank in 2 years. I haven't got a clue what the cable bill costs. My partner's an honorary Jew! Possessives are hard to shake! I haven't returned to earth a fancy-tailed goldfish. (Secret wish.)
When I DO talk to you, such as now, there is a myofacial sensation of having caught fire in the face, which is very distracting.
Secret wish: the heart sutra blossoms and that famous nothingness unfolds so that I can, in the onrush of darkness, use the phone and send a few emails to dear friends. In those moments I could frantically ask if when the unitary being of the self is exposed as a cruel joke, whether the imminent ripping and shredding into a calm continuum is anything like approaching an event horizon from some ship held up by strings on a TV in my soda bottle abode...
I google myself on average once every 2 weeks. Part of this is vanity. I am, as you probably know, an oil man, VP of Savage Industries. I've had a good year watching the tides recede and leave behind layers of evidence of all my hard work. (Faceless date on pg. 72.)
I have to go now. It's dusk, and if there is one thing I can stand it's the view from my 2nd floor condo room window: the angels and the tall Northwestern evergreens trick you into the sensation of living in the forest. The highway is on the other side of an open field, a field which is mowed once a week by seasonal workers who ride tractors more reliable than the cars they use to haul them. To listen to the trucks go by is to wish for a charter. So I put earplugs on and stare into the blue-green for about forty minutes.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Experiments in Text: Transgressive Art & Transgressive Bodies
Faculty: David Wolach, firstname.lastname@example.org
Days & Times: 5-7p Wed & 4-6p Sat
Web Site: http://blogs.evergreen.edu/wolachd/
This course explores some of the complex cultural, personal, aesthetic, and political relationships between "transgressive" bodies and "transgressive" writing and art. What does it mean, in the west, for a body, or for an artwork, to trans-gress societal norms? We will look at contemporary work that takes the transgressive body—deemed sexually dangerous or deviant, for instance, or "dis-abled" and so "unfit" for work—to be a crucial site for social resistance, an "invisibility to be made visible" through collaborative/collective artistic practices, practices occurring often alongside, or as, protest. Though this is primarily a creative writing class, our writing will push itself outside its comfortable zones, its usual modes of operation. Emphasis will be put on experiments in breaking genre and mixing media, collaborating on pieces as well as making individual works, developing a poetics in relation to the social. We will discuss and critique the rich tradition of "somatic" practices in the world of performance and live art, including the work of artists such as Marina Abramovic, but we will also explore important recent experiments in poetry and prose by authors such as Hannah Weiner, Kenneth Gaburo, and CAConrad. Students will work both individually and collectively to investigate the radical potential of the transgressive body through making several pieces of art-writing. Our end goal will be to curate a show and live reading that complicates our thinking and breaks down barriers of many kinds: formal barriers of the work itself, social barriers within the Evergreen campus, as well as that between Evergreen’s campus and the broader Olympia community.
This work will be an extension and reimagining of PRESS, a reading series devoted to the intersection of text arts and radical politics. For more on PRESS, check out the blog at: http://pressliterarypoliticsseries.blogspot.com/ And for more on David’s poetic and pedagogical experiments, check out his public website at http://davidwolach.blogspot.com/
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
give as an inattention
the inatten wash sweet dash
harom figures individual why keekee
inatten service to shock stereo
complicit stereo varies flame the
subject as a form of down the muscle
is indecent our form as a down
inatten using four distortions
two stresses on the plinth debt
debt throu excerpted inactivity
pharmacalogical debt cooperative
repeat space as a pronounced form
an distress an you would like to
less cooperate predisposed to debt plinth
which is a proximate of sewn [seven]