in barbaric ice


(click on the play button above & watch my short film doppelgänger)

HyperthermHaiku

An atavistic
blood ablution, frozen sharp,
in barbaric ice.

The sun sliced a cut
of cold light onto his face —
a bullet-dry hole.

A frozen wasteland
left behind, village to sea,
I, cold-blooded, stalk.

IMG_1706 2“Under, then, under the front porch, in the loam
of the burning and smoking land, the de-
foliated, under that pyre of bones, we scrabble,
and struggle together to hear ourselves think.”

— Elizabeth Alexander / “Notes From”

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not yet cracked

Mr. X Decides to Build His Dream House

During what was the longest six months of my life, bedridden after a near-death experience, I could not sleep and the only thing that kept me alive was Eraserhead.  I watched that film nearly everyday: 138 times in 184 days. It seemed to me I had ingested David Lynch. I became Henry X —  but my head had not yet been cracked open for eraser meat, and I wasn’t father to a squalling baby. I did miss my lady in the radiator — oh so much.

So I linked to VCR Party Live on the Beaumont Theater website because I was curious about the Found Footage Festival that was coming to town; I wanted to watch the trailer and maybe buy tickets online.  I remember I had three layers of clothes on that very cold morning.  It was 37 degrees outside with freezing rain falling, and the thermometer in the living room read 65 degrees.  I put on my liners so I could still navigate online on my phone, a wool cap, a hoodie over my Tom Waits concert t-shirt, and a light orange puff jacket that I usually wore during late fall or early spring backpacking trips.  It’s as if I were setting out on a journey while sitting on the toilet watching YouTube with my flannel pants bunched around my ankles.  I had the sun lamp on in the bathroom.  I still couldn’t warm up.

But while I was watching the found footage trailer I got the idea to visit local thrift stores in search of any 8mm or 16mm films and VCR tapes I could find to make found footage films of my own.  I don’t know if the Internet Archives film database was online yet, in any case I didn’t find out about it until 2017, but it was during my eventual trip to Goodwill that I found the box of three VCR tapes and a scrapbook that would alter the course of my life.  The tapes were full of just about every commercial and cable television show about Ariel Castro — the Cleveland man who kidnapped three women and held them against their will, as prisoners, in his home for a decade.

After watching 6 hours of footage I was left wondering what really separated me from him; or from Jeffery Dahmer or any of the other sociopaths and psychopaths that become notorious. Then I thought about all the ones that get away with their crimes.  I thought of all the missing children, women and men in this world, and the men — it’s always mostly men — that are responsible for their disappearances.  

How is it that Castro became what he became and Dahmer what he became and I didn’t?  We shared so much in common in our early lives.  How is it that I’ve never crossed the line and had done something as monstrous as what they did?

And then I thought I should do something about that.

What I’m Reading, or: What I Just Finished Reading (a continuing series)

Fences / August Wilson (1985)

This was one of my longest “lying about” tsundoku (books that grace bookshelves or night tables, sometimes for years, without being read) — that’s no longer the case. This is potent stuff, at times bordering on melodrama, but about very serious race issues and gender mores.

Troy Maxon is one of the most complicated characters I’ve come across in writing for the theater. At times one pulls for him and is equally repelled by him. A truly unforgettable character. / Paperback, 01/17/21.

****

The Sentence is a Lonely Place / Gary Lutz (2016)

The transcript from a 2008 lecture on writing and the literary life presented to Columbia University writing students. Lutz recounts how he was hooked by language and then gets down into the grammatical, orthographical, and syntactic weeds. Interesting in its granular approach, and typical “slantness” from Lutz. / Audiobook, 01/18/21.

****

The Memory Police / Yoko Ogawa (1994/2019)

A disappointment because I had such high hopes. One maybe better off if one read this as an allegory. If you’re looking for a well constructed dystopia with its own logical construction and reason for existence you may be disappointed. It also toggled constantly with a novel within the novel that was worse than the primary book. Translated to English in 2019. / Audiobook, 01/18/21.

****

The Road to Unfreedom: Russia, Europe, America / Tim Snyder (2018)

Snyder surveys how Europe, Russia, and lastly the US made hard right fascist turns in their own home cooked ways in the 20th and 21st centuries.

But the creation myth that Putin and his club o’ fascists cooked up around the time of his second installment as head of Russia is as batshit crazy as it gets — it seems like “too-far-out fiction,” but unfortunately it isn’t. Supreb book. / Ebook & Audiobook, 01/19/21

****

On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century / Tim Snyder (2017)

Slight volume that packs a punch. Should have been required reading in the US and the world at the turn in the new millennium. Now, we are all so far gone! How do we reel this socio-cultural shit show back in? This book provides some ideas. / Ebook, 01/20/21

****

The Man Without a Face: The Unlikely Rise of Vladimir Putin / Masha Gessen (2012)

The second Gessen book I read this month on autocracy, this one specifically Putin’s. She lived through the rise and lifelong installment of Putin and the death of a nascent democracy in Russia. This is a personal history of that time, mostly 1998-2012, with Putin as the focal point. Plenty of biographical facts about Putin. Updated in 2014 for the audiobook. / Ebook & Audiobook, 01/23/21

****

Pep Talks for Writers: 52 Insights and Actions to Boost Your Creative Mojo / Grant Faulkner (2017)

One of the main folks behind NaNoWriMo and the founder of 100 Word Story, among other things, Faulkner writes a pretty nifty book on approaches — and pep talks to cover an entire year — to kickstart your writing. / Ebook, 01/24/21.

****

Inadvertent / Karl Ove Knausgaard (2018)

This is the first Knausgaard I read, other than a recent essay on LitHub.com, and I’ll be reading lots more. This short book delves into his attraction to literature, how he eventually becomes a writer, and his love of art. / Audiobook, 01/26/21.

****

Obit / Victoria Chang (2020)

A haunting and haunted poetry collection nominated for the 2020 National Book Award for poetry. Chang creates something transcendent from loss and grief. The (mostly) prose poems, in the format of short obituaries for just about everything in Chang’s life, are sharp and askew enough to make loss intellectually engaging and new. / Ebook, 01/27/21.

****

In Short: A Collection of Brief Creative Nonfiction / Judith Kitchen & Mary Paumier Jones (Ed.) (1996)

I picked this up after reading an interview with Dinty W. Moore (the editor of Brevity) on what he thought were the top five short-form creative nonfiction books. This was number two in chronological order. It’s flaws are mostly those of elision. If you’re doing flash (or micro) essays why include long essays with portions omitted for space? Great line up of writers. / Hardcover, 01/28/21.

****

Convenience Store Woman / Sayaka Murata (2018)

I really enjoyed this loopy take on a life given over to a convenience store. Offbeat characters in odd situations, but also feels like a bit of an existential confection. I already placed a “hold” on Murata’s new novel Earthings, so I’m looking forward to some more “askewness” soon. / Ebook & audiobook, 01/29/21.

“There are many dark things flowing in this world now, and most films reflect the world in which we live. They’re stories… And so, even though I’m from Missoula, Montana, which is not the surrealistic capital of the world, you could be anywhere and see a kind of strangeness in how the world is these days, or have a certain way of looking at things.”

— David Lynch / Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity

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nothing is imbued

A Billabong

A distortion in her preflight instruction

A 4-hour flight turned into a 15-hour ordeal

A crash in a Peruvian penal colony

A float down the Amazon River on handmade raft

A month adrift in a state-sized billabong in the middle of the rainforest

A fear in her eyes

A pursing of her lips

A flaring of her nostrils

A chore to deal with this level of “fucked-up-ness”

A recounting of “The World is a War Film”

A place where nothing is imbued with meaning

“But it is ontology — the investigation of the nature of being — that travelers do.”

— Cynthia Ozick / ”The Shock of Teapots”

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i wish i

here lives the

wish i was a fish,

“I do not care if I am writing a poem or a letter—it is just making marks on a sheet of paper that delights and envelops me.”

— Mary Ruefle / Madness, Rack, and Honey

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of hemlock breath

death stain haiku

death row lights bait him
guilty domed screen suicide
dram of hemlock breath

What I’m Reading, or: What I Just Finished Reading (a continuing series)

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I Hotel / Karen Tei Yamashita (2010)

Sprawling novel comprised of ten novellas; each a year in the history of the I Hotel in San Francisco and the counterculture unfolding around it from 1968-1977, and the eventual closing of the hotel and the displacement of its residents.

I started reading this last year, specifically the three individual novellas 1968: The Eye Hotel; 1970: The “I” Hotel; and 1974: The I-Migrant. Then I found the entire novel (beefy, at 613 pages) and finished it this year. Nothing else quite like it.

Expansive, recursive, and full of anecdotes to live and learn by — it’s also quite interesting. / Ebook, 01/12/21.

***

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MOME #1 / Eric Reynolds (Ed.) (2005)

Reading this series out of order. Read volume 10 first and then found the rest via Hoopla and my public library. Some great oblique takes on life here, and some very good graphics too, especially Gabrielle Bell’s “I Feel Nothing,” Paul Hornschemeier’s “Life with Mr. Dangerous Pt. 1,” and Jonathan Bennett’s “Dance with The Ventures.” / Ebook, 01/13/21.

***

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Holy the Firm / Annie Dillard (1977)

There is something transcendent about Dillard’s writing, even when one doesn’t agree with her metaphysical views. Dense, decorous, and well written, despite that old time religion. She doesn’t appear to be out to proselytize, but the religiosity is a bit thick. Well written, but hermetic to a point. Ebook, 01/14/21.

***

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City of Coughing and Dead Radiators / Martin Espada (1994)

An exceptional collection of poems. Espada generates great feeling through the indelible images he captures at just the critical moment. Chronicles the broken social compacts in the Americas and the promises and dreams deferred for immigrants in the US.

From the first line, “Columbus hallucinated gold…” (“The Hidalgo’s Hat and a Hawk’s Bell of Gold”) to the last line, “…of the Alamo / in black streaks of fire.” (“The Other Alamo”) you are in for an accounting and a taking-down of the worst of hegemonic America.

Espada is a divine imagist with an acute sensitivity. / Paperback, 01/14/21.

***

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Surviving Autocracy / Marsha Gessen (2020)

Gessen knows her stuff. She’s studied it, written about it, and lived it firsthand under Putin and Trump. A facility for clarity and an excellent writer to boot. I’ll read any Gessen I come across, especially her New Yorker magazine pieces. She saw it and called it early, just like Timothy Snyder. In the midst of a Gessen and Snyder read-a-thon on autocracies and tyrannies. / Ebook, 01/16/21.

“Had I been blessed with even limited access to my own mind there would have been no reason to write. I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

— Joan Didion / “Why I Write”

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kick the skull (redux)

Waxing Indecisive

I.

“You think grave digging is something to be embarrassed about? Everybody needs a grave digger, son.”

“I believe you father, but in these times of pestilence I feel overburdened. While the other kids play kick the skull at the green, here I am burying the dead. It’s quite dull and difficult work in these pits.”

“Listen, son. I buried Yorick yesterday, and that distracted pain in the ass prince was here waxing alexandrine and indecisive. He is difficult, but son we’re among kings and princess, it’s not all lower class rot and rigor we deal with.”

The fissile rocks burst against the grain.  Clouds swathed the moon in a green cast.  The grave digger’s son decides to go into tax accountancy, another steady, but cleaner, job.

II.

Not alone. I’ll see you in the morning. 
I’m hearing this for the first time. 
Tell me something you heard when you were injured like an animal missing a limb.
Does it need to be a seven part story?
No but if it’s made of sinew and crag I’d enjoy it more.
A rabid coyote has been here at night while we sleep.
Listen, your father was not a starfish. Your sister was not a line of enjambed poetry.
If we don’t get to choose when we are transfigured,
Are we allowed to choose when we are transmogrified?
We only get to choose if we go into tax accountancy or grave digging.
They’re both very steady jobs.
The steadiest.

“I blame God. I want to complain to the boss of God about God. What if the boss of God is rain and the only way to speak to rain is to open your mouth to the sky and drown.”

— Victoria Chang / “Blame”

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keeping him dead

Gun That Weighed A Ton (haiku tercets)

Once, my father’s gun
was proferred open-handed
as proof of his love.

He sat naked, wet,
at the edge of the bed, said,
“I didn’t, for you.”

I felt horrible
that I was keeping him dead
amongst the living.

“If we’re being realistic about what an end goal should be, creating something with no ambition other than to get something off our chest might be the purest thing anyone could aim for.”

— Jeff Tweedy / How to Write One Song

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teenage hoodlum hoodwinker

We Become the Planet We Kill

I get to bake the cellophane cake.

You: insouciant acolyte of peregrinations plus, and you ameliorate my angst. You’ll find me a way to progress as a pilgrim that isn’t full of that old time religion. Then you’ll find me a way to plant a flag in Patagonia.

I tell you the farfisa is the garfish of spell correct.

You spell check me on the profane and change it to the divine.

No one is truly enthralled with conspiracists — our eyes on the mounds of flesh decaying while the landfills overflow with our wretchedness — we are all husks.

We become the planet we kill.

We are elaborate confectioners and puppeteers of malice (we are) — we add no value. We desecrate and fill morgues with dispatch.

You call me Angel, but you are a devil of a teenage hoodlum, hoodwinker, hood scratcher.

Sell me a Münchausen Syndrome by Proxy planner to keep the narrative slant.

Instead we Rochambeau thumb it for rock flautists: you get the Moody Blues guy spouting poetry, and I get the Jethro Tull tippy-toe psychotic. We’ll play it like it’s 1972.

“We have a choice — to be on the side of creation, or surrender to the powers that destroy.”

— Jeff Tweedy / How to Write One Song

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all happened here

(click on play button above and watch my short film vomitus)

Waiting for the Reichstag Fire (01.07.21)

I’m waiting for the flood.
I’m waiting.

I’m hoping against deliberative hope
that the storming of Congress wasn’t the prelude for the pretext —
that it wasn’t the Reichstag Fire that failed to catch —
hoping that we’re not headed for a “state of exception”
that we’re not on the path to enabling
the autocrat to break through.

I’ve heard it “can’t happen here,”
like a nauseating refrain,
five years running.

Look around, look back,
it’s all happened here.

“To be sure, Americans in 2020 had access to vastly more information than did Soviet citizens in 1986. But the Trump administration shared two key features with the Soviet government: utter disregard for human life and a monomaniacal focus on pleasing the leader, to make him appear unerring and all-powerful. These are the features of autocratic leadership. In the three years of his presidency, even before the coronavirus pandemic, Trump had come closer to achieving autocratic rule than most people would have thought possible.”

— Masha Gessen / Surviving Autocracy

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of acid words

maelstrom

underneath the bed
away from the maelstrom
of acid words and sharp elbows

it became clear
my parents had no idea

“Our quiet rage gives us wings, the possibility to negotiate the gears winding backwards, uniting all time.”

—Patti Smith / The Year of the Monkey

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