Flying to NYC tomorrow morning. Hope to see/meet some of you at the Bowery Club, Saturday, 2pm (Subpress reading).
notes on guild, poetry, and San Diego
Tao Drops, I Change
Snowing ash here. The sky a yellowish brown, which brings out the green in the trees and shrubs -- a somber, dusty green. The Jacaranda that hangs over the west corner of our house is luminescent and gorgeous.
Note Nick Piombino's recent appearance under the wig of Certau's *la perruque*, just in time for Halloween. A few years ago, as a "half-time" employee at a local private university in San Diego, I printed and compiled all of Zazil 1 as a "professional development" project, listing the work as "community service" on my dossier when my yearly review (petition for renewal of contract) came up. I guess I pushed the limit a bit, though, by Certeau's standards, in using paper and toner as well as time and infrastructure. The editing team called our meetings to order with a rousing "Vive La Perruque!." A true story.
Check out the latest installment of Governator.
Sin puertes visibles
There is no part of me [Jen H] that believes the cultural production of any region, country, current, time, generation, or any other (false) (potentially useful) (provisional) distinction can be adequately represented by any one single book, nor would I hope to create a work that delimits rather than diffracts, that frames to contain rather than frames to provide a view, a way to look out (a window or series of). Certainly, any book or collection has its limitations--rightfully so--as any editor has her criteria and any translator her stylistic preferences, syntactic and tactile and tactical impulses, and politico-linguistic beliefs, whether articulated or intuited or somewhere in-between. This book does not provide a panorama of contemporary Mexican poetry. It does not imply an investment in a new generation, group, or school within the vast Mexican literary terrain. It is not a who's who of what's new in recent writing from Mexico. The view it suggests is not panoramic, not definitive, not generalizing, but rather periscopic and pivoting and particular: it describes, variously, and I hope voraciously, what I have seen in doing this work. It is a bridge suspended teeteringly between my beginner's eye, some emergent writings from mexico, and any reader who wishes to engage either of those two fields in any of their many possible manifestations.This "beginner's eye" seems pretty darn good at calling the pitches, and editorial and translator "impulses" make for some often stunning choices. No time to show the poetry--buy the book and check it out--but what I think Jen has done is demonstrate/document some new methods for working out of Spanish into English (and back again). Latin cognates, for example, are often left alone (transcribed verbatim) where I think more traditional translators might go for a guttier Anglo-Germanic swap-out. Other stuff is simply hair-raising in English (my Spanish is only quasi-so-so, I admit), passing that rule-of-thumb test of "working as poems." I heard some of it read in Spanish when Jen was down in TJ last month -- breathtaking -- and a confirming "wow" from Octavia who's fluent.
The smell of blogs. The meandering gritty taste of blogs. The sweat of blogs, the belly-meat of blogs, the bloody ruddy pudding of blogs. The newest latest list of blogs. The tired tainted mist of blogs. The best of blogs, the worst of blogs. The compromising gist of blogs. Blogs with venom, blogs with spleen, blogs to bloat a budding scene. The tin-tin-titillation of blogs. The tiny tic-tac time of blogs. The valley of death of blogs. The candy-coated breath of blogs. Blogs that go, blogs that stay, blogs served up on a silver tray. The fun and fest and font of blogs. The front and fuss and froth of blogs. The mucky muddled waste of blogs. The yucky huddled haste of blogs. Blogs to fathom, blogs to feed, blogs with rhythm, blogs on speed. The height and depth and width of blogs. The first and last and least of blogs. A year of blogs, a fear of blogs, a satisfying smear of blogs. The volley of doubt of blogs. The token temple of blogs. The ten-ton-tabulation of blogs. The busted, bested beast of blogs. The most of blogs. The lasting lusting nest of blogs. The sweet sweet treat of blogs. The pandering putty paste of blogs. The small small small small small small mall
Why the Cubs Will Never Go to the World Series
Why Arnold Schwarzenegger Should Be Governor of California
enough of that ... now this