21 December 2011

after the winter solstice, the days get longer









staring into the sun on the shortest day of year        waiting for rain       dipping south to avoid frost         i love my life in oakland          but spare palms make me fantasize about l.a.         venice i mean         less glass on the streets          more salt in the air          air of the sea         this train strokes down the coast         to make the same trip tomorrow          but it is today the sun stands still

20 December 2011

santa cruz

Blissed out with newfound free time, I took off to Santa Cruz for an early weekend last week.

It's hard, sometimes, for the documentation to keep up with the inspiration, as my friend Eric says.

Here's some documentation to accompany the bounty of inspiration from the seaside town that was my home for three years.


My feet like to be on the road. Preferably along the sea, somewhere I can smell kelp.



The original Surf City, U.S.A.
 

A train runs through it.


A fine farming town, too.


My friend Elaina lives in the most darling cottage


with just enough paint and enamel mugs and rich coffee to fortify our bodies and souls.

I almost want to move back - someday.

12 December 2011

what's going on here anyway?

Current phenomena of interest:

West Coast Port Shutdown, duh. Actions all over the nation...

Becoming, as articulated in Deleuze & Guattari's rhizome theory. "It could be said that the orchid imitates the wasp, reproducing its image in a signifying fashion (mimesis, mimicry, lure, etc.). But this is true only on the level of the strata - a parallelism between two strata such that a plant organization on one imitates an animal oganization on the other. At the same time, something else entirely is going on: not imitation at all but a capture of code, surplus value of code, an increase in valence, a veritable becoming, a becoming-wasp of the orchid and a becoming-orchid of the wasp..." If I could ever write a piece this incisive I would be a happy, happy lady.

The fractal - from the Latin fractus meaning broken - nature of poetics as well as math and what we call natural science. A dynamical system of repeated transformations demonstrating statistical self-similarity containing expansions within itself having the potential to induce chaos with the incorporation of chance. (Sounds like learning a new language (although how anybody has time for practical French podcasts is beyond me; it's a mystery I'd like to explore) to me.) And I do believe that sentence was grammatical.



So beautiful!

In other news: I have a ponytail now!


Yes! Only like two more years until an updo is within reach.

It's been hell of a semester. Hell, it's been a hell of a year. When I claimed last New Year's Eve that 2011 was going to be the year of the radical, I could not possibly have imagined such a year full of transformation as this one has been. And it's not over yet. It's not even winter yet! And it's 40 degrees! On the coast of California! Jeez!

08 December 2011

he showed me the door to bohemia

i saw jonathan richman last night at the great american music hall a life-long dream i hadn't even realized i'd been dreaming came true when i heard his voice live only amplified not recorded unbelieveable after he'd only been vinyl and mp3 and speaker output for so long and singing to me and making eye contact even then breaking it and breaking away from the microphone to shout a little it's a great party and to dance twirling his guitar and finally setting down the guitar gyrating like a motherfucker then picking up a cowbell there is chanting chanting kiss kiss toast toast kiss kiss toast toast i don't know what it means i don't care i am here and i get it i was a brat he says my parents dropped me off in harvard square when i was sixteen they knew i didn't care about drugs the people i was hanging out with they were older i was making pretentious art all i wanted to do was make art and they showed me the door to bohemia the audience is all singing along everybody every once in a while johnny steps away from the mic he is counting on us we will show him the door to bohemia this is the party it doesn't matter if the words are in italian they all just mean it's a great party la festa e la bomba that translates pretty easily and it's easy to sing along with too now what i want to know is when might i expect to stop being a brat

06 December 2011

concrete washout

"With so much available language, is it really necessary to write more?"
-Kenneth Goldsmith

Finishing up. My first semester. In graduate school. For writing. Is making me. Not want. To write. At all.

Not that I don't want to language (language, v. to use language).

I'm just sick of writing stuff down. Because it's all already been said.

I'm way more interested in rearranging.

I'm interested in what happens when you juxtapose nearly-contradictory words so that the ambiguity jumps out.

I'm interested in the shapes of sounds and where they are found - but not on a scientific level.

This is not science, this is life affecting nonlife.

All of life may be problematical. Or problematic.

We do it for pleasure, not to kill ourselves.

"And how do you perform?"
"You go from anyplace to anyplace."
-Anne Tardos, Jackson Mac Low