Book Edits and "Howl"

Recently I had started working on a new poem/image, but it doesn't fit with the others in the book. It will become part of my poetic / artistic statement for my grad school applications, because it is even more highly abstract than all the other images I'd done. It's about the crossroads between identity and language, and the image features a barbed wire fence. Upon closer inspection, the viewer discovers that one of the barbs is, in fact, a discarded insect exoskeleton curved in deference toward the sky. Right now, the sky in the image bears the words "identity intercepts language."

It needs work, but it has the potential to express my statement of intent in a way that words alone cannot. I can't think of a better way to emphasize my commitment to interdisciplinary art and writing.

The planned edits are as follows, and will be done by tomorrow:

• Adding a bibliography
• Adding a colophon
• Changing the order of pages
• Rendering the quotations in scanned images of my handwriting, rather than erroneously double-embedded italic text that caused the black dots / missing text print error.
• Maybe adding another Susan Howe quote. She is the main influence on the work.
• On a whim, I may throw in a scanned image of handwritten Greek, as a little counterpoint to the Westminster Hebrew computer code thing.
• Edit or delete the poetry on the final page, and/or move it to a different part of the book.

The prose sections get shorter toward the end, but I've decided not to try adding anything to them. Things are explained more explicitly at the beginning, and then everything rests in implications toward the end, particularly as the "Birdman subplot" develops.

Someone told me, following the poetry reading, that I sounded "a little preachy." I am unsure what exactly he was referring to. Was it the declarative / explanatory tone I used in the beginning, where I think I lead the reader a little bit more, or the way that I talk about God, or a combination of the two? Well, the microphone at a reading is, and should be, a pulpit from which the passionate poet strongly declares whatever they believe. The last thing it should be is noncommittal and boring. If I read it better, I probably would have sounded more preachy.

I could certainly learn a few things from the recent reading of Allen Ginsberg's Howl, which occurred at Circle Cinema on Friday, December 10th. It was a spectacular first encounter with the poem, better than the reading within the film. As much as possible, a reader should become a conduit for what they are reading, and must read truthfully and passionately.

"Holy Tulsa," indeed.

First Reading / Upcoming Revisions

My first reading from A Meditation on the Misplaced occurred on Friday, November 12 at Living Arts in Tulsa, as part of the Oklahoma Avant Garde Poetry Reading.

It's probably kind of surprising that such a thing even exists. Nobody would think we have art here, but we do. Walking around the Brady and Blue Dome Districts, I passed by about eight art studios, and I was really surprised.

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In other news, my goal is to revise the book by December 10th, when I imagine the semester must be ending for those in school. The revisions will be minor, fixing some formatting errors on italicized text by replacing them with scanned images of that text in my handwriting, as well as moving one page from the end toward the beginning. If I feel like it, I'll add some more writing in the end as well.

Ideas for New Projects

My digital camera doesn't work anymore, so I will rely more on the scanner for now, and develop a few rolls of film.

I have a bunch of Polaroids that didn't fit into the final version of A Meditation on the Misplaced, so I'll have to do something with those. I'm picturing small, handmade books, or at least ones that feature a lot of scanned in handwriting, doodles, and "marginalia." (See, I'm still obsessed with Susan Howe.)

Resurrect an old textbook and try to inject some life into it, and/or let its concepts inform my writing.

Write about the poetics of blending / merging in a way that (sort of) makes sense.

I can see relationships between many different things that interest me, and I want to express them, but sometimes it is overwhelming, and I don't know where exactly to go next. I think I'll let my mind take a stroll through Paul Auster's worlds of urban alienation for a while, and if my identity remains intact when I emerge, we'll see what happens :)

print error + new project concept

I made the PDF download free, and the book is now $20, to take advantage of a free shipping offer on Lulu. However, there are some black dots that show up in place of some italicized text, so I'm telling everyone not to buy it until I fix the file and clear up this error. Until then, please download and read it! (As far as I know, the PDF file displays all the text and no black dots.) I think it looks better on the computer screen anyway, because that's the way I've looked at it for two years! :)

My next project is to write poetry that mimics the actions of cells, especially mutation. That's all I know so far, because I haven't studied biology since about ninth grade. So I ordered an old biology textbook to help me start this new project.

I might publish a more extended version of A Meditation on the Misplaced later on. As I flipped through it tonight, I wished I'd made it longer. I think part of me still wants it to be as long as Howe's The Midnight- a good 170 pages instead of my meager 30.

My first book is available!

A Meditation on the Misplaced is now available for purchase here, on lulu.com.

The paper copy is $18.00 and the file download is $5.00. I almost can't believe I have the gall to charge money for my work. But I've been working on it for two years, and I don't expect people beyond my friends, family, and a couple of professors to want it.

Mostly, I'm happy to be done, and I'm finally proud of something I've accomplished! It is a senior project in the truest sense of the phrase, pulling together everything I learned in college, and especially showcasing everything I most loved.

One of my friends, who was an art history major, said it was worth the extra year and a half it took me to finish it. Although much more of that time was spent in procrastination / paralyzed fear than I care to admit, I don't think I could have produced this work last year. So maybe it is okay that it took so long. :)

I guess I finally have to admit that I'm a writer!

sunday morning soundtrack

sunday morning soundtrack

driving five over
shuffle softly pages fingertips
wailing muffled despair
shoes shuffle fall almost
moist mouths stage whisper
nervous habit
clickclickclickclickclick
no smoke break during service
love thy neighbor
why don't you?

because:
clickclickclickclick
rustle whimper sigh

hands shaking can't write

cough beep murmur chuckle

awkward greetings

smiles fake fade
you're not here.

maybe i can hear you out there--
pray in face of cold wind
hide from invasive others
keep hands still heart open

just long enough to decide

coming up soon

I finally bought my own scanner. It was about time. I wonder why I didn't think of this earlier, and spent months being intimidated by the possibility of being kicked out of Phillips Hall for trying to use their scanners. I got one that looked similar to the ones I used in Phillips, and it should arrive in a couple of days.

Here's a quick list of what I'm going to scan:

• 2 Viewmaster reels
• puzzle pieces
• greeting cards and envelopes
• tiny, thumbnail-size Ansel Adams images
• philosophy related library index cards (whole and in pieces)
• a deck of miniature playing cards
• film negatives
• Polaroids (I still have a pack of 10 left to shoot)
• a chart depicting Genesis 1:1 in computer code, courtesy of Westminster Theological Seminary

That chart of Genesis 1:1 fascinates me because it accounts for untranslatable words by using the symbol '#' as a placeholder. It reminds me of Howe's inclusion of a chart depicting various alphabets, the one I mentioned in an earlier post about a language curtain.

What is a reader's experience of encountering untranslatable words, placeholders, and gibberish? I suppose either your brain must "skip" the word, mining the whole sentence / phrase / paragraph to get a general meaning from context, or you substitute something else that makes sense to you. Maybe this is the Rorschach test of reading, where your own interpretations reveal more about you to you than about the author.

the language curtain.

Although I'm still afraid all the thoughts I have are rather obvious, I have to start somewhere.

In the section 'Scare Quotes I' Howe presents historical anecdotes, dictionary definitions, and of course quotations.

A bed hanging is a sort of curtain. An 11th century legend of a seamstress who had to discard her embroidered tapestries to evade the witch hunters (44-45) is followed shortly by a chart presenting the alphabets of different languages, which Howe presents as a "curtain" with a subtitle (47). So language is a curtain. Then she provides the definition of a curtain as " 'A cloth contracted or expanded at pleasure; To draw the curtain, to close so as to shut out the light; to open it so as to discern the objects' " (52-53).

This is a wonderful summary of how we can use language. I can't wait to throw open some curtains myself. It seems like Howe enjoys closing them, or leaving them open only a sliver.

on the title, "a meditation on the misplaced"

This is a place where the unnoticed is noticed, and the unappreciated brought to light. This contains the musings of an archaeologist of nostalgia, complete with exhibits provided for your perusal.

This is a place where seeds are sown, secret messages are sent, and playful life abounds.

There is no ultimate, straightforward answer to the fate of the misplaced, because we do not know yet. We are free to speculate. Any stubborn assertions may be arrogant and wrong.

This is a medium through which the importance of the tactile sense may not fully be conveyed, so go play with some cards while reading, or when you're done. Sow them in wonder.