Ok.
I am a mess. I just broke up with WIll. Somebody call me.
help.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
MYSTERY BRUISE & Activist poetry news
So it wasn't foot cramp after all...It was a MYSTERY BRUISE!!! how did I get a big bruise across the top of my foot??/ please send responses on a postcard with a self adressed envelope to...etc.
I have a piece of news though, this is in the pipeline peeps:
OPEN MIKE FOR INTERNATIONAL WOMEN"S DAY:
"This Woman's Word" (tentative title), at Cafe Gato Rojo Dudley House 3/8, a Feminist Space project.
Come and read something of your own or something that inspires you in your everyday life or in your activism.
We've had Vispo, now we are going to have Actpo!
I have a piece of news though, this is in the pipeline peeps:
OPEN MIKE FOR INTERNATIONAL WOMEN"S DAY:
"This Woman's Word" (tentative title), at Cafe Gato Rojo Dudley House 3/8, a Feminist Space project.
Come and read something of your own or something that inspires you in your everyday life or in your activism.
We've had Vispo, now we are going to have Actpo!
OH my aching FOOT
So last night, after the open mike...which was kind of in two parts...the first part being somewhat awful (solipsistic moanings on guitars of the "why don't you call me" school) and the second part being rather good, (naturally I was in the second part) I trudged home through the snow behind two people who took pity on my rather drunken state and led the way. It was so strange out. And beautiful. Cold and soft. Feathery. Sparkly.
I do not have a hangover, but I do have foot cramp. Go figure.
Somebody remind me never to get drunk, I always regret it. I wasn't tooo bad last night, but still. It always makes me upset...I feel my wig slipping, and always think I have made some huge mistakes. Sometimes I do. THe room didn't spin, I stayed upright and I didn't throw up. Nor did I go home with someone entirely unsuitable. So all in all I came off pretty lightly. I finished Venus as a Boy (Luke Sutherland) yesterday. And that plus the poetry and a panoply of romantic rejection of late I think just sent me to drink. TOasting Hunter S Thompson.
BUT...
I came back and found out I got the Dudley Arts Fellowship. WOW. YAY!!!
Then I made myself two fried eggs and some toast, watched a cartoon and went to sleep, but not before pestering friends at 1/40am...sorry.
So I have to work today. And work I shall. I also have to wait for my atm card to arrive, and sort a whole bunch of other things out.
P>S> Nota Bene Peeps: For all who do not know: I have a piece in the Visual Poetry Exhibition (whose title this year is: "infinity") at Dudley House, which will be opening on thursday at 7pm, so please come along for free booze and a fun evening. email me for details.
I do not have a hangover, but I do have foot cramp. Go figure.
Somebody remind me never to get drunk, I always regret it. I wasn't tooo bad last night, but still. It always makes me upset...I feel my wig slipping, and always think I have made some huge mistakes. Sometimes I do. THe room didn't spin, I stayed upright and I didn't throw up. Nor did I go home with someone entirely unsuitable. So all in all I came off pretty lightly. I finished Venus as a Boy (Luke Sutherland) yesterday. And that plus the poetry and a panoply of romantic rejection of late I think just sent me to drink. TOasting Hunter S Thompson.
BUT...
I came back and found out I got the Dudley Arts Fellowship. WOW. YAY!!!
Then I made myself two fried eggs and some toast, watched a cartoon and went to sleep, but not before pestering friends at 1/40am...sorry.
So I have to work today. And work I shall. I also have to wait for my atm card to arrive, and sort a whole bunch of other things out.
P>S> Nota Bene Peeps: For all who do not know: I have a piece in the Visual Poetry Exhibition (whose title this year is: "infinity") at Dudley House, which will be opening on thursday at 7pm, so please come along for free booze and a fun evening. email me for details.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
PROTEST! My speech from yesterday/Speech in full
Yesterday's demo was great...we are already getting a lot of recognition which is wonderful. I gave an edited version of this speech, but here is the whole thing.
It would appear that, like a lot of people, Mr. Larry Summers has a dream. Although we may speculate as to the true contents of such a dream, from his comments we can as he is wont to do “observe” that despite his reticence in releasing the transcript of his comments and despite his eventual apologies as to the pickle he has placed women faculty members in, his stated aim was to provoke, to incite others to challenge his claims within the confines of an “objectivity”, an “empirical” process that he himelf would define. This is a mental landscape wherein a history of systematic discrimination can be and has been righted as much as it can be by applying the medicament of 25 years of women’s passage to the halls of academe, albeit often through the back entrance. We might say that we are here then, to begin the process of realizing this stated aim of his, of revealing other sides of the argument on the reasons for women’s lack of tenure at Harvard that are markedly absent from Summers’ consideration. Indeed if this is his aim, President Summers should rejoice in his own demise. I am also here to challenge the arguments in terms of quality that are presented within these remarks because the scientific field they represent is far from complete, a fact of which I feel it is paramount that the population of Harvard be reminded.
I am not a scientist. Nor am I an expert in the field of gender studies by any means, but like President Summers before me I will not let this hinder me. It may well be the remit of the president of Harvard to discuss tenure and diversity as Mr. Summers’ did not “feel” like doing on the 14th of January, but one may well ask his qualifications for making statements that run the gamut from the sociological and the psychological to the biological. His defense in his comments at that time and beyond is one of his speaking unofficially, as a private individual. As I said I too am speaking about something I am no expert in, but the differences between the two positions-his and mine-are many: I can simply represent myself, which is what I am doing: I am affiliated with no political party or organization whatever, I receive no salary linked to my saying this, not saying it, or how I say it. Mr Summers claims to be speaking in an unofficial capacity in these remarks are really rather extraordinary: after serving in the Clinton administration, his claimed ignorance to the impact of his speech within the setting of a conference on diversity must strike us as disingenuous, especially when taken together with his aim of provocation. Mr. Summer’s “non-normative” (i.e. anecdotal) “hypotheses” on causes of declined tenure for women display a number of errors, flaws which no doubt if present in the work of a Harvard student would result in round and justified criticism. Mr. Summer’s asks throughout whether he might be wrong; the answer to such a question would in my opinion be that he certainly is not right. This has nothing to do with the opinions he represents therein per say, and everything to do with the misuse of authority to promulgate ideas UNFOUNDED or at the very least, QUESTIONABLE as FACTin the guise of a level of informality that for the President of an institution like Harvard cannot exist within the confines of any academic conference. We should carefully examine the assumptions that lie at the heart of Larry Summers’ comments because they are his and because they are NOT his alone: he speaks of his ability to simply act as an observer cooly unimplicated in judgement or social process, the significance of which he speaks of fairly derisively, unhindered by subjectivity and reliant upon a body of “ clear” and “empirical” scientific data. Summers’ views are symptomatic of a socio-biological trend in academia, not least at Harvard which, despite its potentially racist and sexist uses must be allowed to exist, but must not however be allowed to exist uncontested, or be presented as existing uncontested. Such a presentation abuses pedagogical privilege to hegemonic ends.
In a rhetorical flourish Summers’ speaks about “one”, the ostensibly neutral observer, and the simple truth of the data he cites, and at the same time bemoans the “fetishization” of objectivity. It is interesting too that while he downplays the role of discrimination and socialization significantly, what he views as his most convincing argument for the lack of women with tenure, the absence of desire to work the magical “80 hour week”, would, by many people be thought of as social. We must ask then, if such a desire is separate from social factors, the lack of childcare and equal sharing of family responsibilities, what in Mr. Summers view would account for this. Throughout his argument Larry Summers defines a fairly broad dichotomy between the nurture that for example has him buy toy trucks for hi twin girls, and the nature that in his view WILL OUT, the transformation from truck to “daddy truck”. If the lack of willingness to participate in what he calls “high powered” jobs, a conclusion in itself highly questionable, is not social than what is it? If women are naturally predisposed to want to take on the lion’s share of domestic and family duties, what would be the merit in providing them with greater opportunities?
The “revolution” in “behavioral genetics” that Mr. Summers has apparently been witness to is controversial, questionable and inconclusive, and certainly does not tell us without doubt that a great many trends that were thought to be impacted by societal factors are in fact biologically determined as he claims, and most certainly in those cases that Mr/. Summers discusses the outcome is far from clear. The same style of data that he presents, the use of standard deviation hypotheses that emphasise the greater number of exceptional men (as opposed to women) has been used in diverse publications (such a the Bell Curve”) to justify racism and sexism, and is inherently flawed since it asks no questions as to why this data should appear as it does, and whether as the work of Fausto Sterling, Koeske and other scientists have shown, the question and the questioner have an impact upon this. This data presume absolute objectivity. On this score Mr. Summers’ lack of academic rigor must again be remarked upon. Whether he agrees with other views of the state of the sexual landscape or not, such convincing alternative views, concise and cutting analyses do exist, and the field is by no means whatever mapped, charted or concluded; for every article on the innate lack of scientific ability that girls display there is one that debunks it, for every Wilson & Wilson study there is a piece by Anne Fausto Sterling.
Summers claims to be saying something new, to be challenging the status quo and what to him is a foregone and natural human predisposition to locate the source of discrepencies within the social sphere. It may be interesting to examine Mr. Summer’ comment against the following quote. ”there did not appear to be any social prejudice againt women engaging in scientific work….it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that there is an innate sexual disqualification”
James McKeen Cattell, “American Men of Science” 1903
• Mr. Summers’ comment is about excusing himself by redrawing the field, limiting the discourse that can be used against him carefully, but even within these confines, he is sorely lacking, for reasons of disingenuousness and incompetence I commit my vote of no confidence.
It would appear that, like a lot of people, Mr. Larry Summers has a dream. Although we may speculate as to the true contents of such a dream, from his comments we can as he is wont to do “observe” that despite his reticence in releasing the transcript of his comments and despite his eventual apologies as to the pickle he has placed women faculty members in, his stated aim was to provoke, to incite others to challenge his claims within the confines of an “objectivity”, an “empirical” process that he himelf would define. This is a mental landscape wherein a history of systematic discrimination can be and has been righted as much as it can be by applying the medicament of 25 years of women’s passage to the halls of academe, albeit often through the back entrance. We might say that we are here then, to begin the process of realizing this stated aim of his, of revealing other sides of the argument on the reasons for women’s lack of tenure at Harvard that are markedly absent from Summers’ consideration. Indeed if this is his aim, President Summers should rejoice in his own demise. I am also here to challenge the arguments in terms of quality that are presented within these remarks because the scientific field they represent is far from complete, a fact of which I feel it is paramount that the population of Harvard be reminded.
I am not a scientist. Nor am I an expert in the field of gender studies by any means, but like President Summers before me I will not let this hinder me. It may well be the remit of the president of Harvard to discuss tenure and diversity as Mr. Summers’ did not “feel” like doing on the 14th of January, but one may well ask his qualifications for making statements that run the gamut from the sociological and the psychological to the biological. His defense in his comments at that time and beyond is one of his speaking unofficially, as a private individual. As I said I too am speaking about something I am no expert in, but the differences between the two positions-his and mine-are many: I can simply represent myself, which is what I am doing: I am affiliated with no political party or organization whatever, I receive no salary linked to my saying this, not saying it, or how I say it. Mr Summers claims to be speaking in an unofficial capacity in these remarks are really rather extraordinary: after serving in the Clinton administration, his claimed ignorance to the impact of his speech within the setting of a conference on diversity must strike us as disingenuous, especially when taken together with his aim of provocation. Mr. Summer’s “non-normative” (i.e. anecdotal) “hypotheses” on causes of declined tenure for women display a number of errors, flaws which no doubt if present in the work of a Harvard student would result in round and justified criticism. Mr. Summer’s asks throughout whether he might be wrong; the answer to such a question would in my opinion be that he certainly is not right. This has nothing to do with the opinions he represents therein per say, and everything to do with the misuse of authority to promulgate ideas UNFOUNDED or at the very least, QUESTIONABLE as FACTin the guise of a level of informality that for the President of an institution like Harvard cannot exist within the confines of any academic conference. We should carefully examine the assumptions that lie at the heart of Larry Summers’ comments because they are his and because they are NOT his alone: he speaks of his ability to simply act as an observer cooly unimplicated in judgement or social process, the significance of which he speaks of fairly derisively, unhindered by subjectivity and reliant upon a body of “ clear” and “empirical” scientific data. Summers’ views are symptomatic of a socio-biological trend in academia, not least at Harvard which, despite its potentially racist and sexist uses must be allowed to exist, but must not however be allowed to exist uncontested, or be presented as existing uncontested. Such a presentation abuses pedagogical privilege to hegemonic ends.
In a rhetorical flourish Summers’ speaks about “one”, the ostensibly neutral observer, and the simple truth of the data he cites, and at the same time bemoans the “fetishization” of objectivity. It is interesting too that while he downplays the role of discrimination and socialization significantly, what he views as his most convincing argument for the lack of women with tenure, the absence of desire to work the magical “80 hour week”, would, by many people be thought of as social. We must ask then, if such a desire is separate from social factors, the lack of childcare and equal sharing of family responsibilities, what in Mr. Summers view would account for this. Throughout his argument Larry Summers defines a fairly broad dichotomy between the nurture that for example has him buy toy trucks for hi twin girls, and the nature that in his view WILL OUT, the transformation from truck to “daddy truck”. If the lack of willingness to participate in what he calls “high powered” jobs, a conclusion in itself highly questionable, is not social than what is it? If women are naturally predisposed to want to take on the lion’s share of domestic and family duties, what would be the merit in providing them with greater opportunities?
The “revolution” in “behavioral genetics” that Mr. Summers has apparently been witness to is controversial, questionable and inconclusive, and certainly does not tell us without doubt that a great many trends that were thought to be impacted by societal factors are in fact biologically determined as he claims, and most certainly in those cases that Mr/. Summers discusses the outcome is far from clear. The same style of data that he presents, the use of standard deviation hypotheses that emphasise the greater number of exceptional men (as opposed to women) has been used in diverse publications (such a the Bell Curve”) to justify racism and sexism, and is inherently flawed since it asks no questions as to why this data should appear as it does, and whether as the work of Fausto Sterling, Koeske and other scientists have shown, the question and the questioner have an impact upon this. This data presume absolute objectivity. On this score Mr. Summers’ lack of academic rigor must again be remarked upon. Whether he agrees with other views of the state of the sexual landscape or not, such convincing alternative views, concise and cutting analyses do exist, and the field is by no means whatever mapped, charted or concluded; for every article on the innate lack of scientific ability that girls display there is one that debunks it, for every Wilson & Wilson study there is a piece by Anne Fausto Sterling.
Summers claims to be saying something new, to be challenging the status quo and what to him is a foregone and natural human predisposition to locate the source of discrepencies within the social sphere. It may be interesting to examine Mr. Summer’ comment against the following quote. ”there did not appear to be any social prejudice againt women engaging in scientific work….it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that there is an innate sexual disqualification”
James McKeen Cattell, “American Men of Science” 1903
• Mr. Summers’ comment is about excusing himself by redrawing the field, limiting the discourse that can be used against him carefully, but even within these confines, he is sorely lacking, for reasons of disingenuousness and incompetence I commit my vote of no confidence.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
HApPY NeW YeAR!!!!
Happy New Year everybody! Yes, it is now the year of the Rooster...MY YEAR!! YAY!
Wishing you all the best of health and happiness this year, and welcoming rooster friendly messages!
SR65X
Wishing you all the best of health and happiness this year, and welcoming rooster friendly messages!
SR65X
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
hell and high water or jacuzzi and sauna?
Well....I have a choice it seems. THe marvellous "Art and Violence in the Cultural Revolution" class is forcing me into a decision of conscience...to take the overwhelmingly scary course with huge amounts of hard work, or to not """""? I hate backing down from a challenge, I don't believe I ever have, certainly not in academic terms, but do I really want to do 4 6 page papers in characters, and oral presentation and a final exam???? hmmm.
More to the point will I give myself some kind of mental hernia if I do so?
double hmmm.
any and all opinions peeps.
More to the point will I give myself some kind of mental hernia if I do so?
double hmmm.
any and all opinions peeps.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
old poem reworked: Harley Street Scene
Harley Street Scene
Now the sun is come
Out into a cold world
Casting shadow
More blue more cold,
Deepening its grip on
The pavement.
It reaches up between the
Buildings and we soak it
Up like sponge
We plunge our beings
Into the light to rest the
Blackest form:
The dark quarter of
Despair.
And now the Sun has come
With the smell of bleach and
The White smoke of White
Cigarettes.
The shadows steeped in clouds of
Perfume of
Worried women pacing
In Fur coats sunglasses eye patch
High heels and crutch.
Glamorous up to the last.
Babies and children
Worried walking
We are the sad soldiers
Bastions of the insane
Inner worlds
As we step in square
Patterns, mumbling before
Great Glossy Doors.
A thousand languages
In the sunshine that falls
Relentlessly picking out the
Gold cufflinks, the shimmer of
Stethoscope the bone
Shining through Skin.
Between the buildings the
Sun has come,
Flooding tiny ancient
Detail, the shine of tiles
That face nowhere, the
Beautiful internal
World: the part
They cannot touch.
The Soul that Swims Free...
Now the sun is come
Out into a cold world
Casting shadow
More blue more cold,
Deepening its grip on
The pavement.
It reaches up between the
Buildings and we soak it
Up like sponge
We plunge our beings
Into the light to rest the
Blackest form:
The dark quarter of
Despair.
And now the Sun has come
With the smell of bleach and
The White smoke of White
Cigarettes.
The shadows steeped in clouds of
Perfume of
Worried women pacing
In Fur coats sunglasses eye patch
High heels and crutch.
Glamorous up to the last.
Babies and children
Worried walking
We are the sad soldiers
Bastions of the insane
Inner worlds
As we step in square
Patterns, mumbling before
Great Glossy Doors.
A thousand languages
In the sunshine that falls
Relentlessly picking out the
Gold cufflinks, the shimmer of
Stethoscope the bone
Shining through Skin.
Between the buildings the
Sun has come,
Flooding tiny ancient
Detail, the shine of tiles
That face nowhere, the
Beautiful internal
World: the part
They cannot touch.
The Soul that Swims Free...
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
In the belly of the beast
Two hands for two blogs. Now, I just need to conjure that other "me" from the petri dish and the experiment will be complete.
Monday, January 31, 2005
What Goes Around
Snow is waist high outside my door, but the sun is shining and for once the icicles seem to be dripping rather than just hanging there like the teeth of a winter that will never end...but not feeling all that grand today...at least I have a good saturday in my pocket. Weekday, corner pocket, watch it sppppppin.
So I had the weirdest day on saturday...I went out to work on a piece for the Visual Poetry Exhibition at Dudley House at the gallery where I rent and found a poetry workshop in my space. I happened to have all my poems with me for the purposes of the piece and so decided to join. And the guy who teaches the class is very cool and writes great poetry and has a blog and so I am putting a link to it, he did the same for me. So Instant Karma. What can I say. His name is Edward J. Carvalho, he is working on a masters in creative writing, I believe, and is generally talented and sound, writes stuff with great poise and just a wee bit of rock. His blog is The Outlaw Goatee, it has lots of truly beautiful poems and musings, and pictures of him with abundant facial hair.
After that I went and worked for a bit and jsut before I was to start hacking up my poems a reading begins to get under way upstairs so I ended up reading at that as well...odd happenstances galore on saturday eh?
Now contemplating what courses to try out...think it's going to be a lot of theatre this term...YangBanXi (Beijing Opera of the Cultural Revolution) and maybe a Japanese Traditional theatre course? Noh and Kabuki...zoweee.
any opinions?
So I had the weirdest day on saturday...I went out to work on a piece for the Visual Poetry Exhibition at Dudley House at the gallery where I rent and found a poetry workshop in my space. I happened to have all my poems with me for the purposes of the piece and so decided to join. And the guy who teaches the class is very cool and writes great poetry and has a blog and so I am putting a link to it, he did the same for me. So Instant Karma. What can I say. His name is Edward J. Carvalho, he is working on a masters in creative writing, I believe, and is generally talented and sound, writes stuff with great poise and just a wee bit of rock. His blog is The Outlaw Goatee, it has lots of truly beautiful poems and musings, and pictures of him with abundant facial hair.
After that I went and worked for a bit and jsut before I was to start hacking up my poems a reading begins to get under way upstairs so I ended up reading at that as well...odd happenstances galore on saturday eh?
Now contemplating what courses to try out...think it's going to be a lot of theatre this term...YangBanXi (Beijing Opera of the Cultural Revolution) and maybe a Japanese Traditional theatre course? Noh and Kabuki...zoweee.
any opinions?
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Belated RIP
I know I live in something of a bubble at Harvard, but I just JUST found out the most awful news: John Peel is DEAD!!!
WHAT THE FUCK???? WHAT THE FUCK????? WHAT THE FUCK???????????
How can I NOT HAVE KNOWN THIS??????
I feel like nelson's column just fell over. The man was a GENIUS, and so fantastic. I remember when jane used to send faxes to him and he would talk about her zine on air. He was an institution, the most amazing institution: not only was he just cool all around, not only did he have this amazingly soothing voice and then would crank out amazing music, he promoted and did soo much for the careers of so many of my favourite bands: he helped THE FALL for fuck's sake. And the Wedding Present. Joy Division. and most of the bands I was friendly with. Good GOd .
RIP. I feel so stupid that I hadn;t heard. god.
PLEH
PLEH PLEH
PLEH PLEH PLEH
WHAT THE FUCK???? WHAT THE FUCK????? WHAT THE FUCK???????????
How can I NOT HAVE KNOWN THIS??????
I feel like nelson's column just fell over. The man was a GENIUS, and so fantastic. I remember when jane used to send faxes to him and he would talk about her zine on air. He was an institution, the most amazing institution: not only was he just cool all around, not only did he have this amazingly soothing voice and then would crank out amazing music, he promoted and did soo much for the careers of so many of my favourite bands: he helped THE FALL for fuck's sake. And the Wedding Present. Joy Division. and most of the bands I was friendly with. Good GOd .
RIP. I feel so stupid that I hadn;t heard. god.
PLEH
PLEH PLEH
PLEH PLEH PLEH
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Hopscotch
When I was a little boy I found a pearl,
Round, perfect, shining in a roll/shift/roll Shift along
the bottom drawer, making a rattling route:
A smooth world curved, turned inside out
In the no man’s land between socks and sweaters.
It lived like a moon in miniature.
Made its own adventures.
I licked it, put that small reflection right up
To my eye, squinted. It was the loose lost eyeball of some
Firebird, some fairytale fish, its odd soft hardness
It’s rough smoothness. It looked at me with no purpose,
I put it in my mouth. Tasted its taste of the sea.
Rolled it behind my teeth with my tongue.
Savored the clattering noise the clicking between those
Little curved ivories. Piano keys. Stepping stones.
Hopscotch. Don’t step on the CRACK or you’ll
breaK your mother’s…
…It glided down my throat, loose loose in the sinew.
Loose to think of the tooth I swallowed
In a spoon, white and flat, on my 6th
Birthday when I was a little girl. tooth
And pearl sat, whispered a shanty, sea of two together
One Beside the other in my belly,
One daring the other to be the first to grow.
Roots dug int’ me. Loose, Loose skip to my…
Made paths searching out sap and blood,
Inhabited a hot hole between my legs,
Pearl and tooth Skipped Upright in gum-skin.
The bone the flesh the tissue.
Buds of teeth in head, pearls in every vein.
Don’t STEP on the…
Loose, Loose: years were Scots in London:
Walking up Shoot-up-Hill and skipping down
Hillhead. All the catholics, bike chains, wind-chafers,
Cheap whisky, postage stamps. Friction against sheds on grey days.
Boys dressed by C&A with radar in their fingers.
Cum tastes like chicken soup, cock like communion wafers.
Pin point eyes, sweet sweat and smoke:
Fry-up, Gig pass, Mayfair, Cum stain, CharleyZebraX-ray, Don’t step.
White. White skin sweating before the mirror.
The guys at the bar saw the teeth in my eyes. Extra shot.
No Mixers. Subconsciouss swill. Aye and a bag of chips.
Going mad today. Going mad today. Going mad today, CharleyXray.
…Desire Desert…in the rift…rift/crack….
…CRACK or you’ll break….
I vomited pearls.
Phasing like the moon.
Greasy spoon, mate, (ash balancing), Kick hir out of bed.
(S)he’s the pearl girl I found drunk in the park.
(S)he’s the tooth boy put her fingers inside her.
(S)he had a fight with the lead singer.
(S)he bit his neck and it shot out pearls.
(S)he’s got a poem stuck in hir throat.
Melting drifts of sheet in the silver slick of morning,
Making dry islands in the sea of Saturday shops.
Crazy Paving. Praying to the angel of Turnpike lane
Pieced myself together. Strung myself about my neck:
CharleyFoxtrot. Extra shot. No Mixers.
Sister Ray. No Problem. No TV. No time. No time atall
Now mint tea and be
Mother to me.
Polish that tooth
Nurse that pearl knee.
Living on smooth roads.
Sinking no ships, fearing no fall.
This was Just a little...
Hopscotch
That’s all.
Round, perfect, shining in a roll/shift/roll Shift along
the bottom drawer, making a rattling route:
A smooth world curved, turned inside out
In the no man’s land between socks and sweaters.
It lived like a moon in miniature.
Made its own adventures.
I licked it, put that small reflection right up
To my eye, squinted. It was the loose lost eyeball of some
Firebird, some fairytale fish, its odd soft hardness
It’s rough smoothness. It looked at me with no purpose,
I put it in my mouth. Tasted its taste of the sea.
Rolled it behind my teeth with my tongue.
Savored the clattering noise the clicking between those
Little curved ivories. Piano keys. Stepping stones.
Hopscotch. Don’t step on the CRACK or you’ll
breaK your mother’s…
…It glided down my throat, loose loose in the sinew.
Loose to think of the tooth I swallowed
In a spoon, white and flat, on my 6th
Birthday when I was a little girl. tooth
And pearl sat, whispered a shanty, sea of two together
One Beside the other in my belly,
One daring the other to be the first to grow.
Roots dug int’ me. Loose, Loose skip to my…
Made paths searching out sap and blood,
Inhabited a hot hole between my legs,
Pearl and tooth Skipped Upright in gum-skin.
The bone the flesh the tissue.
Buds of teeth in head, pearls in every vein.
Don’t STEP on the…
Loose, Loose: years were Scots in London:
Walking up Shoot-up-Hill and skipping down
Hillhead. All the catholics, bike chains, wind-chafers,
Cheap whisky, postage stamps. Friction against sheds on grey days.
Boys dressed by C&A with radar in their fingers.
Cum tastes like chicken soup, cock like communion wafers.
Pin point eyes, sweet sweat and smoke:
Fry-up, Gig pass, Mayfair, Cum stain, CharleyZebraX-ray, Don’t step.
White. White skin sweating before the mirror.
The guys at the bar saw the teeth in my eyes. Extra shot.
No Mixers. Subconsciouss swill. Aye and a bag of chips.
Going mad today. Going mad today. Going mad today, CharleyXray.
…Desire Desert…in the rift…rift/crack….
…CRACK or you’ll break….
I vomited pearls.
Phasing like the moon.
Greasy spoon, mate, (ash balancing), Kick hir out of bed.
(S)he’s the pearl girl I found drunk in the park.
(S)he’s the tooth boy put her fingers inside her.
(S)he had a fight with the lead singer.
(S)he bit his neck and it shot out pearls.
(S)he’s got a poem stuck in hir throat.
Melting drifts of sheet in the silver slick of morning,
Making dry islands in the sea of Saturday shops.
Crazy Paving. Praying to the angel of Turnpike lane
Pieced myself together. Strung myself about my neck:
CharleyFoxtrot. Extra shot. No Mixers.
Sister Ray. No Problem. No TV. No time. No time atall
Now mint tea and be
Mother to me.
Polish that tooth
Nurse that pearl knee.
Living on smooth roads.
Sinking no ships, fearing no fall.
This was Just a little...
Hopscotch
That’s all.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Happy MLK, Goodbye ZZY
So Happy Martin Luther King Day, everybody.
I think this is the first time I have celebrated, or observed MLK Day since I was 6. It's a good holiday. I am glad it exists. Martin Luther King had all kinds of faults but he was still an amazing amazing man and as an orator was in a class all his own...Don Q has an MP3 of MLK speaking about Vietnam at a meeting of church leaders to which I am giving the link here...
MLK Link
it is such an amazing speech, because it is so apt to the moment...he could just as well be talking about now.
truly sobering stuff.
I also wanted to take the opportunity to remember Zhao Ziyang, who died today in Beijing. Zhao Ziyang was Chairman of the Communist Party of CHina for a brief time after the death of Hu Yaobang. Hu's death was the catalyst for the 1989 protests, with tens of thousands of students, workers and ordinary beijingers takng part at various times in protest parades, democracy walls, public meetings, hunger strikes and of course, the occupation of Tiananmen Square, which lasted several weeks. Zhao Ziyang was indeed a member of the communist party and a believer in socialism and communism, but he was on the more liberal side of the split that divided the CCP at the time, and he by and large sided with the students, bravely standing up for them even though he was aware that storms were brewing. He famously addressed the students in the square before he was obliged to leave the country on a political engagement. In his absence the massacre occurred, and upon his return he was ousted from the party and placed under house arrest where he remained up until his death.
I wrote something on the BBC comment board on this subject, I am not sure it will get posted, but I just wanted to say that the thing that Zhao, and MLK for that matter, was not afraid to do was to criticise a country and political system that he ulimately had some faith in because he was afraid of seeming like a traitor. He believed that that examination and criticism of corruption and wrong practises "strictly according to the facts" (ru shi) would yield a better CCP and a better China for all. I beleve this is the great lesson to be gained from the more notable parts of his political life, especially here in the US, and for all of us, perhaps. Introspection, striving to do better, be kinder and fairer, avoiding the same mistakes, or trying to. THis is precisely what MLK talks about in his speech when he is speaking of the need to think about the position of those brothers we call our "enemy". It is something quite powerful, and somthing that though it exists as a strong theme in the christian world is not confined to it by any means.
SR65X
I think this is the first time I have celebrated, or observed MLK Day since I was 6. It's a good holiday. I am glad it exists. Martin Luther King had all kinds of faults but he was still an amazing amazing man and as an orator was in a class all his own...Don Q has an MP3 of MLK speaking about Vietnam at a meeting of church leaders to which I am giving the link here...
MLK Link
it is such an amazing speech, because it is so apt to the moment...he could just as well be talking about now.
truly sobering stuff.
I also wanted to take the opportunity to remember Zhao Ziyang, who died today in Beijing. Zhao Ziyang was Chairman of the Communist Party of CHina for a brief time after the death of Hu Yaobang. Hu's death was the catalyst for the 1989 protests, with tens of thousands of students, workers and ordinary beijingers takng part at various times in protest parades, democracy walls, public meetings, hunger strikes and of course, the occupation of Tiananmen Square, which lasted several weeks. Zhao Ziyang was indeed a member of the communist party and a believer in socialism and communism, but he was on the more liberal side of the split that divided the CCP at the time, and he by and large sided with the students, bravely standing up for them even though he was aware that storms were brewing. He famously addressed the students in the square before he was obliged to leave the country on a political engagement. In his absence the massacre occurred, and upon his return he was ousted from the party and placed under house arrest where he remained up until his death.
I wrote something on the BBC comment board on this subject, I am not sure it will get posted, but I just wanted to say that the thing that Zhao, and MLK for that matter, was not afraid to do was to criticise a country and political system that he ulimately had some faith in because he was afraid of seeming like a traitor. He believed that that examination and criticism of corruption and wrong practises "strictly according to the facts" (ru shi) would yield a better CCP and a better China for all. I beleve this is the great lesson to be gained from the more notable parts of his political life, especially here in the US, and for all of us, perhaps. Introspection, striving to do better, be kinder and fairer, avoiding the same mistakes, or trying to. THis is precisely what MLK talks about in his speech when he is speaking of the need to think about the position of those brothers we call our "enemy". It is something quite powerful, and somthing that though it exists as a strong theme in the christian world is not confined to it by any means.
SR65X
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Chavela Chavela Chavela again
So, here it is....click and fill your homes with Chavela Vargas singing "Macorina" as only she can...no-one can make "caliente" sound as "CALIENTE" as Chavela!!! how much better can it BE???? SR65X
Thursday, January 13, 2005
chavela chavela chavela
Finally got the Chavela Vargas stuff I ordered ages ago...having a fag working on stupid projects, but Chavela's voice is grinding deliciousssssly through the apartment...makes me think of my Great Aunt Margarita, missing her much (she was a passionate skinny frame, with a brilliant smile...a great letter writer), and all the others too, of course...so many to miss...and Chavela is nothing if not gut wrenching. Will put audio blog of her on tomorrow...now gotta go back to work, but just had to share the picture.
Hope you are all well. thanks for the round of emails...really cheered me up...exams and etc. not doing me a good turn at the mo'...
Keep on that train to victory,
SR65X
Hope you are all well. thanks for the round of emails...really cheered me up...exams and etc. not doing me a good turn at the mo'...
Keep on that train to victory,
SR65X
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
THERE"S TOO MUCH LOVE
Beautiful Belle and Sebastian thing from "Fold Your hands child you walk like a peasant"...Have listened to it several times today..:
"I could hang about and burn my fingers
I've been hanging out here waiting for something to
start
You think I'm faultless to a "t"
My manner set impeccably
But underneath I am the same as you
I could dance all night like I'm a soul boy
But I know I'd rather drag myself across the dance floor
I feel like dancing on my own
Where no one knows me, and where I
Can cause offense just by the way I look
And when it comes to blows
When I am numbering my foes
Just hope that you are on my side my dear
But it's best to finish as it started
With my face head down just staring at the brown
formica
It's safer not to look around
I can't hide my feelings from you now
There's too much love to go around these days.
You say I;ve got another face
That's not a fault of mine these days
I'm honest, brutal and afraid of you.
Have a good dance about, everyone!!
SR65X
"I could hang about and burn my fingers
I've been hanging out here waiting for something to
start
You think I'm faultless to a "t"
My manner set impeccably
But underneath I am the same as you
I could dance all night like I'm a soul boy
But I know I'd rather drag myself across the dance floor
I feel like dancing on my own
Where no one knows me, and where I
Can cause offense just by the way I look
And when it comes to blows
When I am numbering my foes
Just hope that you are on my side my dear
But it's best to finish as it started
With my face head down just staring at the brown
formica
It's safer not to look around
I can't hide my feelings from you now
There's too much love to go around these days.
You say I;ve got another face
That's not a fault of mine these days
I'm honest, brutal and afraid of you.
Have a good dance about, everyone!!
SR65X
Chronotope Chronic: The Night Fell.
the night fell Green
again on manhattan.
again
In the shadows were seen
bare arms of black trees
opened silently to a sky
held aloft fragile high
by
columns
so much
Taller
so much
Bigger
than they.
again
the White arches:
lincoln centre a flash
of candles fading in the half
light…a festival of flickering
bones leaning like a rib cage
curving in to tuck a space in Red, a rage
of motion, a flight
of feet and
an ocean of light
to swim in, to
wish and swish in:
an arena for the twilight.
again
in a whisper it was said
that swallowing the seas
would do no harm, that lives
were not tandem but arrived
at like
knots on
string.
that there
was nothing
to be done at the
base of other White columns
but piss
again
on the pavement was heard
a hum of a thousand glories
glittering in the grout, like chips
of Gold, like sails of flying ships, but
there is
scraping by
the broken heel
some shit
scraping by
up with
scraping by
which i
scraping by
will
not
put.
limping politic clatters
through the night
a near burnt bulb in the heart,
a wave about to crash….
this was the dry land
that was the wet
this is the mainline coming.
this the place we
dance in dust
and do not see the warning.
the night fell Green
again on manhattan
once more you were miles
away stretching out your smiles
like towels. i was walking by
lincoln center in a measured aisle
of beauty
before
the end, my
friend, I
in the Green
light of a rich
night, that Green
of leaves,
of money
and of graves...
again on manhattan.
again
In the shadows were seen
bare arms of black trees
opened silently to a sky
held aloft fragile high
by
columns
so much
Taller
so much
Bigger
than they.
again
the White arches:
lincoln centre a flash
of candles fading in the half
light…a festival of flickering
bones leaning like a rib cage
curving in to tuck a space in Red, a rage
of motion, a flight
of feet and
an ocean of light
to swim in, to
wish and swish in:
an arena for the twilight.
again
in a whisper it was said
that swallowing the seas
would do no harm, that lives
were not tandem but arrived
at like
knots on
string.
that there
was nothing
to be done at the
base of other White columns
but piss
again
on the pavement was heard
a hum of a thousand glories
glittering in the grout, like chips
of Gold, like sails of flying ships, but
there is
scraping by
the broken heel
some shit
scraping by
up with
scraping by
which i
scraping by
will
not
put.
limping politic clatters
through the night
a near burnt bulb in the heart,
a wave about to crash….
this was the dry land
that was the wet
this is the mainline coming.
this the place we
dance in dust
and do not see the warning.
the night fell Green
again on manhattan
once more you were miles
away stretching out your smiles
like towels. i was walking by
lincoln center in a measured aisle
of beauty
before
the end, my
friend, I
in the Green
light of a rich
night, that Green
of leaves,
of money
and of graves...
Sunday, January 02, 2005
"THERE ARE SOME BAD PEOPLE ON THE RISE"
Morrissey had it right. Picture from Salo to illustrate...ever get the feeling you were being watched??
Haven't written...Opera was great. Tales of Hoffman, fun and beautiful. If it wasn't beautiful it would be Romantic piffle, but it is, so it's fun and luscious. But haven't been able to really say much about things that is too happy...the Tsunami has kind of been domnating my thinking, and the 30 million dollar initial "pledge"...now that waas a SCANDAL of Epic proportions. If I had been feeling less depressed it would have made a *fine* addition to DonQ's Scandal page. As it is, thankfully our resident "oval office ogre" (thanks for the phraseology goes to Rufus Wainwright) has upped the ante somewhat, but it's one of those hide under the bed moments, I think. I was watching CNN this morning and found out that Colin Powell is again being rolled off to the area of crisis. They ALWAYS send Colin Powell...he's the resident Brown Man, I think, getting all the messy sticky diplomacy stuff that I thought being president was supposed to be about. Not to say that there is anybody more qualified on the current staff. But of course Jeb's tagging along to represent White America in his fine figure of manhood, so all is not lost!AAAAgh. The whole thing is a farce. Harvard activism on this is happening, but everybody is still away on holiday, so...
Donations to Medicins sans Frontiers...what do you think? Most of you are more knowledgable about links ties and arrangements between charities and corporations/governments than I am, so. We sent some cash to the Red Cross, but I dunno...there's no way to fathom this.
Haven't written...Opera was great. Tales of Hoffman, fun and beautiful. If it wasn't beautiful it would be Romantic piffle, but it is, so it's fun and luscious. But haven't been able to really say much about things that is too happy...the Tsunami has kind of been domnating my thinking, and the 30 million dollar initial "pledge"...now that waas a SCANDAL of Epic proportions. If I had been feeling less depressed it would have made a *fine* addition to DonQ's Scandal page. As it is, thankfully our resident "oval office ogre" (thanks for the phraseology goes to Rufus Wainwright) has upped the ante somewhat, but it's one of those hide under the bed moments, I think. I was watching CNN this morning and found out that Colin Powell is again being rolled off to the area of crisis. They ALWAYS send Colin Powell...he's the resident Brown Man, I think, getting all the messy sticky diplomacy stuff that I thought being president was supposed to be about. Not to say that there is anybody more qualified on the current staff. But of course Jeb's tagging along to represent White America in his fine figure of manhood, so all is not lost!AAAAgh. The whole thing is a farce. Harvard activism on this is happening, but everybody is still away on holiday, so...
Donations to Medicins sans Frontiers...what do you think? Most of you are more knowledgable about links ties and arrangements between charities and corporations/governments than I am, so. We sent some cash to the Red Cross, but I dunno...there's no way to fathom this.
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Christmas Gift Part 3: Binary Counting
Binary Counting
A simple thing: “This is me, this is mine”.
And all done.
Two become one
and a two.
My fingers are shining in a halo
Lamp in the still of the turning
Groaning
World
O
I remember my feverish dreams of Mexico
Orange peel scent in the sweat of a virus
In the Red of blood the hibiscus blooms.
I remember a future of records and wine
In an elegant lone ness a cigarette poised
A one by one. A two by two.
My perfume coiling up in snatches like
A song long lost and my eyes fixed on
Horizon
Haze
I remember I was to be loved. In my
Most white lone ness I was to be a loved
One by one. Two by two.
I had a dream of myself as my mother.
She in natural shine and blue inscribed eye
In the heart of things I was her powder.
A one and a two and.
I am sitting in an hour of many hours
A night of many nights, a ship on the
Crest of
Time.
I am wrong and always will be.
O
A one and a one and a one and a one….
A simple thing: “This is me, this is mine”.
And all done.
Two become one
and a two.
My fingers are shining in a halo
Lamp in the still of the turning
Groaning
World
O
I remember my feverish dreams of Mexico
Orange peel scent in the sweat of a virus
In the Red of blood the hibiscus blooms.
I remember a future of records and wine
In an elegant lone ness a cigarette poised
A one by one. A two by two.
My perfume coiling up in snatches like
A song long lost and my eyes fixed on
Horizon
Haze
I remember I was to be loved. In my
Most white lone ness I was to be a loved
One by one. Two by two.
I had a dream of myself as my mother.
She in natural shine and blue inscribed eye
In the heart of things I was her powder.
A one and a two and.
I am sitting in an hour of many hours
A night of many nights, a ship on the
Crest of
Time.
I am wrong and always will be.
O
A one and a one and a one and a one….
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