How Many of You Believe 9/11 Was an Inside Job?

Hello! I recently visited St Mark's Bookshop, with the thought of picking up a thing or two, but of course found several tasty items. Steven Zultanski is featured amongst bona-fide dinosaurs of mostly renowned stature in the newest issue of Shiny. In what is perhaps the highest-profile Lil'Norton appearance to date (feel free to correct me on this, anyone) Steve shines among favorites such as Steve Benson, Lyn Hejinian, Lisa Jarnot, Clark Coolidge, Michael Gizzi & Stephen Rodefer.

from Peaces


Bentley
Rolls
BMW
all over you

*

Touch the magic eye
book cover. Hold
it up to your face.

*

Skip class
and go
to the open mic.

*

Riven
coos
women
love Riven
play
Riven

Riven

*

Peace or Battle
PC or Mac

*

American Radicalism,
etc.

*

State Repression,
etc.

*

Movies
I've seen half of

Dune

The poem continues, getting even better in the second half, featuring mentions of both Patch Adams AND Waterworld. The Coolidge work seems to fall right in line with the recently published Counting on Planet Zero from Fewer & Further Press, tho the 4 poems in this issue of Shiny are dated like so much of his other work--a simultaneous minor/major feature to Coolidge's work foregrounding the improvisational qualities. These works feature a style similar to the two On the Nameways volumes (of which there are thousands of unpublished poems) with several key differences, namely one of style which usually finds a tab-sized gap in the middle of each of many lines, which complicates the idea of how many units of language we are encountering, or how they fit together, which is all an interesting counterpart to the relative accessibility of the newer work. There are fewer pronouns than ever, along with some nice 1 (or 2) liners & puns: "come back you/gas eater", "oh hell/a lumbertruck", "a room with a screw" & "franks and brains". It's always interesting to see where Coolidge goes, so seeing these 'new' works, almost 2 years old themselves, is a nice treat for those still following Clark closely, which frankly should be more readers, but what's new.

The Rodefer piece is sadly one that has been available on his website for a while, Lang Gaz Verlangen, though it is nice to see the work, as expected, in print. The rest of the issue is undoubtedly as rich as the portions I've already read, so far just a glance at the favorites. Friedman continues to deliver what is probably the best magazine at the moment.

Another excerpt, then followed by a list, to end this before it gets way too long. When I saw a new edition of Apollinaire's Les Onze Mille Verges I was definitely going to get it, but who knew what insane joys awaited inside? Glancing at this, the first uncensored version in English, for the first time, I randomly opened to p.32:

--Go on, shit! cried Mony.
Soon a small fragment of crap appeared, pointed and insignificant, which showed its head and immediately returned to its cavern. After that it reappeared, followed slowly and majestically by the rest of the sausage which constituted one of the fines turds a large intestine ever produced.
The shit slid unctuous and uninterrupted, ran out unruffled as a ship's cable. It dangled gracefully between the pretty buttocks which were spreading wider and wider. Soon it was swinging more markedly. The arse dilated still more, shook itself a bit and the shit fell, all hot and reeking, into Mony's hands which were held out to receive it. Then he cried: 'Stay like that!' and, leaning over, he licked her arsehole thoroughly while rolling he turd in his hands. Next he squeezed it voluptuously and smeared it all over his body. Culculine was undressing, following the example of Alexine who was stark naked and showing Mony the fat, transparent arse of a blonde. 'Shit on me!' he cried to Alexine, stretching himself out on the floor. She squatted above him, but not wholly, so he could enjoy the spectacle presented by her backside. Her first efforts resulted in forcing out a small quantity of spunk Mony had put there; then came the shit, yellow and soft, which fell in several instalments and, while she was laughing and wriggling, the shit was falling here and there all over the body of Mony, whose belly was soon adorned with several of these odoriferous slugs.

So the book entirely earns it's "For Adult Readers Only" tagline, at first glance: one-handed reading indeed. Later, a mute gets a cigarette extinguished on her nipple. The impression that I get is that, while Apollinaire is totally joking, there is joy in it, something beyond the condescension of simply writing a pornobook for dough. A must-read.

Other acquisitions include the following items:

The Sienese Shredder #2 (no need for this to be $35, btw: $25 was already plenty)
Postmodernism, or The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, by Fredric Jameson, published by Duke
Swoon Noir, from Bruce Andrews, published by Chax, 2007
glad stone children from Edmund Berrigan, from farfalla press, 2008 (a signed copy)
An Air Force, by Laura Moriarty, a cute chap from hooke press, 2007
A Test of Poetry, Louis Zukofsky, Wesleyan (not really sure why I didn't already have this)

Oh Shit, Robbe-Grillet is dead

August 1922, February 2008

Just the other week I saw Last Year at Marienbad for the first time--& while it was great to internalize the fact that the man behind the scenario for this 1961 film, along with many extremely dynamite novels & critical works of the previous six decades, was in fact still among the living in this our 2008--that joy is no longer available. So, at this moment, Le voyeur begs to be reingestited--Les gommes pleads consumption--La jalousie wants you to buy it in American translation in a duo pack w/ Dans le labyrinthe, published by Grove Press.

Everything really, given his remarkable age, has, ultracomplex already, taken on a new complexity. Not necessarily one of renewed profundity or complication, but rather, one of serious loss, whereas previously we were treated with unimaginable & comprehensive, renewable presence.

Fuck You, New Post

No, not you, loyal reader, but the person you were standing next to at, like, 4.15 this afternoon. Today, after catching a few Chelsea gallery spots with Dirk Rowntree & Rob Fitterman, Dirk & I visited Printed Matter. Of course, I've had no difficulties spending hundreds of buxx there in the past, but my energies were almost always drawn toward the great old stock type shit they have--such as early Kathy Acker pamphlets when she was going by The Black Tarantula, or various Something Else Press sundries. It's great to visit such a store with someone like Dirk, as thorough, informed, & aware as anyone, ever. The journal Dot Dot Dot had come up in discussion earlier, & we were lucky enough to be able to dig out numbers 8, 12, & 13, which I succeeded in purchasing. Other finds include Robert Ashley's Perfect Lives, a nice large HC feel-good acquisition, since I recently saw him w/ Kenny Goldsmith @ Poetry Project but left w/ no swag--my mind was on giant otters, as they say. Perhaps the best blurb ever accompanies this one: "What about the Bible? And the Koran? It doesn't matter: We have Perfect Lives," from John Cage. Another pickup was the well-known UDP release of Aram Saroyan's Complete Minimal Poems, a book that's been out for a while & speaks for itself. Add to this rich feast I See/You Mean, a novel by Lucy R Lippard, an affordable, purple thing described thus: "I See/You Mean is an experimental novel about mirrors, maps, relationships, about the ocean, elusive success & possible happiness. Through a collage of verbal photgraphs, overhead dialogue, sexual encounters, found material & self-identification devices (astrology, the I Ching, palmistry, Tarot), it charts from past to future the changing currents between two women & two men--a writer, a model/stockbroker/maybe dictator, a photographer, & an actor." Written in 1970.

Following this comes two titles from Lawrence Weiner: NYC MANHOLE COVERS PUBLIC ART FUND IN COLLABORATION WITH CON EDISON & ROMAN STONE, a small beautiful chaplet that deserves it's own separate post, so I won't even get into it here sortof thing, followed by an entry from the Between Artists series released by A.R.T. Press, this one a convo between Weiner & Liam Gillick. The treasure of the experience is a signed copy of the large exceptional The Collections of Barbara Bloom, from ICP*/STEIDL.



This is where seduction begins. It's fucked up how cool this book is, just flipping through it for the first time. There is included a centerfold, though even better (bigger) than the Playboy variety--4 pages instead of 3, yet when it's folded in other works are (re)aligned & appreciable. This is the one to get, if you get any, from the Printed Matter store this February. At $65, it is still a steal. Reading on the PM website I see that there is an exhibition of her work currently--I actually didn't notice this, as the store was rather packed, but I'm excited enough about the prospect of specialized Bloomstuff that I'll probably go back.

So then I go to pay for all this & I see a gleaming set of drumsticks with Considering utility - JMF018 www.jarrodfowler.com impressed upon them, within the glass case at the checkout, which of course I have to buy. It's the same when I see a rare or soon-to-be-rare book by a friend that I already have a copy or two of, that I just have to get, knowing full well I'm keeping someone, perhaps uninitiated, from the potential discovery. That struck this time, & now the sticks are mine.

This was all before Rob's reading, which was among several at the Mathew Marks Gallery. Rob's first work was of a very plodding pace, one word spoken at a time with several seconds, usually two or three, in between. This set us up for his upbeat poet/rock ballad configurations, which he sung to riotous laughter & on more than one occasion, intermediate applause--you know if you get claps during, you're doing well, or at least people are having fun. The event, unfortunately swagless, was quite well-attended, pointing to the benefit of hosting an evening in such a place, tho the sound was quite shit. Afterwards, Rob & Kim bought me a steak, & asked about my life: ways into my heart. Coco was in attendance as well, representing fully. At one point, during the reading, Kim asked me very neutrally if I wore mascara.


*wicked version