Late Enough 2B Drunk Enuff

Hello, again.

I'm pleased to forward the announcement that on Friday, March 7th, at 10 PM, Lil' Norton will host a knockout evening of poetry at St. Mark's Poetry Project.

Poets:

Anne Tardos
Seth Landman
Kareem Estefan
Patrick Lovelace
Laura Elrick
Kevin Thurston
Eddie Hopely
Diana Hamilton

See you there!

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 These works feature a style similar to the two On the Nameways volumes (of which there are thousands of unpublished poems) with several key differences, namely one of style which usually finds a tab-sized gap in the middle of each of many lines, which complicates the idea of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

Nude Arrivals

Today's new arrivals consist primarily of two volumes from bookartist Keith Smith, Text in the Book Format & Structure of the Visual Book. I had originally seen these at the Book Art Book Fair but as so many vendors were dealing only in cash, I had to prioritize, especially since these can be ordered very easily from Keith's website. They are hefty, beautiful tomes, even though they are paperbacks. Interestingly, you could also order these as folded & gathered sheets in addition to the Smythe-sewn paperback. I haven't had much time to dive in, but my immediate impression is that these will become indispensable. Part instruction manual, part history lesson, all riveting, it makes me wonder why it took me so long to find Keith Smith, but really I'm just glad now that I have.

Also, aPlod issue 2 made it's way into my hands, along with a couple appropriately selected pogs. This one, edited by Brad Flis, features work from Ray Hsu, Marie Buck & Brad himself along with some truly hot shit from Jon Link. I have met Jon before but didn't know his work very well at all, so was excited to see his inclusion, which delivered in every way. Brad has such a keen sense of design, & handles the task of design so deftly, packing in a maximum of material without ever once approaching discomfort for the recipient. The little booklet is a pleasure to hold in the hands.

Ron Silliman's post about issue 1 of President's Choice reminds me yet again that I have failed to record a great literary event on this blog. For some reason, a few of my favorite nights since coming here in January haven't gotten the treatment, who knows why. The reading at MOMA in March where I met Rob Fitterman, Caroline Bergvall, Kenneth Goldsmith & Kareem Estefan all in one night. The utterly badass Joel Kuszai/Wiston Curnow fully catered event at Saatchi & Saatchi. Back on Nov 3 there was a Prez Choice release party at Bar 169. The lineup was insanely good--definitely the best I'd ever been to in one place, & a perfect combination of deserving friends & bona-fide great poets. Friends such as Lauren Spohrer, Lawrence Giffin & Kareem Estefan read alongside sports heroes such as Rodrigo Toscano, Kim Rosenfield, Rob Fitterman & Brian Kim Stefans, who has a couple interesting books available on lulu right now. All of this MC'd by editor Steve Zultanski, with the perfect number of interludes. A few individual works remain in the fore of my mind, including Kareem's excellent, frantic Instant Message poem & Rob Fitterman's voyage through the nonpoetic asides & sayings of a poetry reading. You know, the shit they say before & between the poems. It was truly hilarious, & it didn't hurt that it was happy hour, which was of the buy-one-get-one variety. At one point, a bartender said to another that Fitterman's reading was unbearable, that he couldn't wait for it to be over. Then, Rob culminated with a sudden, moving, totally normal short pastoral poem, from what source if any I don't know. The effect was quite like Kenny Goldsmith at the end of a reading of Traffic, with Rob's version perhaps the more seamless. Finishing up the evening, bearded, perfect Lawrence Giffin totally won my heart as he does each & every time I engage with one of his works (I haven't figured out exactly how he continually accomplishes this). All these readings culminated with (I think) Vietnamese food & me being something of a beer hero.

* * *

Shed like Swatch


Asimov credits us with eras of concomitance
Happy to resolve the freight of having acted
Out of character, unless one were to budget
Sheer words over a week's length, what would we
Move from Ground Zero to Ground One?

He would have been more assertive in our calling
The injustices of institutions our little ones
So that life might continue

To pillory the sham of inexpugnable rewards.
Sadly enough, it is through these self-same theses
That you and I together, caught in our egg and spoon
Battalion, would hardly be at a loss of words
To describe the health of the economy.

Could it not then be said that a pencil sketch
Approximating the take down of a giraffe
By a pride of hungry lions in the bush, dragging
By its legs the carnivorous which it is feeding
Would be but one way to communicate

Our democratic presentiments?



----Bradley Flis

Bowery Whiskey Reading

The readers for the Single Malt Whiskey Poetry Sampling are:

Mary Jo Bang
Monica de la Torre
Diana Hamilton
Bob Holman
Patrick Lovelace

+ special guests

Sunday, 12/9, 5-7 PM @ Bowery Poetry Club

$20 / 5 whiskies ($15 w/ copy of this email invitation)
$5 without whiskey

Nov. Recap 1: Halpern/Brady

The new Taylor Brady/Rob Halpern title out from Atticus/Finch, Snow Sensitive Skin, billed as a chapbook, is hardly so. Of the wide variety of items I purchased in November, this, at a modest $10, remains the most luscious title inside & out. The book is perfectbound, not stapled, with a nearly-removable, beautiful dustjacket over the paperback, which features thick, unpaginated leaves within. Like the recent Mel Nichols chapbook out from Edge, the slightest negative arises with just how susceptible the cover material is to wear. Within 15 or so minutes (& yes this is my fault) my copy was irrevocably smeared with some sort of table gunk, perhaps syrup. But the nice crusty stain really isn't all that bad, I just have to buy another copy or two. It is that good of a book, wonderfully conceived & delivered by Michael Cross, the 11th in the Atticus/Finch series. Of course the collaboration of Brady & Halpern delivers as well--the book, broken into 7 sections (with titles such as "Theater of Mortal Terror" & "Lines Against The Blades") presents, among other things, strong meditations on world & war status in the Middle East. The book is thus timely but not gaudily so, more "Lebanon" than "Iraq" though never limited to either. Front matter contextualizes the inspirations & sources & directions of the book. Sometimes boxes surround somewhat large pieces of text. Prevalent throughout, small pieces of italicized text break up, comment upon, & extend the discussion presented in the core stanzas.


NOW ALL THAT'S alien to what the time commands
Miming in the breaks, what plays the disruption
Being the continuity of measure, death becoming


..............-- audible, as if for the first time





......................Sonic identity of the mechanized war machine itself --


......................................................................................'Get in line'




The ensemble is elements
Falling out where fallout was
Once a stolen march on time
Lapsed dream of the graceful
Arch, double dutch or this
Step skipped to bridge


............................-- as if a stone

............................Producing incremental units
............................Shorter intervals
............................Until there's nothing

.......................................-- opposed to what's immeasurable