Entry 1456 — Small Rant Against Euphemophilia « POETICKS

Entry 1456 — Small Rant Against Euphemophilia

Bambi’s mother told him that if he couldn’t say something nice, he should say nothing, at all.  That was sixty or seventy years ago.  The thought is outdated now.  The American ruling class, and their publicity department (the American media), would say, “If you can’t think something nice, turn yourself in (to a reputable professional, of course) for counseling.  This is stupid in too many different ways for me to unfume enough to deal with it without revealing myself as every possible kind of black-hearted sub-human.  But I’ll point out one major way it is stupid, anyway: that once we can only tell others that they are wonderful (for fear of ostracism or legal punishment), there are bound to be people with unusually big hearts who will start telling others they are super-wonderful, and before you know it, the quickest-witted hyper-offendables will take action against those who have called them wonderful–i.e., inferior to the super-wonderful.

These kinds of thoughts I should just reserve for my private diary, but I gotta put something here daily!  I also feel obligated to other members of posterity here already to show them they aren’t alone.  Yes, weird that I would think of myself acting as a member of future generations by expressing views of of generations dead when I was born.

I should shut up but I have so little instinct for self-preservation, I can’t.  So I have to tell you I consider euphemophilia a synonym for what I just found out is “misandry,” hatred of men.  Interesting that you never hear of anyone accused of that. “Misandry” is crummy sounding so I’m going to use “mistestostergy” instead.  And now I really must yank myself outta here . . . except, alas, to make one more archaically self-deluded remark: I do not consider myself even close to being a misogynist.  But, remember, I don’t consider myself close to being homophobic, either, although I don’t think homosexuals should call their variety of marriage “marriage.”  And I refuse to call them “gays.”

really gotta yank myself outta here.  Will it help if I say I don’t respect our president’s intelligence, but don’t respect it less than I respect the previous president’s?

No one’s ever said I had a death-wish, but maybe I have.  (Some have suggested I seem to seek failure, which may be true although, frankly, I don’t believe it is.)  Okay–I go!

Note: I did go.  I’m back now only to say I just named “sexism” as on of the categories this entry belongs in.  I’m curious if that will draw visitors.  Why I would want it to would be a question for my shrink if I weren’t too benighted to believe in shrinks.

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Entry 385 — My Most-Used Coinage

Monday, February 21st, 2011

On 2/21/2011 3:21 AM, Jake Berry wrote:

Bob,    Hope this finds you well. I'm working on an essay and I'd like to  use your term 'otherstream', but I want to quote your definition  of the word directly. I haven't been able to find it on the internet  and I have no idea where it might be among all my books and papers.  So how would you define it?    Best,  Jake  

Terrific hearing from you, Jake–although it makes me feel guilty by reminding me of what a horrible correspondent I’ve been for going on ten years or more.  So many people I haven’t kept in touch with but should have!  Although I do keep up with you on the Internet.

Ah, the old days when I was one of the Kings of the  . . . Otherstream because I owned my own Xerox!  I’ve had some ungood years since then.  2010 was possibly the worst year I’ve had in thirty years.  But this year, so far, is going pretty well, although right now I’m in my null zone again.

Maybe not–your e.mail has me at least partway out of it.  Great to know someone still likes my coinage, and it was fun doing my own search for it on the Internet.  I found an article about Dale Jensen and his wife, Judy Wells, in which the term was used, followed by a comment by Jack Foley (good ol’ Jack) declaring that Andrew Joron had not coined “otherstream,” Bob Grumman had!

Somewhere else some guy took credit for coining it in 1996. My guess is that I first used it around 1985, so it has just has its 25th anniversary.  If I, indeed, was the first to use it.  Who knows if I did or not.  I don’t care.  I mean, it’d be nice to know for sure some word that more than a few people use was my word, but I’m really not that big about getting credit.  I want money, not credit!

Oh, I also found out there are various businesses calling themselves “otherstream” this or that, including, I think, a broadcast network.

So, a definition.  I’ve defined it in different although similar ways.  I think I would say that “otherstream” is my adjective for kinds works of art the great majority of arts academics, well-known critics, commercial publishers and commercial magazine editors know little more than the names of, if that.  A brief definition: art that’s now taught in college classes.  For me, it means approximately but only approximately the opposite of “mainstream.”  What it’s the exact opposite of is “knownstream.”  That’s because some art is knownstream, like certain kinds of very formal verse–the sestina, say, is well-known to most literature professors but is not what you’d call a kind of mainstream poetry.  I don’t think cowboy poems are considered mainstream, either, or though fairly popular.  I used it mainly for visual poetry, sound poetry and language poetry when I began using it, but some language poetry has become mainstream.

Hope this helps.  Thanks for wanting to use the word, which I think is a useful one.  And for inspiring me to write what I have here, which I can now use for today’s entry in my blog!  Make sure to link me to your essay when it’s online, or send it to me if it’s printed–with the hundred dollar royalty fee I charge for the use of any of my coinages.  (You can use “knownstream,” also mine, for half-price.)

all best, Bob

Sexism « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Sexism’ Category

Entry 1456 — Small Rant Against Euphemophilia

Saturday, May 17th, 2014

Bambi’s mother told him that if he couldn’t say something nice, he should say nothing, at all.  That was sixty or seventy years ago.  The thought is outdated now.  The American ruling class, and their publicity department (the American media), would say, “If you can’t think something nice, turn yourself in (to a reputable professional, of course) for counseling.  This is stupid in too many different ways for me to unfume enough to deal with it without revealing myself as every possible kind of black-hearted sub-human.  But I’ll point out one major way it is stupid, anyway: that once we can only tell others that they are wonderful (for fear of ostracism or legal punishment), there are bound to be people with unusually big hearts who will start telling others they are super-wonderful, and before you know it, the quickest-witted hyper-offendables will take action against those who have called them wonderful–i.e., inferior to the super-wonderful.

These kinds of thoughts I should just reserve for my private diary, but I gotta put something here daily!  I also feel obligated to other members of posterity here already to show them they aren’t alone.  Yes, weird that I would think of myself acting as a member of future generations by expressing views of of generations dead when I was born.

I should shut up but I have so little instinct for self-preservation, I can’t.  So I have to tell you I consider euphemophilia a synonym for what I just found out is “misandry,” hatred of men.  Interesting that you never hear of anyone accused of that. “Misandry” is crummy sounding so I’m going to use “mistestostergy” instead.  And now I really must yank myself outta here . . . except, alas, to make one more archaically self-deluded remark: I do not consider myself even close to being a misogynist.  But, remember, I don’t consider myself close to being homophobic, either, although I don’t think homosexuals should call their variety of marriage “marriage.”  And I refuse to call them “gays.”

really gotta yank myself outta here.  Will it help if I say I don’t respect our president’s intelligence, but don’t respect it less than I respect the previous president’s?

No one’s ever said I had a death-wish, but maybe I have.  (Some have suggested I seem to seek failure, which may be true although, frankly, I don’t believe it is.)  Okay–I go!

Note: I did go.  I’m back now only to say I just named “sexism” as on of the categories this entry belongs in.  I’m curious if that will draw visitors.  Why I would want it to would be a question for my shrink if I weren’t too benighted to believe in shrinks.

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Entry 478 — Another Weak Hello « POETICKS

Entry 478 — Another Weak Hello

I’ve been bumbling along making very slow progress with my hip.  I’ve actually sort of run a few times while playing senior tennis.  I’m riding my bike again, too, although I’m not supposed to, the experts believing I might fall and mess up my hip.  No chance.  Psychologically, I’m still screwed up: I’m sleeping okay after three bad nights in a row, but continue to want to take a nap almost all the time.  (And rarely am able to fall asleep once I’ve lain down.)

I’m in a moderately pleased state of mind right now, though, because I’ve gotten 18 framed visiotextual works of mine ready for display at the local library.  I’ve decided nine are world-class, and all but three of the others not too far from world-class.  None of the others is poor, just not all that great.

It’s always a relief to find one still likes what one did more than a few years ago.  I’m not that keen on some of my apprentice-pieces, but tend to like almost everything I’ve done over the past thirty years–and considered keepers when they were done.

I must have twenty or thirty fairly completely sketches of poems I thought would be terrific when I sketched them but never followed through on.  Every once in a while I look through them.  Haven’t found one yet I think worth doing, or even stealing a piece from for a new work.

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Entry 465 — A Long Walk

July 8th, 2011

I walked four miles today. My physical therapist and my surgeon are agreed that I shouldn’t walk more than half a mile. But I had somewhere to go, and have this weird self-belief in my ability to walk. I don’t have the same self-belief in any other physical ability so haven’t done and won’t do anything else I’m not supposed to. I’m not sure what my point is–maybe something about  aconceptual knowledge versus conceptual expertise.

But also to explain why I’m too tired to say more, today, about William Logan in the latest issue of New Criterion except that he has finally actually written about a poet I consider avant-garde (albeit, barely), Rae Armantrout. I guess he had to since she’s a Pulitzer Prize winner and has been a member of the Academy of American Poets and otherwise credentialed for quite a while. He pans her, of course. Ignorantly, of course. Okay, semi-ignorantly. The main thing is that he discusses her–for over a page. Bringing the New Criterion briefly up to 1980.

He also discusses Wilbur’s latest, but I only read the part about Armantrout. Tired. I’ll read the rest of Logan’s commentary, though–I read every word of every issue of the New Criterion. I figure it gives me a good anchor in 1950 to sail into newer things from. I truly wish there were a magazine around as good about 2000 as it is about 1950 (and cultural figures repeating it in 2011).

Later Note:  The book was Broken English, by Heather McHugh.  It showed up.  I had left it in the car of the friends who’d driven me home from the healthcare center with a lot of other stuff in a large shopping bag.  I guess I’m glad I found it.  I’m very glad of the stuff that turned up with it, which included some magazines and two other books that it would have driven me beserk to have looked for and not found.  I wasn’t totally stupid, by the way: I called Linda, my ride home, and asked her to check her car.

Entry 464 — A Follow-Up Visit to the Surgeon

July 6th, 2011

I saw my surgeon yesterday.   He was very pleased with my progress.  But he said it’d be three or four more months before I would be a non-gimp.  He had told me before the operation that it’d take two to five months for me to reach that point, so I felt I’d make it in two with hard work, if the operation went well.  I’ve worked hard and the operation went well but am not considered likely to be able to do more than I’m doing now, which is walk fast in a straight line, and take care of myself in my home.  Sure doesn’t give me much motivation to continue going all-out on my exercise program.

Meanwhile, my old lethargy is still with me.  I’ve done a little work on my Shakespeare book since getting home, but not much else.   I’m hoping I’m just suffering from the stress any change in one’s circumstances tends to cause, even a good change like getting home from a care facility.

 

Entry 463 — I’m Home

July 2nd, 2011

Just a note to say I got back from the rehab center yesterday, and after putting the stuff I brought home with me away, walked a mile–at a blazing 3 miles and hour.  But I’m not allowed to go much faster.  Running will be forbidden for another week.  Not allowed to twist, either.  I’m supposedly ahead of schedule.  I feel good about my progress.  I feel good about most everything, in fact.

Had a therapist make a house call yesterday.  He gave me some exercises that seem good ones.  Gotta do two of them once an hour, though, so I’ve been busy.  Also walked another mile and did some writing.

More tomorrow, I hope.

 

 

Entry 462 — A New Saying

June 27th, 2011

Criticism of criticism: the mediocrity’s primary defense against being found out.

Entry 461 — The Latest from the Rehab Center

June 19th, 2011

I guess it’s about ime I posted another entry.  Not much going on here.  I had hoped to be home from now–was making good progress with my physical therapy.   The a setback: my surgical incision was infected.  Result: an IV anti-biotic has been administered to me each day for the past five days.  Five more round of it, then I get to go home, assuming it has worked, and all signs are that it will have.

I was pretty disgusted.  So much time going by with little or nothing accomplished, even compared to some of my recent poor days at home.  Then I remembered a chore I could do here: posting all my Small Press Review columns here at my new blog, something I’ve been meaning to do for some time.  It’s been hard getting them properly formatted, but I’m getting them much more quickly posted now than when I did four days or so ago when I started the chore.  They are in the Pages, under “Bob Grumman’s Small Press Review Columns,” 21 so far, but I hope to add a few more today.

I’ve read most of them as I posted them, relieved to find they seem pretty good to me.  I hope to published two books of them, with commentary.  They remain about the only published commentary on avant garde poetry anywhere in this country as far as I know.     

 

Entry 460 — I’m an Avant Garde Poet

June 18th, 2011

Geof  Huth recently claimed at his blog that there’s no such thing as avant garde poetry–because (as I understand him) all poetry issues from prior poetry.  He instantly persuaded me of the existence of avant garde poetry, about which I’d been previously skeptical because nothing significantly new seemed to have been happening or even capable of happening in the arts anymore.  I still believe the latter but what I suddenly realized is that “avant garde” means, or should mean, not significantly new but merely more new than the status quo.  As, for instance, my mathematical and cryptograhic poetry are.  I’m with Geof, though, in not thinking that considering onelf avant garde is that big a deal.  An avant garde poet is not necessarily superior to a status quo poet.

Supporting Note: if Finnegans Wake was not avant garde, what was it?  (I would add that it’s still avant garde.

 

 

Entry 459 — Week No. 2 at the Rehab Center

June 13th, 2011

I’m doing all the exercises I’ve been asked to do.   Today I got my own walker.  This means I’m allowed to walk everywhere in the building on my own–so long a s I use the walker.  I can walk, slowly, without it, but am not supposed to.  There are all kinds of movements I’m supposed to avoid (and do).  I seem in good shape but can’t walk naturally, or unnaturally without thinking about what I’m doing.  No word yet on when I’ll be able to go home.  I don’t mind being here much.  Not getting anything done, though–unless you count finishing reading beautiful & pointless, by David Orr, which may be the worst book about poetry ever written.  Orr thinks there’s no reason for poets to think they know anything more about using words than the man in the street does.  Granted, many do not.  Still . . .

Entry 458 — A Quick In&Out

June 7th, 2011

I’m okay.  Took me a long time to get access to a computer, and from it to the Internet.  Am now trying to delete items in my server’s inbox so as not to go over my limit and I apparently don’t know how to do it because I’m doing it one e.mail at a time.  I know I’ve at other times deleted many more at one time but can’t now.  When done, almost certainly not until tomorrow, will say more about my current situation.

Entry 457 — Off to the Hospital

June 1st, 2011

I’ll be off to the hospital in another half hour or so.  I feel good.  Things should go well.  If everything works out maximally well, I’ll be able to make a blog entry from the hospital tomorrow.  Don’t bank on that, though.

 

Entry 456 — My Latest Poem

May 31st, 2011

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I posted it at New-Poetry early this morning.  No comments back yet.  I was hoping someone would say, “Wow, that’s great!”  I really think it’s possible that few if anyone at New-Poetry–or maybe anywhere, can appreciate it as I do.  I really do think that few people are not segreceptual, or incapable of quickly darting from one sensual modality to another, in this case from verboceptuality to wherever we process spelling and the conceptual significance of spellings quickly enough to appreciate the poem.  A word-frame as the house of vowels, and then vacant.

I will be leaving my house tomorrow morning around six for the hospital and my hip surgery, so may not post an entry then, or for a while.  I am not sure when I’ll next have access to the Internet.   So don’t be surprised if there’s nothing new here for a week or more.

Note: I got all the things written I felt I had to before going to the hospital–after dawdling on all of them for days or weeks.  Weird.  I just couldn’t get them done–until I had to.  Same thing happened most of the time with me in high school.

 

 

Entry 60 — #717 through #720 « POETICKS

Entry 60 — #717 through #720

Nothing much going on in entries 717 through 720 from my old blog.  The best thing in them was this aphorism of mine from #720:

.         Sometimes my inferiority complex gets so bad, I think I’m God.

I was thinking about bi-polarism because an interesting chap calling himself “Bipolar Guy” had gotten in touch with me.

In #717 I listed the three major elements of intelligence in my knowlecular theory of psychology, accelerance, charactration (under its now obsolete name of “character”) and accommodance and defined them.  In #718 I mumbled about how few visitors my blog gets and in #719 I mentioned an idea of Dan Waber’s–doing a character-sketch daily for a year, a fun idea but not something I thought I’d be able to do, and my latest Shakespeare Authorship Question experiences.

Nothing more, mainly because I’m wrecked, having played tennis for my senior men’s doubles team.  Ordinarily coulbes woul dnever tire me, but I have a bad back, a bad knee, and a bad hip, all of which I’ve been trying to rest.  Didn’t want to play but our team had only 6 players available, including me, for three matches, so I hadda.  I gimped through a touch match against our opponents’ number three duo.  It was thrilling.  Really.  We had the first set in the bag, 5 -1, but lost four in a row.  Then we lucked out a victory, but lost the next game.  I was shot by then, really hoping only to get the thing over with.  But I actually ran in to get a few short shots that I hit for winners and we won the tie-breaker.  Next set we lost the first game and were out of it from then on, losing 6-2.  Because we’re old, we didn’t play a third set, instead bumbling through a ten-point tie-breaker.  All I can say is that they were a little more eager to lose points than we, and we won–on a put-away by . . . tah dah, ME.  The others on the team who had played and finished, plus several wives and players on our team unable to play but there to root, yelled, “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!”

Our team is now 16 and 5, and either in second place or tied for first, depending on how the one team ahead of us in the eight-team league made out.

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visual poetry « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘visual poetry’ Category

Entry 628 — New Vocational Triumphs

Wednesday, January 18th, 2012

Just when I thought my visual poetry career was going nowhere, I had a pleasant surprise at an Arts & Humanities gathering last night.  It was an annual affair where local visimagists get together with people representing public places.  The latter look over the works brought to the event, three pieces per artist, and offer exhibition space to those whose work they like.  A bank lobby, for instance.  I went to one of these long ago, but my work wasn’t chosen, and while I’m (probably insanely)  persistant at continuing to make art, I have just about no stick-to-it-ive-ness so far as getting it to where people can see it and maybe like it.  Well, with the encouragement of Olivia and Judy, of the Arts & Humanities Council, and thinking maybe now that I had my current exhibition, someone might think me worthy of another elsewhere, I brought the following three pieces to the main library, where the affair was:

 

 

 

 

I was going for accessibility with the top two.  I added the bottom one to show a little of what I was doing with long division and color.  In any case, I’m now down for three more exhibitions, two more this year and one in 2013. 

I got to talk with fellow artists, too.  One of them did abstract-expressionist stuff with the word, “love,” embedded in them–another local visual poet!  I came across another artist who uses some kind of transparent, screenlike fabric in her work: she paints an image on it and hangs it in front of regular fabric with a background painted on it.  I thought it worked really well, and have vague ideas on what I might do with it.  So, quite a good hour or so!

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Entry 621 — Evolution of Style

Wednesday, January 11th, 2012

One of my works that I was particularly pleased with when I came across it while backing up blog entries was the following:

 

 

I have one problem with this: my only version of  it is a low-resolution jpg, which I don’t know how to convert to high-resolution tif, except by simply redoing it.  Any suggestions from anybody out there who knows more than I do about this kind of thing?

I didn’t re-post it only to ask for help, or because of how much I like it, but as an example of how my work as a poet has evolved.  Actually, I want to show that it has evolved.  That’s because Paul Crowley, the nut I most argue with on the Internet about who wrote the works of Shakespeare, seems not to believe that a poet’s style, or way of making art, evolved once he’s past his apprenticeship.  Of course, he will claim I’m not a poet, and that the evidence I’m about to produce to show my evolution indicates only trivial changes, not anything like genuine evolution.  I enjoy talking about my work, and analyzing any poem, so will go ahead with my demonstration, anyway.

First of all, I should state my claim: it is that over the past couple of years, my style as a poet has evolved appreciably, and that this poem illustrates it.

(1) I only began using cursive ten or fewer years ago, and never for more than a word or two.  This poem and two others have all or most of their texts in cursive.  Because the difference in expressiveness between print and cursive is visiopoetically meaningful to those who appreciate visual poetry, this wholesale use of cursive script counts as a significant evolution of style.

(2) My use of cursive is more elegant here than it is in mt other two recent poems making extensive use of cursive.  Note, for instance, the large O, and the increased gracefulness of all the letters compared with the letters in my other two cursive poems.

(3) Twenty years ago, I didn’t bother giving my poems backgrounds.  Since then I have, and have slowly been improving (but have plenty of room for further improvement).  Note the harmony of the background’s shape and colors with the text, especially the O. 

(4) The background has another important value–the connotations it picks up as a result of its being a variation (mostly through color changes) of the background in another poem of mine.  Connecting poems of mine with others’ poems and others of my own poems is another way I’ve evolved as an artist, not doing it until perhaps twenty years ago, then only very slowly doing it to a greater and greater extent.  This poem may be the first to re-use an entire background from another poem.  This is not trivial, for it allows this poem to suggest “dictionary-as-temple,” the main part of the foreburden of the poem its background is from.  It also should make this poem easier to enjoy, the same way the repetition in a new musical work of an old theme is usually pleasant to hear.  I believe the happiness of the colors of this version of the background gains from the reminder of the different, lower-key mood evoked by the other version.

(5) The use of color in tension with greyscale is another trick new to me twenty years ago that I exploit more and more in my present works, as here (though I’ve done more with it elsewhere).

(6) I think my language has evolved over the years, too–from fairly literal to metaphorical and/or surreal.  The “logic” of this piece and most of my recent pieces is not so easy to guess, which may be an unfortunate evolution, but an evolution nonetheless.

(7) You can’t tell from this image, which has been reduced in size to fit the normal computer screen, but the hard copy is larger than anything I did ten or more years ago, which is another result of evolution. 

Here’s my first or second mathemaku, done thirty or more years ago, to make the profound evolution of my style more inescapable. Yet I maintain this piece is at the level of later pieces; it is simply more condensed. For one thing, it is only linguistic and mathematical. Nothing visioaesthetic happens in it. The eye is used only to recognize the symbols it contains, not to enjoy colors or shapes the way my faereality poem compels it to–i.e., not a visual poem (except inthe mindlessnesses of those for whom just about everything is a visual poem). It is short, and printed. Its words are simple to an extreme.

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Entry 620 — Getting Enough Sleep

Tuesday, January 10th, 2012

A little while ago (it is now around 9 P.M., 9 January)  I was feeling good.  I attributed this to my having gotten two naps today, one of an hour, the other of one or two hours.  And I had gotten six hours of sleep last night, which is about as much as I generally get.  I had just about finished backing up my blog entries and was very pleased at how good many of my poems seemed to me when I noticed them during the process.  Unfortunately, I got the dates up my upcoming entries wrong, and in correcting them, lost what I had written for this entry.  That pretty much wiped out my mood.  I can’t stand screwing up like that, but I do it all the time!

 

 

This is a pwoermd I stole from Geof Huth’s blog–because it has become too sophisticated to accept comments from dial-ups like my computer, and I wanted to comment on it.  It’s by Jonathan Jones, lately of Brussels, but a citizen himself of the United Kingdom.  What I like most about it is that it’s lyrical–as too many pwoermds are not.  It wouldn’t be a visual poem for me, but an illustrated poem, except that I subjectively feel “apri’ll” is producing the wonderful colors of spring it is slanted into a portion of (through sheer will-power).  Hence, in my taxonomy it is an infra-verbal visual poem.

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Entry 618 — “Hungarian Vispo No. 2″

Sunday, January 8th, 2012

Marton Koppany’s latest visual poem may be the gentlest satire on a country’s government ever, if I’m interpreting it correctly. Note the boot on the head of one of the country’s citizens, for instance–and the complete insanity of the country the cloud with an umbrella suggests. Much more is going on that I’ll let you discover without help.

Hungarian Vispo No. 2

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Entry 613 — Vispo SpamAd

Tuesday, January 3rd, 2012

The following is a detail from a Spam ad that I got yesterday.   It’s a good example of a commercialized visual poem.  Effective as an eye-catcher, but not very good as a visual poem.

 

 Below is my improved version.  Certainly not yet a great work but better than the original.  If you can’t see why, I’m afraid you aren’t too perceptive about the art.  If you can’t see how the basic idea could be used in a far better piece, you probably aren’t an effective visual poet, or are tired.

 

Diary Entry

Monday, 2 January 2012, Noon.  I got up late because I stayed up late last night watching my Giants fall apart, but win anyway because Dallas fell apart just in time to keep from winning.  I don’t think the Giants have much hope of going far in the play-offs, but I’ll be rooting for them.  And the other teams are pretty inconsistent, too, except for San Francisco and Green Bay.

I began the day by forcing myself to run.  Actually, I slowly ran, then ran fast albeit not really fast, then walked.  Rrrrrruuuuunnnnnn, rruunn, walk over and over until I’d gone around the middle school field four times (two miles).  My stamina is still amazingly poor, but I actually genuinely sprinted when I went all out.  Which is to say, I was able to pump my legs all the way up and stretch out, the way one does when sprinting.  I didn’t do it fast enough to really sprint, but I did it.  I was worried that I no longer could.  Now it’s just a matter, I think, of getting enough stamina to push myself harder, and for longer periods.  My “sprints” were only for around twenty yards or so–but maybe a whole forty once or twice.  Since getting back, I posted my blog entry for today, which was easy because already done.  I corrected my latest Page, “How to Appreciate a Mathemaku,” after getting a list or errors I very much appreciated from John Jeffrey.  I have a lot more chores to do, but I’m already worn out.  Maybe after lunch and a nap I’ll be able to get more done.

5 P.M.  One more chore out of the way: filling in the size and price of my works on the exhibition contract and tags.  I’m asking $200 for most of them.  Highest price is $600.  Two I’ll accept $100 for.  I don’t expect to sell anything.

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Entry 607 — More from Spidertangle

Wednesday, December 28th, 2011

Later Vernon Frazer entered the discussion:

Thanks, John. I use “definitions” as a shorthand for conversational or descriptive purposes. As far as trying to work, I avoid the “prescriptions” suggested by definitions because they impose limits on my thinking and interfere with my working at my best. Without the work, nobody would have fodder for all the differing definitions. I’m flashing back to Wittgenstein and trying to define “game.” 

ME: Sorry, Vernon, but I’m (obviously) not a Wittgenstein fan.  Just because a few words are hard to define, at least for someone like Wittgenstein, doesn’t make the eternal struggle to define words (in order fully to understand what they denote) futile. As for the “prescriptiveness” of definitions, they are only prescriptive about how an artist can responsibly label his works, not—if he has a functioning brain—about how he can make them.  I am annoyingly repetitious about stating this, because it seems to me the main misunderstanding artists have about criticism.  (Which is dependent on what artists produce—but that is dependent on what prior artists have produced and, I believe, on what critics have said about it.  A work of art ultimately is not merely what it is by itself, but that and what others have said about it.   –Mr. Cantshuddup

Bobbi Lurie again:

wittgenstein fan or not–

what is this?

is this vispo or not?

http://the-otolith.blogspot.com/2011/10/bobbi-lurie-ludwig-wittgenstein.html

ME: I like your image a lot, Bobbi, but I have to be sarcastic in answering your question: it’s a musical automobile, so a branch of chempo, not of vispo.

Nico was less sarcastic:

I wouldn’t tag it as such, no.

There are these websites you find when doing a search of visual poetry that pertain to photography, wedding shots, naturescapes, etc. They use visual poetry as a descriptive for hallmark type sentiment.

Your drawing of Ludwig is very much reminiscent of egon’s stuff,

ME: Same response here.

which I like quite a bit. It’s not vispo tho. My own filter for such things usually entails the existence of a focus on alphabet. That’s primary to me, but not all on this list. I giggle at your use of
Sophistication. I think we’re still in the process of hammering it down – the ongoing sixty year process. The inability to pluck a satisfying set of terms by now – one that’d satisfy most practitioners just spotlights the fact that this practice is separate to separate people. That means nothing gets answered or gets answered in myriad ways.

ME: At one point I spent some time trying to determine how I thought works concerned with the alphabet should fit into my taxonomy.  I think I concluded that the alphabet is verbal—a peculiar sort of word meaning “these are the letters, in order.”  However, with the works you’re speaking of, Nico, letters are the subject, not the alphabet, so for me they are textual designage.

NICO: Anyway, I did apologize for bringing this up.

ME: As opposed to leaving Spidertangle as a no-discussion zone?

Bobbi replied:

Thank you, Nico. 

As I wrote to David, I really needed this description.

Yes. Sophistication meaning “I don’t know what these people are talking about. What is the secret?”

The fact that you’ve been struggling with terms….may I suggest you just say: “the alphabet must be included–this is in relationship to written language–the representation of something via language vs. via image” (clumsy this, i know, but that would have helped me in the several year search i’ve been on, asking vispo artists this question)

ME: Too bad you somehow missed me, your fellow Bobbi/Bobby, Bobbi.  I’ve been cranking out the dogma that poetry has to have significant words for years, and that it’s silly to consider “visual poetry” not to be a form of poetry. Very few in the visiotextual field (but probably everyone in conventional poetry) agree with me, even though I have a fairly broad idea of what “words” are—I accept word-fragments, punctuation marks, any typographical symbol (like @), mathematical symbols and even the alphabet or some section of it long enough to identify it as an alphabet, as “words”—and don’t dispute that at the border between the verbal and the visual there are activities going on of value that may also qualify as visual poetry (since no definition can have a sharp border—unless it’s of something not in the real world like odd numbers).  Seems to me an art should be defined first of all by what materials it explicitly uses in general (words or visual images, say), then by how it uses them, again in general (by pronouncing them or recording their sound, in one case; in the other, by recording their shape and color); a sub-art, like visual poetry, should be defined by what specific materials it uses and how, specifically, it uses them—words and visual images together by recording their sound, shapes and color.  And so forth, finally to capture even the subbest of arts like Shakespearean sonnets or visiopoetic maple solitextual (i.e., solely textual) sculptures . . . 

BOBBI to Nico: please do not apologize. i am so happy to read this–i didn’t know if i could legitimately send my art work to anyone other than Mark Young of Otoliths, who is tolerant with my experiments / does not define his journal in terms of vispo, unlike others here.

i will have to check closely on this, but from your definition, i’d say a lot of editors are letting a lot of things pass for vispo which isn’t vispo.

thank you, Nico.

ME: We need editors like Mark Young who publish art they like regardless of what it is, but it’d be nice if they could let what they want be known in precise language.  Almost everyone in the otherstream publishes anything.  Anyone who wants material of a specific kind has to carefully say so because “visual poetry” tends to mean anything.  Not just works that are visual but not verbal, but works that are verbal and not visual.  My press doesn’t get submissions anymore, but when it did, people would send me poetry about sunsets—hey, sunsets are visual!—and complain when I rejected it as not visual poetry, which my press was primarily looking to publish.

David Baratier was next up:

People who solely practice visual art or vispo
are verbose and vague
either due to lack of words in their art
or to leave open a potential name shift
to make themselves popular again.

Miro was before vispo, so he is a precursor.

From outside the gates it looks like the best known vizpoets
call themselves artists because vispo is an unknown term to them, or
a fringe term (as Karl pointed out, coming into being as an antithesis
to the concrete poetry movement rather than an art term). Vispo
also has movement qualities rather than just a name.
Ruscha, Jenny Holtzer, Robert Indiana and so on are artists.
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ME: Ruscha, Holzer and Indiana are all, in some of their works, visual poets, regardless of how they see themselves.  I haven’t seen anything by Miro that seems a visual poem to me, but a few paintings by Klee seem close to being visual poems.  Stuart Davis made some, and so did Magritte.  Picasso may have, too.  I’ve shown these at my blog where I’ve also shown images from ARTnews,, which has something I consider a visual poem in almost every issue.  Visual artists added typography naturally to their subject matter just as they added everything else previous visual artists disregarded, and the world was already set up to accommodate their work as visual art in galleries and museums, so they had no need to call it anything special.  Poets becoming visual did, because their visual poetry was much more radical (because generally a good deal more verbal) than that of artists like Ruscha—and the venues for conventional poetry had, and are still having, trouble with it. 

VERNON: I think the discussions—and Wittgenstein’s increased presence in them in more than one capacity—demonstrate what I was trying to get at. Nobody agrees on what vispo is, even when they look at the same work. If you worry too much about the definition, you won’t concentrate properly on what you’re doing. Some people say I’m a visual poet, some say I’m not. And I’m certainly not one all the time. But I might be one some of the time, depending on who’s forming the opinion.  What I gather from today’s debate about definitions is: do the work and let the definitions fall where they may. 

ME:  As I’ve already said, poets shouldn’t care.  For critics or people trying to work out a reasonable poetics, it’s a different story.  Unfortunately, too many in these two cultures see those in the one they aren’t in as enemies or fools.

No doubt there will be more. 

Diary Entry

Tuesday, 27 December 2011, 5 P.M.  I only played tennis for about an hour this morning, but got tired.  Went to Mcdonald’s for a sausage and egg sandwich.  Got a little marketing done at the Winn Dixie near the McDonald’s, then got a nap of maybe fifteen minutes in.  After that, I spent a lot of time in the Internet discussion I made the subject of the day’s blog entry, which I just made the last corrections to, at least for now.  I guess I contributed over a thousand words to it, some of them insightful and/or interesting.   So I can’t consider myself totally out of it.  I feel the discussion itself will interest, or should interest, scholars later in the century, if only for what it reveals of one group of creative artists yakking with/at each other.  I’ve done no Work of Consequence, though.  I am now going to work up a hand-out for my exhibition, then probably take the rest of the day off.

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Entry 598 — “Fifty”

Monday, December 19th, 2011

This is from Geof Huth’s blog:

 I liked this when I first saw it although I didn’t find it saying anything verbally.  When I finally realized it said, “fifty,” I thought it accidental because I couldn’t see why it would say that.  My slow mind eventually remember that Geof is now fifty-years-old, which makes this image a particularly effective representation of his present strange combination of freedom and awkward incompleteness . . . straining, yearning for something.  With his ego (“I,” as Karl Kempton would be sure to notice) lost or transcended.

Diary Entry

Sunday 18 December 2011, 6 P.M.  Another unproductive day.  Tennis in the morning, a fine meal at Linda’s in the afternoon.  A blog entry for today just taken care of a little while ago.  A little work done on my “Mathemaku for Scott Helmes” to count as “work on preparation for the A&H exhibition.”  And now I’d like to go to bed, but will probably read instead.

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Entry 597 — Chumpy Leg

Sunday, December 18th, 2011

John M. Bennett has another major collection of poetry out.  This one is called The Gnat’s Window.  78 poems.  Bilingual.  Closely inter-associating sequence.  Amazing.  I told John I’d try to do a critique of it, and I still hope to once my year-end chaos of chores is behind me, but–gah–John is one of the few poets I feel may be beyond my abilities as a critic, and he’s at his best–and therefore beyondest–in this book.  Part of one of the poems, which Diane Keys has found a way to, uh, fatten, in all the best senses, with color, a piece of cloth and some cursive annotations–and the circling of “crumpy leg, is below.  It’s from the back cover of John’s book.

 

Diary Entry

Saturday, 17 December 2011, Noon.  Wow, since getting back at eleven from tennis and a McDonald’s snack, I’ve already gotten the day’s blog entry posted, which was easy because it was already done, and made a finished copy of  the new version of “Mathemaku for Scott Helmes” at Paint Shop.  It’s not the official copy: it’s too small, and the official version will include the original cut-out fragments of magazine ads.  There will also be the A&H framed version which will be in between the one I just made and the official version in size. 

8 P.M.  Since noon I haven’t done much.  I printed out two copies of “Mathemaku for Scott Helmes” and scribbled annotations explaining the terms I will put on one that will be on display atthe exhibition.  Otherwise, I continued reading started yesterday of the magazines and books I will be reviewing for Small Press Review

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Entry 587 — “The Bells”

Thursday, December 8th, 2011

My friend, Richard Kostelanetz is writing (actually, revising) an essay dealing with, among other things, appropriated art.  When he asked something about Tom Phillips’s A Humument, I remembered other superior examples of appropriation art such as the work on a dictionary of Doris Cross, and the following appropriation of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Bells” by Michael Basinski, which I thought worth posting here:

   

Here’s the original:

Hear the sledges with the bells–
Silver bells–
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells,–
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Hear the mellow wedding-bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight
From the molten-golden notes!
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gust of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells–
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells–
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

In the essay I quoted Mike’s poem in, I called it “an amazingly loud-though-silent jangle of . . . Poe’s famous poem.”  I’d add here that Basinski’s version gave me the thrill that Poe’s version, I’m sure, gave many of its first readers.

* * *

Wednesday, 7 December 2011, Noon.  I’ve partly recovered from having accidentally deleted my blog entry for Monday.  A semblance of it is back up.  I also posted an entry for today.  I’ve done nothing else yet, but hope soon to go out to buy some frames and a pad of good-quality large paper.

Later note: I succeeded in finding two reasonably-priced frames of the kind I wanted (able to be stood up on a counter) that I bought.  That took care of my pledge to do something of value for my exhibition every day, barely.  Meanwhile, I sketched a new mathemaku.  Then took care of this entry.

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Entry 584 — An & & My Full Triptych

Monday, December 5th, 2011

It seems that almost every time I seem to be getting productive, something knocks me down.  This time it’s only a lost entry–this one, that I was trying to correct some detail of and lost in the process–without realizing it, so was not able to try to find the lost material by backing up until it was too late.  So now I have to spend an hour or so, restoring what I can recall of what was here two days ago. 

 One item was this by Moribund Face:
 
 

And all three of my frames of “Triptych for Tom Phillips”:

About the ampersand, I commented something about how it expressed the essence of “andness.”  I loved the way its bird regurgitated what looked like all of itself, while looking to continue “anding” forever.  I said little about my full triptych except that if you click on them, you’ll see a larger image of them which may be helpful although still very small–and in black&white.  The original frames are each eleven by seventeen.  Oh, one thing I did point out was that the frames are about, “departure,” “journey” and “arrival,” and are intended to be about them in the largest sense, but particularly about them with regard to arriving–for either an engagent of it or its author.

* * *

Sunday, 4 October 2011.  Sunday is hazy to me now, three days in the past as it is.  I played tennis early in the morning–badly.  I didn’t return to my Shakespeare book, but evidentally got a blog entry posted, and probably wrote an exhibition hand-out or two.

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Dale Jensen « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Dale Jensen’ Category

Entry 385 — My Most-Used Coinage

Monday, February 21st, 2011

On 2/21/2011 3:21 AM, Jake Berry wrote:

Bob,    Hope this finds you well. I'm working on an essay and I'd like to  use your term 'otherstream', but I want to quote your definition  of the word directly. I haven't been able to find it on the internet  and I have no idea where it might be among all my books and papers.  So how would you define it?    Best,  Jake  

Terrific hearing from you, Jake–although it makes me feel guilty by reminding me of what a horrible correspondent I’ve been for going on ten years or more.  So many people I haven’t kept in touch with but should have!  Although I do keep up with you on the Internet.

Ah, the old days when I was one of the Kings of the  . . . Otherstream because I owned my own Xerox!  I’ve had some ungood years since then.  2010 was possibly the worst year I’ve had in thirty years.  But this year, so far, is going pretty well, although right now I’m in my null zone again.

Maybe not–your e.mail has me at least partway out of it.  Great to know someone still likes my coinage, and it was fun doing my own search for it on the Internet.  I found an article about Dale Jensen and his wife, Judy Wells, in which the term was used, followed by a comment by Jack Foley (good ol’ Jack) declaring that Andrew Joron had not coined “otherstream,” Bob Grumman had!

Somewhere else some guy took credit for coining it in 1996. My guess is that I first used it around 1985, so it has just has its 25th anniversary.  If I, indeed, was the first to use it.  Who knows if I did or not.  I don’t care.  I mean, it’d be nice to know for sure some word that more than a few people use was my word, but I’m really not that big about getting credit.  I want money, not credit!

Oh, I also found out there are various businesses calling themselves “otherstream” this or that, including, I think, a broadcast network.

So, a definition.  I’ve defined it in different although similar ways.  I think I would say that “otherstream” is my adjective for kinds works of art the great majority of arts academics, well-known critics, commercial publishers and commercial magazine editors know little more than the names of, if that.  A brief definition: art that’s now taught in college classes.  For me, it means approximately but only approximately the opposite of “mainstream.”  What it’s the exact opposite of is “knownstream.”  That’s because some art is knownstream, like certain kinds of very formal verse–the sestina, say, is well-known to most literature professors but is not what you’d call a kind of mainstream poetry.  I don’t think cowboy poems are considered mainstream, either, or though fairly popular.  I used it mainly for visual poetry, sound poetry and language poetry when I began using it, but some language poetry has become mainstream.

Hope this helps.  Thanks for wanting to use the word, which I think is a useful one.  And for inspiring me to write what I have here, which I can now use for today’s entry in my blog!  Make sure to link me to your essay when it’s online, or send it to me if it’s printed–with the hundred dollar royalty fee I charge for the use of any of my coinages.  (You can use “knownstream,” also mine, for half-price.)

all best, Bob

Guy R. Beining « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Guy R. Beining’ Category

Entry 1692 — Beining to the Rescue Again

Wednesday, January 14th, 2015

For the third day in a row I was running around most of the day.  In the morning I had my teeth cleaned, in the process finding out I had three cavities that would be shoving me further into credit card debt in two weeks.  In the afternoon riding five miles to pick up a prescription, do some marketing and pick up my dead external hard drive, then five miles back, on a crummy cold-for-Florida, overcast day.

I thought the drive worth picking up in hopes one day there will be some breakthrough allowing its data to be retrieved for less than a thousand dollars.  Hey, I just thought of a good plot for a thriller.  Someone like me needs data retrieved from a drive gone bad, so convinces the CIA he’s a soviet spy (i.e., works for Putin) and has important info on his bad drive.

In short, I’m again too beat to come up with anything of my own for a blog entry.  So it was lucky that a post card from Guy Beining with the following was in my mailbox:

Long Deconstructing

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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1666 — Back to Beining

Friday, December 19th, 2014

Here’s the latest image I got from Guy R. Beining:

Strained Poem

It is part of a letter it grieves me to report on.  He asks if I think I could sell works like it on my website, suggesting a price of $200 for this.  I’d get a 33% commission on all sales.  Gah.  If I had any semblance of economic security, I’d buy this and four others sight unseen for $200 each.  I grieve because I know I can’t sell anything here, at any price.  I once offered 25 RASPbooks for $50 and Karl Kempton was the only one to buy a set (and he ain’t rich).  No complaints, because I hardly ever buy anything of anyone else’s.  Not only don’t I have the money to, but my concept-appreciation to ornament-appreciation (like the feel of hardened acylic, etc., even the size of an image) is much higher than most lovers of visimagery’s (i.e., “visual art”), so Internet access rather than physical ownership is enough for me in almost all cases.

Of course, I also grieve because Guy’s stuff should be in bigTime museums with articles in ARTnews about it.  If he can’t get the recognition he deserves, who can?  Or am I so out of it that I don’t see how much better New York stuff is than the above?

I wish I had time to really deal with the above critically, but the year is about to end, and I have so much to do!  For instance, I still haven’t finished either of my next two columns for Small Press Review, and I’ve had full-length fairly decent rough drafts of both of them ready for a final attack for over a week.  Wotta life.

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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1584 — Beining, Again, at his Frequent Best

Sunday, September 28th, 2014

As any of you who have been visitors here for a while will know, Guy Beining is a good friend of mine (however annoyed I sometimes get with him for refusing to get a computer!) and one of the artists who has long been on my list of the ten poets with whose work I’m familiar is clearly at least as good as that of any major prize-winner and clearly at least a magnitude of order more important.  He is now on the mend from congestive heart failure and doing well enough to have sent me two letters recently.  On of them included this, which I find exceptionally good, even for him:

 BeiningReceivedSept2014

I’m too busy with my novel to say more about them here.  The novel, by the way, has me suddenly feeling better (in a non-ecstatic way) than I’ve been in for ten or twenty years.  I really like the chapters I’ve worked through recently and feel like the novel will be a valuable contribution to the Culture of my Time after having doubts of that for over a week.

Before I go, here’s a noun I looked up a little while to be certain of its meaning as an adjective and found out it has the following meaning as a noun, as I suspect a lot of people know but I didn’t and believe I ought to: “substantive, a word or group of words functioning acts as a noun.”

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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1547 — 2 Pages from Outside the End

Saturday, August 23rd, 2014

I thought I ought to display one of the wholly textual poems in the book by Guy Beining I’ve been featuring lately, such poems making up the bulk of the book.  So below is one–next to another great collage, with a terrific name:

Pages8&9

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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1546 — The Beining Exhibit Continues

Friday, August 22nd, 2014

The drawings by Guy Beining on the outside (top illustration) and the inside (bottom illustration) of the sheet stapled into Outside the End right after its cover:

OutsidePair

 

InnerOutside

Quite a sequence, it seems to me. worth showing in full.
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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1545 — Back to Beining

Thursday, August 21st, 2014

First&LastPages

All I can say about this is that the ink drawing is typical Beining, and I really like it.  Tubes instead of lines (wires?)  in places seems to me brilliant, for some reason.  I have no idea how original it is.  It suggests subdermal invasion, but–possibly only to me–tubing and wiring that strange biological accidents leak out of.  Of course, the page (the second half of which is outside the end of the book) is mainly a highly sophisticated adventure of theme and variation.

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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1544 — Outside the End

Wednesday, August 20th, 2014

I’m hoping against hope to take care of  the three or four reviews and the one column I have left to write for Small Press Review today, so am just posting the front and back covers of Guy R. Beining’s 2007 chapbook, Outside the End, here today:

Back&FrontCovers

He and Marilyn Rosenberg are just two of a dozen or more of my friends in poetry whom I consider at least an order of magnitude more interesting artistically than any of our country’s poet laureates, Pulitzer Prize winners and others consider worth discussion by our visible literary critics and can’t understand why they are ignored.  More for Outside the End tomorrow, perhaps with a few comments on it.
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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1364 — From Guy’s Postcard

Friday, February 7th, 2014

A little photograph of the following was in the small brown envelope attached to the postcard I posted a picture of yesterday:

SpeakingFromWithin

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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1363 — Guy R. Beining PostCard

Thursday, February 6th, 2014

Sent on 3 February 2014:

PostCard3Feb2014

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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 1355 — A Beining Cover

Wednesday, January 29th, 2014

Going through my RASPbooks, I found I hadn’t done very many covers.  The ones I did generally use samples of the works within.  That’s the case here:

VanishingWhores

The pen&ink is one of several like it in the book, the mask (or whatever) is part of one of Guy’s collages.  The heart is mine.  An excellent cover, I think, and not a bad visimage, but 88% Beining, only 12% Grumman.

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AmazingCounters.com

Entry 453 — My Improved Piddle « POETICKS

Entry 453 — My Improved Piddle

I’ve just about finished my latest column for Small Press Review.  A few days ago I finished a solid rough draft of what will be Chapters 13 and 14 of my book on the Shakespeare authorship question.  At one point, I thought it was brilliant but as I finished it my opinion changed.  I still think it pretty good, but I no longer think it something that will make everyone who reads it kneel to me in admiration.  I’ve been trying for years to pin down the major cause of irrationality, and I think I’m close.  I’d call it simply narrow-mindedness at a cocktail party level, but in the book I call it “Hyperconvergency.”  More important, I explain how it comes about.  Or try to.  It’s all a matter of having too much “cerebral potency”–and lacking the accommodance to lower it and thus let extra needed information in.  You’ll have to buy a copy of my book to find out more.  (Or look up what I’ve said about it here.)

Amy King is saying bad things about me again.  Whoops, not about me, since that would be “personal abuse,” but about my poetry.  She says the reason no bigShot critics deign to denigrate my work the way they denigrate Bill Knotts’s is that my work isn’t a minuscule fraction as interesting as his.  I was whining about my inability to get the level of scorn Knotts does.   I said I thought “his poetry is much easier for mediocrities to deal with than mine.”  Actually, I’m sure it’s because they really are too hyperconvergent to be aware of poetry like mine.  Exposed to it, though, they’d be afraid to try an assault on it.

Nice to get insulted by King, but I’d prefer something lengthier from someone better-known.  Something that actually said something about my poetry would be best, but it’s unrealistic to hope for that.

 

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