Inflate My Problems Away Mr. Bernanke

Just so everyone here knows, I'm a poet connected to the business world. It's a loveless marriage, but the animosity keeps me going.

Anyways, our Fed Chairman is an idiot. Here's why. Btw, you really should bookmark Long or Short Capital. Any site that is long Limes and Camels but short burqas has my utmost confidence.

Oh, and here's a picture of the economy's hero:

I feel warm, fuzzy, and poor every time he acts. If anyone would like to join me in burning an effigy to Ben made of dollar bills, let me know.

-j

Word to Your Mother

Good afternoon ladies and gents.

First off, I need to thank Daya for keeping my wife modest last week despite her intentions otherwise. I’m glad someone is around to keep her from ripping her clothes off.

* * *

Writing is such a funny thing. I get five poems accepted by foam:e for their March 2008 issue. I’m always uber-pleased to have that much work appearing in any one venue. On a side note, the two publications that I had to withdraw poems from (this was a sim sub, as always) were very understanding and one even asked when/where she’d be able to view the poems. So I’ll definitely resubmit.

Then I get rejections from Rattle, jubilat, and Barn Owl Review (nice note from one editor). Sigh, I’m going in circles. Especially with Rattle as I don’t feel like I’m any closer to getting in there. It does help a little that Tim has implied the editor isn’t as open as he would like toward experimental work, but doesn’t every poet hope to be the one who redefines genres while simultaneously redefining them? (Nod to Bender & Beck in Futurama.)

* * *

Pardon me – I don’t mean to be the sad, pity-party poet.

* * *

Rollercoaster Tycoon 3 is eating my soul. But so long as peeps keep eating my overpriced amusement park food, it’s a fine trade off.

* * *

Going to Charleston tonight to pick up some tailored slacks (they don’t make’m in tall sizes) and b-day shop for B. I can’t convince her to post for whatever reason. But she’s got plenty of stories to tell you, from my grandparents giving her some house coats that are straight up phat to Uno drinking her orange juice to her argument with the Dean of the Communication’s Department at OU.

Be good y’all,

-j

Last Days of Weekend Freedom

One of my old haunts, Inside the Writer's Studio, appears to be getting an upgrade and face lift. If I'm to believe everything head taskmaster Rach is saying, it will be a completely private board: invitation only and (ideally) posts won't be Google-able. If so, I may re-associate myself with that motley crew. Since there's no local poetry scene, I'd be happy to participate in a closely-knit poetry group again. Hopefully the reasons I always leave -- familiar faces always depart, a poor level of criticism, etc -- will not be a factor this time around.

* * *

It's been slow with Psalms to No One Poems -- two acceptances and three / four rejections total. I've sent out a load of submissions within the past two months, so hopefully some good news will arrive soon. I'm especially interested in how these poems turn out since they did not receive any sort of critical eye other than my own and B's. In other words, no poetry boards like previously.

Now, this would seem to contradict my desire to rejoin an online poetry community. Not so. It would just give me additional confidence in my writing and in my ability to discern whether or not I should take the criticism offered. Plus, I like having a group of similar-minded friends and a foot inside the "poetry community." Whatever that is.

* * *

Starting Ian McEwan's Atonement tomorrow after finishing a book on options trading. And I also have a book, From Good to Great, to read for work sometime soon. Nothing better than a business book that says absolutely nothing new but claims to by virtue of metaphor. What a waste.

* * *

Every small press that publishes chapbooks seems to be closed for submissions and/or you have to know the editor in order to submit.

* * *

Hopefully I'll have time to blog some at work. It's been really slow as of late despite the market's death convulsions. Well, that's not how I view them, but my boss . . . that's another story.

-j

Happy to See Me?

HEY!

Back to “teh blog”. As The Monarch (Venture Bros) might say, I’m Blogging!

* * *

A warning to all Ranciere readers: I wouldn’t start with The Politics of Aesthetics, which is only a book b/c the translator and Zizek decided to provide sizable portions of the text via their own self-aggrandizing comments. Oh, and a glossary of all things. Go figure. Otherwise, it’s a glorified interview, replete with pomoisms: painful amounts of abstractions, little desire to actually ground statements in the concrete, some of those oh-so-witty philosopher put-downs, etc. TMZ or Perez Hilton should really get a philosophy correspondent, but I digress. I’d probably pick up an earlier volume where Ranciere actually describes what “distribution of the sensible” actually means rather than dropping it randomly throughout the text. I’m sure he said something important in the book, but a) I’m not much into aesthetics and b) I haven’t read anything else by him.

* * *

A journal to which I will no longer submit.

Full disclosure: I was rejected (form letter) by Absent once, so read into that whatever you will. But I've gotten tons of rejections from places that I still greatly respect and submit to regularly.

A portion of their submission guidelines copied-and-pasted directly from their website:

A special note from Simon, grouchy reader of the slushpile: starting with issue three, unsolicited poetry submissions may not require special formatting. In particular, the only formatting I will process are italics (which you may mark in plain text as *italics*) and the meter-continuation indent:

Radiology has revealed
Radiology has revealed there are no fractures in your feet.

There are many reasons for this. My own personal aesthetics have been moving away from the notion that five inches of whitespace is any more or less meaningful than three inches, or fifteen spacebar presses, or twelve carriage returns. I believe more and more that poetry broadly construed is a product of the voice, not the eye.

It is also the case that HTML and CSS deal very, truly poorly with the kind of demands made by complex arrangements. Browser-to-browser treatment of the same code varies wildly once you move beyond the simple. For more on this issue, see John Tranter's remarks on fussy indents. Note that we have functional cross-platform code, affectionally called .whit, to deal with long lines and unlike Jacket are happy to print them.

You are welcome to send hate mail regarding these demands; PDF format preferred. None of these demands applies to solicited work; we will work with you to do the best we can.

This strikes me as lazy / offensive / ignorant on too many levels to fully comprehend at the moment. Initially, my gut reaction was “how can an editor actually reject a poem just because s/he utilizes whitespace, carriage returns, etc in her/his poem?” But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that almost every journal probably does this in some regard. I mean, that’s the whole foundation for the standard rejection that says “thanks for sending these, but they’re not a fit with X Journal.” So while the upfront statement of what the editor finds valueless seems foolish, it’s a standard practice. (Seriously, what’s wrong with poetry looking pleasing to the eye? Isn’t that why most prose poems are justified in their formatting, not left with the ragged right edge? That practice is pretty much standard from my experience.) Or there wouldn’t be the need for so many different journals that cater to different types of poetry.

The problem that continually plagues me is supposedly secondary reason as to why poems that utilize special formatting are rejected: they’re just too darn hard to format! First off, I can probably find twenty or thirty good online journals in an hour that have formatted tremendously difficult poems with top-notch results. So this isn’t an endemic problem in the online poetry journal community. Second, if I were running a poetry journal, I would want to take the necessary steps to ensure that I could publish whatever came my way (let’s limit it to text and standard photos). I would hate to reject a poem from [insert favorite poet here] b/c I wasn’t willing to indent some lines or add a little whitespace here and there.

The special treatment of solicitors didn't really register to me: solicitation is regular part of the po-biz, and it's a rare day indeed when all poets are treated on equal footing. Plus, if I requested work from [name of Mr(s). Universe of Poetry], I'd do everything possible to make their work as snazzy as possible.

I’m sure that I haven’t fully articulated my qualms yet, but basing an acceptance policy on formatting inabilities / inadequacies doesn’t seem like a smart editorial decision. Either reject it because it doesn’t fit your aesthetics or don’t reject it at all.

* * *

Some publications of mine over the summer:

Saint Elizabeth’s Street: 4 poems

elimae: [For you, melanoma is not an option.]

Forthcoming in Prick of the Spindle: [White-gowned seraph, is Paradise rough those double doors,] (I’ll try to remember to link this when it goes live.)

The last two publications feature newly minted poems from Psalms to No One, which is complete with 50 total poems. It needs a good home alongside In Order, A Broken Prayer, which is the remnant of Palsy Aria—I guess P.A. into a chapbook composed mainly of dream sequence poems b/c the collection seems to work better. Palsy Aria, the poem itself, was remade in Psalms to No One.

In a side note, all but about 2 poems were composed w/o the help of online poetry boards. One was posted for a general reaction and another to help w/ a translation issue. We’ll see how this goes. For someone with no formal training in poetry, it’s a big step.

* * *

Welcome back to sobriety and sense, Daya!

* * *

Hmm, I think that’s about it. I’ll try to be regular, but I need to rely on you, the readers, to keep me honest. I can’t speak for B. She’s her own woman.

-j

My Gayest Post Ever

As you all are all aware, the military recently confirmed that it sought to build a "gay bomb." A link with more information:

http://cbs5.com/topstories/local_story_159222541.html

More importantly, however, is the recent Pentagon blueprint of the gay bomb that was recently released to the public:

http://thegaybomb.com/

War will never be the same.

-j

I Got Yer Poetics Right Here!

Describing my poetics is about as easy as describing the taste of purple. Actually, purple is grape to me, so that’s probably not an apt comparison. Before I digress further, the original topic: my poetics.

I feel inclined to discuss poetics through a goal-oriented lens. By writing poetry, I hope to destabilize traditional poetic structure by bringing language, styles, and themes into conflict. While I possess no hermeneutics to accomplish this goal, my underlying principle is to rely on surreal or absurd techniques in order to “jar” (as B would say) the reader. Generally, I’m not attempting Edson-esque surrealism; rather, I prefer a more dream-like scenario where scene shifts are frequent, where characters interact with completely impractical situations. This partially explains why some of my favorite poems are my “Dream Sequence” poems and their related offspring (follow the No Tell Motel link for examples if you like). I’ve found this style demands vigilance from me as it is easy to escape to transition from surreal to silly, but pitfalls akin to this are found in all types of poetry (forced rhymes, reliance on clichés, etc.).

A difficult I’ve always had is trying to find an authentic method to convince the reader to take the poem so literally, which is normal with more “mainstream” poetry where the reader can take the text literally and then derive something greater from the whole. I don’t want this literal, true-as-the-Gospel artifice, though I hope the sentences themselves form some cogent whole that builds on what is generally considered normal or real. (I have a fascination with “the real,” another reasons why I prefer dream sequences and breaking from traditional narrative structure.) I’m experimenting with a thoroughly removed, objective voice to force the reader to consider the text as it is: surreal, absurd, quasi-real, quasi-drug induced fantasy world.

Dealing with the online poetry workshops: this is where I’ve learned about 75% of what I know about poetry (the rest, and it is growing, is simply from reading other poets who I admire). While I’ve generally made a foray back into the online workshop world, I remember why I withdrew quite clearly after one post. All too often, I receive one of two main complaints:

The poem is too removed, emotionless, or, just recently, academic. The last term is loaded beyond all measure, so I usually interpret it as one of the first terms.
“If you are actually referring to this” or “If this is an actual . . .” – in other words, people that have difficulty considering the work from a non-narrative perspective.

(As an aside, it is very tempting to simply dismiss critics b/c, with online workshops, you can review the critic’s own writing and determine a) whether the critic is competent by their own writing or even b) if the critic is working with a similar style or on a similar project. However, as B has taught me, those that do not enjoy a particular style or poetry or even write modern poetry often make wonderful critics. So this type of judgment is something I attempt to avoid.)

For the most part, both complaints boil down to a matter of aesthetics. I’m confident in my ability to craft good verse, and I don’t flagrantly violate the sacred commandments of poetry (thou shall avoid abstractions, thou shall not use the word ebony to describe night) except when it serves my purposes. I can generally catch technical errors, weed out weak sentences, and determine whether or not a poem is even working. Why I like other readers is to determine how well the poem really works: does the surreal scene allow objects to interact in a good manner, does the voice enhance the poem, what do you take away from this poem, etc. Generally, I don’t get this except from B. And I wonder if I will get this in a workshop where the vast majority of posters have difficult accepting “experimental” work – don’t’ get me started on how many times I’ve heard complaints about using the second person in a poem.

I enjoy online workshop communities, though, b/c there is occasionally a good experimental poem or b/c I’ve found many other “normal” poets whose work I enjoy and whose opinion I value. It’s always a conundrum: sacrifice a few hours a week participating for minimal poetic feedback or, otherwise, lose that sense of community that is nice since Huntington has no poetry community worth mentioning.

FWIW, the poetics of my most recent project involves a conversation between an “I” and “you” over a series of (approximately) 25 poems or so. Two main forms used with an emphasis on terse statements and quick observations. I’m regarding the “you” as Nothing or a non-entity, and the two are attempting to discover what they have in common. As referenced earlier, the working title is Psalms to No One and I’d like to turn it into a chapbook. Would someone like to take it out on a date when it's of age?

* * *
I always feel so haughty when talking poetics. I’m always uncomfortable, too, b/c it seems like I’m setting myself apart from all other poets in existence b/c of the online workshops I frequent. That’s simply untrue: almost every journal and poet I read is “experimental” in some form or another. I’m very much aware of the aesthetic sphere I inhibit, so don’t think I’m ignorant of the wide world outside my window. Sometimes I think it’s easier to work with more experimental forms if you have a support group of some sort. I admire many small presses and bloggers who obviously have a tight-nit community. It’s easy to see how well many presses / editors get along: Unpleasant Event Schedule, Octopus, Pilot, H_NGM_N, Forklift, OH, horse less review, and The Canary all get along remarkably well insofar as you’re likely to see any number of familiar faces in each issue, and the editors obviously know each other quite a bit. I’m not envious so much for the publication aspect of things – I’ve been in a couple of those zines and many others that I value just as much as those – as much as the networking advantage, of knowing people who write similarly. I'd rather be published for the quality of my work, not b/c I know the editor. Having work solicited, though, is always fun, though, when you're not in bed with the editor. Couple that isolation with the inevitable rejections from this biz, and I find myself prone to far too many doubts about the worth of my writing.

Sometimes I need to remind myself that I write poetry for ME first and foremost. Publication is secondary.

* * *
Speaking of networking, I get to go schmooze it up with some suits tonight at a business reception. Partners will talk with partners, underlings with underlings. Merriment by all, except I hate networking and business types in general. The last think I want to discuss after work is work, how can I help your business so you can help mine, and other superficial nonsense. I’m an introvert by nature, and though I can open up nicely in the right environments, this isn’t one of them.

* * *

But I’ll always be open to my anonymous blog acolytes.

Be good, y’all.

-j

My Turn

Since B has revealed her identity, it's time for me to do the same:

* * *

A post later on poetics and why I love/hate online poetry forums.

-j

Poet's Challenge.

Write a poem inspired in some way by this:Credited to a J. Forson on the caption of the one I have.

Me, in anime.

In case you were wondering what I looked like... :)




- b

R.I.P, Richard Rorty: philosopher, intellectual, hideously dull read.

Check out a good obit here:

http://www.slate.com/id/2168488/

Somewhere, J. - who does not yet know - is wincing in pain from this knowledge, and thinking he has indigestion.

I, who had to read Contigency, Irony, and Solidarity for a class this winter, am not

But R.I.P anyhoo.

- b -

I weep with recognition.

This article in The Onion is a summation of my entire academic career: past, present, and future. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

The headline is, "Professor Sees Parallels Between Things, Other Things."

Go check it out:

http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/professor_sees_parallels

- b

Isn't that Your Job?

Rarely am I at a loss for words (figuratively speaking). However, since B’s car windshield and a random stone made sweet highway love three weeks ago, trying to find a company who is a) willing to replace her windshield glass, b) has the materials available to do so, and c) is willing to do said activity at an agreed up on price is nigh impossible it seems.

One glass company treated her like a stereotypical woman; needless to say, B was quite upset (re: pissed). The glass technician (let’s give them a high-strung name) said that she would be better off to wait until the glass spidered or at least until next month when her inspection sticker runs out. B insisted that she get it replaced as soon as possible, which was the original plan. The fellow simply restated his position, walked inside, and left B fuming. Glass company two quoted us a price and said they would repair it in our apartment’s driveway. Cool beans, I thought, until they did not call the day of the appointment to confirm when they would arrive. Upon calling them, they claimed that they did not have the adhesive / sealant necessary for the windshield b/c B’s car is new (07 model). If we would run by the dealership and procure the adhesive / sealant, they would be happy to install it. Not that they should be responsible for procuring said product or anything.

Finally, glass company three originally matched the quote of class company two and said they would install B’s windshield tomorrow. However, upon confirming the appointment today, their representative quoted me the original price sans discount (about $60 difference). I stated that I was quote a discounted price; subsequently, I was put on hold for about five minutes only to have the representative state that they could take about $10 off the original price, leaving them $50 higher than my agreed upon quote, and that was as low as they could go. I told them it obviously wasn’t as low as they could go and that I would take my business elsewhere.

Glass company four is scheduled to arrive tomorrow at some point, and they have matched the quote from glass company two. We’ll see what happens. It shouldn’t be this hard to get a windshield installed for a reasonable price.

* * *

As my readership may have surmised, I have finished A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History, which ended on a mixed note. De Landa took more responsibility than most pomo authors by stating that heterogeneity for the sake of heterogeneity is not necessarily the supreme good considering the amount of turbulence caused by radical change. He also provided a nice overview of how the world is becoming increasingly homogenized linguistically, biologically, and culturally. Needless to say, he believes there are many problems with uniformity in these spheres.

My biggest problem, though, was De Landa’s insistence on waving his pomo phallus around by conjuring the Body without Organs (BwO) from Deleuze & Guitarri. Yes, using a phrase like that makes De Landa appear smart, but the currents, matter flows, and intensities he discussed earlier made plenty of sense without the injection of a new phrase accompanied by a painfully abstract vernacular. In some places, it read like a sophomoric attempt to combine geometry with marijuana-inspired philosophy. One of the first lessons I learned in college English was to avoid introducing new material in a paper’s conclusions. While this is a generalization, De Landa’s musings on the BwO were unnecessary and would not have been missed if omitted.

I also managed to start and finish Mao II by Don DeLillo this weekend. Absolutely fabulous fiction, and his observations regarding the voice of terrorism, the human desire for community, and the search for anything to believe in were done masterfully. At first, the book seemed disjunctive at best, but he weaved all the themes – Rev. Moon, terrorism, a reclusive writer’s life, the homeless in NYC, etc. – into one intense, unhappy collage. As much as I love the work of Ian McEwan for pure story telling pleasure, DeLillo succeeds on many deeper levels.

I’m currently reading a book on options trading. I won’t bore you with any reviews.

* * *

I am happy to announce that I’m about ½ way through revising unpublished Palsy Aria poems. My biggest find: how many times I sacrificed a difficult to express observation to mediocre language. Rather than take the time to craft the line(s) appropriately, I hurried through, thinking the idea itself would work on its own. Some of this occurred b/c I fell in love with sentence fragments; others b/c I’m just not a great writer. My other realization is that I often used excessive language b/c it sounded pretty rather than adding anything worthwhile to the text. I’m becoming increasingly comfortable with my voice, the realization that I’ll never craft extremely long, lyric poems. I don’t want to write minimal poems, but I do recognize that I’ll write short, terse, (seemingly) disjointed poems without sacrificing language or structure. I hope that difference is clear. I just don't want to have poetry length envy any more.

Anyways, I hope to finish revising the poems by this weekend and then pass them off to my editor (B). I’d like to give each of the poems another round or two in front of editors before deciding which ones to cut and which ones to include from outside material before putting this together in a somewhat finished format.

* * *

Recent additions to my bookshelf: the newest issues of Lungfull!, The Denver Quarterly, Fence, New Ohio Review, and 580 Split. Recent books include Atonement by Ian McEwan and Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism by Daniel Bell.

I’ve only made it through Lungfull! and Fence once, and I enjoyed both. Lungfull!’s poems are, for the most part, fun and whimsical. Wry, witty observations and observational pieces that provide a sharp moment of insight and a chuckle. I’m on the fence about Fence. None of the poems stick in my mind just yet (not usually a good sign), and the zine contains a hefty fiction presence, which means the poetry better be extra good. Sometimes it takes several read-throughs to fully appreciate some poetry, and I’m hoping that’s what happens here. NOR looks like it has a nice mix of traditional and chance-taking work, and I know 580 Split and The Denver Quarterly will push the boundaries a little, so I’m looking forward to settling down with these new issues, especially as I start concentrating on new writing in the near future.

* * *

B is back tonight after two days with her parents.

Golf Wednesday and a scramble Saturday. I’ve had the snap-hooks and club-throws. Needless to say, the club-throws are a direct result of the snap-hooks.

Until next time,

-j

Top 10 Poetry Quotes

Not all of these quotes are poetry specific, especially mine (which are the second five); rather, some deal with writing in general. Since poetry is all the writing I do, it seemed appropriate. As referenced above, Bs are the first five and mine are the latter five.

Enjoy:

1) The poetry of earth is never dead. - John Keats

2) Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which has been distorted. - Percy Bysshe Shelley

3) All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. - Oscar Wilde

4) I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry; that is, prose = words in their best order, poetry = best words in their best order. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

5) If I read a book and it makes my body so cold that fire could never warm me, I know that is poetry. - Emily Dickinson

6) Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history. - Plato

7) There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing. - John Cage

8) Never resist a sentence you like, in which language takes its own pleasure and in which, after having abused it for so long, you are stupefied by its innocence. - Jean Baudrillard

9) The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise? – Marquis de Sade

10) Words are loaded pistols. – Jean Paul Sartre

Tales from the Bedroom

Good morning everyone,

Any exciting stories over the holiday weekend? I slept most of mine away, which is a tendency I have to get over sometime soon. I look forward to extra time off – I could be doing this rather than working! – when, in realty, my day is just getting started at about the time I’d normally be off work. How slothful does that sound?

* * *

No poetry, and I’m starting to get sad about it. I meant to get an ink cartridge yesterday, but I was sidetracked by another event: our bed sheet ripped (and not from hanky panky. My wife, apparently, sleeps like an ocean of angry waves). So, in trying to remember what thread count and color of sheets to get, I forgot to look at what type of cartridge my vintage printer required. I’m just going to start pulling the poems up and manually rewrite them at this point.

And this whole postage hike thing has soured my feelings toward postage submissions again. 82 cents isn’t a ton of money, but it begins to add up, especially if places require postal notification of poems being accepted elsewhere (as if I have a shot of acceptance in the first place). Maybe just the occasional batch sent out to the old guard of poetry magazines, but there are numerous print mags that I’d love to get into that only take postage subs. Then again, there are increasing amounts that are happy with email subs.

I am thinking that, after I’m finished with Palsy Aria, I’m going to attempt more minimal / bare poems. Not necessarily in length but in terms of language. I’ve found, recently, that I don’t have the story-telling gift, that I can’t fill silence with rhythmic language or neat-o tales. Rather, I’m better turning language inside-out or brewing some weird syllabic concoctions, so that’s the route I want to explore. I’m thinking the title of my next series will be Psalms for No One, but I’m rather ahead of myself.

At some point, I’ll have to discuss my “poetics,” whatever the heck that means. I’ll begin the discussion when I know something definitive.

As an aside, probably half of Palsy Aria’s poems have been accepted, but I’d like to see that around two-thirds or three-fourths. Is that an acceptable number? I’ve seen many name poets have almost every poem of a collection accepted; conversely, I have several titles on my shelf where only a poem or two from the collection were published. I suppose it all depends on the quality of the work and, more importantly, how well the volume works as a whole.

* * *

As predicted, I am just about finished with A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History, and it’s a book that I highly recommend to anyone interested in grand historical narratives. I don’t know if it’s better than Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel. It accomplishes more insofar as it examines world history through a broader disciplinary lens, but that doesn’t make it any “righter.”

The later sections on language have gotten a bit more abstract and have more pomo-isms that previous sections, but De Landa is also doing a fantastic job of grounding his assertions in a manner that brings everything into perspective. This volume has heightened my interest in Deleuze and Guattari’s work, but I want to read DeLillo, De Landa, Vonnegut, and Baudrillard (his first few economic works) more comprehensively before delving into new authors. Plus, I have two thick volumes on options trading and an absolute monstrosity that is Pynchon waiting as well.

A few additional highlights from A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History:

De Landa believes that capitalistic markets are characterized by the appearance of anti-market entities; otherwise, you simply have centralized marketplaces or meshworks of buyers and sellers with still heterogeneous interests. While he gives the reader a myriad of examples to support this notion, he focuses on the evolution of agriculture in the United States throughout the 18th – 20th centuries. For cities to grow, there must be an intensification of agriculture output (i.e. more surplus to feed an ever-burgeoning non-agrarian class). This intensification of agricultural output necessarily shortens the food chain, thus depleting the soil quickly. However, companies began to introduce manufactured fertilizers to regenerate the soil’s nutrients and, hence, allowed for more sustainable, intensive farming. A byproduct of this revolution was that many companies began to biologically engineer strains of crops to require high doses of certain chemicals only found in fertilizers. So, rather than merely working to replenish the soil’s nutrients, manufacturers have inserted themselves into nature, so to speak, and current crops are now dependent on excessive levels of fertilization in order to grow properly. Stated another way, agriculture cannot exist without industry. While agriculture was one of the last frontiers for anti-market forces, during the 19th and 20th centuries, these forces managed to find a way to dominate this market as well.

There’s a detailed, albeit somewhat familiar, discussion on germs and how modern medicine is essentially an arms race between research scientists and germs to see who can adapt the fastest. Interestingly, the reason germs can adapt so quickly is because their molecular structure allows for the transmission of “stuff” between different germs. Therefore, there’s a huge amount of genetic diversity, which accounts for how germs build up resistances to certain medicines and pass these resistances on so quickly. Since society is becoming less and less genetically diverse as the world becomes one homogenous gene pool, the body, plants, animals, and every other organic aspect of society is more and more susceptible to deadly strains of disease. De Landa offers an example of how, in the 1970s, a strain of bacteria almost destroyed an entire year’s worth of U.S. corn production. Crops are especially susceptible b/c industry has specifically engineered them to be increasingly uniform in their genetic composition.

The language discussion gets bogged down in places by linguistic masturbation (think Chomsky and Saussure) and hashing out differences between creoles, pidgins, minor, and standard languages. De Landa traces out an interesting history of the fall of Latin’s prestige, how Old English came into existence, and the rise and fall of French as the language of rationality and clarity. Obviously, colonization had tons to do with the various ebbs and flows of linguistic history. One particular point that caught my eye is that major languages, contrary to the popular belief in their “fixed” status, are the most susceptible to undercurrents from various pidgins, creoles, and minor languages. He references Deleuze’s belief that New York City is a city without a language b/c of all interaction between major and minor language as well as the dialects and “informal” terms. There are two or three specific mentions of “urban English” (think Ebonics) as a valid pidgin that is currently influencing the composition of the English language. (I believe many of the newest words added to the dictionary had distinct urban roots.) There are also discussions of the various colonial linguistic policies utilized by the Old World during their little global escapades into other lands. I won’t bore you with the finite details.

* * *

I did a quick search to ensure that I was spelling Deleuze and Guattari correctly and came upon an essay entitled Deleuze and Air-Guitarri, which is probably the coolest essay title I’ve seen in awhile.

* * *

That’s about all for now. Please, someone encourage me to begin revising and writing new poetry. I need a poetic kick in the pants.

Cheers,

-j

(Ever since B’s evisceration of the poor Amazon reviewer, I’ve been afraid that my posts are littered with typos. I was worried, but I’ll just let the typos stand as testaments to my fallibility.)

How to Start a Killer EBM Band

The post below is pretty funny. I've sanitized it a bit to take out the profanity; otherwise, it's just how I found it. This should be funny for anyone, regardless if you're familiar with the scene or not.

* * *

For all those who dream of a glamorous career in industrial music, look no further. Through use of mighty psychic powers, I have discovered the secrets to achieving unparamounted success in this enthralling scene. At first I was a bit doubtful myself, but after going over this a few times, I am convinced that these will indeed lead you to electrostardom... the creation of an EBM band.

Before our first step, some of you may wonder, "why an ebm BAND? wouldn't I be fine just as a solo artist?" That's total bull****. Who else is going to pretend to play all the synthesizers and fiddle with all the useless knobs on the expensive gear you've been collecting like a rat over the decades? More is better. Enough said.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, the first essential step of creating an EBM band... before the name... before the sound... before the performances... it is absolutely necessary that you create an awesome band logo. Preferably something based off of a simple shape or medical symbol, but given a few spikes to make it look pointy and aggressive. So spiky and harsh that it pokes your eyes out just looking at it. This is an absolute must for aggrotech. Everyone knows an awesome logo can completely change the way people look at their band. Take my recent AIM conversation for example...

-----

Zebu909: Hey man, I just saw Psyclon Nine live last week. They rocked.

Wumpfanboy666: Psyclon Nine sucks. I could make better crap with a children's keyboard and a squealing cat.

Zebu909: Well at least their logo is awesome.

Wumpfanboy666: Well yeah, when you put it that way I guess they are pretty bad***.

----

There you go. Indisputable proof.

Now for the band name. Everyone knows that German is the international language of evil, so it's a pretty good idea to stick with that, regardless of what your songs end up like. Doch du kannst nicht Deutsch verstehen? No problem? Basically think of something that sounds demonic, militaristic, or medical and make the consonants harder. If it still doesn't sound german enough (or if nobody's accusing you of being a nazi yet), slap "Die" or "Das" in front. Here's a few examples to get you started.

Kommandeath

Dissekt

Die Blutschlag

Deathsturm

Das Menschenkill

Notice how most of them start with "D". This is a very sinister letter, and is associated with sinister things, such as Death, Darkness, Destruction, and David Hasslehoff.

Next step- stage costumes! Buy a bunch of goggles, face respirators, jackboots, and combat vests, and you're set to go! While not a requirement, dyed spiked hair and mohawks are a plus.

Now for gear- Even though you can make most sounds with a few good synths, electronic bands are judged by how many pounds of hardware they have. The longer your gear list is, the better, and the more other bands will revere you.

By now you're almost all set for your first performance. You've got the look, the gear, the logo, and the name. Even though you haven't made anything yet, hordes of rivetheads and ugly goth groupies will send you friend requests on myspace, raving about how hot you look in face paint and posting webcam pics of them writing your band name on their boobs.

But alas, one final, grudging step remains- actually making music. But not to despair! This can be easily solved with minimum effort. Take a simple trance kick. Now clip the [heck] out of it until it's harder than Michael Jackson at a playground, and loop it over and over again. Add some hats and a repetitive offbeat bassline, and some flanged saws playing random disharmonic notes. Add a break or two in for good measure, and finally top it off with sampling recorded from horror, war, and scifi movies, preferably "Hellraiser" and "Full Metal Jacket". If the sample is good enough (usually if it contains references to death and killing) you can get away with playing it for half of the song, greatly reducing the amount of effort needed for the following part- vocals.

We all know you can't sing. Just scream into a microphone and mess it up. If you can still understand the words you're saying, you're probably not distorting it enough.

Although it really doesn't matter what you're saying, lyrical topics should be limited to the following subjects-

Death

Genocide

Suicide

Persecution

Death

Antireligion

War

Tyranny

Death

Write, record, and repeat until you have a full album. If all your songs sound the same, change a few lead notes and use different samples. Nobody will tell the difference.

You've done it! Now that you've made a surefire hit album, quit your dayjob- you're going to spend the rest of your life touring the world and banging groupies.

When you finally get a Side-Line review, it will probably start with "this band doesn't sound much different from other harsh ebm acts", but will continue on to extol your genius and originality.

Congratulations!

* * *

De Landa's book is progressing pretty nicely; hopefully over this three day weekend, I can finish most of it. His current focus is on disease and the food network of cities (he uses scientific metaphors to discuss his points throughout, and I believe he uses molecular biology in this current section, but don't quote me on that). While the idea that Europeans achieved a significant advantage due to their unique and extensive immunities (and proof where they failed to settle/conquer/colonize due to disease), he has brought a rather unique perspective to examining cities. Rather than viewing city as hubs of activity and centers of creation, he contends that cities leech off the countryside in terms of resources and population. For example, he states that, throughout much of its history, London required approximately 5,000 immigrants a year in order to sustain its population b/c urban areas practiced forms of birth control earlier than generally acknowledged and that infant mortality rates were extremely high until well into the 19th century. As a result, it is important to view cities as meshworks of their surroundings rather than as stand alone entities. Cities needed crops from the countryside, resources being mined outside city walls, and a fresh labor supply. As opposed to cities today, which are relatively self-sustaining and can receive food supplies from virtually anywhere in the world, cities until the 19th century were directly intertwined with their surroundings. There are some other interesting tidbits about city walls and the evolution of war machines, but it's a relatively small portion of what he's discussed thus far.

It's pretty good reading, and I'll be interesting to see how this section and the final one turns out. Although this book attempts to position itself in contrast to Diamond's acclaimed text, it retains a heavy reliance on science. The difference is in the application: for Diamond, our surroundings played the most important role in how our societies evolved; for De Landa, the interaction between humans and the environment were, and continue to remain, impossible to predict, so it's ludicrous to claim that there's one main driver for development. In the end, though, both maintain that European dominance is almost entirely reliant upon fortunate historical circumstances and outcomes, with Diamond eliminating almost all human agency and De Landa fighting to make it part of the puzzle.

* * *

B is working all weekend on papers. We're going to eat Mexican tonight and possibly Italian tomorrow with my parents. I'll probably make it to the driving range one night this weekend, read quite a bit, and maybe, just maybe, open a book of poetry.

* * *

Peace,

-j

I cringe at the overwhelming stupid.

I am reading a novella (MY FINAL FOR THE YEAR, OH HAPPY DAY, OH HAPPY, HAPPY DAY) called Angels and Insects by A.S. Byatt. More specifically, I'm reading the assigned second half of the novel, a modern take on Victorian seances called "The Conjugial Angel."

Your trivia for the day follows thusly: "conjugial angel" was originally coined by the Christian mystic/philosopher Immanuel Swedenborg (yes, you may know him through Blake, who revered him). The term refers to the Swedenborgian conception that angels in Heaven's innermost sanctum were composed of a conjoined man and woman - so the angel, then, was the ultimately liminality of male/female, ultimate androgyne/asexual/ultrasexual... You get the point. This stuff interests the heck out of me.

Anyway. The story itself deals with a Victorian seance - Mrs. Papagay has lost her husband at sea and wants to call him back to say hey, so to speak. She's accompanied in her seancing (if seance can't be a verb, I just made it one) by a girl named Emily. Now, most people don't give a flip who Emily is, but it becomes a masturbatory frenzy for literature scholars when you realize that the Emily in "The Conjugial Angel" is, in fact, the Emily who was engaged to Arthur Hallam, Alfred Lord Tennyson's best friend who is memorialized for eternity in Tennyson's "In Memorian." Emily's involved in the seance because well, after Arthur kicked off (and she received a pension from Arthur's father who assumed she would never marry again because of her broken heart) she not only married, but kept the pension, too. The lost loves of these women, and the attempt to get them back, compose the crux of "The Conjugial Angel."

Now I said all that to say this. I was poking around online for articles and etc. about this book so I could get a handle on the criticism, and came across one of those good old Amazon book reviews. Although Angels and Insects was received well, "The Conjugial Angel" takes a lot of hits for being too obtuse - or, as my friend Dave put it, "a literary wank for literary wankers." Be that as it may, this was from one of the reviews I read:

"I don't understand why literature people feel so high and mighty all the time, or why authors get off on appealing to only a small elitist crowd who will understand the rest of what's really going on. The language in this book is overdone and Victorianish, and the author's way of saying "hey, I'm only for a few people, the rest of you are to stupid to read this. Well, let me tell you what, I'm a smart person and I was not intimated by this book."

I have to agree. She may not have been intimated by the book. I can honestly say that I have never been intimated by a book. But if you're going to rail against the established literati, and you don't want to be dismissed in a storm of contemptuous mockery and spiteful laughter, then proofread what you write.

I'm just saying.

And yes, I've made typos in my blog before. But in my blog I'm not in the middle of giving the metaphorical middle finger to an established group of people, I'm not trying to make myself look as smart as everyone else, and I'm not spewing embarrassingly ridiculous vitriol.

Proofread always, especially when you're ripping on something. Words to live by, kiddies.

- b.

T-Shirts for Everyone

For B:



For Daya:

For me (though I admit the previous shirt is probably the best):

* * *

I'm pretty confident that my family, B's family, or our church could ever see our blog, if only for our sense of humor and political beliefs. Anyway, I'm convinced that Jesus would either run as an Independent. He would absolutely own the televised debates, too, since He can smite at will.

Sorry, slow work day.

And sorry for poaching almost everything off Tshirthell.com.

Much love,

-j

If You Like History, You'll Like This Post

Kurt Vonnegut, having only read his book of interviews and essays, has already endeared himself to me through his candor, his bitter realism (as opposed to pessimism), and that dim strain of idealism that bursts through momentarily – generally right before some blackly humorous remark. He doesn’t pretend to know all of the answers, but, much like Camus, he has a passion for humanity and is deeply distressed at where we have taken ourselves. His mixture of humanism, realism, and a spiritual sort of hope allows the reader to immediately form an opinion of not only him, but also of the subject at hand without worrying too drastically about any inherent biases in his perspective.* His responsible atheism / agnosticism / Unitarianism is a refreshing change from folks like Dawkins who seem content on insult over intelligence. As I wind my way through a stack of next-to-reads, I’ll make sure to order Vonnegut’s acclaimed novels so that I have motivation to keep turning pages.

* Two things: in one essay, Vonnegut describes himself as a Unitarian (“Unitarians don’t believe in anything. I’m a Unitarian” was, to paraphrase, the wording he employed) and as an atheist in his wonderful Playboy interview. And, before my beloved or anyone else makes a comment about bias, I’m sure Vonnegut has his. I am just saying he’s good at presenting even the worst offenders honestly, such as when he discusses the rise and fall of Biafra (which, btw, is a simultaneously heart-warming and heart-breaking essay).

* * *

Rediscovering my history roots, I’ve started into Manuel De Landa’s A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History, which is proving to be a fabulous read already. Although I’m not sure why I enjoy these types of grand narratives, they are always fascinating in part to their attempts to synthesize so many diverse disciplines into one cogent story. Yes, this goes against my pomo foundation, but De Landa avoids most Enlightenment-related problems through a series of disclaimers and by utilizing a neo-Deleuzian methodology to escape problems of totality. Some of the pomo-and-science-speak gets cumbersome after awhile, not b/c the terms themselves are necessarily difficult to understand, but b/c the combination of geological and biological metaphors used in conjunction with this terminology – which is often used in pomo way, that is, the words do not retain their ordinary meaning – keeps the reader alert as to context and duplicitous meaning.

I’m only about ¼ of the way into the volume, but his descriptions of meshworks and hierarchies have, thus far, been illuminating. The idea that some cities developing in Europe had nation-state or city-state structures while others, generally coastal cities, allowed for a diffusion of ideas enables De Landa’s historical theories to retain a dynamism that escapes other works in this field. Similarly, his underlying beliefs that “changes” in European society do not necessarily represent progress (think getting better in some capacity) as far as simply change or, to use his terminology, “phase shifts.” To De Landa, phase shifts are random bifurcations when auto-catalysis occurs between two variables.

To understand auto-catalysis, consider the following: in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, as population booms allows cities to blossom in Central Europe and, even more so, along the Mediterranean coast, economics began to develop as well. Initially, currency was utilized by governments (used loosely – could mean lords as well) as a means to enhance tax collection. However, as economies began to grow, the need for a more centralized agency to bring together buyers and sellers emerged. As a result of growing cities, which brought together these buyers and sellers, along with the use of currency, an early version of the modern market economy was born. De Landa would call this auto-catalysis, and he would label currency as an intercalary element necessary to bring the heterogeneous buyers and sellers together.

The results of auto-catalysis are not known in advance, so, according to De Landa, exploring human history as predictable progressions is fallacious. China could have as easy developed a capitalistic (re: market structure), but it did not occur because China’s inputs into the auto-catalytic equation did not produce the system for various reasons (one being that China turned inward during its most prosperous periods, even moving its capital inland, thus exterminating the flow of fresh ideas that came from its former coastal capital). Europe had several similar advantages, including constant interaction between populations, city-states, etc. Energy / dynamism is a central theme in De Landa’s hypothesis, and it is his contention that as more energy created and transmitted throughout an area, whether by population, laws, or institutions, the more dynamic and prosperous the area has a chance to become. Yes, the area is still subject to bifurcations and the random results of auto-catalytic processes, but the potential is there.

Cognizant that De Landa is still performing a type of grand narrative function, I believe the room for dynamic interaction and a relatively innocent version of chaos allows it to avoid many of the trappings of its modernist counterparts, including the Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel, which is a very persuasive book in its own right (but mistakenly minimizes human agency to the point it is relatively non-existent). I agree with De Landa’s (and Diamond’s) assertion that Europeans were not favored a priori over others b/c of racial superiority or other similar reason. Rather, geography, biology, and interaction with other cultures, combined with a healthy dose of luck, played central roles. De Landa asserts that the interaction between these variables was, ultimately, random, though, borrowing from Diamond’s research, the presence of certain variables (for example, domesticable plants and animals) certainly skewed the results at times.

More later.

* * *

My latest reason for not writing new poetry: I need an ink cartridge, and I’m too lazy and/or cheap to get one at the moment. With so many books to read, it’s been a pretty good excuse. But the siren song of a half-dozen unread poetry journals will soon be too much to withstand. I’m not sure if I’m avoiding revisiting Palsy Aria work or if I’m unsure where I wish to go next. Probably some combination of both. I’m horrible with promises I make to myself.

Best to everyone,

-j

Avert Thine Eyes if a Sensitive Democrat

I’ve started Vonnegut’s essay collection Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons, which, for better or worse, is my introduction to Vonnegut. My impression thus far: he’s unwaveringly sincere. I haven’t read enough to judge whether he’s pessimistic or realistic, but his tone and opinionated style will definitely keep me engaged.

His comments on science fiction are priceless – the genre that is every editor’s urinal, where most writers (as in every genre) produce crap, and where the readership accepts subpar writing for the sporadic brilliant moment. (The same goes with discovering authors.) But, like an Inuyasha or any other anime hero that is constantly bloodied, the authors keep writing despite the stigma associated with the genre. And he admires sci-fi writers for that.

Also, according to Vonnegut, if you reference technology in any capacity, you write sci-fi. Since I used a gramophone in one of my poems, I now deem myself the worst sci-fi poet ever. I now leave vacated the position of worst poet in general.

* * *

Minima Moralia, to its credit, did have some incisive observations on the female struggle – i.e. leaving one male dominated environment (the household) to another (the working world). He didn’t offer any particular clues as to how women can rescue themselves from this quandary other than, much like Derrida, “play” would seem to be important. I realize this isn’t revelatory, but for someone who reads virtually no fem theory (women in groups of one or more still scare me), I enjoyed the consideration.

His eerily accurate comments that positive amounts of freedom are directly correlated with the foundations of Fascism should be reproduced and stapled to telephone poles. I don’t necessarily believe that America’s fascist by any stretch of the imagination, but it seems like the government is increasingly keeping tabs on our freedom, which I believe is Adorno’s point. And, of course, fascist tendencies will inevitably have to evolve to fit the day and age.

His extended discussion of occultism seemed misplaced and poorly disguised. His aversion to the supernatural – whether as a mainstream religion or as niche voodoo god – was already clear, and the philosophical posturing exhibited was exactly what soured me on much of his writing. He couldn’t find a comfort zone between expressing himself in commonspeak (Camus) or philospeak (pomo); perhaps, more to the point, he couldn’t adapt his writing for the circumstance. Unlike Adornoa, Nietzsche was able to eschew pretence when required, but he could also get his hands dirty in the technical aspects of philosophy when necessary, and Adorno’s writing seems mired in limbo.

* * *

I’ve returned to Unreal Tournament 2004 recently, which is still a wonderful multiplayer game despite what its age may indicate, especially for those of us whose computer isn’t top-notch anymore. If anyone would like fragged online, you should email me.

* * *

The following pictures in no way indicate my position on Mr. Obama, Mrs. Clinton, or any other political candidate. The only candidate I find remotely interesting is Ron Paul, and he’d probably fail b/c no one from either party would work too closely with him. After all, who wants their supply of pork reduced? Certainly no one from my fair state of West-by-God-Virginia, where Mr. Robert Byrd, a.k.a. “Big Daddy,” has made a political career off of siphoning government money to the state in exchange for having his name on roads, college buildings, and probably some orifice of my body if I look closely enough.

Regardless, I hope you’re open minded and party dis-affiliated enough to get a laugh from these. I know Daya will be fine as long as I don't desecrate his savior, Al "I'm Riding Global Warming to the White House" Gore.

If this didn't make your day brighter, you're a Communist (or way-too sensitive of a Democrat).

I love you all.

-j

If we’re stealing lines from Reno 911!, I must admit that I have an Oreo shaped hole in my heart at the moment. I remember bringing her home for the first time, a small ball of fur that easily fit into my palm, hissing the whole time. All paws and claws as they say. She did grow up to be planetary in size with a purr-box to match. Poop. B’s tribute is much more fitting, so read hers again. I just didn’t want to seem disingenuous by not addressing the event – I am a softy with most animals.

* * *

Last night, OTOH, I was terribly disingenuous at Buffalo Wild Wings, wherein I ordered a dozen “hot” wings for dinner. I made it through about eight before I finally admitted to B that my mouth was on fire. Yes, a total man moment, and I guarantee you that if I had been around several guy friends, I would have ate those dozen without a word.

Fittingly, the first thing I did when we arrived home was take a swig of Pepto. And another before bed. If I could buy stock in Pepto – just the delicious, chalky, pink drink – I would in a heartbeat. B and I tend to go through it.

* * *

I’ll finish Adorno’s Minima Moralia this weekend (I know, a reading speed record), but I’ve pretty much formed my opinions about the volume. I can do this since the volume’s style and content is pretty consistent. I was expecting something pretty brilliant, especially since it received top marks from B’s theory professor; however, I’m less than impressed, but I’m unsure if my reasons are valid.

First off, the book was written in the 1940’s. For most philosophical texts, this is an almost infinitesimal amount of time; however, when dealing with Marxism and aesthetics, the book is showing its age dramatically. The observations regarding societal trends have already come to full fruition, hence dulling Adorno’s barbs. While the undertone of his writing is critical of capitalism, he doesn’t do the best job at expressing his Marxist perspectives. Since we’re on the topic of aesthetics, his particular writing style seems to account for some of these problems: page after page of block paragraphs were all sorts of diverse topical matter mate and leave their spawn. So often, the material seems noticeably underdeveloped, and his closing summary remarks in each section concisely sum up the main points so well that one wonders why he took so long in getting to the end.

My other main quibble is his philosophy through example method. Sure, the numerous references to obscure works and authors is interesting and could prove fruitful in the future for reading material, but the underlying logic of his arguments necessarily suffers. Page after page of dry logical philosophy isn’t fun, but page after page of philosophy through example, while easy to read, doesn’t do much depth-wise for me. Nietzsche, whom Adorno frequently references, was much better at this type of balance. There’s something systematic about Nietzsche that just doesn’t manifest in Adorno.

Why am I so hesitant in simply stating that Minima Moralia is crap? As alluded to above, the topic matter lends itself to becoming outdated very quickly. Our hypercapitalist society has already proven his points over and over, and there’s no fun in reading a volume that’s self-evident from the start. He alludes to the “society of the spectacle” and the problems of mass culture throughout, but anyone who has read pomo work or took a moment to consider the implications of the media recognize the underpinnings of such thought. Considering these factors, I’m willing to cut the book some slack.

Another consideration is that, perhaps, the book can be read as almost prophetic. His societal observations were most certainly cutting-edge at the time, and many of his predictions have become commonplace. Undoubtedly, there’s much worth in being ahead of one’s time.

So, considering these factors and my erroneous expectations, I’m willing to say that, while Minima Moralia isn’t my favorite book, many of the reasons it fails may actually be strengths of Adorno himself. And b/c I’ve read many thinkers who have based their writing on the Frankfurt School and Adorno himself.

* * *

I think Kurt Vonnegut is next.

* * *

I just ordered two books on options trading since I only have a superficial knowledge of these financial instruments. I understanding buying / selling puts and calls, but I’m not strong on much else. I also ordered System Syn and FGFC820’s new albums. I’ll be buying Grendel’s newest when it hits in June.

* * *

My wit won’t come out today. I apologize for the dull post. For your pleasure (click for a larger view):

The wings returneth, and so shall I with time.

-j

Oreo - and two particularly revelant comic strips for your visual pleasure.

If I may indulge myself for a moment, a Keats poem - about cats:
Cat! Who hast past thy Grand Climacteric, How many mice and Rats hast in thy days Destroy'd - how many tit bits stolen? Gaze With those bright languid segments green and prick Those velvet ears - but pr'ythee do not stick Thy latent talons in me - and upraise Thy gentle mew - and tell me all thy frays Of Fish and Mice, and Rats and tender chick. Nay look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists - For all the wheezy Asthma, -and for all Thy tail's tip is nicked off - and though the fists Of many a maid have given thee many a maul, Still is that fur as soft as when the lists In youth thou enter'dst on glass- bottled wall.

Granted, this poem does not go into the Keatsian canon as one of the greatest of all time and is in fact an epistolary poem, not meant for general consumption. That said, I chose it because the cat in this poem is the perfect example of the rough-n-tumble, scrappy, lovable, mysterious, capricious, creature I'm spending a moment on: Oreo.

She was J's cat for ten or eleven years, and since we have married had spent her time lazing with my in-laws. She was black ("black like a thousand midnights black," if we must have a Reno moment) and - well, not sleek, but more to love, right? She had a purr like a subwoofer, claws that kneaded everything within range, and preferred to sleep propped up against one of her peoples. She was omnipresent in the bathroom for showers, toothbrushing, and anything that involved the bathroom heater being on. (One time, I mistook her for a doorstop, and accidentally opened the door into her several times before realizing. She never complained).

Sadly, Oreo passed away today. And I wanted to take a moment and honor her on the blog as a great example of catness, and as one more reminder that a) a lot of the times animals are better than most people, and b) sometimes I think they exist to teach us the compassion, humor, and mercy we might not learn otherwise.

You were awesome, Oreo. May the Great Kitty Beyond be full of many bathroom heaters, concrete floors to roll on, and all the treats you can handle.

* * * * *

Now, on a lighter note, here is a comic strip I have discovered of late called Piled Higher and Deeper - a strip that chronicles the life of Ph.D. candidates and grad students as they claw their way to their degree. I present two for your perusal, as they represent, with no exaggeration, two experiences I have actually had:

The above strip is not even a joke. Seriously. I have vivid memories of waiting literally for hours outside office doors for one stupid signature.


The comic above is a brief summation of my entire thesis experience.


And you know what? I have more to say about school, and academics, and the Pre-Raphaelites and incest, but I'll save it for now.

Bye, kiddies.

Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen.

Last night was my final MBA class. Our group received our Biofuel paper back from the professor, and, on the fine document, he wrote that he would personally look for a national conference in which the paper would fit b/c he said it was that good. It’s been awhile since I’ve had my academic ego inflated even a tad bit, so that was a nice gesture. Granted, it was a group project, so I can’t take all the credit as one individual in particular provided exceptionally useful information (he works in the oil industry).

And I turned in my take home exam for HRM. My last duty as a grad student: sell back my Legal Environment book for $20. Why not the HRM book? I purchased a paperback international version (that shouldn’t be sold in the U.S.) for cheap online. Save now or save later.

* * *

While still not finalized, I believe I’m taking this upcoming Monday off and heading to Athens w/ B. I can play a round of golf (or two) and meet some of her friends for dinner. The flexibility of my job is gratifying: so long as I have my work done, my boss is generally okay with letting me off; of course, it helps he’s a fellow golfer and takes off frequently.

* * *

Creeping closer and closer to revision weekend. I’ll wear a bib in case I vomit over my old drafts.

* * *

According to Forklift, OH, I’m Jason S. Fraley. That darn S. just moves around wherever it pleases. Whore of a letter, I say. Still immensely pleased to be in the journal.

* * *

I still have that $75 Amazon gift certificate I mentioned awhile back. Since I have quite a backlog of reading, I’m leaning toward buying a handful of CDs. Somewhere, B and her iPod are convulsing.

* * *

I read why our president says. I weep. I see all the ’08 candidates. I weep.

Anyone care to start a local revolution?

-j

I Can Read

I’m very pleased with myself: I started reading a book I started over Spring Break. I forget the exact title, but it involves some combination Marx, economic papers of 1844, and the Communist Manifesto (which I’ve read several times). The economic papers are interesting, and my objective is to read these papers, the Manifesto again, and then start into Baudrillard’s early economic writing, the books before he acid tripped his way into another dimension. I plan to sneak in some novels as well just to ease the dry reading. And I need to finish Minima Moralia, too, as I cannot generally start new books without finishing any outstanding projects.

One thing I have noticed about Marx’s economic papers is how much things have changed. The chapter on renting and landlords, while correct at its very base, is just completely non-applicable. True, maybe just updating the lexicon would help tremendously, but the examples / support he uses makes me furrow my brow (which, as B would note, is not necessarily an uncommon occurrence). That’s why I like Baudrillard’s early stuff – he applies Marx in a very pomo way that, imo, is a must in post-industrial societies.

* * *

The above reading schedule can only occur if B retrieves my copy of Simulation and Simulacra from Marshall. She has refused to do so thus far. Everyone join in a chorus of holding her responsible for my general level of stupidity.

* * *

Finished second in the golf scramble. Won some money. Enough to pay for the next scramble.

* * *

I’ve never had more trouble finishing a take-home test in my life. I had to turn down a round of golf with a friend tonight b/c I need to finish that test and take care of a few things around the house. How lame is that?

* * *

At least for another eight months or so, tax hours have been cast into hell once more.

* * *

Kinda dry today, gang. Hopefully, with a little stimulation, I’ll be moist with the honey of wit and wisdom soon. Feel free to help.

-j

First thing I want to do is congratulate Daya on his recent good news. He knows what I mean. My gifts to him:

"Memories of Paradise"

And, of course, some Pez:

I can hear the profanity from here. And I didn't even mess up the homonyms.


* * *

I apologize for the lack of entries this week. My boss has been out of the office the entire week, so I’ve been forced to keep things afloat by myself. Of course I’ve succeeded, but that means I have less time to piddle.

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Yes, piddle makes me sound like I’m 80. That’s okay b/c I am at heart (and hairline).

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One more MBA class, and I’m through with my formal business education forever. Yes, there will be certifications more than likely, but the only inane professor I’ll have to deal with will be myself. And even though I loathe myself some days, I loathe myself much less than others. That’s called self-esteem.

B & I are going to my parents this weekend. I’m playing in a golf scramble, and we’re celebrating the above MBA graduation. No, I’m not walking in the ceremony. Rather than having a separate graduation ceremony for all Masters students the day before the main graduation ceremony like last year, they’re having Masters students walk with their undergraduate counterparts according to school on the main graduation day. I can’t begin to describe how stupid and even insulting this is for Masters students who deserve a little recognition of their own. But, as luck would have it, I am scheduled to golf that day as well.

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I’ve just about received all open submissions back to me in one form or another. So I declare next weekend (after the golf scramble) Great Revisionist Weekend. I’ll rewrite some history while I’m at it – just like an English major.

Thank you for dropping by, patriots.

-j

I Hate the Blogger Font Size Button b/c It Never Works

By definition, small and medium cannot be the same size. Otherwise, all bras would be labeled "bra" instead of [insert letter of the alphabet that most fulfills your fantasy]. If a bra's contents do not excite you, my apologies. I'm two posts away from blogger jihad.

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Originally, this little nectar grove of cyberspace was supposed to have more of a literary bent, and I’m determined to follow through on that mission. Unfortunately, I cannot blame the deviation on anything noteworthy: just classes and associated projects. Longer tax season hours, two nights of classes a week, and two-three additional nights of homework / reading, made me treasure whatever free moments I could spare. Which means mindless entertainment like basketball or computer gaming. While warmer weather will certainly encourage more golf outings, that’s a tad more relaxing than career-enhancing (seriously) than HRM. So after the upcoming weekend, expect to see more blog posts related to literature, poetry, and theoretical crap that only dorks like myself, B, and Daya can appreciate.

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I do have one poetry related question though: Why is Mark Irwin so popular? For his popularity, his work seems to be missing that essential ingredient that makes me take notice. I’m not crying generic, and he is definitely a talented poet, but his poems just seem unremarkable.

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If you like good music, you owe it to yourself to check out the following bands (I provided myspace accounts for your listening pleasure where I could):

FGFC820
And One
Panzer AG
Derma-Tek

Don't tell me you're going to listen. Go listen, and then tell me how sorry you are for not listening sooner. And then shower me with accolades.

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I desperately miss being in an active intellectual / literary community. Most of Marshall is akin to a post-apocalyptic wasteland of Abercrombie & Fitch zombies, though the English department seemed to be a dim bastion of promise. (Says quite a bit about my MBA, I know.) I’m very envious of B in that regard as I miss the classroom catfights / discussions and just having the sense that I wasn’t the only well-read individual in a 100 mile radius. Wait, that can’t be true with Wal-Mart’s cornucopia of books . . . Heck, OU even has a golf course on campus.

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Hippiecore slut was the best term I’ve heard since Nintendocore (Horse the Band).

-j

Stupid Hippies

Happy Earth Day!

Today, retarded hippies around the globe can celebrate all their brainless and uneconomical ideas to end world pollution. Related to this, one of B’s classmates, who Daya said should have been miscarried, sent around an email / petition stating that all coal mining should be halted. Granted, if we lived in a Utopia, we could all use our smiley face solar panels to capture the sun’s energy and power our Candyland-esque society. But this, sadly, is not the case. As soon as someone can explain to me we’ll replace all the jobs and energy created by the coal industry, I’ll listen. Because, unfortunately, even if we farm the entirety of North America, we’ll only meet 12% of our gasoline demand and 6% of our diesel demand. Hmmm, now hippies may not mind going without cars or other vital industries, but I’m partial to them (and bathing). And considering ethanol is questionably better pollution wise than fossil fuels – and this is REALLY questionable when considering clean coal – I just don’t buy the arguments of stupid hippies (and the Democrats who fall into that camp. As much as I like you, Mr. Gore, you’re wrong on quite a bit, not because you’re paid to be or anything).

Now, I’m not some cold-hearted capitalist – everyone who reads this blog should know better – but I don’t believe in wasting billions of dollars in subsidies on biofuels that won’t make a dent in our energy needs, can’t be competitive on their own, and/or don’t reduce GHG emissions by any great measure. Yes, the government has a moral obligation to support biofuels because of their potential environmental benefits as well as their ability to replace exhaustible resources, but ethanol and biodiesel probably aren’t the answers. Yes, there are biofuels under development that are far superior to ethanol and biodiesel, but don’t tell the farm lobby.

Geeze, look at what these Earth Day hippies cause me to write. And no apologies if you’re a hippie.

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Acceptance from The Akros Review came in my inbox. Yay!

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For the first weekend in awhile, most of my efforts will be going toward relaxation. I haven’t written a poem in almost two months, but I’m still holding out until all of my schoolwork is officially done. Probably sometime next week.

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Not much else at the moment. More insight, wit, and overall genius later.

-j