“If you’re really listening, if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold ever-more wonders.”—Andrew Harvey, The Return of the Mother (via emotional-algebra)
Anyway, I think we should be a bit wary of labelling certain techniques ‘experimental’ as if it’s just a set of tools one picks up to lend whatever you’re writing a trace of hipster cool… it’s like those superstores of ‘alternative’ hipster taste; American Outfitters and so on… I hate that idea. Everything I do is an attempt to get close to the real, as I experience it, and the closer you get to the reality of experience the more bizarre it SHOULD look on the page and sound in the mouth because our real experience doesn’t come packaged in a neat three act structure.
“I beg you… to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”—
“Poetry turns all things to loveliness: it exalts the beauty of that which is most beautiful, and it adds beauty to that which is most deformed; it marries exultation and horror, grief and pleasure, eternity and change; it subdues to union… all irreconcilable things.”—Percy Bysshe Shelley (A Defense of Poetry, 1821)
“…and not till we are completely lost, or turned round—for a man needs only to be turned round once with his eyes shut in this world to be lost—do we appreciate the vastness and strangeness of Nature. Every man has to learn the points of compass again as often as he awakes, whether from sleep or any abstraction. Not till we are lost, in other words, not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are and the infinite extent of our relations.”—Henry David Thoreau, Walden: or, Life in the Woods (via etonnement)
Yet another article about academia and adjuncting and poverty wages. I am sooooooo fucking sick of all this. What all adjuncts (including myself, now that I will be one in the fall) need to do is form some sort of national union, threaten a strike and start negotiations over the summer, and if they don’t give in by fall, go on a fucking strike. Can you imagine 67% of University faculty going on strike? It’ll be on the national news. Of course, things are easier said than done. I know.
What is material is that the status of adjunct workers in the US, is indicative of labor and wage issues across labor in the US. What comes to mind, immediately are the service sector (retail, nursing, restaurants and in some ways law and business). Our country is at a serious crossroads, and we ALL have some serious decisions to make.
Much to consider. I feel for my creative colleagues who have chosen career paths in academia. I think about myself and future decisions and have to pause. Just thinking of their prospects, too often while in massive debt, breaks my heart.
“Writers don’t write from experience, though many are resistant to admit that they don’t. I want to be clear about this. If you wrote from experience, you’d get maybe one book, maybe three poems. Writers write from empathy.”—Nikki Giovanni (via amandaonwriting)
“Gen Y – those born between 1979 and 1989 – spent the most money on books in 2011, knocking the longtime book-buying leaders, baby boomers, from the top spot, according to the 2012 U.S. Book Consumer Demographics and Buying Behaviors Annual Review.”—
The second moment, also belonging to the 1980s, is that of Detroit Techno. This innovative music form is, I would argue, one of the most fascinating and most aesthetically successful instances of cybernetic accelerationism. Deliberately couched as a post-industrial Afro-futurism, it aimed to ‘erase the traces’ (Brecht) of the Fordist sound of Motown and to mimic the new robot production-lines that had displaced the remains of ‘variable capital’ (i.e. humans) for ‘constant capital’ (i.e. machines) at Ford. In this way it traced the mutating social space of Detroit – from the ‘white flight’ following the 1967 insurrection, the de-industrialisation that followed, and its own position in the suburban site of Belleville High, where Derrick May, Juan Atkins, and Kevin Saunderson met. Mixing European influences (Kraftwerk, New Order, Depeche Mode, etc.) with the Detroit funk of Parliament / Funkadelic, the result was a singular form that defied the studied reflexes of postmodern collage for an integrated acceleration.
The axes of Detroit Techno were an increase in speed (in bpm) from the previous forms of disco and House and a stripping-out of the humanist residues that often dominated those forms – not least the voice. The singularity of its aesthetic invention lay in this welcoming of the ‘mechanisation’, or better ‘computerisation’, of the aesthetic (which had obviously been prefigured by Kraftwerk’s Man-Machine and Computer World). The apotheosis of the form, at least as I regard it, is the work ‘It is what it is’ (1988), by Rhythim is Rhythim (aka Derrick May). This was, as one semi- ironic description went at the time, ‘dance music with bleeps’. Retaining funk, the insistence of Detroit Techno had the utopian, if not kitsch, elements of sci-fi futurism coupled to the dystopian fragmentation of the city-space (‘Night Drive Thru Babylon’, as the track by Model 500 had it). Again, the equivocations lay in a sense of abandonment: an escape to the future, escape from labour, or the loss of labour and the collapse of the future into permanent unemployment?
“What is death, Phoenix? What world lies beyond it?
Why do you like to die, to shun mankind,
To leave the hills and the trees,
The sky, the afternoon and the forenoon
To leave the moon,
To abandon Life, O Phoenix, to abandon
The clarity of its beauty
And love what is beyond it?
What do you think is beyond it?”—Adonis, Resurrection and Ashes (via gazawia)