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honeyleesblog · 1 year
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Astrological Outlook and Personality Analysis for Individuals with a June 3rd Birthday
Smart, chatty, exuberant and with a unique capacity for movement and change of climate, with a specific propensity to the roaming life. Imperious, anxious, dynamic, fiery individuals - they show conciliatory abilities and can capably track down their lifestyle. They frequently show a specific familial person, despite the fact that they are typically enthusiastically forfeited for other people. They can be impassive, chilly, unconventional. The best calling for individuals brought into the world on this day is connected with scholarly work, the press, news-casting, instructing or travel. They likewise show surprising expertise in manual work and have creative capacities. Their imperfections: they are to some degree malignant, bad tempered, and, surprisingly, handily irritated. They appreciate sterile contentions and immaterial questions. These imperfections are more unmistakable in individuals brought into the world during the day. What undermines them? Collaboration and associations with others will be fairly challenging for them. They will most likely be unable to pivot unreasonable changes, whether inside or brought about by life altering situations. In such a case, your life is spent in interruptions and diversion. Astrological Outlook and Personality Analysis for Individuals with a June 3rd Birthday 
 Assuming your birthday is June 3, your zodiac sign is Gemini June 3 - character and character character: great, autonomous, focused, adversary, mean, awful calling: model, fireman, designer tones: beige, purple, daffodil stone: pearl creature: camel plant: red oak fortunate numbers: 5,14,16,24,26,27 very fortunate number: 32 Occasions and observances - June 3 World bike Day Banner of Argentina.svg Argentina: Italian Settler Day. Regulation 24,561 June 3 VIP birthday events. Who was conceived that very day as you? 1901: Josდ© Lins do Rego, Brazilian essayist and columnist (d. 1957). 1903: Pedro Garcდ­a de la Huerta Matte, Chilean government official (f. 1994). 1906: Josephine Pastry specialist, French artist and artist (d. 1975). 1910: Wilfred Thesiger, English wayfarer and essayist (d. 2003). 1911: Paulette Goddard, American entertainer (f. 1990). 1913: Pedro Mir, Dominican public writer (f. 2000). 1916: Aldo Zeoli, Argentine military and astronautical architect (f. 2003). 1922: Alain Resnais, French producer (d. 2014). 1924: Olga Lamas, tango vocalist, with a diverting collection (f. 1988). 1924: Jimmy Rogers, American blues artist. 1924: Torsten Wiesel, Swedish analyst, 1981 Nobel Prize victor for medication and physiology (d. 1997). 1925: Tony Curtis, American entertainer (d. 2010). 1926: Allen Ginsberg, American writer (d. 1997). 1927: Eliseo Mourino, Argentine soccer player (d. 1961). 1928: Donald Judd, American stone worker (d. 1994). 1929: Werner Arber, Swiss microbiologist, 1978 Nobel Prize victor for physiology or medication. 1930: Marion Zimmer Bradley, American essayist (d. 1999). 1931: Raდºl Castro, Cuban lawmaker and progressive, sibling of Fidel Castro (1926-2016) and leader of Cuba somewhere in the range of 2008 and 2018. 1931: Walter Malosetti, Argentine jazz guitarist and arranger (f. 2013). 1931: John Norman, American sci-fi author. 1931: Lindy Remigino, American competitor. 1933: Roberto Bodegas, Spanish movie producer. 1933: Anthony Harvey, American movie producer. 1935: Carlos Jimდ©nez Villarejo, Spanish law specialist. 1935: Imanol Murua, Spanish legislator (f. 2008). 1936: Larry McMurtry, American writer and screenwriter. 1936: Enric Gensana, Spanish footballer (d. 2005). 1939: Steve Dalkowski, American baseball player. 1939: Marcos Velდ¡squez, Uruguayan performer and artist (d. 2010). 1942: Curtis Mayfield, American performer (d. 1999). 1943: Billy Cunningham, American b-ball player. 1944: Edith McGuire, American competitor. 1944: Tony Vilas, Argentine entertainer (f. 2013). 1945: Isabel de los დ?ngeles Ruano, Guatemalan author and artist. 1946: Michael Clarke American performer, of the band The Byrds. 1946: Penelope Wilton, English entertainer. 1947: Mickey Finn, English percussionist, of the band T. Rex. 1948: Carlos Franzetti, Argentine writer, piano player and arranger, champ of a Latin Grammy grant. 1950: Frდ©dდ©ric Franდ§ois, Italian vocalist and arranger. 1950: Suzi Quatro, American vocalist and entertainer. 1952: Billy Powell, American keyboardist, of the Lynyrd Skynyrd band. 1954: Dulce (f. 2003) and Inma Chacდ³n, Spanish authors. 1954: Jiri Georg Dokoupil, German vanguard painter, brought into the world in Czechoslovakia. 1954: Claudio Hohmann, Chilean specialist and legislator. 1954: Angela Irene, Argentine people vocalist. 1956: Danny Wilde, American performer, of the band The Rembrandts. 1961: Lawrence Lessig, American attorney and author. 1962: Susannah Constantine, English style advisor. 1964: Doro, German vocalist, of the band Warlock. 1964: Kerry Lord, American guitarist, of the band Slayer. 1964: James Purefoy, English entertainer. 1967: Takehiro Ohno, Japanese-Argentine culinary specialist. 1970: Peter Tდ¤gtgren, Swedish performer, of the Deception band. 1973: Sargis Sargsian, Armenian tennis player. 1973: Tonmi Lillman, American performer, of the band Lordi. 1973: Sebastiდ¡n Teysera, Uruguayan vocalist, from the band La Vela Puerca. 1974: Kelly Jones, Welsh vocalist, of the band Stereophonics. 1974: Martდ­n Karpan, Argentine entertainer. 1975: Russel Hobbs, American drummer, of the Gorillaz band. 1977: Cristiano Marques Gomes, Brazilian soccer player. 1979: Redimi2 (Willy Gonzდ¡lez Cruz), Dominican Christian rap vocalist. 1982: Yelena Isinbდ¡yeva, Russian competitor. 1983: Javiera Mena, Chilean vocalist lyricist, maker and performer. 1985: Papiss Cissდ©, Senegalese footballer. 1985: Dan Ewing, Australian entertainer. 1985: Tavion La'Corey Mathis, American vocalist, of the band Pretty Ricky. 1985: ვ?ukasz Piszczek, Clean footballer. 1986: Rafael Nadal, Mallorcan tennis player. 1986: Al Horford, Dominican b-ball player. 1987: Lalaine, American entertainer and vocalist. 1987: Masami Nagasawa, Japanese entertainer. 1988: Tomomi Nakagawa, Japanese vocalist. 1989: Imogen Poots, English entertainer. 1989: Megu, Japanese vocalist, of the band Negicco. 1991: Natasha Dupeyrდ³n, Mexican entertainer. 1992: Mario Gდ¶tze, German footballer. 1998: Logan Fabbro, Canadian entertainer and artist.
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lifeinpoetry · 6 years
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Yes, I want to die, but all I have been able to do is kill, again and again, so I hope to plant myself, dirt hands into dirt making dirt body a succulent, something manageable, but needing management.
— Alain Ginsberg, from “Poem in Which I Transition into a Succulent,” published in wildness
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buttonpoetry · 6 years
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Our next chapbook finalist is Aeon (Alain) Ginsberg, for the manuscript FACTS // DISCLAIMERS. Check out this poem from their book!
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greedyreverence · 7 years
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Loathe/Love/Lathe by Alain Ginsberg Nostrovia! Press — Free (PDF) or Pay What You Can ($1+) (Print) Poetry (Chapbook)
As a poet, Alain Ginsberg is resourceful with language and imagery, finding metaphor and anecdote where the reader had previously thought language had already dredged all it could out of that instance; as a vocally transgender poet, Alain Ginsberg is a poignantly necessary voice. There is often a lot of talk in literary communities about what makes a "trans poem" a "trans poem," and while the majority of Alain's poems mention they are trans somewhere within the text, there is never a sense of force or plea; rather, while Alain's gender is influential in all aspects of their work, it does not define their work. Alain's work is instead profoundly influenced by the daunting task of humanizing and unraveling trauma, from abusive relationships to harassment by customers at their food-service job, and throughout their narrative, Alain never lies to their audience or sugarcoats the circumstance. Instead, Alain presents their truth unflinchingly, letting the audience know they've got some heavy shit to talk about, but it's our choice if we want to listen. And goddamn, I am positive y'all will want to listen. (Linette Reeman)
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nostroviapress · 7 years
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N!P’s 2017 Pushcart Prize Nominations
Nostrovia! Press is excited to announce our nominations for The Pushcart Prize:
Alain Ginsberg @alainginsbergofficial – “on ‘shim’”
Katie Clark – “february water”
Joseph Parker Okay @josephparkerokay – “how many red caterpillars are in the world hold on let me count”
While we’re sharing these pieces with you, a final reminder that our 2017 Chapbook Series can be found as limited edition, pay-what-you-can printed chapbooks. 
But for now, enjoy these fantastic pieces:
on "shim"
Shim, noun, a thin strip of metal used to align parts, make them fit, reduce wear / I was first aware of the word in middle school, how there was a need for a word and no one to tell us it was not the right word, all interest in aligning the parts to the idea of a body, make fit, reduce, reduce, reduce / Shim, noun, not quite a boy, not a real woman / example / is that human, that he-she, that shim / example / she is not a woman for how she believes herself to be, that's a shim, or, synonym, something flaming or, synonym, combustible or, synonym, to be laid onto a pyre or, synonym, if you burn someone at the stake you will gain five more minutes of warmth.
I research shim the same way I research everything else; how long will it take for me to die after being one? A friend is followed by a military man, which is to say someone who wishes for Chelsea Manning to not pass out as the flames lick her screaming mouth, and the police pull my friend over, let them be doused for how easily the parts align / and making a body fit into a machine to be able to watch it leave you /
Shim, verb, wedge to fill space, and we do so overcrowd this planet, losing water, food, and autonomy, and when the ocean drowns the land, whose bones will we use to build boats of? Whose going to fill the caskets or, synonym, who will eat all of the bullets or, synonym, who will we let ourselves consume when the non-human animals perish or,
antonym,
I drift through crowds like a ghost, I am a ghost, I am spectator or spectre, or no one sees me in what would not be called a campfire or in this world the same pieces used to align machinery will be used to destroy it, to throw ourselves on the cogs of that which kills, when they see my body burning the world, they will only be able to call out my name open-mouthed and without breath.
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february water
moves like milk does: it doesn’t.
this was never something i picked out. i just watched you walk across a lake, and it was mid-winter,       and so it happened.
i think today i loved you, which is another way of saying it doesn’t always happen in the order that it happened.
on monday, i found my last-year body floating in the lake you walked across. there was no reflection. the lake has thawed and frozen over again, and again, and she is less for it. she was angry i cut my hair.
tuesday, we are in the basement and you are holding spines. i watch as they clean crooked curl around your fingers, alive, somehow, and not. to think this was body, but now, here in your hands: bone. a week later, there was my spine and how you held it, but i don’t remember that part.  
wednesday, i am still lying on your desk, your hands and the projector light are dewing over my shoulders like morning. you kiss me even though my jacket
is orange and i like how the cold tastes on you.
thursday, a year after this, my partner reaches for me, but i no longer have any bones. i’m trying to tell you i think i know how the story ends now.
friday, i don’t know what it means or what it doesn’t that i accidentally smiled at you in passing. i heard you have a job that makes you grateful and that makes me grateful. i need you to know you did not ruin me.
what’s left of saturday: gold glitter and whiskey spit. my friend leaves, you stay, we all regret this.
i was wearing my roommate’s basketball jersey. i do not think i brushed my teeth before. i remember it like this: i don’t. i had breakfast.
you tell me i didn’t say yes, but that we could try it again. you said you didn’t have to tell me; i hated you for that.
sunday, i wake up with your body by my body like a needed fact. it happened. it still happens, but less now.   the week starts over. i think maybe this time, i will pull myself out of the lake, walk her home.
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how many red caterpillars are in the world hold on let me count
nuyan is riding a bike through a forest. “i’m the frickin fastest bike rider in this dang ass forest” says nuyan. suddenly they hit a fallen tree and go flying thru the air. they do 13 flips before landing in the unsuspecting arms of a large, beautiful bear. the bear looks down and is shocked and immediately begins to weep. the bear has been alone and scared in this forest for so long and now she finally has a friend.
nuyan starts singing “crazy town” by ozzy osbourne to calm the beautiful bear down. and it works!! the bear actually starts singing along!!!!
and!! she has a beautiful voice!!!!
“wow” nuyan thinks to themself, “i could take this bear back to civilization with me and make a fortune taking her on day-time talk shows” but then instantly feels upset with themself and pushes the thought from their mind. 
nuyan knows their upbringing in a capitalistic society is to blame for intrusive thoughts like these. they have truly no interest in profiting at the expense of others and it makes nuyan sad to know that in the society they live it’s considered “subversive” to look at the beauty in the world and not want to exploit it.
the bear finishes singing the song and does a cartwheel. it makes nuyan feel 100% better. they tell the bear they will come back to see her tomorrow and then rides their bike away without holding onto the handlebars.
the beautiful bear is so extremely happy and sleeps 13 hours that night. while she’s asleep she has a dream that she’s in the dmv. the bear does 7 kick flips in a row and then pushes mongo out of the dmv. in the parking lot she does a 50-50 grind on the back bumper of hulk hogan’s stretch limo.
the bear skates to a nearby park and jumps off the skateboard. she walks over to a palo verde tree and starts licking it. 
“o wow” the bear says between licks. “i can’t believe this tree grows without any bark. it’s as if over millions of years of evolution it’s learned it can trust the world around it not to harm it and can now take the energy it would have used building defenses in ways that are beneficial to itself and its surrounding environment.” all the tree licking makes the bear’s tongue dry so she walks over to the bubbler.
“‘bubbler’ is what people in specific parts of wisconsin call water fountains” the bear explains even tho there isn’t anyone around to hear her.
… weird .. …. it’s almost as if she knows she’s in a story and is aware there are probably some people reading the story who aren’t familiar with this specific regional jargon?
hmmm.
seems suspicious maybe.
the bear goes over to a park bench and continues talking to herself.
“wow” says the bear. “there’s so much we can learn from trees if only we’d start to pay more attention.” the beautiful bear falls asleep on the bench for 3 weeks and when she wakes up in the dream she wakes up in real life. the sun has just started to rise and the bear gets excited all over again when she remembers she’s going to have company today. she does 10 minutes of yoga and then goes out to find a large pinecone to give nuyan as a gift for being her new best friend.
the end
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bostonpoetryslam · 7 years
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how salty I am lately and how bad that must be / for my health but I am / preserved meat / I am seasoned / well enough or cooked long enough to have the blood dry out
Alain Ginsberg, “Clipping My Nails In Artifact At The Communal Table,” published in Lambda Literary
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queenmobs · 7 years
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Two Poems from Alain Ginsberg
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ON BEING FIRED FOR THE FIRST TIME FOR BEING TRANS, THE AUTHOR BUYS A BOTTLE OF MEAD FOR THE CONTAINER
in the short version of the story I will say I was fired and it is sad, will joke and laugh and say how many arms we were up in. fuck the boss man and his prejudice and how unsurprising for this embrace to find my shoulders, to be let go of and not have to worry if it was me or who I am and not tell the parts of the story where I take the money slid between the folds of my last paycheck, will call this blood money, call this the time where I collect my body back from the grave, broke bread and shared wine as the criminal sent to the gallows but only after the burial, how all of my sins are crimes for their ability of keeping me alive and for this we must find other ways. how mortal I am for thinking I could work the job and not be broken until I am broke.
in the version of the story I want to share I will say that when my hair is pulled back, you say that you got a thing for working girls and I’m comforted because I always work, always try to find the parts of me to hide and what to accentuate, how I don’t feel the need to hide myself anymore, when there is a halo around the moon it’s because of a high altitude cirrus cloud, that glow is also my gender, and you the cloud, for this I will pull my hair back and receive the text from the manager whose mouthfire changes me working-girl to just girl, maybe. in this version I will tell people about all of my free time and no one will laugh, no one will talk about the hours we have sold to eat, drink, survive and sustain each other and how resilient we must be to eat the slaps that feed us most, how full this stomach has been and how red this face is for it. in this version my coworkers don’t quit with me and instead I drink less and learn to knit, how good I am at holding things together, how that does not apply to myself.
in the version of the story I don’t tell I thank the chef who saw this body and found it unfit for him to be lecherous toward, how little I could be consumed all gristle bone body sinew. I thank the chef for being honest, the first in a long line of aggressive men to call the sun too bright to look at and how much I do glow now and how hard it is to see me before the storm, and I leave.
READ MORE
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thelonguepuree · 4 years
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Infrarealist Manifesto
WHAT DO WE PROPOSE? TO NOT MAKE WRITING A PROFESSION TO SHOW THAT EVERYTHING IS ART AND THAT EVERYBODY CAN DO IT TO DEAL WITH “INSIGNIFICANT THINGS”/ WITHOUT INSTITUTIONAL VALUE/ TO PLAY/ ART SHOULD BE UNLIMITED IN QUANTITY, ACCESSIBLE TO ALL, AND, IF POSSIBLE, MADE BY ALL
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
REFUTE ART/ REFUTE DAILY LIFE (DUCHAMP) AT A TIME THAT SEEMS NEARLY ENTIRELY BLOCKED OFF FOR PROFESSIONAL OPTIMISTS TRANSFORM ART/ TRANSFORM DAILY LIFE (US)
CREATIVITY/ LIFE MISALIGNED AT ALL COSTS (TO SHAKE THE HIPS OF THE PRESENT WITH EYELASHES BATTING FROM THE AIRPORTS OF THE FUTURE) AT A TIME WHEN MURDERS HAVE BEEN DISGUISED AS SUICIDES
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
TO CONVERT LECTURE HALLS INTO SHOOTING RANGES (WOULD DEBRAY SAY/ THE CARNAVAL IN THE CARNAVAL?)
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BEETHOVEN, RACINE & MICHAELANGELO STOPPED BEING THE MOST USEFUL THE MOST AMPHETAMENIC, THE MOST NOURISHING: SOUND BARRIERS THE LABYRINTHS OF SPEED (OH JAMES DEAN!) ARE BREAKING APART ELSEWHERE
”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
TO GET PEOPLE OUT OF THEIR DEPENDENCY AND PASSIVITY TO SEEK UNPRECEDENTED MEANS OF INTERVENTION & OF DECISION IN THE WORLD
TO DEMYSTIFY/ TO BECOME AGITATORS NOTHING HUMAN IS ALIEN TO US (GOOD) NOTHING UTOPIAN IS ALIEN TO US (REALLY GOOD)
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AT THIS TIME MORE THAN BEFORE THE ARTISTIC PROBLEM CANNOT BE CONSIDERED AS AN INTERNAL STRUGGLE OF TENDENCIES/ BUT RATHER AS ABOVE ALL A TACIT STRUGGLE (ALMOST DECLARED) BETWEEN THOSE WHO WHETHER THEY KNOW IT OR NOT ARE WITH THE SYSTEM OR AIM TO CONSERVE IT AND PROLONG IT/ AND THOSE WHO IN A CONSCIOUS FASHION OR NOT WISH TO MAKE IT EXPLODE
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ART IN THIS COUNTRY HAS NOT ADVANCED PAST A LITTLE TECHNICAL COURSE FOR EXERCISING MEDIOCRITY DECORATIVELY
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
“ONLY THOSE MEN FREE OF ALL BONDS MAY CARRY FLAME SUFFICIENTLY FAR” ANDRÉ BRETON
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TO RETURN TO ART THE NOTION OF A PASSIONATE & CONVULSIVE LIFE
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CULTURE IS NOT IN BOOKS NOR IN PAINTINGS OR STATUES IT IS IN THE NERVES/ IN THE FLUIDITY OF THE NERVES/ CLEARER PROPOSITION: A CULTURE MADE FLESH/ A CULTURE IN FLESH, IN SENSITIVITY (THIS OLD DREAM OF ANTONIN ARTAUD)
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ALL THAT EXISTS: THE FIELD OF OUR ACTIVITY / AND THE FRANTIC SEARCH FOR WHAT DOES NOT YET EXIST
********************************************* OUR FINALITY IS (THE TRUTH) PRACTICAL SUBVERSION &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
EXAMPLE OF TOTAL ART TOTAL SCULPTURE (AND WITH MOVEMENT): A RALLY OF 10,000 TO 20,000 PEOPLE SUPPORTING THE STRIKE OF THE DEMOCRATIC TENDENCY OF THE ELECTRICAL WORKERS’ UNION TOTAL MUSIC: A TRIP ON MUSHROOMS THROUGH THE MAZATECA SIERRA TOTAL PAINTING: CLAUDIA KERIK BACKWARDS & FORWARDS TOTAL POETRY: THIS INTERVIEW DISTRIBUTED BY TELEPATHY OR BY JUST THE MOVEMENT OF MY HAIR (OF AN AFRICAN LION) AND ALL ITS ELECTRIC CHARGE
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WORLDS PEOPLE VIBES THAT INTEREST ME NICANOR PARRA CATULLUS QUEVEDO LAUTRÉAMONT MAGRITTE DE CHIRICO ARTAUD VACHÉ JARRY BRETON BORIS VIAN BURROUGHS GINSBERG KEROUAC KAFKA BAKUNIN CHAPLIN GODARD FASSBINDER ALAIN TANNER FRANCIS BACON DUBUFFET GEORGE SEGAL JUAN RAMÍREZ RUIZ VALLEJO CHE GUEVARA ENGELS “THAT MASTER OF SARCASM” THE PARIS COMMUNE THE SITUATIONIST INTERNATIONAL THE EPIC OF THOSE STRANDED FROM THE GRANMA (I WAS FORGETTING THAT) HIERONYMUS BOSCH (NOT TO BE MISSED) WILHELM REICH THE MYSTICAL PORNOGRAPHY OF CHARLES MAGNUS THE MULTICOLOR EROTICS OF TOM WESSELMAN JOHN CAGE JULIAN BECK JUDITH MALINA & HER LIVING THEATER (AND TO CONCLUDE) MARQUIS DE SADE HÉCTOR APOLINAR ROBERTO BOLAÑO JOSÉ REVUELTAS (AND HIS DISCOVERY THAT THE DIALECTIC CAN SOMETIMES WALK LIKE A CRAB) JUDITH GARCÍA CLAUDIA SOL (AND EVEN ON CLOUDY DAYS) CLAUDIA SOL
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WE CAN SHOOT TWO REVOLVERS AT THE SAME TIME/ SAID BUFFALO BILL MORE THAN ONCE
STUPIDITY IS NOT OUR STRONG SUIT (ALFRED JARRY DIXIT)
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lefeusacre-editions · 5 years
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BOOKHOUSE GIRL #53 | ANNA d’ANNUNZIO, actrice et terminatrix
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Anna d’Annunzio devrait être l’actrice préférée de tout le monde. Bien entendu, ce serait insupportable. Mais seulement pour elle. Repérée une fois pour toutes, quoique demeurant quatre fois inatrappable, dans le sublimement important L’Etrange couleur des larmes de ton corps de Cattet & Forzani, d’Annunzio tresse un pont nu entre la totale star parfumée d’aurores boréales et la femme de coeur avec laquelle il faut / on peut converser - tu en ressors agrandi pour l’hiver et la saison d’après, minimum. Anna d’Annunzio est aujourd’hui la dialoguiste-poétesse d’AZMANDEH, une bande noire et sang dessinée par Alain Poncelet, entre stryge et berbalang, louve rougie et morsure nyctalope perchée sur toutes les épaules, dont le premier volume a été révélé au BIFFF ( Brussels International Fantastic Film Festival). Une autofiction nécropolitaine entachée de superbe, de fesse et de sucettes à l’hémoglobine, dont la suite est attendue avec fièvre et tics faciaux. Ad’A, dite Daz, est notre Bookhouse Girl de la semaine, enfin.
| Que trouve-t-on comme nouvelles acquisitions dans ta bibliothèque ? Il n’y a aujourd’hui que des vieilleries dans la pile verticale et croulante des en-cours et à-lire. Des acquis de bacs à livres, des reçus et des chourés aux copains. Loup-Garous et Vampires de Villeneuve, Féministe et Libertaire de David-Néel (…peut-on être à la foi loup, garou, vampire, féministe et libertaire ?! Absolument. C’est même fortement recommandé.), Miscellanées de Lorrain, Ni Marx ni Jésus de Revel, Récits de la Kolyma de Chalamov, Un paria des îles de Conrad puis d’autres encore dont je ne vois d’ici pas la tranche, écroulés il y a peu certainement, ramassés et replacés à l’envers.
| Quels livres marquants as-tu découverts à l'adolescence et que tu possèdes toujours ? J’ai perdu beaucoup de livres. La vie. Parmi les survivants, quantité de London. J’ai étoilé mon obscure puberté de ses neiges puis ai été mordue de ses veines rouges et hommes, ouvriers, hobos, marins, ivrognes, boxeurs... C’est aussi une période pendant laquelle je mangeais pas mal de théâtre, lisais et relisais maintes fois les véhémentes, impétueuses et folles tirades des tragédiennes de Racine, de l’Antigone de Sophocle, d’Octave et Perdican chez Musset, Don Juan et Elvire chez Molière, Macbeth et Richard III de Shakespeare. J’aimais ensuite les beautés légères et camarades de L’Usage du monde de Bouvier, l’acidité de Burroughs et Ginsberg, les merveilles fantasques de Gustave Le Rouge, la sensualité, les spleens et ondes lugubres de Baudelaire et Poe. Demeurent et persistent enfin sous la poussière tous les renâclés au lycée que j’ai finalement et aimablement dévoré, Zola, Maupassant, Hugo, Camus, Malraux.
| Sans égard pour sa qualité, lequel de tes livres possède la plus grande valeur sentimentale, et pourquoi ? Ça fait longtemps que je ne place plus de sentiment dans le matériel mais j’aime particulièrement un minuscule livre vert illustré. Le Radis géant. Un vieux monsieur plante un radis et chante pour l’encourager à pousser. Pendant la nuit le truc devient énorme. Fou heureux il tente en vain de le déraciner. Sa vieille dame le rejoint pour l’aider en lui tirant sur le bénard, et la fillette, et le gros chien noir, et le chat… toute une queue leu leu joyeuse, rougeaude et essoufflée, jusqu’à ce que le miaulard sollicite la main-forte de la souris. Tu imagines le dénouement. Enfin tous morfent ensemble et rigolards la gigantesque brassicacée. Cette petite histoire a exceptionnellement résisté à diverses et fréquentes maltraitances enfantines, une quinzaine de déménagements et une vilaine flambée volontaire. Elle traine toujours à vue ; je l’attrape parfois, l’arque et anime comme un petit film, celui où une cerise couronne allègrement toute la fortune d’un gâteau.
| Lequel de tes livres prêterais-tu à quelqu'un qui te plaît ? Le prêt invite à la réitération voire la récidive ou du moins à son prétexte et ce n’est parfois pas nécessaire. Ainsi j’offre. Et adapte le geste à ma visée ou d’éventuelles complicités, mais c’est très souvent un livre de Jack London ou George Eekhoud. Je t’en ai offert un d’ailleurs non !!?
| Oui, en 2016, Une mauvaise rencontre ! Que trouve-t-on comme livres honteux dans tes rayonnages ? Plus rien. Je peux tout assumer. J’ai récemment largué 99 francs de Beigbeder au Secours Populaire et abandonné un livre de quatre-cents recettes de verrines – mais enfin pourquoi ces absurdes présents aux premières de théâtre ?! - et quelques mièvres et fastidieux Bobin envoyés par un amant qui, forcément, n’a pas fait long feu, dans une cabine téléphonique reconvertie en boîte à lire…C’est un peu salopard et venimeux de refiler tout ça non ? J’aurais dû, au risque de l’encrasser, allumer le poêle avec.
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| Quels livres as-tu hérité de tes proches ? De mes descendants contemporains, si proche j’en fus, j’ai plutôt chipé qu’hérité. J’ai d’abord enfreint l’interdit de la plus inaccessible étagère au-dessus des toilettes en montant sur - et en cassant - l’abattant du chiottard. Reiser, Choron, Cabu, Wolinski, Cavanna, Brétécher et Serpieri y rayonnaient, et je me souviens très bien du soir (et de l’épaisse moquette bleu marine chez des particuliers lointains à Bruxelles en 1988 exactement) où, condamnée à quitter la table et à aller dormir en haut pour avoir dit « La Belgique ça pue la frite », j’ai découvert Manara et légitimé le principe de la masturbation. J’ai plus tard récupéré les latineries sud-américaines des brûlants et véraces Osvaldo Bayer, Eduardo Galeano et les récits de quelques auteurs et poètes comme Coloane, Garcia Marquez, Cortázar, Neruda, Allende et, c’est certain, j’en suis empreinte.
| Le livre que tu as le plus lu et relu ? Mises à part les bandes dessinées qui se torchent à la selle (et encore, c’est un devoir que j’expédie généralement dans le plus grand dénuement - je me souviens d’ailleurs avoir lu Lire aux cabinets de Miller dans les bureaux de production TF1), je ne relis que très très rarement les livres qui m’ont touchée (ou alors peut-être sans m’en rendre compte ! J’ai une si vague mémoire des noms propres et des histoires !). Ni ceux bien entendu qui m’ont déplu. Mais parcours parfois les pages cornées comme estampillées de mes livres, en cherche le passage ou la phrase qui m’a irradiée, séduite ou interrogée. D’ailleurs la plupart du temps je n’identifie plus ce qui m’a tant intéressée, poursuis plus avant ma lecture et plie de nouveaux coins.
| Le livre qui suscite en toi des envies symboliques d'autodafé ? Je voudrais littéralement en terroriser et incinérer plus d’un, préjugé. Mais je ne lis pas les autobiographies. Ni les manuels religieux. Ainsi par tracas d’impartialité, je m’abstiens. C’est dommage car, tu t’en doutes, j’aime beaucoup les incendies.
| On te propose de vivre éternellement dans un roman de ton choix, oui, mais lequel ? Non. Éternellement de mon choix résonne en oxymore. C’est un coup à rester coincée dans un roman d’Anne Rice ; mais tiens, puisqu’il trainait alentour ces derniers jours et que je veux bien jouer, pourquoi ne pas finir déifiée dans Albina et les hommes-chiens de Jodorowsky ou en souris dans le Radis géant.
| Quel est l'incunable que tu rêves de posséder, ton Saint Graal bibliophilique ? Bon alors déjà il m’a fallu chercher la définition d’incunable…Tu vois l’genre. Ensuite je ne quête pas vraiment les saints ni ne rêve particulièrement de posséder ; mais il me plairait de tomber hasardeusement sur certains secrets et genèses, d’exhumer quelques grimoires parcheminés, lettres, notes et mémoires intimes de solitaires, nomades, pionniers, femmes ou sorcières. Je les remettrais en terre ensuite parce que c’est assurément le seul organisme à pouvoir les honorer et préserver.
| Au bout d'une vie de lecture, et s'il n'en restait qu'un ? Plus d’un au bout allons ! J’aimerais que s’attardent et s’éternisent des pléiades de livres frères, achevés, détériorés, pliés, décousus et tachés, ou de longs manuscrits de mains aimées zonant aux bouts des miennes, jamais relus ou très vaguement parcourus. Non pour clore une vie, mais pour la poursuivre.
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Noir Puma publiera AZMANDEH en septembre 2019. Une “soixantaine de pages griffées rouges, noires, blanches, recelées dans une couverture rigide résistante aux morsures. Ce dernier point est important.”
Pour mieux connaître et encourager ce projet en cours, rendez-vous sans gant ni jarretière ici :
https://www.helloasso.com/associations/noir%20puma/collectes/fff
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restless-wreck · 6 years
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favorite things that i read in 2018 (in approximate chronological order)
poetry
“why won’t you celebrate with me” Lucille Clifton (++)
“The Neighborhood Dog” Russell Edson (+++!)
“Body Snatcher” Daniel Myers (+++ (this is my fave))
Two Poems Eloisa Amezcua (+++)
“AMERICAN SONNET FOR MY PAST AND FUTURE ASSASSIN” TERRANCE HAYES (+++!!)
“SONS OF ACHILLES” Nabila Lovelace (+++!!!)
“Elegy for Mr. Spock“ W. Todd Kaneko (+++!)
“a breakdown of types and costs of American Girl Dolls” ASHLEY MIRANDA (+++!!)
“Chap” REILLY D. COX & BRENNAN EMMETT COX (+++!!! (this is incredible))
“Shoulda Been Jimi Savannah” Patricia Smith (+++)
“At My First Punk Show Ever, 1998” Hanif Abdurraqib (+++ (re-read, a fave))
Three Reilly Cox (++++!!!)
Two Poems Reilly Cox (+++!!)
fiction
“Premonitions of a Valley Girl” CAT INGRID LEECHES (++++!!)
“The Entryway” Kira Frank (+++ (tws))
“Sister Godzilla” LOUISE ERDRICH (+++!!!!!!!)
“The Fifth Story” Clarice Lispector (+++!)
“Dimension” Alice Munro (+++!!! (tws))
“Apollo” Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (+++ x100)
“All at One Point” Calvino
Five Stories Lydia Davis (+++!)
“WHY I CAN NO LONGER LOOK AT A PICNIC BLANKET WITHOUT LAUGHING”  Yukiko Motoya (+++)
“CODE OF OPERATION: SNAKE FARM” Amelia Gray (+++!)
“Man Not Superman” Jonathan Goldstein (+++ (a fave))
“A Diagram of Reproductive Anatomy” CAT INGRID LEECHES (!!!!)
“Live Mermaids” ELIZABETH THERIOT (+++ (i love it))
“Who Binds and Looses the World with Her Hands” RACHAEL K. JONES (+)
“Seasons of Glass and Iron” AMAL EL–MOHTAR (+++)
“Monster Girls Don't Cry” A. MERC RUSTAD (+++)
“Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience™” Rebecca Roanhorse (+++!!)
“Regarding Your Future With The Futures Planning Consortium” Raq Winchester & Fran Wilde (++)
“The Red Thread” SOFIA SAMATAR (+++)
“TILDA SWINTON’S CHRISTMAS COUPONS” RACHEL SIEMENS (+++!)
“Ten Years a Statue” Sam Martone (+++!)
“Space” Sam Martone (+++!!)
nonfiction
“BLACK GIRLS FROM THE HOOD ARE THE REAL TRENDSETTERS” WANNA THOMPSON (+++!!!)
“Lay Off the High Ones” ISABELLE DAVIS (+++!!!)
“Sword Guys Are a Thing and I’ve Had Sex With All of Them” Hana Michels (++) 
“A Wonderfully Weird Wedding” MICHEAL FOULK (++ <3)
“Meet the Glasscos: Lesbian foster parents in the Bible Belt” KATHERINE WEBB-HEHN (this is beautiful and made me cry a lot idk)
“Wherever West Is” Jeanna Kadlec (+++! (love this))
“Caramel” Krys Malcolm Belc (+++)
“IT’S ME, THE LIGHT-SKINNED BLACK GIRL IN YOUR SCHOOL’S DIVERSITY PAMPHLET” JENNA LYLES (DAMN THIS IS GOOD)
Small Talk Krys Malcolm Belc (+++!!!)
“Welcome to Dog World!” Blair Braverman (+++!)
excerpt from Lying Lauren Slater (+++!!)
“The Killer in the Pool” Tim Zimmermann (this is awful and really sad)
“The Octopus at the Camden Aquarium” Robin Gow (+++!!!)
“Litter” Reilly Cox (+++!!!)
“Die in Summer or Not at All: A Resurrection in Three Acts” Sarah Panlibuton Barnes (+++!!!! (this is an incredible essay! (tws sex tho)))
chapbooks
loathe/love/lathe alain ginsberg (+++!!)
our own soft katie clark (++)
flowers are for pussies (and other white lies) sung yim (+++! (tws))
the weather came & so did we zooey ghostly (+++!!)
can we talk here belladonna*132 carmen gimenez smith (+++! (fave))
fiction novel
the grotesque child kim parko (++++! (second read; i love it))
pop fiction
the 100 (+ (series))
the scorch trials (++ (series))
aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe (+)
truth-witch (+++! (slow start, but i really liked this))
crazy rich asians (+++!)
comics
runaways (2003) vaughn/alphona/newbold (++)
heavy vinyl Usdin / Vakueva (++)
Fence (+++!!! (i love this so much))
runaways (2005)  vaughn/alphona/yeung (+++)
black lightning (1977) isabella/von eeden/springer (++)
Black Lightning: Year One (+++++++, i cried a lot)
black lightning (1995) (+++! (i cried more sos))
moonstruck vol 1 (+++)
the prince and the dressmaker (+++)
nimona (+++!)
how to be a werewolf (++++ <3)
clueless benson/kuhn/keenan (+++ (a fun read))
man-eater is 1-2 (++)
runaways (2008) moore/ramos (+++)
dream daddy lee c.a./jack gross (+++!)
avengers academy is 1 gage/mckone/cox (+++)
runaways (2018) rowell/anka/wilson (+++!!! <3 <3 <3(gd i love this))
goddess mode quinn/rodriguez (+++)
poetry
simulacra airea d. matthews (+++!)
cannibal safiya sinclair (this book is really fucking incredible)
calling a wolf a wolf (++)
sons of achilles nabila lovelace (++++!)
rocket fantastic (+)
in full velvet (+++)
what runs over kayleb rae candrilli (+++!!!)
don’t call us dead (goddamn this is good)
literary journals
bwr 44.2 (++) 
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lifeinpoetry · 7 years
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If my life is framed by whomever looks at it // what would I build if not a place where I can hide.
Alain Ginsberg, from “Self Portrait as Waluigi” published in Peach
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Bei den Gasen ist sicher „Oxygene“ von Jean Michel Jarre zu erwähnen, ein Klassiker des elektronischen Instrumental-Pops. Zwei Jazz-Alben tragen den Namen Helium, man beachte die ähnliche Farbwahl (ätherisch-gasig?). Eine Oper nach Versen von Alain Ginsberg heisst „Hydrogen Jukebox“. Der Ausdruck stammt aus dem Gedicht „Howl“ und bezieht sich auf die Wasserstoff-Bombe.
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greedyreverence · 7 years
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Until the Cows Come Home by Alain Ginsberg Elation Press — Pay What You Can ($3+) (PDF) Poetry
A small collection of poems centering around the transformative nature of self discovery and survival as a trans person in the world. The writing is autobiographical, and the narratives are skewed by trauma or envelop trauma as a means to go on.
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nostroviapress · 7 years
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2017 Chapbook Contest: Week 6 Review (WINNERS)
It’s one of the biggest days of the year for N!P  as we announce the three winners of our chapbook contest!
Featured Finalists
Jeremiah and I discussed representative pieces to share for each of the 10 finalists, then messaged to get confirmation. With that we shared the page Saturday morning, boosting it for the weekend--when you have a moment, do check our 2017 Featured Finalist page, which shares some really fantastic work. 
As I’ve said, everyone from our finalists impressed us, and we're still very excited to have them join the N!P Family. Near the end of the year, each of them will be invited as features for our online reading. And we thank them, again, for trusting us with their work. 
Deciding Winners + Handling Responses
Friday, Saturday, Sunday... Jeremiah and I were still trying to decide upon our three winners, and kept rereading. We talked Monday, getting it down to ~5 MSS. And though I know I might sound silly, for a moment I actually did reconsider whether three picks was still best. It’s just really hard: there's so much strong work here and I want to make people happy. I see the people online and in the emails and they're so excited and their work is really on point and vulnerable and moving and it's like, could I just take on a little extra work? To get them that big accomplishment? But I set some firm guidelines for the contest and felt it was most respectful to everyone if I stuck to them. That said: I doubt next year’s contest will go about unchanged. 
After all that back and forth, Jeremiah had it down to four by the end of Monday night. After another round of rereading on Tuesday, around noon we finally had our three! I drafted emails for all ten writers, and sent them in the evening.
Announcing Winners
*drumroll* But enough backstory: we at N!P  are so damn excited to announce our three winners of our 2017 Chapbook Contest:
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Can’t wait to bring their fantastic work to you all this summer <3
Jeremiah and I spent a good chunk of the morning editing the N! website, updating our catalog + 2017 chapbook page. I’ve also already reached out to CA Mullins and Chuck Young, passing along the rough drafts of the current 2017 series--like last year, both will be lending their expertise to make sure these chapbooks have titles and printing dimensions that match their distinct styles. 
From here, things slow down a little as we enter the editing phases of the contest, but I’ll be sure to share all the best details in my upcoming reviews!
Much love, and see you next week! <3 -Christopher
*
We’ll have a new Tavern post each Wednesday, giving an inside look at the N! process, so stay tuned for more updates!
Week 1 Review    (Opening the Floodgates) Week 2 Review    (Reading + Ordering Supplies) Week 3 Review    (Reading + MSS Observations) Week 4 Review    (Reading + Starting Search for Finalists) Week 5 Review    (Picking Winners)
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yesiamdrowning · 7 years
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so and so (o sul fascino di trovare Pasolini dove non te lo aspetti).
Sentirsi un po’ così non è esattamente come essere depressi, le cose non vanno poi troppo male, sarà che fuori piove debolmente, nemmeno un bel acquazzone come si deve che pulisca l’aria, sarà che il giovedì non è sabato, che questa mattina volevamo dormire e invece ci siamo svegliati lo stesso alle sei e un quarto. Sarà che l’appuntamento di stasera sembra meno attraente di come ci appariva l’altro ieri, sarà che avremmo potuto mettere un altro maglione che così sembriamo solo una brutta copia di un bimbominchia. Sarà che la torta è buona ma le candeline sono sempre una rottura di palle. Sarà che avremmo un po’ tutti voluto suonare rock e invece non è andata così. Sarà che, stringi stringi, abbiamo un po’ tutti quel “ovo sodo dentro che non va né su né giù e ormai ci fa compagnia come un vecchio amico”. Giorni fa riflettevo su come parlare del quarantennale dell’uscita di Easter di Patti Smith, uscito nel marzo del 1978, all’interno della stessa stagione creativa che aveva portato alla luce i componimenti di Babel, senza ribadire i soliti concetti vomitati in ogni dove per uno degli album più apprezzati e fortunati della carriera di Patricia, contenente quella che è la più celebre “catastrofe” del suo repertorio musicale, Because the Night che, come tutte i successi di fama interplanetaria, poi finisce per svilire tutto il resto del lavoro svolto.
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Il disco, un tripudio di chitarre elettriche e tecniche di cantato recitato sopraffino, è stato definito “trascendente e pienamente riuscito, è un album che racchiude ossessioni Cristiane, in particolare quella della morte e della resurrezione, sia reale che simbolica” e si configura come uno dei tentativi più organici di fusione tra musica, liriche poetiche, spiritualità di matrice evangelica (a partire dal titolo stesso, Pasqua), impegno sociale e irriverenza punk.
Nelle liner notes dell’Lp, vale a dire le note interne al libretto, la cantante statunitense decide di fare riprodurre - addirittura a penna nell’edizione originale - tutti gli appunti privati e le fascinazioni artistiche che avevano condotto alla creazione di ogni singola traccia, sotto forma di citazioni, immagini, richiami, riproduzione di versi al fine di comporre un vero e proprio collage dal sapore postmoderno. Per anni non ci avevo mai prestato tanta attenzione, preso dalla musica e timoroso di imbattermi in uno di quei pipponi che hanno caratterizzato molti degli artisti di quella generazione. Intendiamoci, nel 1978 già Allen Ginsberg spesso sembrava un sacchetto di plastica in testa, figuriamoci emuli come Patti Smith. Signore, pietà. Ho scoperto quasi per caso che nel commento testuale relativo al brano di apertura, Till Victory, appare incredibilmente la figura di Pier Paolo Pasolini, uno che per certo di giornate così e in attesa di un certo non so che migliore (terreno e/o ultraterreno) era un grande conoscitore. Invocato e apertamente nominato all’inizio dell’opera come se ci si trovasse di fronte a un Inno alle Muse di memoria classica.
a vienna c’è un’area che circonda e passa attraverso l’hotel de france. i motociclisti italiani. il negozio dei preti. giubotti di pelle fatti in paradiso modellati sulla pelle di alain delon. qui c’è la strada dei camion. qui il vicolo della lanterna dove tizi tosti si appoggiano, si pavoneggiano e si mettono in posa per il passaggio di pasolini.
L’architettura testuale è, come accennato e come sovente accade in Patti Smith, di matrice beat: assenza di maiuscole, uso particolare dell’interpunzione, giustapposizione di gergale (thru) e arcaico (shoppe), assonanze e allitterazioni, ripetizioni e rime al mezzo (trucks… bucks). La posizione del soggetto reale del brano (il passaggio di Pasolini) non sembra affatto casuale e suggerisce un rovesciamento sintattico dell’ordine della frase al fine di creare un effetto suspense, di attesa, che riesca a condurre attraverso le strade viennesi in un’atmosfera notturna, immaginiamo underground, fino alla comparsa del protagonista di questo vagare, Pier Paolo Pasolini. Che può essere prosaicamente visto come “la svolta" della serata o magari dell'intera esistenza. Pensate a quanti, nelle notti romane, hanno mutato diametralmente il loro pensiero sulla vita dopo l'incontro con l'intellettuale bolognese, dai futuri attori di fama Franco Citti a Ninetto Davoli passando per Ettore Garofolo e “Accattone”, al secolo Antonio Mancini, affiliato della Banda della Magliana che fu l'unico dichiaratamente di sinistra, amante sentito di cinema e lettura.
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La suggestione letteraria, ritrovata poi in altri frammenti d'intro-spiegazione, così come nei versi di High On Rebellion, appare affine ad alcune tra le più realistiche descrizioni dei giovani incompiuti che popolavano le borgate nelle pagine di Ragazzi di Vita e Una Vita Violenta, il primo e il secondo romanzo scritti da Pasolini, ipotesi linguisticamente e cronologicamente avvalorata dalle traduzioni dei romanzi stessi; dal momento che la casa editrice che pubblicò profeticamente in lingua inglese The Ragazzi e A Violent Life fu la Grove Press che, si badi bene, aveva sede proprio nella New York della poetessa rock. In entrambe le edizioni sono contenuti ritratti e descrizioni affini a quelli evocati da Patti Smith: dread-afraid feeling, leather jacket, unhingen lantern, eternity rides the wave, older boys with mototbikes, eccetera. In aggiunta al raffronto, una ulteriore fonte potrebbe essere stata costituita da alcune suggestive scene di Accattone, primo lungometraggio di Pasolini, guarda caso usato per il lancio internazionale con una proiezione-evento a New York nel 1966, con lo stesso regista presente. In particolare il vissuto di Vittorio/Citti in perenne ricerca di un'eventualità migliore rispetto a un presente amaro e inconcludente. Può apparire un'analisi emo-romanzata, con un utilizzo persino semplicistico di Pasolini, rispetto alla complessità della sua opera e alla levatura del suo pensiero, ma del resto quella di Patti Smith non vuole essere certo una analisi socioculturale e - soprattutto - lo vuole ricollocare in quel contesto punk-rock che a lei è più congeniale. E il punk è per antonomasia semplice e diretto, dove non c'è nulla da decifrare e le allegorie, se ce ne sono, sono estremamente basiche. Eppure, non cadono mai nella banale messinscena. Till Victory quindi, ovvero finché le cose non andranno un po’ meglio di “così”.
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underblong · 7 years
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Issue 2 :: Contents
COVER ART
Mia Salamone - !!!
EDITORS’ NOTE
Sam Herschel Wein & Chen Chen - “Hello!”
POETRY
Hannah Rego - “In the future, my gender” and “I Remember the Precise Moment of Learning Certain Words, like Jostled, like Corrugated ” and “(One More Time) for the people in the back”
Logan February - “The Honest Lie”
Mag Gabbert - “Fever” and “Donut” 
Alain Ginsberg - “Springtime as Judith” and “Angel Olsen Says Every Artist Should Title A Piece unfucktheworld”
Stevie Edwards - “Harm’s Way” 
Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach - “Sure as Superstition” 
Omar Sakr - “Sky Orchards (or, The Hazards of Being A Fruit)”
Alex Hall - “for roses”
Kimberly Quiogue Andrews - “Other Deluges” and “Some Mirages of the Heat-Addled”
Brett Hanley - “I Should Have Loved Bigfoot Instead”
Rajiv Mohabir - “Hybrid Unidentified Whale”
Katherine Gibbel - “Send Nudes (My tree was the selfie stick...)” and “Send Nudes (I want to talk about the nakedness...)”
Keegan Lester - “The Abridged Version of the Newscast for Breece d’j Pancake”
Matty Layne Glasgow - “All Afternoon”
Jane Wong - “Dinner and A” and “When You Died”
Emilia Phillips - “If You Wanna Make Sense Whatcha Lookin at Me For?” and “Moonpie”
CONTRIBUTOR NOTES
<3 <3 <3
&
Special thanks to Jeff Gilbert for his help with getting the audio recordings set up for this issue. 
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