#juvenalia

[creatediana]

An untitled free verse poem written 3/10/2015, with metaphors I would one month later shape into this poem

[hopernicus]

Juvenalia

Atâția oameni, tot atâtea tristeți,ba chiar mai mult,fiecare cu un evantai de tristețe.Ne facem vânt, ne dăm aere,cu fiecare tristețe care ne absoarbeşi ne schimbă,nici nu mai contează cum ne îmbrăcăm,de azi suntem toți de un colorit absolut diferitşi vizibil,precum culorile toamnei,un purpuriu, un rogvaiv,un eşec care dă-n corai,iar coraiul merge foarte bine cu seara asta,în care nimeni nu mai…

[tatinma]

Día 11-12'22Juvenalia 2022

Día 11-12-22

[winepresswrath]

MXTX MC conflicts go:

Yi City: my boyfriend thinks I am a prolific murderer and specifically murdered a bunch of people his bff loves to get back at him. also that I tricked him into doing murders with me, for enrichment. I did all those things but did not anticipate having a feeling about his feelings.

Scum Villain: my boyfriend thinks I want to kill him but I don't.

MDZS: my boyfriend thinks I hate him but I don't.

TGCF: my boyfriend doesn't know I exist but I'm worried that once he finds out he's going to find my eyepatch ugly and my cavern of effigies offputting.

[arg0t]

ack symposium season is so incredible, i just had a nice long chat w someone I didn't think would really remember me at all who wanted all sorts of career updates and we talked about Jane Austen and the research she's writing right now

[photo-by-thomas]

This was my ride when I was 18 years old :)

Medford, New Jersey 1988

[cinemaocd]

I love the absolute pearl clutching that happens any time a new Austen adaptation drops...you should have been there when the Woke Mansfield Park dropped in 99...those pearls have left permanent indentations...

[sorenblr]

I've been going through my 4kids nostalgia phase and recently rediscovered Shaman King and its FMA brotherhood remake. I know its probably way after your time, but do you have a history with it and/or do you have any thoughts on it from either a personal or a mythological standpoint?

Way after your time? How old do you people think I am? Anyway, I've read the manga, watched the 4Kids dub etc., even played the completely serviceable Aria of Sorrow clones that were released on the GBA. I have a lot of fondness for the original series, especially the early chapters, which are rendered in this lovely style that was dominant from about 1998 to 2003. You know, early One Piece, Ravemaster, Law of Ueki etc. The high foreheads and chunky hands and almost squarish eyes. It quickly went out of fashion and is now only an artifact of that generation's juvenalia, but I really adore it. And Takei's linework in that period is phenomenal. I have very fond memories of reading the short-lived English Jump serials and opening up to the Faust arc and thinking to myself, wow. It's badass how that guy looks.

On the other hand, it operates on the Kinnikuman principle of world tournament racial dynamics, so it's understanding of myth is filtered through this parade of cultural and ethnic stereotypes, and a lot of it is 'playful' or at least deliberately unserious. And then there are characters like Chocolove who are so racist that both the localization and subsequent anime adaptations have been running damage control ever since. I assume that would be a hurdle to modern audiences, this not neccesarily ill-intentioned but very clueless replication of stereotypical imagery from imported media. On the flipside, there's an Italian guy who compels the Archangel Michael to transform into a 1992 Ferrari Testarossa.

Anyway, it's cool. I like that everyone gets stronger by going to hell. They fucked up by introducing numerical values as assessments of individual strength. You should only be able to defeat your opponent by deftly reading the flow of their 'ki' or some bullshit, not by leveraging the basic principles of arithmetic... like how a fucking nerd would do.

[oldshrewsburyian]

Just fell in love with Endeavor about 2 weeks ago, and am loving it immensely.

It's like Father Brown (if they could show gore) got crossed with BBClock (but without the nauseating editing/juvenalia). Or The Long Bright Dark (but less horny and everyone's likeable). I mean, I'm pretty sure Morse and/or DeBryn would drop the phrase "paraphilic love map" into shop talk if it was called for.

And then they had a Jaws tribute episode and it was GOOD?! I was blown away. I'm too young to remember when "___'s take on Jaws" wasn't a sign to TURN THIS OFF WHILE THERE'S STILL TIME, so it was a particularly wonderful surprise.

I'm so glad you're enjoying Endeavour. I appreciate that it's intelligent and unafraid of the macabre, as well as unafraid of inter- and metatextual homages to the other shows in the Morseverse. I would not compare it to either of the shows you mention, and I say that in its praise.

...also I'm still not over the ways in which it sets up the final novel.

[creatediana]

“Untitled [Usually...]” - a free verse poem written in my eighth grade diary, 4/17/2013 (eight days before my fourteenth birthday)

I may or may not have mentioned on this blog that before I was a poet, I was a diarist. That was how I learned to enjoy writing, and I still maintain that it’s a very worthwhile form of creative expression. This was around the time when I first became curious about writing poetry, and almost exactly a year before this blog was started.

The beginning of that day’s entry:

Dear Diary,

I’m just bored. I don’t know what to do anymore. I have homework, but I’d rather write and listen to All Time Low’s Put Up or Shut Up in my bedroom. I didn’t choose the Thug Life. I’ve also got some decent ideas for some poetry, which is odd for me since I don’t write poetry, but I was in one of those moods where I just wanna inspire others. Fuck you, Tumblr.

Let’s see how this turns out! (I really have no idea but hey it’s a diary I can’t lose.)

Usually the people that enjoy talking themost are the quietest

We are all afraid of being judged for doing what we love of failing to impress of hating our own work

Sometimes far too often we can’t speak when we really need to

But our words mean nothing.

Wow, no idea where that came from. It only took like three songs...

[joyfulforjane]

This image comes from the picture book, "The Beautifull Cassandra," that was illustrated by Juliet McMaster and published in 2021. I found this illustration to be quite comical, as it refers to the character Cassandra's apparent satisfaction after a full day of terrorizing anyone and everyone in her path. After first robbing a pastry cook of six ices, then refusing to pay a Coachman and placing a bonnet on his head as a measly substitute for his payment, Cassandra returns home to her mother to utter the words depicted above: "This is a day well spent."

In Jane Austen's juvenalia, I find the flawed nature of her characters to be quite unusual and compelling compared to most of the literature I have encountered. Many of her protagonists are described as classy and well-mannered, with even Cassandra herself being presented as "lovely and amiable" in the second chapter of the novel. However, contrary to initial images, these characters continuously contradict these flattering descriptions, acting both absurdly and impudently. One article that I found analyzing Juliet McMaster's picture book rendition of "The Beautifull Cassandra" notes the way in which the illustrations illuminate certain elements of Austen's writing style. I believe that these images magnify an almost satirical element of Austen's work, as the images seem to portray Cassandra's perception of her day as productive and deserving of rest, rather than reflecting the ugly truth of the events that occurred, and the shame and punishment that should probably ensue as a result. Finally, I find the picture-book style of this portrayal to be an interesting touch, as it embodies a sort of youthful feel, in alignment with the period of Austen's life in which it was written: her early adolescence.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

what are some of your favorite books, frank? im looking for something new to read

I've read a lot of stuff in the past few months but I've forgotten almost all of it because of the strange condition my mind is in (can't focus, can't retain things). A few that I remember liking (and which don't have I'm too many of my conflicting and controversial opinions or I'd post something like this on my official tumblr account and invite discourse):

Indignation by Philip Roth

Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

Booker, Clive and Unwind by Neal Shusterman

Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse

Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson

Juvenalia by Ken Wharton

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig

So Long and Thanks for All the Fish by Douglas Adams

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Anti-Oedipus by Deleuze and Guattari

Ubik by Philip K. Dick

Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut

The Traveler and the TFLN is OK to read? I've heard good and bad things but I've never been able to decide

[sohannabarberaesque]

Breathed there an essay contest with as unlikely a prize as an opportunity to take diving lessons with the Peter Potamus Travelling SCUBA Par-tay?

(Well, maybe not that unlikely.)

Yet still, the entries couldn't have been more hilariously unpredictable, and with postmarks from all over the place. Not to mention quite a few from small towns and other "culturally-deprived environments" in which the entrant's remarks expressed a desire to flee such cultural banality, if but for awhile.

And yet how many such turned out being from what turned out being abusive or otherwise dysfunctional homes (let alone circus or freak show families) in especially conservative communities in which the victimised was often advised to ignore or otherwise look the other way in the hope that the Wee Still Voice of Conscience would compel the tormenter(s) to stop and realise what had happened?

Which was almost enough for the promoters and the judges (Peter Potamus "himself" doubtless among them) to essentially suspend the contest and not award prizes as advertised for "lack of quality entries" until one particular entry from a small-time Iowa community in obvious decline (and duly noted in the same) took the judges by sheer surprise. Coming as it did from a 14-year-old boy by name of Niedermeyr, and making clear an inherent desire to spare himself (if but for awhile) the ennui of despair so endemic, especially with foster parents such as his of the belief that "we were better off before you, and we'd be better off without you."

Which, at any rate, would be chosen as the winner, even if the foster parents themselves feared the loss of their Dear and Lovely One for awhile ... not to mention the Magic Balloon of Peter Potamus picking up Niedermeyr within hours of the school going on summer break and transporting him to as unlikely a dive spot as Iowa's Very Own Lake Okoboji to have him pick up the basics of such an interesting sport he may have only seen on TV previously. Or, for that matter, actually being able to spend time in Iowa's favourite resort spot, unlikely to even exist in the Tall Corn State to begin with.

And for as amazingly crystalline a lake as 'Boji, as Iowans of all nations so refer, Niedermeyr somehow felt a little more relaxed when you consider just how the Travelling SCUBA Par-tay took a relaxed approach to diving instruction, particularly when it's someone as probably never experienced diving before, let alone killed an afternoon at the local swimming pool in town on occasion thanks to such foster parents looking for cheap and cheerful ways to keep the boy happy and busy ere the parents get distracted.

As for his favourite dive companion all along, Niedermeyr admitted it had to be Mildew Wolf; "his way of using droll wit and humour was enough to break the ice and make me see how much better life could be, even beyond diving" was how Niedermeyr explained it in a follow-on letter explaining how things went.

But not before the foster parents suddenly took ill in the boy's absence and were unable to handle much of anything, with Niedermeyr subsequently referred to another foster home.

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @thylordshipofbutts @nighttimehound @cottoncandy-wannabe @joey-gatorman @thebigdingle @jellystone-enjoyer @tallcharlie @screamingtoosoftly @theweekenddigest @themineralyoucrave @warnerbros-blog1

[kierongillen]

Hi! I’m wondering if you’d ever make some of your older work available again. Stuff like Homo Depressus for example, which isn’t online anymore and even the wayback machine doesn’t have the actual pages itself. In the interests of curiosity and posterity, I guess.

It would involve finding them. I suspect not, but I've quite admired how Grant has been putting out some of their juvenalia in their mailing list. Maybe I will.

[palilalia]

PAL-072 WATT LP

“Recorded in Miami 1989-1991”

BUY LP — tinyurl.com/59f39x2x "I was hanging out with Bill Orcutt at the 930 Club nearly 30 years ago, watching a famous post-rock band (who shall remain nameless, but whose moniker contained two- and-a-half times more articles and conjunctions than nouns) when he said: "This band is like my band in college -- all major 7th and 9h chords." I relate this to emphasize that in the case of Bill Orcutt and Harry Pussy, the seemingly untutored ooze of "Please Don't Come Back From the Moon" and "Girl With Frog" had its genesis in something far more Apollonian than is usually understood. It's debatable whether or not Watt, the duo of Orcutt and drummer Tim Koffley featured on Recorded in Miami, is the above- referenced grad-school band. Watt is not resplendent with jazz chords, but it's certainly more tutored, offering a mannered link between the contemporaneous Thunders-esque punk of Orcutt's Trash Monkeys and Harry Pussy's mayhem. The continuity with Harry Pussy is more than temporal -- Recorded in Miami is Orcutt’s first use of the four string guitar, and Harry Pussy claimed the same amp and drum kit. The resemblance more or less ends there. To further put Recorded in Miami -- made on Orcutt's Walkman, Rat Bastard's North Miami studio, and South Miami’s Natural Sound (total bill $289) -- into context, consider the fecundity of the underground music world as the '80s rolled into the '90s. It's hard to relate to those who missed it, but it was a time when post-hardcore hadn't quite given way to the bloat of grunge, when the Minutemen held sway (for the moment) over Led Zeppelin. The indie world was ruled by an ever-propagating compost heap of jagged guitar bands like TFUL282, Truman's Water, and (to crank it back a couple years) Phantom Tollbooth. And in some ways (although Orcutt swears Watt's prime influences were James Blood Ulmer and Fred Frith's Massacre), this record seems very much cut from that decade-ending cloth, seemingly only one vocal overdub away from a Homestead catalog number. Track after track (mostly titled after episodes of Art Clokey's slyly Buddhist TV masterwork, Gumby), Recorded in Miami's tracks spill over with right angles, rockist tropes, and verse/ chorus structures, from the Minutemen-oid funk of "Band Contest" to the stroked Moore-Ranaldoisms of "The Young and the Decoding." Yet Orcutt's fretboard-spanning angular melodic runs are right up front in the latter, and the final two tracks introduce a bit of the explosive chaos that would follow when Adris finally claimed the drum kit. Consider "Wattstock," where Koffley forms the bedrock for an extended Orcutt hotbox of instantly-composed harmolodics. Or "God Are You There, It's Me, Watt," where we can hear the spontaneous vocal bursts (the only vocals on the album) that would re-emerge on Orcutt's early solo records. Watt began to crumble when Koffley, as drummers will do, yearned for rhythmic grids of increasing complexity, while Orcutt instead wanted to "smoke more pot and improvise." For a few records with Harry Pussy, Orcutt would get his wish (though some of the structuralism of Watt would creep into later records). But we shouldn't regard Recorded in Miami as mere transitional scraps of juvenalia, or stunt-rock delivered for the mere thrill of pulling it off. Rather, it's an early, major piece of the unfolding and complex puzzle of Orcutt's music. A foundation. And without the earth beneath our feet, how can we ever reach the sky?" -- TOM CARTER