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Friday, March 23rd, 2012
To make your shadow dance, dance. To make your shadow talk, stand on a streambank.
Learn from your shadow. Broken glass won’t cut it, barbed wire can’t stop it, mud doesn’t stick.
Dave Bonta of Via Negativa today posted How to Cast a Shadow, the 27th and final poem in his series Manual. Go read (and if you likeby all means, listen to his recitations) -- some great stuff is present. Start from the beginning! You have to start from a position of strength. Leave a window open for cat-burglars and cats, either of whom may have a lot to teach you.
posted evening of March 23rd, 2012: 3 responses
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Tuesday, February 21st, 2012
Fug You is Ed Sanders' new autobiography. Check out Sanders reading from it at the launch, at Boo-Hooray gallery on Canal St. Boo-Hooray is currently hosting an exhibit of Fuck You/ A magazine of the arts.
posted evening of February 21st, 2012: Respond
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Sunday, January 15th, 2012
 I have been struggling for a couple of weeks with translating a trilogy of stories by Zupcic about his character Vinko Spolovtiva... took a break from that to work on "Tescucho, Italia" from his new book Médicos taxistas and I was able in just a few days to get a working version together that I think reads quite well. You can listen to me reading it if you like; and hopefully soon you will be able to read it published somewhere!
posted afternoon of January 15th, 2012: 1 response
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Sunday, November 13th, 2011
Al dÃa siguiente ya no fui a la universidad y me la pasé platicando a diestra y siniestra con todos los real visceralistas, que entonces todavÃa eran unos chavos más o menos sanos, más o menos enfermos, y que todavÃa no se llamaban real visceralistas.
—Bárbara Patterson
September 1976 It is frustrating and surprising to find that there is no audiobook of Los detectives salvajes available. (The only Spanish-language Bolaño audiobook I see is Nocturno de Chile read by Walter Krochmal, which I expect is great.) The interviews in part 2 should absolutely be read out loud, and preferably by different people. It would make a great reader's theater, except it would go on for a couple of days...
posted afternoon of November 13th, 2011: 1 response
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Tuesday, October 25th, 2011
 I'm happy to find a couple of new Lovecraft links this week --
- The Fungi from Yuggoth is a sequence of 36 sonnets, the narrative of a man's encounter with the spawn of the Nameless Ones; YouTube user ChurchofTjolGtjaR has uploaded a reading of it with spacey music. Wikipædia lists 5 recordings of the sequence; I do not know which one this is.
- Chris Lackey and Chad Fifer's H.P. Lovecraft Literary Podcast features weekly readings from Lovecraft and discussion. Good stuff! (Thanks for the link, Eleanore!)
 (Speaking of the Elder Gods, they put in an appearance in Dorothy Gambrell's latest Very Small Array cartoon: What is Coming to Get Us?)
posted evening of October 25th, 2011: Respond
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Tuesday, August 16th, 2011
Clémence Loonis (cuya lectura de Altazor me ha encantado) ha filmado el poeta Miguel Oscar Menassa recitando varios poemas de GarcÃa Lorca:
posted evening of August 16th, 2011: 2 responses
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Thursday, February 17th, 2011
Thanks are due Joyelle McSweeney and Johannes Göransson of Montevidayo for making available these recordings of Raúl Zurita and his translator Daniel Borzutsky, appearing together at Notre Dame last month. They are reading from Zurita's book Canto a su amor desaparecido (1985), newly published in translation.
Zurita is my favorite reader of any poet I have heard reading. Such a beautiful voice, such a magnificent connection with his words. They are tragic words and bitter, and Borzutsky's translation communicates their tragedy and their bitterness clearly -- even if he is not in Zurita's class as a reader...
Pegado, pegado a las rocas, al mar y a las montañas.
Murió mi chica, murió mi chico, desaparecieron todos.Desiertos de amor.
posted evening of February 17th, 2011: Respond
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Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010
Speaking of Altazor, I found on YouTube a reading of the Prologue that I've been translating over the last few weeks. Clémence Loonis is reading:
My translation of this section below the fold.
"And I created the mouth and the lips of the mouth, to imprison ambiguous smiles; and the teeth of the mouth to keep watch on the absurdities that enter our mouths. "I created the tongue of the mouth, the tongue which man tore from her proper role, making her learn to speak... She, she, the gorgeous bather, torn forever from her proper role, aquatic, purely sensual."
My parachute began to fall vertiginously. Such is the force of the attraction from death, from the open sepulchre. You must believe it, the tomb holds more power than the eyes of my beloved -- the open tomb and all its charms. And I'm saying this to you, to you who when you are smiling, you make me think about the beginning of the world.
My parachute became entangled with an extinguished star, one which went conscientiously about its orbit as if it were not aware of the futility of its efforts. And making good use of this well-earned respite, I proceeded to fill in, with my profound thoughts, the blank squares of my gameboard: "Authentic song is arson. Poetry weaves herself through every thing, she lights the way for her consumations with her shivers of ecstasy, of agony. "One must write in a tongue which is not one's mother tongue. "The four cardinal points are three: the South and the North. "A poem is a thing which is coming into being. "A poem is a thing which never exists, which must exist. "A poem is a thing which never has existed, which could never exist. "Flee from the sublime external, unless you want to die brought low by the wind. "If I did not commit some madness at least once every year, I would surely go mad."
↻...done
posted evening of September 22nd, 2010: Respond
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Saturday, November 28th, 2009
We saw this video of Robert Frost reading his most famous (? -- I think) poem last night -- I had never heard Frost reading before and was really struck by the hypnotic, incantatory quality of his voice. Also he reads a little faster than I would have pictured.
posted evening of November 28th, 2009: 1 response
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Saturday, August first, 2009
Having a lazy morning and I thought I would pick up and look at A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.... This is a book which I read and loved when I was 14 years old, but which has over the years resisted efforts at rereading. I picked up a copy at a garage sale recently and was enchanted again by the opening paragraphs. Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo... His father told him that story: his father looked at him through a glass: he had a hairy face. He was baby tuckoo. The moocow came down the road where Betty Byrne lived: she sold lemon platt. This morning's discovery is, this is a great, great read-aloud book. I haven't enjoyed reading anything aloud so much since The Hobbit. Try reading this aloud, in an even, relaxed tone: They all laughed again. Stephen tried to laugh with them. He felt his whole body hot and confused in a moment. What was the right answer to the question? He had given two and still Wells laughed. But Wells must know the right answer for he was in third of grammar. He tried to think of Wells's mother but he did not dare to raise his eyes to Wells's face. (And in addition to thinking this sounds great, I am identifying with it -- I can feel myself getting hot and confused as I try and figure out how to make the boys stop laughing at me...)You know what book this is reminding me of in its opening pages, is Boy by Roald Dahl.
posted morning of August first, 2009: 1 response
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