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Friday, August third, 2012
(This post is a continuation of the earlier Peter's Voice thread -- I am trying among other  things to make my reading of La universidad desconocida be Peter's reading, trying to get in his head and read through his eyes and hope to fully realize his character. Hope that anybody's going to be interested in reading about this guy and the books he is reading and translating; but of course this hope has always been intrinsic to the READIN project...)
 Walking down Partition Street in the light summer rain and watching the lightning across the river past Rhinebeck. A really impressive storm but it's far enough off, the air's not moving here. You have to strain to make out the thunder. Nice -- I'm glad to fantasize the soundtrack and just watch the show, glad to get a little wet, glad to get home and inside and dry off. Laura's a little spacey tonight. Dale and them had a gig down at Tierney's, we smoked some grass on the way over there and she really got into it --the intoxication goes very nicely with Megan's chops on the washboard, with Dale singing "Rag Mama Rag," it must be said... a lovely time but all too short as they only had a half-hour set. The other acts? Nothing really that interesting, so here we are back home and Laura's prowling catlike by the bookcase. I'm smiling and asking her what she's reading. -- Eh, nothing's really grabbed my attention much since Snow. I grin, and flash on the "Love and Happiness" scene and Al Green singing, and feel the little twinge of uncertainty that's always present around Pamuk, like I'm not really getting it or am getting the wrong thing. (And hm, I should really mention that song to Dale...) -- Want to check out some poetry I've been working on? I found these pretty intense old Chilean poems over at Calixto's blog... and don't mention, or perhaps it goes without saying in this context, these poems from Ãvala seem to me like good trip material -- but I've mentioned Chile, and Laura would rather listen to Bolaño. Nice --I open The Unknown University at random and hit on "El dinero"; and it seems to me like this is the perfect poem for today, being as I am in receipt of a check from the Reality Fusion job, feeling confident about our rent for the next few months, even about a shopping trip over to Amazon... Still not much headway on the literary translation thing. But I remain hopeful; how could I not be, with Laura snuggled against me here on the couch as I read to her.
posted evening of August third, 2012: 7 responses
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 Two old, good friends from my days on the pynchon-l are collaborating -- one from beyond the grave no less -- on a fun new blog. The Fischer Pynchon is the lovely Christine K.'s reading of a copy of V. that she got from the estate of David Marc Fischer, PBUH. She is posting photos as she goes along of his annotations and underlinings, a memorial to a friend as we near the anniversary of his passing.
posted evening of August third, 2012: Respond
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Wednesday, August first, 2012
At Patrick Farley's sketch blog, an idea of what they look like:
posted evening of August first, 2012: Respond
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Saturday, July 28th, 2012
So let's say you're standing now standing stock still on the front stoop
in Saugerties digging the ambient sounds of nighttime
quiet rainstorm whirring thousandfold cicada and
let's say your skin looks yellow in the mottled light
and sight and sight is in itself
diffuse too diffuse
and your line of visionary darkness
and difficult
You're staring at the house across the street the stream of lovely golden monsters
 passing
and the yellow light and patchy shadow mute them
mute them dancing
and dancing
and suddenly, you're dancing
 let's say you're standing like that stock still outside now
your eyes are closed now feel the length
the indentations and extension of your spine expanding
stretching backwards
filling what was void above you
and your hands,
and from your hands expanding
canvas dream hands hanging nervous
limp down by your side you feel
the energy that's pouring out
that's pouring groundward
grounded
posted evening of July 28th, 2012: 1 response
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Thursday, July 26th, 2012
Speaking of tormentas eléctricas, we're having a pretty dramatic one tonight. I got a nice cloudscape shot just beforehand.
(Actually the full size image of this would make a really nice wallpaper file.)
posted evening of July 26th, 2012: 6 responses
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Wednesday, July 25th, 2012
Spanish Lit Month continues... At in lieu of a field guide, Rise has been poking around the dusty antiquarian book dealers' shops of Intramuros, and has discovered a most interesting manuscript folded between the pages of a tattered, dog-eared edition of Bartleby and Company. I am having trouble surpressing the urge to print out his post dozens of times over, and head down to the Barnes & Noble and fold them into the copies on the shelves -- somehow the book without this post will never seem like a complete thing to me.
posted evening of July 25th, 2012: 1 response
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Monday, July 23rd, 2012
El técnico de iluminación ponÃa lo todo de su parte pero los relámpagos majestuosos y esplendorosos al oeste nos enfocaba la vista por encima y fuera del espectáculo menor. Allá permanecÃamos de pie bajo la lluvia suave y escuchabamos la musica y los truenos lejanos.
posted evening of July 23rd, 2012: Respond
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Sunday, July 22nd, 2012
(written to a prompt from La universidad desconocida)
Entre estos árboles que he inventado
y que no son árboles
estoy yo.
If all the ink were wine and all the paper host
communion of the literate commences
when the printing presses close.
Beneath the trees that are not trees you sleep
and dream of average Joes and trains that are not trains
inhuman people, playing god, write out their epitaphs and fortunes:
your pen like silly putty printing mirrored verses
mocking poets' codes of conduct, bylaws
written waist-high on the wall.
The transubstantiation catches you off-guard,
you dip your pen once more to find
Our Savior's life-blood dripping from the
letters of your scrawl;
and senselessness transmutes your text
to whitespace, letters crawl away
like ants, it's time, don't miss your chance --
the Walrus beckons you behind his hanky.
Come and take a walk, we'll have a pleasant chat,
we'll have some oysters.
Carpenter, who's running late, will meet us at the dance.
posted evening of July 22nd, 2012: Respond
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Saturday, July 21st, 2012
por J Osner
(las que lea con disculpas a Roberto Bolaño: directed freewrite based on some references to rain in La universidad desconocida)
Mientras llueve sobre la extraña carretera
En donde te encuentras
Estoy
Créeme que estoy
En el centro de mi habitación esperando
Que llueva. Está lloviendo:
Corriendo las aguas sobre
Los huecos vitreos, ventanas
Deslizandose
Mis mejillas abajo
Y otras partes
Menos delicadas.
Creo
Creo
Tengo miedo
Créeme que tus huellas tan mojadas
Salpicando
Pulsan inquietante
(And fade.)
posted evening of July 21st, 2012: 1 response
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...Not sure quite how many times of looking in passing at the cover of La universidad desconocida it took me, before it clicked what the picture I am looking at is... For more Bolaño/Duchamp pairing, check out part 2 of Savage Detectives.
Loving the poems certainly. I need to read them more closely and repeatedly before I will have anything worthwhile to write about them though.
posted morning of July 21st, 2012: Respond
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