Before I talk any more shit- anyone want to go drinking at the Starry Plough tonight. A few of us might go to Stephen's class tonight, and I was probably headed to the Starry Plough to hear a good band (Darren Hoff, Scott Amendola and Ben Goldberg). There might be a cover, but the beer's good and cheap and it's a fun place. Just a thought.
To respond to Juliana's question, "why is the 'luncheonette of language' 'bullshit'?", or why did I say that? So, I'm quoting the same essay Jessea quoted, which begins with a discussion of the woes of the current debate around poetry and its role in the world. She talks about "a Spectre haunting poetry" and, if I read her right, it seems to be a kind of insularity to the debate and questions about poetry's importance- that they are all taking place within a closed community of literary debate and not turning outward towards the world. This is what I took het to mean about 'put(ting) down the coffee cup' and 'getting angry'. Up to there, I'm totally with her- I think we should constantly be turning our attentions to the world and that sentiments like anger are particularly warranted right now. It's her solution to the problem I thought she copped out on, and that's why I called bullshit.
Saying, "we should launch a ruthless critique" in poetry at this point in the history of critique in general seems a little under-baked to me. The critique has been on-giong, and most certainly ruthless, and its not that it needs to stop, but rather critics of all stripes need to assess why it hasn't been terribly successful. I'm saying this without undermining, or undervaluing the incredible body of knowledge that is critique in all its forms. I'm saying this without denying that I cry when I read Fanon or Baraka sometimes. What I'm saying is, part of turning our attentions to the world means honestly evaluating what critique has done to the state of affairs in the world: a state that is moving stridently towards retro-facism and neo-conservatism and fucking creationsim in public high schools. And while I agree with her wholeheartedly that none of those things should devalue the place of poetry in our lives, that poetry in the end draws its value extrinsically from its use-value as political means, for anyone concerned with what poetry can do or has done about the fucking mess we're in, it's not enough to say "launch a critique" or a meta-sit-in.
Like my reading of her poetry, I could be missing something, so mark these comments as tentative. When I feel like I'm being bullshitted, I get a little angry, which is rarely a useful intellectual attitude (though occassionally it is the most useful one), but in that we are asked to engage in poetry with more than just our intellects, I feel like a little ire is, a priori, acceptable. Unfortunately, I'll have to wait until I'm over the hump on some academic work to come back to Moxley and give her a good read. As with any aesthetic experience, which is at least part of what a poetry reading is, the person who walks away unhappy is, in a very basic way, less well off than the person who walks away happy, so really I've no reason to stick to my guns, except to say that some prejudices may prove, in the end, incorrigible.
And one more time, congratulations to the people of the Ukraine- you fucking rock. Now why the hell couldn't the American people storm the capital and get congress or the supreme court to anull Bush's "election" in 2000? (Not that I was any more there than anyone else).
To respond to Juliana's question, "why is the 'luncheonette of language' 'bullshit'?", or why did I say that? So, I'm quoting the same essay Jessea quoted, which begins with a discussion of the woes of the current debate around poetry and its role in the world. She talks about "a Spectre haunting poetry" and, if I read her right, it seems to be a kind of insularity to the debate and questions about poetry's importance- that they are all taking place within a closed community of literary debate and not turning outward towards the world. This is what I took het to mean about 'put(ting) down the coffee cup' and 'getting angry'. Up to there, I'm totally with her- I think we should constantly be turning our attentions to the world and that sentiments like anger are particularly warranted right now. It's her solution to the problem I thought she copped out on, and that's why I called bullshit.
Saying, "we should launch a ruthless critique" in poetry at this point in the history of critique in general seems a little under-baked to me. The critique has been on-giong, and most certainly ruthless, and its not that it needs to stop, but rather critics of all stripes need to assess why it hasn't been terribly successful. I'm saying this without undermining, or undervaluing the incredible body of knowledge that is critique in all its forms. I'm saying this without denying that I cry when I read Fanon or Baraka sometimes. What I'm saying is, part of turning our attentions to the world means honestly evaluating what critique has done to the state of affairs in the world: a state that is moving stridently towards retro-facism and neo-conservatism and fucking creationsim in public high schools. And while I agree with her wholeheartedly that none of those things should devalue the place of poetry in our lives, that poetry in the end draws its value extrinsically from its use-value as political means, for anyone concerned with what poetry can do or has done about the fucking mess we're in, it's not enough to say "launch a critique" or a meta-sit-in.
Like my reading of her poetry, I could be missing something, so mark these comments as tentative. When I feel like I'm being bullshitted, I get a little angry, which is rarely a useful intellectual attitude (though occassionally it is the most useful one), but in that we are asked to engage in poetry with more than just our intellects, I feel like a little ire is, a priori, acceptable. Unfortunately, I'll have to wait until I'm over the hump on some academic work to come back to Moxley and give her a good read. As with any aesthetic experience, which is at least part of what a poetry reading is, the person who walks away unhappy is, in a very basic way, less well off than the person who walks away happy, so really I've no reason to stick to my guns, except to say that some prejudices may prove, in the end, incorrigible.
And one more time, congratulations to the people of the Ukraine- you fucking rock. Now why the hell couldn't the American people storm the capital and get congress or the supreme court to anull Bush's "election" in 2000? (Not that I was any more there than anyone else).
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