Entropy and me

Tuesday, May 15

Poems from the Book of Nanoseconds, #51

an age that has defiled
everything that once
was sacred

Saturday, May 12

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

"Hunting . . . is a good example of 'work' thst by its very nature had all the characteristics of flow. For hundreds of thousands of years chasing down game was the main productive activity in which human were involved. Yet hunting has proven to be so enjoyable that many people are still doing it as a hobby, after all practical need for it has disappeared. The same is true of fishing. The pastoral mode of also has some of the freedom and flowlike structure of earliest 'work.' Many contemporary young Navajos in Arizona claim that following their sheep on horseback over the mesas is the most enjoyable thing they ever do. Compared to hunting or herding, farming is more difficult to enjoy. It is a more settled, more repetitive activity, and the results take much longer to appear. The seeds planted in spring need months to bear fruit. To enjoy agriculture one must play within a much longer time frame than in hunting: while the hunter may choose his quarry and method of attack several times a day, the farmer decides what crops to plant, where, and in what quantity only a few times each year. In order to succeed, the farmer must make lengthy preparations, and endure chancy periods of waiting helplessly for the weather to cooperate. It is not surprising to learn that populations of nomads or hunters when forced to become farmers, appear to have died out rather than submitting themselves to that ostensibly boring existence. Yet many farmers also eventually learned to enjoy the more subtle opportunities of their occupation."

--fr. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Flow [New York: Harper, 1990]

Thursday, May 10

Fernando Pessoa

"I suppose I'm what they call a decadent, one whose spirit is outwardly defined by those sad glimmers of artificial eccentricity that incarnate an anxious and artful soul in unusual words. Yes, I think that's what I am, and that I'm absurd. That's why, in the spirit of a classical writer, I try at least to place into an expressive mathematics the decorative sensations of my substituted soul. At a certain point in my written cogitation, I no longer know where the centre of my attention lies -- whether in the scattered sensations I attempt to describe like enigmatic tapestries, or in the words which absorb me as I try to describe the act f describing and which, absorbing me, distract me and cause me to see other things. Beset by lucid and free association of ideas, images and words, I say what I imagine I'm feeling as much as what I'm really feeling, and I'm unable to distinguish between the suggestions of my soul and the fruits born of images that fell from my soul to the ground, nor do I know whether the sound of a certain discordant word or the rhythm of an incidental phrase might not be diverting me from the already hazy point, from the already stowed sensation, thereby absolving me from thinking and saying, like long voyages designed to distract us. And all of this, which even as I'm telling it should stir in me a sense of futility, failure and anguish, gives me only wings of gold. As soon as I start talking about images, even if it's to say they should be used sparingly, images are born in me; as soon as I stand up from myself to repudiate something I don't feel, I start feeling that very thing, and even my repudiation becomes a feeling trimmed with embroidery; as soon as I want to abandon myself to the wind, having lost faith in my efforts, a placid phrase or a sober concrete adjective suddenly, like sunlight, makes me clearly see the dormantly written page before me, and the letters drawn in my ink are an absurd map of magic signs. And I lay myself aside like my pen, and wrap myself in the flowing cape of obliviously leaning back, far away, intermediate and submissive, doomed like a castaway drowning within sight of marvellous islands, engulfed by the same purplish seas that he had so truly dreamed in distant beds."

--Fernando Pessoa
tr. Richard Zenith

# 387 fr. The Book of Disquiet [Penguin Books, 2003]

Works in Progress, 53

1.
getting in touch with the cable guys
swinging the birches
testing the waters
pushing radical music agendas

2.
rewriting the country's labor laws
seeing a psychic map of our obsessions
building electoral coalitions that will win
emphasizing the overlapping interests of the affluent

3.
cleaning up after Gustav, Hanna, Ike
cleaning up after Bush, after Cheney
rewriting the history of consciousness
blurring the possibilities

4.
supporting any effort to reunionize
failing to generate meaningful responses
becoming one with the centipede in oneself
getting some good poems out of it

5.
slumbering well until after nightfall
setting this brain of mine afire
reaching irritably after fact & reason
shunning easy consolations

6.
subsidizing extraction industries
helping women victimized by male violence
doubling the sign-up bonus for volunteers
supporting the troops while doubting the war

7.
counting the dead
waiting for them to break silence
descending the steeps of the soughing twilight
assimilating foreign cultures

8.
demilitarizing outer space
completing the application and mailing it back
reviewing our few remaining options
showing off poetry's "extreme generosity"

9.
maneuvering pothole-sized cars around
designing more effective marketing campaigns
speaking solely in terms of racial justice
examining burial pits and naked skulls

10.
getting out the vote
fetching water from the well
educating the masses
confessing to our personal demons

11.
clearing minefields from past wars
laying them for wars yet to come
staying executions, pardoning the innocent
blurring the boundaries, the borders

12.
reading maps in the dark with the top light off
folding them all back up rightly
cramming them into the glove compartment
getting moving again in the right direction

13.
cooling our wardheelers
voting early and often
keeping our fingers crossed
paying full-price for our journey

14.
assembling a glossary of oft-used phrases
keeping silent while the tea is poured
maintaining an inventory of our beliefs and unbeliefs
finding time to clean up around the house

15.
making the world safe for gerontocracy
clearing the minefields and cow pastures
converting analog files to digital
rereading An Anatomy of Melancholy

16.
fighting the high cost of prescription meditations
comparing the works of Proust, Gide, and Sartre
putting something aside for a rainy day
asking for another user's name and password

17.
scanning the shelves for news
cleaning up after the latest tsunami
trying not to think about elephants
looking forward to end-of-life decisions

18.
reassessing works already completed
exterminating the brutes
chipping ice from the windshield of the car
rebuilding the old road from Fredrikstad to Skjeberg

19.
getting more bang for the buck
setting something aside for that rainy day
worry about what to really worry about
getting back to the Bang, the Big One

20.
teaching the Chinese how to speak English
learning about Putin, reading his soul
cashing in on Homeland Security
making that list of things to make lists of

21.
deciding whether or not to escape to Canada
enhancing revenue without raising taxes
learning more about hematology--its life, its times
mapping talk-free zones in public parks

22.
making the punishment fit the criminal
recovering our census-takers
fitting the glove to the velvet hand
dialing for (four) dollars

23.
laying mines at the Prose/Poetry border
celebrating the rebirth of death
transferring funds to overshore accounts
counting the years from start to finish

24.
unpacking after the last long/short journey
saying goodbye to the undead
finding trusty pocket tools for indoor use
pleasing others in letters

25.
recouping ancient losses
moving data from there to over here
scanning the text as rapidly as possible
keeping Kandinsky in mind

26.
replacing old maps with new ones
preparing the cat for summer camp
paying the bills in advance
brushing up on our Spanish

27.
stealing stones from the temple
building a nearby church
stealing stones from the church
building a nearby bank

28.
filling the sandbags
repairing the levee
spreading plutocracy around the world
counting and bagging the dead

29.
cleaning up after Rita, Katrina
remembering we must pay our bills
washing windows of opportunity
trying to find the snows of yesteryear

30.
covering up the latest cover-up
rereading all we've reread as of now
reviewing the plays of Pinter, their silences
uncovering the cover-up of the cover-up

31.
comparing apples to orangutans
criminalizing conservative politics
finding new ways to profit from disasters
rescuing painting from the dead end of Pop Art

32.
robbing Peter and Paul to pay Mark and Luke
waking up to a brand-new day
forgetting that old Underwood we once loved
overcoming inertia and ignorance

33.
freeing the slaves
admonishing those who do evil
stamping out political brushfires
democratizing the US

34.
closing the books on the old year
balancing the checkbook (first time ever)
remembering to reshape my face (yet again)
changing course (as always)

35.
securing the seaports
transfiguring the night of the prom
seeking an audience with His Holiness, the President
bombing the Middle East into freedom and democracy

36.
telling civil war from your garden-variety insurgency
recognizing our deepest needs, wants, and wishes
finally getting that poodle to the groomer
learning to live on self-serve island

37.
keeping an eye on the military-industrial complex
reseeding the lawn for the nth and final time
staking out claims on the future
moving the party toward a more radical center

38.
restoring the Gulf to its pre-US condition
administering flu shots to every chicken in every pot
studying studies on the results of previous studies
reducing the pulse of alien shadows

39.
reducing light pollution in our major cities
rescuing the castaways
creating unwanted database gaps
accommodating carbon dating to Biblical truth

40.
bombing our way to an "endurable" peace
retelling the tales of bygone wars
seeing what might be learned there
measuring the manatee

41.
returning that defective broadband router
speaking kindly of those we no longer respect
giving up keeping up as a modus vivendi
putting our thoughts into action

42.
sticking to issues that directly affect us
bemoaning the cautiousness of today's athletes
co-opting the arguments of their opposition
welcoming Latino immigrants at the border

43.
throwing our hats in the ring
translating our actions into thought
seeing that Anna Nicole Smith achieves sainthood
rehanging Saddam and getting it right

44.
paying off our debts, incurring new ones
getting the MS of the new book out into the mail
preparing ourselves for our press conference
seeking an end to cross-pollination

45.
hammering out justice, all over this land
disturbing the neighbors by night, by day
enjoying privacy at our place in the country
transmuting dross into gold

46.
pronouncing the names of the dead
bringing Elian back to his Miami relatives
rejuvenating all those pre-aged youngsters out there
throwing our hats in the ring

47.
finding our way to the next whiskey bar
extending that fence to both east and west coasts
revising our previously revised revisions
building the ark to end arks

48.
preventing its dividing itself up
realizing our potential potential
spending more time with the family
waking up to unreality

49.
finding the photos of the old house
rowing the boat ashore
thinking things through again
keeping the guard up

50.
parsing the genome
flinging sweets down the staircase
exhaling only when necessary
tearing myself away

51.
parsing the genome
fleshing out the diagram
refilling the lungs, yet again
reacquainting ourselves

52.
getting the genie back
refreshing the screen
barking the dog
crying over spilled beans

53.
making up our minds
testing the waters
arousing the base
exchanging dollars

54.

Lamantia, Primavera

It is the oaken village that falls, splintered through a dust of visage where I gallop, no more flint than air, to think of cabalist hope: a universal alteration in the germination of planets.

But, the mystagogic chairs smashed in seed wars, I'm conceived again by the imponderables of total conjunction--even my shadow with another's that left its organs (sex-ploding suns) some distance from the translations of matter into an image.

This way the poem becomes an open sluice for darkness. Only the most obscure body is the brightest unity.

I catch hold of a train inside an iris.

Time at the window of maternal cosmetic, the high-heeled foot garlanded by a silken phallus spectates the forest where the uterine furnishings sink into drawers at bay from that twilight flashing in a mirror of dressing and undressing.

The preternatural identities beat the clouds from their barks, a child's chance look at the raging smolder of roses. Nearing sleep, this same wind rustles the void of blood-stained horses (my first cabals) whose galaxy dissolves with a kiss the victorious rescue of the palpable shadow streaming stars, her face: this bed, the undulant phantom: her hips.

We ride wooden horses

Always a desert marries the boiling water.

--Philip Lamantia

Thursday, October 27

Anatole Broyard

"One night after class I spoke to Dr. Fromm. I asked him to recommend an analyst, hoping he would take me himself. But he didn't; he sent me instead to Ernest Schachtel, who taught a course in Rorschach interpretation at the New School.

"Dr. Schachtel looked like Paul Klee--or at least like a photograph I had seen of him. It pleased me to imagine that I was about to be analyzed by Paul Klee. Schachtel was thin, well-dressed, delicate-looking, almost nervous. He impressed me as the sort of man who read Schiller, Heine, and Kleist, who listened to Schubert and Mahler. His expression was melancholy and I supposed he had suffered during the war. What was it like, I wondered, to leave your own country for another, where all you met was the unhappiness and confusion of the people who lived there? Suppose when Americans went to Paris or Florence, the waiters, hotel clerks, and taxi drivers told them their dreams, their fears and nameless angers.

"In Dr. Schachtel's apartment on the Upper West Side, there was just a touch of Bauhaus. His furniture was light, almost fragile, and it occurred to me that when Germans weren't heavy they were often fragile. Like Fromm and Horney, he was a revisionist, and that was what I wanted, to be revised. I saw myself as a first draft."

--Anatole Broyard
fr. Kafka Was the Rage: A Greenwich Village Memoir
[New York: Random House, 1993]

Sunday, October 16

Paragraphs from Stein, 15

"It is a puzzle why are german dogs all rather timid gentle friendly and obedient, they are that, the characteristic german dogs, it kind of cheers one up that some time they the people will be that because people and dogs must be alike in a country in which they are born and bred and have descended. There are the poodles, the dachshunds, even the dog which is a kind of bull, the Bismark dog is gentle and the german black police-dog is a much gentler animal than the Alsatian wolf hound, it is a funny thing this, being fond of poodles, and always having them I bother about all this. I thought poodles were french but the french breed always has to be refreshed by the german one, and the german pincher is so much more gentle than our Chichuachua little dog which it resembles, and so everything would be a puzzle if it were not certain that logic is right, and is stronger than the will of man. We will see."

fr. Paris France

[New York: Liveright, 1970--first publ. in 1940]

Tuesday, September 27

Paragraphs from Stein, 14

Some know very well that their way of living is a sad one. Some know that their way of living is a dreary thing. Some know very well that their way of being living is a tedious one. Some know very well that they are living in a very dull way of living. Some do not know that a way of living is a tedious one. Some do not know that a way of living is a sad one. Some do not know that a way of living is a dreary way of living. Some do not know that one way of living is a dull one.

fr. "Flirting at the Bon Marche"
c. 1910-1912

Saturday, September 17

Remains To Be Seen

Remains To Be Seen, works old and new by Halvard Johnson

now ongoing and available in three volumes

Vol I, Vol. II, Vol. III

Tuesday, August 9

Works in Progress, 52

Thursday, June 30

Paragraphs from Stein, 13

It is necessary to think about this question of calligraphy, it must never be forgotten that the only way Picasso has of speaking, the only way Picasso has of writing is with drawings and paintings. In 1914, and from then on it never stopped, he had a certain way of writing his thoughts, that is to say of seeing things in a way that he knew he was seeing them. And it was in this way that he commenced to write these thoughts with drawings and with painting. Oriental people, the people of America and the people of Spain have never, really never forgotten that it is not necessary to use letters in order to be able to write. Really one can write in another way and Picasso has understood, completely understood this way. To recapitulate. From 1914 to 1917, cubism changed to rather flat surfaces, it was no longer sculpture, it was writing, and Picasso really expressed himself this way, because it was not possible, really not, to really write with sculpture, no not.

from "Picasso" (1938)

Saturday, February 26

Poems from the Book of Nanoseconds, #50

inner eyes shattered
glittering fragments
to exorcise

Thursday, November 18

35 Piano Etudes

for David Rakowski

On an otherwise empty stage, a grand piano stands with its lid fully open, the stool a few feet from the pedals. The pianist lid fully open, the stool a few feet from the pedals. The pianist enters, carrying a toy piano and scrunches under the body of the grand pianos with it, making him/herself as comfortable as possible.

The pianist, with a smile, acknowledges the audience and, using a white handkerchief, dusts off the keys of the toy piano. Then, he/she performs John Cage's 4'33" twice in succession. Between the two performances he or she may or may not improvise a brief statement explaining why the piece is being performed again.

The pianist approaches the piano cautiously, as though not knowing what it is. The lid is down, the keyboard is covered. The pianist taps various parts of the piano, testing its sounds.

Then with the briefest of glances at the audience he/she sits down on the stool, flips the tails of a tuxedo jacket he/she isn't wearing free of the stool, and, turning to the audience, announces he/she will play ___________.

He/she proceeds to do so, without opening the keyboard. When the piece is over, he/she rises, bows to the audience and leaves the stage.

The pianist comes on stage carrying a leash, which he/she attaches to the right-front leg of the piano. He/she then turns back toward the door by which he/she entered and starts forward. If the piano, like a recalitrant puppy, fails to move, the pianist drops the leash, goes to the stage-door and waves onto the stage another pianist who attaches a leash to the left-front leg of the piano. If the piano again fails to move, a third pianist is enlisted to help . . . and then a fourth, fifth, sixth, etc., if necessary, until the piano begins to move.

When the piano is finally moving, the assembled pianists walk it once in a circle around the stage. When at last it is back more or less in its original position, then unleash it and, applauding politely, say, "Good dog! Good boy!" Then, they pat its lid and file off the stage.

At any point in an otherwise normal recital (though not at the very beginning or end, or just before or after intermission), the pianist invites all of the members of the audience who care to do so to file onto the stage and play a single note on the piano. After all who care to participate have done so, he or she applauds the audience and invites its members to applaud themselves.

The formally dressed pianist comes on stage carrying a tool kit. He or she, during the first half of the concert, disassembles the grand piano while whistling tunes from various pieces by Chopin. Then, after intermission, the pianist returns to the stage, bows, and proceeds, in silence, to reassemble the piano. A piano-tuner then retunes the piano, and, as an encore, the pianist performs Schumann's Toccata in C.

Six or more pianos (depending on space available) are wheeled on stage and six (or more) pianists in gym togs and begin doing jumping jacks and push-ups near each of the pianos. Each of the pianists in turn stops exercising and plays a three- or four-minute etude of his or her choice as the others continue their jumping jacks and push-ups. When the last pianist has played and resumed exercising, the exercising continues for another four or five minutes, after which the exercising stops and the performers take their bows.

The soloist, struggling mightily, pushes his/her piano up a hill, perhaps one of the lows hills surrounding the Hollywood Bowl. When, at the crest of the hill, there is a moment's pause before the piano begins to roll back down, the pianist is able to rest briefly and savor his/her freedom, before trudging down to begin the task of pushing the piano up the hill, yet again.

Two nanopianos are inserted into the Large Hadron Collider at the CERN facility near the border of France and Switzerland. They are fired, molto vivace, in opposite directions, and when they collide the resultant tempi and fingerings are studied for any hints as to how music first came into being.

Prepare to perform an evening of Beethoven piano sonatas, but on a piano prepared for a performance of John Cage's Sonatas and Interludes. (A piano prepared by Aleck Karis is recommended.) The choice of Beethoven sonatas is yours.

10.

Choosing individual movements from among the piano sonatas of Scriabin, Beethoven, Prokofiev, Bach, Chopin, Haydn, and Mozart, prepare an evening of piano sonatas. Rules: 1) three sonatas minimum, four maximum; 2) no composer represented more than once in each sonata or more than three times in the program as a whole.

11.

The piano body, having been waterproofed, is filled with water, and then several varieties of fish are added. The more fish the better. Extremely sensitive underwater microphones (as many as possible) are suspended throughout the "tank." The sound is amplified by means of a rock concert-like array of speakers. The pianist plays a recital of his/her own choosing. Pieces having to do with water (e.g. Debussy, Ravel) are encouraged but not required. Large monitors enabling the audience to watch the fish as the recital proceeds would be a nice touch.

12.

--HJ

Monday, November 15

Works in Progress, 51

Silenzio

Just before dawn, we splashed ashore.

No one there. Nothing awake.
Nothing there. No one
awake.

--HJ

Wednesday, September 8

R. H. Blythe

"The fundamental thing in the Japanese character is a peculiar combination of poetry and humour, using both words in a wide and profound yet specific sense. 'Poetry' means the ability to see, to know by intuition what is interesting, what is really valuable in things and persons. More exactly it is the creating of interest, of value. 'Humour' means joyful, unsentimental pathos that arises from the paradox inherent in the nature of things. Poetry and humour are thus very close; we may say that they are two different aspects of the same thing. Poetry is satori; it is seeing all things as good. Humour is laughing at all things; in Buddhist parlance, seeing that 'all things are empty in their self-nature' . . . and rejoicing in this truth."

--R. H. Blythe, Japanese Life and Character in Senryu

Monday, June 14

Pavel Tchelitchew

"Will you excuse me for my English which is not very clear, which has accent. I speak several languages, they all have accents. I can't help it. I'll tell you why. Because artists, we do not think with words. We work with forms, not with words. Musicians work with sounds, also not with words. So you forgive me about that, please. And besides, I must tell you that I have to speak sometimes about myself, and you forgive me that, too because I saw her, I talked to her, and not to somebody else. And I don't want you to ask me any questions. My pet hate is questions and you understand why, because I come here as a friend. And it's all about private life, about our relations and friendship, and it is not at all a subject of public discussion. I'll tell to you what I want to tell, and I will not tell you what I don't want to tell. So would Gertrude Stein, you will not get out of her anything what she wouldn't like to tell you. There is an enigma in every relation, and in every friendship, and in every reverence. But whatever I have to say I hope it will not be obscure, and it will not be puzzling or confusing because . . . I will tell you and reply [to] you with some words by your writer Thoreau, who said, 'do not suppose I have a taint of obscurity.' I will speak about Gertrude Stein as a poet, great, famous, and courageous person -- figure. Well, speaking about poetry, it is very difficult to say. Where is the climate of poetry? Where is it that poetry originates? It is very difficult to explain to you. You know very well it starts from the forgotten past of the magic ritual. In the words of the high priest, the words that contained life and death, fear and happiness. As priest, the words that contained life and death, fear and happiness. As it says in the fairytales about the Firebird, it's beyond the Seven Seas. At the end of the night -- at the end of the night there is the garden of Hesperides. And there grow the trees, the apples of eternity. You see, it's all very far and it's all very strange and what I have to say seems to you probably strange. I am like an old folklore storyteller. So, I will try to explain [to] you my point of view about this very strange, unusual thing -- what is poetical inspiration -- because the sources of poetical inspiration are equal for us, and for composers, and for poets. And I hope I will not be confusing, and I hope I will not confuse you more that I am confused, it is not me who's confused -- they simply don't understand. And also I would like to prove to Miss Alice B. Toklas, the faithful companion of Gertrude Stein, that painters not only paint but also can think sometimes. Well, here we are."

--Pavel Tchelitchew

by way of introducing remarks concerning his memories of Gertrude Stein

Martin A. Ryerson Lecture, Yale University, Feb. 20, 1951
in Gertrude Stein Remembered
[Lincoln, Nebraska: Univ. of Nebraska Press, 1994]

Tuesday, June 1

David Samuels

Local Color

"I arrived in Nis midmorning. The highway leading into town was empty and lined with stores selling motorbikes and diet supplements. The city felt far removed from Belgrade, with its Austro-Hungarian facades and well-ordered criminality. Nis was wilder, and had more of an ethnic mix: Albanians, Macedonians, Gypsies. The city's most famous landmark is the Skull Tower, which was built by the Turks, in 1809, out of quicklime, sand, and nine hundred and fifty-two skulls of Serbian fighters. On the uneven sidewalks, girls in heavy makeup tottered along in high heels, their loutish boyfriends following closely behind."

--David Samuels

fr. "The Pink Panthers: A tale of diamonds, thieves, and the Balkans"

in The New Yorker [April 12, 2010]

Friday, May 21

Poems from the Book of Nanoseconds, #49

sounds from the kitchen
the sky above us
an uncertain blue

Tuesday, May 11

Gunnar Ekelöf

"I placed one word beside another and finally with a great deal of effort managed to construct a whole sentence--naturally not one that 'meant something' but one that was composed of word-nuances. It was the hidden meaning that I was seeking--a kind of Alchemie du verbe. One word has its meaning and another word has its own, but when they are brought together something strange happens to them: they have an in-between connotation at the same time as they retain their original individual meanings . . . poetry is this very tension-filled relationship between the words, between the lines, between the meanings."

--Gunnar Ekelöf

tr. W. H. Auden and Leif Sjöberg
quoted in Gunnar Ekelöf: Selected Poems
Introduction by Göran Prinz-Pahlson
[Baltimore, Maryland: Penguin Books, 1971]