There is a secret bond between slowness and memory, between speed and forgetting. Consider this utterly commonplace situation: a man is walking down the street. At a certain moment, he tries to recall something, but the recollection escapes him. Automatically he slows down. Meanwhile, a person who wants to forget a disagreeable
incident he has just lived through starts unconsciously to speed up his pace, as if he were trying to distance himself from a thing still too close to him in time.
In existential mathematics, that experience takes the form of two basic equations: the degree of slowness is directly proportion to the intensity of memory; the degree of speed is directly proportional to the intensity of forgetting.”
- Milan Kundera, from Slowness (HarperCollins, 1996)
“It takes a lot of sometimes painful self-realization to figure out what that message is in the first…”
- What I Have to Say: Cheryl Jacobs Nicolai | The Define School
“Our business is to see what we can do with the English language as it is. How can we combine the old…”
Our business is to see what we can do with the English language as it is. How can we combine the old words in new orders so that they survive, so that they create beauty, so that they tell the truth? That is the question.
And the person who could answer that question would deserve whatever crown of glory the world has to offer. Think what it would mean if you could teach, if you could learn, the art of writing. Why, every book, every newspaper would tell the truth, would create beauty.”
- Virginia Woolf, who drowned on March 28, 1941, on the art of language and the beauty of words in the only surviving recording of her voice. (via explore-blog)
Poet: Raymond Antrobus; BAR Poetry @ Gallery Cafe, April 4th 2014
“For language to have meaning there must be intervals of silence somewhere, to divide word from word…”
- Thomas Merton, “Disputed Questions” (via litverve)
Poet: Tyrone Lewis; BAR @ Gallery Cafe, April 4th 2014
INTERVIEWER: Wordsworth spoke of growing up “Fostered alike by beauty and by fear,” and he put fearful experiences first; but he also said that his primary subject was “the mind of Man.” Don’t you write more about the mind than about the external world?
BARTHELME: In a commonsense way, you write about the impingement of one upon the other—my subjectivity bumping into other subjectivities, or into the Prime Rate. You exist for me in my perception of you (and in some rough, Raggedy Andy way, for yourself, of course). That’s what’s curious when people say, of writers, This one’s a realist, this one’s a surrealist, this one’s a super-realist, and so forth. In fact, everybody’s a realist offering true accounts of the activity of mind. There are only realists.
Poet: Sophie Fenella Robinski; BAR @ Gallery Cafe, April 4th 2014
- How we work: Francis Bacon, Elizabethan polymath - rodcorp
Poets: Ruth Bertulis-Fernandes and Will Tyas, BAR @ Gallery Cafe, April 4th 2014
Poets from Burn After Reading, preparing for their monthly event at the Gallery Cafe (April 4th 2014)
Poet: Michelle Madsen, Burn After Reading at the Gallery Cafe, July 2013 (by jsamlarose)
Poet: Emily Harrison, Burn After Reading at the Gallery Cafe, July 2013 (by jsamlarose)
Poet: Muj Hameed, Burn After Reading at the Gallery Cafe, July 2013 (by jsamlarose)
Poet: Charlotte Higgins, Burn After Reading at the Gallery Cafe, July 2013 (by jsamlarose)
“Without discomfort your comfort becomes your main weakness. Change is uncomfortable and discomfort…”
- The Virtue of Discomfort - Jacob Lund Fisker
Poet: Will Tyas, Burn After Reading at the Gallery Cafe, July 2013 (by jsamlarose)
“There are two birds in your head, raven and crow, and only one of them is yours. A ghost and a robot…”
There are two birds in your head, raven and crow, and only one of them is yours. A ghost and a robot doing battle, singing like telephones, the phone is ringing, a headache word. You are dancing with the birdcage girl, banging your head against a cage that isn’t there. You want to say yes: yes to the bathtub, yes to the gumdrops, no to the laughing skullheads.
The holes in this picture are not flowers, they are not wheels, and the phone is ringing ringing, a headache word, it’s ringing for you. This is in the second person. This is happening to you because I don’t want to be here. Is there anything I won’t put words around? Yes, there is.”
- Richard Siken, opening two paragraphs to “Black Telephone,” from the “Editor’s Page" of Spork (No. 1.3, Winter 2001-2002)
Poet: Tyrone Lews, Burn After Reading at the Gallery Cafe, July 2013 (by jsamlarose)
“Readmill has just posted an official confirmation of yesterday’s acquisition story. They now belong…”
Another day, another app in my toolbox dies. It’s enough to make a forward thinking lit/tech geek very cautious about investing any serious time or effort in the next big app that comes along…