04-18-2014, 06:28 AM
I had to got to the store. Now I'm back to reiterate. You're demonstrating what the bozos at the poetry magazines would call "a superficial reading of the text." But luckily for you, I don't write texts, I'm not a teenage girl. The Fuck Da World era is over; I'm talking in the mode of this Completely Serious reputation. My characters don't mix context; that is, they don't pull their punches. There is a complete line, from start to finish. A continuum. A "plane of consistency." A full blown, subtle endeavour. If a serious person would read these lines from the point of view of the protagonist, they would find understanding or feel mixed up. The correct response is to feel some kind of understanding or feel mixed up.
One of the underlining themes of my writing is that Irony is evil. Whether wrong or right, the speakers in my poetry and fiction and my essays, which is the same thing, are talking from their source.
I don't believe public discourse is beneficial. Only the private, personal, subjective interpretation of the reader is of any substance to the writer, or to the world. I don't care about that. The misreading, on the other hand, strikes me as reactionary and, as the speaker of the poem would moan, typical. The point is that there is no typicality. The function is prophetic, singular, and progressive in the illest sense.
In other words, the religious implications are to hold. The speaker never deviates from his approved view. That is the point. Writing is collective and not individual, and I'm only talking about my oeuvre, which is cohesive, and deterrent only in pragmatic design.
The design is nothing.
The truth is paramount. Which is why artists are scum. They live as I live.
That is the prerogative.
How can a character speak under the oppressive scrutiny of authorial legitimacy?
The author is God's henchman. And more . . .
One of the underlining themes of my writing is that Irony is evil. Whether wrong or right, the speakers in my poetry and fiction and my essays, which is the same thing, are talking from their source.
I don't believe public discourse is beneficial. Only the private, personal, subjective interpretation of the reader is of any substance to the writer, or to the world. I don't care about that. The misreading, on the other hand, strikes me as reactionary and, as the speaker of the poem would moan, typical. The point is that there is no typicality. The function is prophetic, singular, and progressive in the illest sense.
In other words, the religious implications are to hold. The speaker never deviates from his approved view. That is the point. Writing is collective and not individual, and I'm only talking about my oeuvre, which is cohesive, and deterrent only in pragmatic design.
The design is nothing.
The truth is paramount. Which is why artists are scum. They live as I live.
That is the prerogative.
How can a character speak under the oppressive scrutiny of authorial legitimacy?
The author is God's henchman. And more . . .