10-31-2023, 01:47 AM
One Good lecture or critical study is usually a Rossetta Stone.
My Maya/Mythos is built in to my Lyra/Poetics.
I'm my own editor and critic.
The prose doesn't explain the poetry but integrates it.
As for friends and adventures with other people. The so-called psychedelic drugs were usually saved for romantic boy/girl communing. When I was around friends, it was mostly methadone, heroin and morphine and all those Let's Calm the Whole Thing situations, pills crushed and powders snorted that weren't meant to speed you up.
I've always been the Dionysian reveller, even as a child, I was drunk on the energy that coursed through me in whatever chemical form. And my way was to brush the opiate dust in to large jars of whiskey wine beer and whatever, and energy drinks with sleeping aid included cough medicine, stir it all up and chug.
People talk of euphoria that enjoins the transition to High Land. Euphoria was never my thing. I wanted the hard, sharp, traumatic phantasmagoria with a large ditch of broken broomsticks sticking large sharp splinters upwards that I was leaping over and into simultaneously.
I never enjoyed the painkilling. If I was going to use a painkiller, it was going to be for an adventure, not a good time.
I'm a Wine, Women and song man. I grant all my pleasure to Inanna, save it up to woo the ladies. Much as my friends saved their mushrooms and acid for their dates.
I'm also a man of burnt bridges, and my memories of friendship and childhood have been fading rapidly these last two years.
But I did enjoy greatly watching the early '90s Are You Afraid of the Dark on the chilliest Saturday nights of this October month. Friday night I had an adventure. Last night was hot, so I stayed in my room and watched an old ECW pay per view and the newest season of American Horror Stories. The fourth episode had a message from God.
While I was staying up in New Englandland, I found a booklength essay by Dostoevsky that was pretty much about why he hated the French. There was a guy who was from North Carolina who lived nearby, and whenever he was around, I would say the things that Dostoevsky said about France about North Carolina, just as a running gag.
On this site, I changed my target to Cananda. I think South Park had already landed there.
...
John Asbery has long ruminating poems like Wallace Stevens. I like to compare these to the long ruminating Rilke poems. The Rilke language is simpler, and that would have him experienced as the greater poet. As time goes, some poets felt a need to complicate their language, as the simple things had already been stated. The first person who ever said "I think I'm going to hit the hay" was a poet, even if someone once used that expression "hit the hay" without the subjective inlay.
The only book I stole from the children's department of the library was a book about Brer Rabbit. There was several essays. One talked about how African-American storytellers deliberately used mismatched tenses with issues of time, as a running commentary on the live in the now or be killed sense of life in America in the late 19th and early 20th century. There are also the cases in John Ashbery's poetry with the subject of his poems changing gender pronouns just because. That also happens in that Green Day song, Basket Case.
People fill books with essays on these seemingly pointless techniques. But then, poets use these things, new tools, new concepts, new affects.
My Maya/Mythos is built in to my Lyra/Poetics.
I'm my own editor and critic.
The prose doesn't explain the poetry but integrates it.
As for friends and adventures with other people. The so-called psychedelic drugs were usually saved for romantic boy/girl communing. When I was around friends, it was mostly methadone, heroin and morphine and all those Let's Calm the Whole Thing situations, pills crushed and powders snorted that weren't meant to speed you up.
I've always been the Dionysian reveller, even as a child, I was drunk on the energy that coursed through me in whatever chemical form. And my way was to brush the opiate dust in to large jars of whiskey wine beer and whatever, and energy drinks with sleeping aid included cough medicine, stir it all up and chug.
People talk of euphoria that enjoins the transition to High Land. Euphoria was never my thing. I wanted the hard, sharp, traumatic phantasmagoria with a large ditch of broken broomsticks sticking large sharp splinters upwards that I was leaping over and into simultaneously.
I never enjoyed the painkilling. If I was going to use a painkiller, it was going to be for an adventure, not a good time.
I'm a Wine, Women and song man. I grant all my pleasure to Inanna, save it up to woo the ladies. Much as my friends saved their mushrooms and acid for their dates.
I'm also a man of burnt bridges, and my memories of friendship and childhood have been fading rapidly these last two years.
But I did enjoy greatly watching the early '90s Are You Afraid of the Dark on the chilliest Saturday nights of this October month. Friday night I had an adventure. Last night was hot, so I stayed in my room and watched an old ECW pay per view and the newest season of American Horror Stories. The fourth episode had a message from God.
While I was staying up in New Englandland, I found a booklength essay by Dostoevsky that was pretty much about why he hated the French. There was a guy who was from North Carolina who lived nearby, and whenever he was around, I would say the things that Dostoevsky said about France about North Carolina, just as a running gag.
On this site, I changed my target to Cananda. I think South Park had already landed there.
...
John Asbery has long ruminating poems like Wallace Stevens. I like to compare these to the long ruminating Rilke poems. The Rilke language is simpler, and that would have him experienced as the greater poet. As time goes, some poets felt a need to complicate their language, as the simple things had already been stated. The first person who ever said "I think I'm going to hit the hay" was a poet, even if someone once used that expression "hit the hay" without the subjective inlay.
The only book I stole from the children's department of the library was a book about Brer Rabbit. There was several essays. One talked about how African-American storytellers deliberately used mismatched tenses with issues of time, as a running commentary on the live in the now or be killed sense of life in America in the late 19th and early 20th century. There are also the cases in John Ashbery's poetry with the subject of his poems changing gender pronouns just because. That also happens in that Green Day song, Basket Case.
People fill books with essays on these seemingly pointless techniques. But then, poets use these things, new tools, new concepts, new affects.