bloodpudding

by Feng

summer reading list part 1.

THE EXQUISITE, COFFIN-LIKE SENTENCES OF MICHEL HOUELLEBECQ WILL ALWAYS HAUNT ME.  THE APHORISTIC DEATHS OF CIORAN.  THE FLORIDITY OF HORROR IN THE ACCIDENTS AND PROPHECIES OF PAUL VIRILIO.  THE MOTILE AND RESTLESS SORROW OF JEAN RHYS, WHO GETS IT EXACTLY RIGHT.  THE LORD’S PRAYER IN FRANNIE AND ZOOEY.  THE ALEPH OF BORGES.  THE MADDENING PERFECTION IN THE LOGIC OF SIMONE WEIL.  I ALWAYS WANTED TO WRITE AS THOUGH I WERE ALREADY DEAD.  I DON’T KNOW WHY.  AND THAT PART OF ME THAT WANTS TO DIE IS CROSSED WITH THE PART OF ME THAT IS WAY BEYOND ME, THAT WANTS TO LIVE MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE.  AND AT THE CENTER OF THAT CROSS, AT THE CENTER OF THAT X, IS THE POEM I WRITE, WHATEVER IT IS.  – Ariana

Recently I was part of a symposium honoring Bernadette Mayer and one of the presenters said, and I quote, “There is too much writing in the world!” I challenged that position as elitist, and furthermore there is TOO MUCH WAR in the world, but never too much poetry! The world needs everyone understanding our creative viscera NOW, not later but NOW! There are nearly seven billion people on the planet at the time we’re having this conversation Thom, but soon there will be nine billion. We NEED to find the way to permission, to unlock the imagination. Real change requires real thinking. The definition of art is always annoying to me. It needs LESS definition, borders that are not brick but something more porous, like pudding, yes, I prefer art with pudding borders, and you have a delicious snack as you eat your way out of it. -CA

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