Esther Press

Image by Irana Douer


SleepingFish 0.9375 has dropped.

http://www.sleepingfish.net/

You'll have to copy and paste the URL, because Blogger doesn't seem to be allowing me to make hot links at the moment.

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Reading Jerome Charyn's _The Tar Baby_.

I watched Shut Up & Sing, a documentary on The Dixie Chicks, directed by the great Barbara Kopple (of Harlan County USA fame). The documentary follows the band around after Natalie Maines' little comment in 2003, in London, about being ashamed that George Bush was from Texas, which was the catalyst that spawned a deeply nasty imbecility to take place in the United States, with radio stations pulling their records from the play list, regular people throwing out their discs, and so on. The film moves through these days, through the ways they decided to resurrect their careers, especially in the wake of at least one death threat in Dallas. As the FOX News child-actors, like O'Reilly and Hannity, did their best to be as repugnant and obnoxious as possible, while the creepy roaches at Free Republic.com ran their slanderous campaigns, and the general media did its typical slowdance with shoddy research, for instant scandal (ready to eat in a minute), I was struck that none of this crap would've happened if the Chicks were males. I think my favorite moments in the film take place when one witnesses the frustration and anger in Maines particularly, and, of course, her fighting spirit that emerges over the few years depicted in the film.

From "Gloria"



We lean to listen.
We listen to one side.
Any et, et, et, is.
Et in terra.
Et in terror pocks.
Et in terror pocks, ho, "meanie," buss,
bone, eh?, vole, lune, tart, ah!, tis.
Any neck ligament.
Any "to collect the remaining grass."
Any ridged shadow from that glass
as elastic as beau, nay, bonae voluntatis.

Et in era, era, parks.
Et in era, era, parks.
Et in error, error
pax home, mean, he, bus,
bow neigh, veau, loon, tar, art, is.



Of good will. Of their selective good will. Of any
single or doubly long sighs. Of what in common is.
"For every one of them without exception flows
from the state of their possesor's body at the time."

Loud, ah, uh, ah, uh, arm, moose, day, "A."
Loud, ah, uh, ah, uh, I'm, mousse, te, eh?
For every single one of them without exception,
glow, reef, fee, car, muss, be.


--Catherine Imbroglio, Parts of the Mass

Fuck Canada. I want to live on 581 c.

We left for our honeymoon on the morning that Seung-Hui Cho killed 32 people at Virginia Tech. Discarding the mini-tour two years ago to buy our home here in Chico, our previous joint vacation occured on September 10 and 11th, 2001.

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Received yesterday:

Parts of the Mass, Catherine Imbroglio, Burning Deck, 2007.

L. and I went on two of the tours at Hearst Castle, which is just down Hwy 1 from the more important elephant seal colony. We spoke with a docent at Hearst and he said that the seal numbers keep rising, telling us there were a few thousand new births this year.

In keeping with Hearst castle, we watched Citizen Kane again. I think this was the first time of my several viewings that I was actually laughing pretty hard at Welles' roast of Hearst. Some of the humor is so deeply-set. For instance, at the end of the movie, when old Kane speaks with Susan Alexander, the "singer," across the room, they are nearly shouting to one another, the room being so big. Another very subtle inset occurs in the flashback to the sled, with Kane as a boy. It's more than implied that his new "father" will actually be a bank. Once one better understands the history of Hearst, the glaring references to his life become ridiculous, even moreso with the knowledge that young Welles maintained, for awhile at least, that it was not a picture about Hearst.

At the beginning of the Hearst tour, our docent--Ted--quizzed us briefly if we remembered what his name was, and then what the famous word was in Citizen Kane. Of the forty or so people, no one seemed to know the obvious Rosebud, so I called it out. Ted, ever pleased, presented me with an actual rosebud from the Hearst estate, which I gave to L., which she put in her pocket. In watching the additional dvd on the fight over Citizen Kane that came with the movie, I found out that the word Rosebud, which is what the entire movie pivots on, was actually Hearst's supposed name for Marion Davies' privates. A low, little prank, certainly, but Mankiewicz and Welles were interested in taking Hearst down more than a few pegs.

It's still hard to believe that Welles was 25 years old when the picture came out.

Due to different pillow elevations over the honeymoon, through various hotels, I am in the midst of my annual visit with Benign paroxysymal positional vertigo (BPPV). There are a few exercises to choose from to get rid of the vertigo, but I couldn't remember them when we were in Hayward today, when it came on. Today marked the first time that I have actually fallen down due to this irritating problem, but I am home now and will be doing the Epley rotations.

I will put up some pictures in the next couple of weeks, specifically when I get a new computer, as I'm about to retire my fine 1996 CPU. A day before the wedding our less-than-two-year-old Nikon digital camera refused to power on. Perfect timing. The new software for the new camera doesn't like my old computer. This isn't the reason for the new computer--basically most software won't deal with Windows 98 anymore, so I'm being forced to update.

We spent time driving on Hwy 20, past Clear Lake, learning about things like the Bloody Island Massacre, before moving through huge redwoods around Willits, before descending in steeply graded turns down into the North Coast, and Fort Bragg. It's beautiful country. Spent time at Glass Beach, Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens, the town of Mendocino, Jughandle Park, Cabrillo Point Lighthouse, refreshing ourselves at the wonderful Headlands Coffeehouse. I bought a book on mushrooms, a hiking guide to Mendocino County, a kind of musical/nature-sounds disc, some seeds, and a plant, the name of which eludes me.

We continued down on Hwy 1, cutting over on Hwy 128, through Navarro River redwoods--dark, dark, dark in there--before joining up with Hwy 101 South, down through Santa Rosa, Petaluma, over the hills of Marin County, over the Golden Gate, through SF, all the way down 280/85/17, through Steinbeck country, and the Castorville artichokes, into Monterey, seeing the Aquarium, past Eastwood Carmel and the tony people in beamers and porsches and ferraris, to the fateful decision to push on down Hwy 1, all the way to San Simeon and Hearst Castle. Hwy 1 from Carmel to San Simeon is the most whiteknuckling bit of road I've ever been on. 93 miles in about 2.5 or more hours. Turns on hills, steep on the side of the mountains. Big Sur! Three foot shoulders at moments. As ever in California, the route was marked by a complete disinterest in guardrails.


MORE TO COME (when the spins end)

Why Does Herr R. Run Amok? is an early film of Fassbinder's. Many of the early films are full of youthful dissatisfaction and anger, as well as the seering societal criticisms. But to simply catch these things is to miss so much about his tone, for there is a deep and sad humor in his films as well, as if he were cutting to the essences of "the living project" in short order. Fassbinder's films are rich to me because he seems to depict and narrate mulit-valent emotional states, "contradictions" and all. Why Does Herr R. Run Amok? is a slowly-forming, blistering attack on the vapid lives of the middle class in 1970s Germany. The film never seems to show its hand, though, overtly, letting the characters discuss the finer points of skiing instruction and drafting. The British television show, The Office, might have used Why Does Herr R. Run Amok? as a blueprint, though they are very much different. Where The Office plays for laughs, Fassbinder's film doesn't, or much differently. I have seen, I believe, 26 of Fassbinder's 45 films now, and I think Why Does Herr R. Run Amok? is one of the better early films, because the descent is so patiently cared-for, and the restraint in his writing is quite admirable.

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I am in the process of "'getting' married." This is a process that lasts about eight months, typically. The birth of marriage shall happen this Saturday, and I cannot wait, much like an expectant mother with stretched, itching skin, to get this over with. Weddings, I'm afraid, just aren't meant for people like "me". It will be fun, though, to see everyone again.

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If one reads the garbled abstractions of Lacan as "poetry," and not strictly for psychological meaning, they are much easier to understand.

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All best, auf Wiedersehen, take care, for now...

When I'm reading a philosopher/social critic like Zizek, who relies on Lacan and Hegel so much, I usually go back to the sources (Lacan, Hegel) to refresh my memory, before moving back to Zizek, for instance. I am reading Lacan, really, for the first time at any length, in the translations by Alan Sheridan in the selected Ecrits. The translations are very nearly impossible to read, inscrutable, like sudden cul-de-sacs. There are moments when the murky clouds break free and one has brief visions of the sky, but these are fairly rare. I may have to abandon this version, to look for another. It has been said, of course, that Lacan willfully decided to write in an abstruse way, to disallow easy understanding by the philistines (who me?). This does seem accurate because Lacan does come off as ridiculously defensive and tediously mocking at times, which is a further layer one has to out-live. The section I'm currently reading is "Function and field of speech and language."

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Received the new Fence with my work story in it. Have merely read around so far, but have been most struck by the little story by Shannon Turner called "The Housewife." A very brutal piece of work. Disturbingly off-handed.

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Have been trying to get back to finishing the most recent Fassbinder movie, Why Does Herr R. Run Amok?, which I was really enjoying.

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Unasked-for advice for all those thinking about getting married. Get married, sure, yes, why not. Just don't ever have a wedding, unless you enjoy thinking about color patterns on napkins.

I have to admit that I'm enjoying Pelosi's Mideast tour, and how much it's irritating Bush and Cheney particularly. Here's the vice-president's emotional intelligence on display on Syria:

In an interview with ABC News, Cheney said Assad has "been isolated and cut off because of his bad behavior and the unfortunate thing about the speaker's visit is it sort of breaks down that barrier."

From this article.

Perhaps I've been living with a social worker for too long, but "breaking down" (?) barriers is exactly what needs to happen, to understand another's perspective. Unless you don't want to understand, or show to the world that you don't want to understand, which is exactly what Bush has done and his policies have shown.

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Mr. M. suggests Oranges by John McPhee, for the study of such.

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Our Daphne


If resemblance
is the passage

down which meaning flees,

branching
now and then,

some guy's
carved a climbing vine

in wood

meaning,
"I'd

follow you
anywhere"


--Rae Armantrout, Next Life

Yesterday I watched bees moving around the white blossoms on our orange tree. I need to read up on orange trees, because I am certain this is the second time it has bloomed in the past twelve months. Is this normal? Do I have a freak tree?

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Parse


1

Backwash of revelation:

to see these articulated,
new weeds
as one thing;

to hear bird chirps
parse the plenum.

2

When aren't
we synonymous with
increased vigilance,

now with this time,
now in this sense?

3

Tongues tapping
the roofs

of our mouths
to make meaning.

4

Then God diddles us
with this sunset,

its pale pinks
and tender blues. This

one-two rinse
reminds us of something,

if only our own
depth-of-feeling.



--Rae Armantrout, Next Life

I don't know why I said British government below, really. They have around 7,200 troops over there, the second largest amount. The U.S. has around 140,000. Or about 92% of all military personnel. It's a U.S. war. The rest of the nations are just there for possible hand-outs--aid, loans, etc.--down the road. And as cover, certainly, so the U.S. can point to the, for instance, 12 Moldovan soldiers there, and say it's a multi-national force.

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Headline Song


Bush vows victory
over terror.

For the orphans,
nightmare lasts.

We'll hang on
to what proved useful.

Eggs are full
of flame retardant.


--Rae Armantrout, Next Life