Purchased at Woodland Pattern in Milwaukee:

1. Charles Bernstein, Islets/Irritations, Roof, New York, 1983/1992 (reprint).

--First read this years ago in Syracuse. Never had a copy. Bernstein has been on my mind of late with the recent terrible personal news.

2. Clark Coolidge, Mesh, In Camera, Detroit, 1988.

--About once a year or so, I add on another Coolidge to the growing collection. I think I have around 10 to 12 of his now. This one appears to be about sex, for the most part.

3. Larry Eigner, Readiness / Enough / Depends / On, Green Integer, Los Angeles, 2000.

--Really reading Eigner's works for the first time. I have another of his, somewhere, whose title escapes me.

4. Steve McCaffery, Theory of Sediment, Talonbooks, Vancouver, 1991.

--Have been told about this book for years. Happy to finally have a copy to read.

5. Leslie Scalapino, Crowd and not evening or light, O Books/Sun & Moon Press, Oakland, 1992.

--Very similar to my buying habits of Coolidge's books. Scalapino is one of my favorite writers. Open, disjunctive, yet connective.

6. Marjorie Welish, Handwritten, Sun, New York, 1979.

--Completes the Welish collection at Wagner Manor. Her first book.

7. Stephanie Young, Telling the Future Off, Tougher Disquises, San Diego, 2005.

--Read this on the plane back from Wisconsin. Interruptive, humorous, questioning, with difficult emotions poking through here and there. There is also much information on bootwear.

*

Received from a friend (Steve Timm):

Roberto Bolaño, The Savage Detectives, Picador, New York, 2007.

--I am currently reading Bolaño's 2666.

*

Received via snail mail:

Dichten = No. 10--16 New (to American readers) German Poets, Burning Deck, Providence, 2008.

--Can't wait to read this.

My brother's story "about" online poker: PaleMale.

I don't watch a lot of comedy films, because the writing is usually so bad that that's all I can concentrate on, and I don't often "lose" myself in them. (Wouldn't it be a nice condition if you could actually lose yourself, literally?). In any case, I don't know why that is, ultimately. I can see by my Netflix movie-renting habits that I tend to watch Foreign, Drama, Thrillers, and Documentaries. And, again, I don't know what that means--it's obviously revealing something about my character, what interests me, etc.

This is all occurring to me now, because at work tonight I was speaking to a new co-worker nearly half my age, about films that I've liked, which I thought she would like as well. While we were talking, she would continue to say, "Give me another to look up?" She was at the Web site IMDB. So, I'd provide another. It only occurred to me after about the sixth one, and her continual mock and not-so-mock horror, that a lot of the films that I liked were pretty fucked up--there's really no better way of saying it. Perhaps I was purposively doing this, though, to cause more shock, but I don't think so. I really do like very disturbed things, I guess, as my list to her made plain. I tried to explain myself to her, out of a desire to not appear so crazy, which she understood certainly, and did write down three of them to rent. (She may not of been as shocked as I felt she was).

Due to this, I will further say that I saw the film Step Brothers, which has Will Farrell and John C. Reilly. It's above average as far as Farrell movies go, and certainly has some funny moments. I will now, in closing, list in order the finest Farrell movies to the worst. Of those that I have seen.


1. Anchorman

2. Blades of Glory

3. Step Brothers

3. Wedding Crashers (he's barely in this, though)

4. Talledega Nights

5. Elf

6. Old School

7. Kicking and Screaming

8. Semi-Pro

When I re-emerge as a human, or thereabouts, from the term papers that I'm writing on information retrieval systems, I hope to write a review or two of a couple books of poetry.

Junkie XL, "Booming Right At You"

Thievery Corporation, Lebanese Blonde



Gotan Project, Santa Maria (Del Buen Ayre)

READING, IN VICIOUSLY WINTRY WISCONSIN:


Chuck Stebelton and James Wagner

(170 mile-an-hour winds expected: you will not be safe).

IN PUBLIC, LIT-tra-TURE, THE MOST BANNABLE OF PAST-TIMES

The Cream City Collectives

ONLY MANLY WOMEN AND WOMANLY MEN SHOULD BRAVE THE COLD.

732 E. Clarke Street

IGLOO CONSTRUCTION SEMINAR PRECEDES READINGS. BRING YOUR LOVED ONES.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

That's Maukie, Sconsin.

DECEMBER 28th

2 pm, or thereabouts

My Winnipeg, Guy Maddin, 2008

There are only a few directors whose work I seek out with enthusiasm. Maddin's is one of them. My Winnipeg is a love/dislike biography/cityography of Maddin and his hometown of Winnipeg. The pictures of the snowbanked choked streets, and the desolate trainyards, the factory smoke--well, it reminded me so much of my own early life living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It seems a world away now, and yet it isn't at the same time. The cold, the cold! Maddin's always been mining the principle locating factors of life--mother/father, Place, dreams, sexuality, myths--and these are all here in the film, along with his wonderful humor, man pageants, ice hockey, and forks beneath forks.

Jar City, Baltasar Kormákur, 2006

Jar City, aka Mýrin (Ic.), is a well-written thriller set in Iceland. Great cinematography, good acting, tight script--not much more one can ask of a film. You really get to see a lot of the island, as well, which has always been one of the strangely persistent places that I've wanted to see in person. I don't know why I am so interested in Iceland, as opposed to a good portion of the world, but my interest was renewed seeing this film.