Not so much calling bullshit as, what -

Interesting post up at Kevin Kelly's Technium blog - "As if..." - [as if there isn't always an interesting post up at that blog.

But, because I am not interested in spelling everything out for me or for you, I will call something other than bullshit on the conclusion in that post. Just a crude way of saying I disagree but can't be bothered to really boil it down to fibers and bullet points.

Here is a quote from that Mr. Kelly's post:

In this Age of Metaphor, love will be the signal of real. One of the ways we will know when a thing has passed from "as-if to is" is when it earns unalloyed love from humans. When a virtual place wins the kind of full-blooded love that a real place on Earth wins. When a toy pet earns the same love as a breathing pet. When a synthetic actor earns the same love as a human movie star, when a virtual economy incites the same passion as the larger economy, when a global superorganism gains the same affection as a hamster.

Then it will no longer be as-if and it will just be.

Up until about a third or half of the way through that post I was very excited about the opoyuliness of it all. I am giddy at all promiscuous layers of fake-ness and imitation, of which theme parks aspiring to Disneyland is a good example but my favorite example is extruded plastic wallets that are molded with leather grain and fake stitching. I also like architecture that copies Greek temples, where the molded bits above the columns are copies of copies of the ends wooden beams that used to stick out over the stacks of material that held the roof up.

So, Mr. Kelly was talking about the "As if" society and discussing when it becomes real. He says it becomes real when we as individuals love it. NO. Nothing becomes real. Computers or networks or such might become real when they love us, perhaps. When they are a "they."

Hey! I am going to name drop! After a decade or so of minimal and sporadic email correspondence, I finally met Mr. John Hodgman in person at his Atlanta signing for "More Information than You Require." I hope to buy him a beverage someday and have an actual conversation because his work and the emails we have exchanged strongly suggest to me that I would enjoy conversing with him in person. Even so, that might turn out to be untrue. Because, as we both agreed in the minute or so of interaction at the signing table, "E-people aren't real." Ten years of interpersonal awareness doesn't change that. Blogs don't change that. Twitter won't change that. Second Life and World of Warcraft won't change that.

E-people and E-things exist in our heads. Like mathematics, the platonic cave shadows they cast in our heads might be internally consistent and useful - whatever the internet equivalent is of calculating the specs for a bridge that won't fall down - but you are never going to know until you know. And, most of the time, most of what you will be knowing is yourself, whether you realize it or not.

It is probably the BAD angel

So, here it is Day 4 and I am posting. I am also going to pre-load posts for launch tomorrow and the next day because tomorrow and the next day I will not be posting in person.

The angel I refer to is one of the cartoon angels everybody has on each shoulder that tug in opposing directions. Usually the tug is portrayed as between good and evil, but that seems a bit two dimensional. There are probably at least 64 angels, if it is a binary thing. But, the angel in question is the one that occasionally pipes up about somehow getting a lot of public attention. Fame and fortune and everything that goes with it (hopefully, excellent health insurance and better possibilities for subverting American literary culture).

That angel says "You are photogenic, well-spoken, and you have a fascinating medical condition that will probably kill you without deteriorating your looks! Write a poignant meditation on the fragility and beauty of life and it is next stop, Good Morning America! First, we take Manhattan, baby!"

When I think about how many people I would have to talk to every day if I did that, plus all the other items on the very long list of reasons I have not done that so far, I get tired all over and just buy a lotto ticket. I had a long odds totally random bad thing happen to me, I figure I am due for a long odds totally random satisfying thing that could definitely include excellent health insurance and possibilities for subverting American literary culture.

Best regards to you all.

The Only Thing That is Difficult

The only thing that is difficult is putting your pants on over your head. In theory, it is possible and would even be easy that I could do at least one post every day for a year (excluding Jan 1st, which I missed).

It is calculated future disappointment for me to set out projects like this. If I do this one, several days will read "'Here Is a Post for Today' - A post for today." Just so you know.

What to say. OK. I read a book yesterday and am reading another one today that have me a little riled up about online communication. The one I am still reading has an obvious connection. "DIY: The Rise of Lo-Fi Culture" by Amy Spencer. The rise and evolution of 'Zines and other DIY anti-mainstream self-produced culture. It is pretty interesting stuff - tracing threads from Dada to punk to queercore to riotgrrl to crafting. I recommend it, at about 100 pages in.

The other book, the one I read yesterday is a less obvious candidate for "get somebody riled up about actively participating in communication online." The book is "Love All the People" and is a collection of all of Bill Hick's words - sets, interviews, notes, sayings, articles. Highly recommended. He was a fire and brimstone preacher/shaman who was visible in this dimension as a stand-up comedian. He is a personal hero of mine.

Well, the obvious connections between me and him are Georgia, religious upbringing, dedicated smoking, and terminal cancer totally unrelated to smoking. He had less than a year after his diagnosis (pancreatic metastasized to liver, advanced stage IV). I was anticipating less than five years at diagnosis (right temporal mixed glioma, low stage III), but that was almost eight years ago.

His modus of righteous fury and catharsis could never be mine, but it is tremendous and wonderful. It is not a matter of "agreeing" with everything he says, and I don't laugh at everything in his set, but he was righteous and motivated and true to his self. I hope I can be as well.

He did not understand why it was so difficult for the American media to grok what he was up to - his audiences were often totally on board. He was huge in England.

It was inspiring (and a little wearying) to read his work and be reminded so forcefully of my own abortive lunges toward more public avenues for attempting reclamation of some particularly noxious cultural waste. I had a recommendation lined up from Kenneth Koch for applying to MFA programs and then realized I would never write what I need to write if I went through academic channels for poetry. I repeatedly attempted in high school, college, and out in the world to get involved with video, writing, and comedy scenes and found that attractive women who did not want to date any of the guys there (and were funnier than the guys there) rarely get an invite to the next meeting. Many women do get into the scene, and I do feel that I have a personality issue that conflicted with the folks I tried to interact with. And yet, and yet, and yet. I still believe that American culture needs the cleansing fire from somewhere, and not nearly enough people are producing it.

I am trying to find them, they must be out there. It could be prose, it could be poetry, and there is probably a great deal of it in what is called (hilariously) comedy. I follow these guys on podcasts and Twitter and they are talented and funny, but they are guys (not adults), and it seems they are in a bit of a "Warmed-over-Bill-Hicks" rut, like they heard his words but never listened to what he was saying. I am not sure whether they are listening to anyone but each other. Makes me want to throw my shoes at their heads. Oh well.

The flesh is joyful and there is much to learn

Of course, still on the Barzun.

Here is a passage from page 623:

"The social motive for the aesthetes' retreat into art being clear, there remains the question, what motive made purity a second necessity? Mallarme gives the answer in his superb sonnet, written in clear language and entitled "Brise Marine" (Sea Breeze). The first line reads: "The flesh is sad and I have read all the books." The last six words tell us that the whole weight of past literature bears down on him and adds to his pre-existing sorrow. Exactly 100 years earlier Faust had said the same thing, also in the first line of his soliloquy--all the books are dust, not life. Each of the two utterances records the end of a cultural age, 1790 and 1890."

So here we are, and the end of another hundred something years we have spent (artistically at least) continuing to demolish what was already collapsing by the turn of the last century. It is not that long ago, really - my grandpa was born in 1898 - but Americans naturally believe one hundred years is a long time.

I want to find, to learn and to build. We are alive, with minds, with access to knowlege and each other. There are many in the world who do not have enough life and access- that is one of the challenges. Communication and exchange with people facing different challenges is one way to grow beyond what your own challenges have driven you to. So it is all there to be done, in mutually beneficial ways.

On a slightly different subject, something I chose not to twitter yesterday was along the lines of "Q: So is academia just a circle jerk then? A: No, but it is an especially ponderous form of asexual reproduction." I don't trust academia and I don't trust the Permanent Art Council, though without animosity.

They are fine - they do their things: product is produced, people get paid, conferences are held, lunch is done, the world turns. The creative people I keep track of in the course of my dowsing for civilization aren't interested in poetry and probably don't catch my drift, but they are the ones striking out, trying to figure out what a new direction might be. I am impatient to know how this will develop, not simply because of my own personal ticking clock but because there must be some very fun, very cool stuff to talk about, to learn, and to do.

[I just deleted the last paragraph. Nobody wants to hear about how they should be glad to be alive if they aren't already. It's your call.]

More on More More

Still re-reading Barzun’s From Dawn to Decadence. It is a lot to take in. Scarfed Anathem in less than three days (granted, that did affect my productivity at work) and that is almost 100 pages longer. Maybe the font is smaller in Barzun’s book.

Regardless. This time around, I am finding the descriptions of Romanticism far more interesting than I did on the first read. I notice in particular M. Barzun’s evaluation of the movements that followed as siblings rather than successor descendants. That is, he describes Realism, Naturalism, and Symbolism as all aspects of Romanticism - which got me to thinking in terms of the big project being to reassemble everything we have done since 1800 or so back into one thing. Nice to think about, but it might require footnotes. Not my department. I need to get Megan on board with this stuff.

This morning as I sat in my car reading in the parking lot, I came across an interesting passage on page 513. The context is a discussion of how much stuff was produced in the 19th century.

"The enabling condition of the plethora was what one may term the 'cultural courage' of Romanticism. Its makers were not afraid of failure–nor of being foolish. They did not exercise caution to look acceptable, dignified, 'mature' or 'realistic.'"

Now, these days we don’t have any trouble with that. As an example I point to my regret that my computer circumstances prevent me from linking the word "plethora" to the scene in the Three Amigos regarding whether the bad guy has a plethora of pinatas. Given that we have no trouble with being foolish, should we confront instead a fear of looking acceptable, dignified, "mature" or "realistic?"

ps - Further thought on the "Official Verse Culture." My immediate concern with Charles Bernstein’s characterization and critique of official verse culture is that he was focusing on what the institution does - the taste exhibited and the poems selected. Why do we need to care? Why grant the institutions and the Permanent Art Council such relevance? Let them do whatever they feel like. It is their power and money to do with as they please. You don’t have to care.

This morning on the drive in I heard about how advertisers are paying to have products integrated into storylines on TV shows. Some are outraged. (A) How is this new? ("Drink More Ovaltine!"), (B) If it is done well, perhaps it will be less irritating than commercial breaks, and (C) I haven’t watched television, except for the Tour de France with my fella, in six months or so, and haven’t really missed it. If you don’t like the rules, play a different game. If there isn't a different game to play, start one.

pps - All hail Ze Frank for having a Twitter account devoted to tiny bedtime stories. I have a new hobby and an increased joy in life.

Maybe Looking at Things a Different Way

Randy says Charles Bernstein coined the term “Official Verse Culture” - which is an apt term. I have been thinking about that, together with Jacques Barzun’s descriptions of art’s perceived role in occidental society as it has developed over the past couple hundred years.

Let’s pretend there was an International Conference in, say, Brussels, in the late 18th Century. It was a secret conference, and we are pretending that Napoleon business was all going on somewhere else and nobody cared.

This was an International Conference for delegations from two loosely organized federations. One federation, the one with money or other resources, had delegates from various demographics: rich white women, self-made millionaires, hard-working middle-managers, shop-keepers, founders of charitable organizations, university administrators, politicians, producers of media, interior decorators, and religious groups. This was the “Consumer’s Delegation.” The other federation, the one without any money or other resources, had delegates from the different arts and crafts. This was the “Producer’s Delegation.”

After several days of panels, talks, presentations, and whatever the 17th C. equivalent of Powerpoint was (stereopticon?), a deal was hammered out. There have been tensions, and a few modifications, but that deal is still in place today. The producers of art have some rules to follow, some hoops to jump through, but if they follow the rules, they are categorized and stamped “approved” by one or another department of the Permanent Art Council. Once approved by the Permanent Art Council, the Consumer’s Delegation knows that the art product is whatever it has been approved as being - orderly production in categories for ease of distribution and just-in-time delivery. They may then hang it on the wall, read it, denounce it, review and recommend it, write letters complaining about it, get it included or excluded from the curriculum, and what have you. The art just fits right into society.

Unfortunately for both delegations, this is all a matter of institutions. Institutions exist, to a greater or lesser extent, in part solely to continue existing. At first, the Consumer’s Delegation thought they were making sure that everyone benefited from Art, kind of like adding iodine to salt or vitamin A to Milk - it is just a good thing, and people might get spiritual goiters without it. The Producer’s Delegation thought they were going to be able to afford food, and maybe become famous. But what was it that was so nutritious about art that these powerful Consumers were willing to deal? And how about the Producers? The Producer’s Delegation must have wanted to be the generators/ miners/ producers of something that makes life better for someone - even if it is just one person. [NOTE- many Producers over the past century or so have wanted instead to make people better and to perfect human society. I personally do not support that view.]

Whatever the Producers wanted then, what do we want now? What does artistic “success” mean in this regime? For many Producers, it has come to mean simply getting through the obstacle course laid out by the Permanent Art Council with as many points as possible, followed by (1) tragic death at an early age; (2) a contract with a multinational corporation; (3) a major motion picture; or (4) tenure.
There is a lot more to say about this stuff, but that is all I can manage right now.

To Clarify Re Keywords

The list of keywords in the last post ended up reminding me of quarks, although "charm" is the only overlapping term. The charm I am thinking of has no particular connection to quarks, unless you are generalizing quite broadly about energy.

The term "generosity" was suggested by Julie Puttgen (though she might not know she suggested it). She was speaking of some installation exhibits and performance art that she was not enthusiastic about, and part of what she didn't like was the lack of generosity on the part of the artist. The artist/author/performer chooses how much welcome will be given to the viewer/audience. The viewer/audience has to walk into the door and take part or appreciate or simply access what is going on in the art - will you, as artist, let them? Are you, as artist, providing something that may be taken part in, appreciated, or accessed? Are you giving them something good? Something good for what ails them?

Although there is new medical thinking on actual shock treatment, I think that shock treatment of society through art is pretty played - and furthermore, the indiscriminate application of scientific metaphors to cultural issues is also pretty played. That is partly where "Humane-ness" comes in. Not prudish-ness, not sanctimoniousness, but humane-ness. Some artistic works raise the question- where does the supposedly salutary shock end and the sadism begin?

Side note- I am quite vehement against censorship. Freedom of speech and free exchange of ideas are big for me, although it is clear that people actually in charge of governments have some thinking to do on these issues at times. But I am not in charge of anything except me, and I want everyone else to speak freely so that I learn things and know who I want to talk to and who the a-h0les are. These keywords and considerations for art and culture are speculative, possibly and hopefully the beginning of a conversation of some kind.

More later, last for now. My own enjoyment and use of "Structure" in my creative work is not a personal endorsement of the new formalism, although I tend to stick to one form or another for a while in my poetry and I do like to rhyme. I like forms and constraints as tools for art, not as prerequisites for even being considered art. Assymetrical chopped up prose can be just as stultifying as endless couplets if it is simply a season pass that must be waved to be allowed in the poet door.

No More New, Just More More

Let's relax a bit. Relinquish for a while the neo- and post- and anti- and de- and re-

OK - that last one would have us just linquishing, which I would be willing to go for but doesn't sound normal.

At the end of the new Neal Stephenson, a bunch of people have a thing they are doing. I am charmed and inspired by the way the name for the thing is left blank, for later individuals to fill in once they figure out and decide what has happened and what the name of the thing shall be. Even what the thing shall be. Charm and inspiration are a good start, and anything Neal Stephenson says that intersects with ideas I have been entertaining makes me feel smarter.

Although I still stand by my earlier efforts to assess and determine for myself what art is and what makes poetry poetry - i.e. - why write it? what does it do? - and I enjoyed coming up with a theory related thereto, I am not going to do the same for my next trick.

Next trick? Yes, that would be finding the seeds of literary culture and civilization that shall grow up out of the lovely mess we have now. Even if there are a few things left here and there to tear down, some ruins left still to be destroyed, there is only so much cud to chew here and we are bound to need another bite of something eventually.

The process must have already started, and we have no way of knowing what it will have been. But- don't you want to build something for your great-grandchildren to denounce? Contribute to civilization? Explore and expand the boundless depth and variety of life? Create joy and bring comfort to the bored or afflicted? Make something worth someone else rebelling against later?

I would like to do that. No telling why, when I am in fact a risk-averse, low energy, and introverted person and I really would not respond well or favorably to some large number of folks wanting to chat about this. Maybe a half dozen or so would be cool.

The key words I am currently pondering are these: Exploration; Humane-ness; Generosity; Joy; Beauty; Connection; Livliness; Charm; Vigor; Structure; Intention; Discipline

The motto is - Be serious without being serious.