Saturday, November 2, 2019

The Greatest Weekend of the Year!

An extra hour of sleep!

This week I sent out another batch of poems to eagerly awaiting (LOL) magazines. Now a few days of R&R...

First, a big launch: the new Neil Novello website. Check it out.here.

Then, one eff, two ens: Stunned I was, when not laughing out loud, by Michael Hofmann’s poem about President Trump: The Resident. New York Review of Books has the poem locked on its website, restricted to subscribers. In the best interests of the country it should be available to all. C’mon NYRB, de-elite yourself for a minute, behave like the force you think you are.








Saturday, October 19, 2019

Riding the train/sit there and sightsee


“it is hard to be anywhere once
and twice is a dream”

(From The Desk by Cid Corman)



This week my attention was rocked by new thinking and split between stuff that “interferes with your breathing” and stuff where you could say “this is the sound of God, in case anyone was wondering”

Keetje Kuipers

Nicole Callihan

Add Joanne Kyger to the list.

And Fela Kuti (1971)

Psychedelic Furs (1981) Talk Talk Talk

Robert Schumann: Fantasie in C, Op.17 (Andsnes)

And I learned a little about Nick Land and accelerationism. This link got me started

Plus continued work on a couple of tremendous projects I’m not at liberty to discuss.



Jonathan Williams, oh my goodness.



Then there was Tsitsi Dangarembga and an interesting interview:

I’ve read her first novel, Nervous Conditions, a couple of times. In it, along with everything else, there’s a sense of delight in how she compassionately and honestly dealt with the feelings of girls, young women.









Saturday, October 5, 2019

Buy pumpkins

I said look I said harsh beauty
Comes along once in a Total Pho.
Her name was Promise Ji.
She took her race track tea
Black with honey.
My biggest fear was
Half and half.


Getting a charge of out Eric Dolphy
So I wrote to the governor re AB 881
and
listened to Frank Zappa music.
Black napkins
Burnt weeny sandwich
Waka/jawaka
A Token of His Extreme

and The Observatory by Caroline Shaw

And:  

Brahms-Quintet for Piano and Strings in f minor op. 34
Brahms Quintetto per Pianoforte e Archi in Fa Minore Op 34 Quartetto Italiano, Pollini
Brahms Clarinet Quintet In B minor op. 115
Johannes Brahms - Trio for Clarinet, Cello and Piano in A Minor, Op. 114
Brahms Sextets Nos. 1 & 2
Brahms intermezzi.
Brahms violin concerto.






Saturday, September 28, 2019

Live at the Scene


After intense writing, I like to relax, read some African-American Urban Fiction. You know what that’s all about. Usually the authors have me laughing out loud at the truth of their creative English, what Fred Moten and Stefano Harney call “eloquent vulgarities” and “mutant grammar.”

My Besties: The Come Up by Asia Hill wasn’t as druggy and explicit and nasty as most, but still I enjoyed the tone. Here are some samples:

“Feel me? We rode hard in these streets.”

“He took care of me. He always made sure I had the best video games and the newest Jordans.”

“Something told me that she was a rotten bitch on the inside.”

I laughed out loud at the description of a young woman wearing an all-white outfit: “Tiki over here looking like a glass of whole milk and shit.”

Then a pivot to T.S. Eliot and his Four Quartets.

And then Art Pepper (“I see where I wanna go, it’s just trying to get there.”) kills it with this:

And where I left off is no longer there
And neither I nor there are the same as when we both were.