Sighted in Brooklyn today

a Hasid on a bicycle, coattails flying
a cardinal
a wild rabbit
a redwing blackbird
a dog carrying a big stick and walking softly

a copy of the Semiotexte Schizo Issue for 50 cents
a copy of Cinematograph from 1988 also for 50 cents

Mitch and Jackson

from the window

Lupine. Poppies. An interesting butte. Blackberry brambles. Cows. River. Wild roses. A rusty barn. Gravel mound.

Another kind of cow. Raven. Rusty equipment. Scotch broom.

Pink dune buggy. Tattoo parlor. Tool shop. River. Diving kingfisher. Cow parsnip. Motel 6. Oak trees. Sign reading “your tax dollars at work.”

Fish viewing area. Wild oats. Wrapped speedboats. Billboard: “are they making a monkey out of you?” Stacked boxcars. Model homes. Mufflers. A & W. Black and piebald horses. Sign for a town called “Drain.”

— Post From My iPhone

On the road

Sitting in a Greyhound bus station in Medford, Oregon, otherwise known as Methford, surrounded by human beings in various stages of damage. So far the trip has been blessed with poetic and familial convergences, first in Portland in its floral glory. I talked submarines with Auden Andrew Koeneke, explored Powell’s and the Japanese garden with Rodney and Gary, plotted a trip to Egypt with Leslie and Rodney, shopped for the BBQ with Rodney and Julian, sunbathed with Julian and Tracy, and just generally had a convivial time in what I understand is the rare Portland sun. It’s a groovy city, to be sure, but how long before I might get bored there, I wonder. Two weeks? Or would I adopt the local hobbies of gardening and cycling and tattouage? One wonders. Of course,I don’t remember the last time I lived anywhere sedate, so there’s no telling.

Still, how very pleasant to read to assembled guests and friends on Rodney and Leslie’s lawn in the blinding sun (now I’m burnt) while gleeful kids gamboled about in the hamburger-redolent afternoon air.

Then last night an absolute hootenany reading at Bohemia Gallery in Ashland with Gary and Kasey and Mel and Rod. We drenched the place in hilarity, I believe. I’d give more details but iphone typing sucks. Now back to Corvallis where we spend a night with Gary’s folks…

VAUDEVILLE FOLLIES: poetry, video, neo-benshi & flarf

From tomorrow, May 14 (which day, it occurs to me, is our fifth wedding anniversary: details here) Gary and I are off to Portland, Corvallis, Ashland, and Oakland for two weeks to see family and friends.

If you are in San Francisco on Sunday, May 24, please come to our intermedia extravaganza:

kino21 presents NY Poets Nada Gordon and Gary Sullivan

Nada Gordon and Gary Sullivan lead an evening of poly-vocal poetics, neo-benshi film narration, and mangled imagery.

Visiting the Bay Area live for one night only, the latter-day vaudeville team of Gordon and Sullivan will present their most recent poetry, performance and video work showcased last month (fresh!) at The Whitney Museum and Dixon Place in New York. Gordon and Sullivan are founding members of the notorious and irreverent Flarf Collective. They have been committed. To hilarious and unsettling entertainment. Throughout this millenium. Together, they authored the non-fiction e-pistolary techno-romantic novel Swoon.

Local poet-provocateur Erika Staiti will perform her live film renarration of a short scene from “Woman Under the Influence,” which premiered last month in the Los Angeles underground venue, Machine Project.

New York visual artist, montagist and poet Brandon Downing will premiere several disturbingly funny new video collages.

Sunday, May 24, 2009. 8PM $8

Artists’ Television Access
992 Valencia Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 824-3890

i said i would do it, and i did it (interview myself)

what do you aspire to?

Constant creativity, and more time for it. A life surrounded by people with the same aspirations. I aspire to better management of my own wild energies and their attendant fatigue in the service of that creativity. More practically, I want to keep exploring new techniques in a variety of media, whether fabric words food sounds movements images, or other media I have not yet explored.

what is your ultimate fantasy?

I have no ultimate fantasy, because I always want there to be more fantasies. Let there be nothing ultimate, save death. When my fantasies dry up, just kill me.

what does the word ‘success’ mean to you?

It’s a little plateau from which one leaps towards the next fantasy or the next creation.

under what circumstances would you tell a lie?

Almost no circumstances. I am not interested in lying. I would likely do so to protect someone, though. I might also lie as a kind of theatre, in an art context. OK, now that I think about it, I lie in art all the time, but maybe that’s not exactly “lying.”

what qualities attract you to someone?

The ability to connect deeply in conversation. Novel syntax. Wit and humor. Shared references. Of course, creativity. I also tend to like people who are analytical, but not drily analytical. Maybe a better word is “probing.” There is some attraction to people who are very emotionally available, and also to people who are frustratingly enigmatic. Retinally, I am attracted to people whose DNA is similar to mine, and who have sartorial flair, but that doesn’t play out in terms of deeper attractions.

when you were growing up what did you want to be?

A botanist, a photographer, a rock singer, a fiction writer, a fashion designer, a teacher, and, of course, a poet.

what is your political affiliation?

I vote pragmatically, with a sigh.

has anyone ever said something about you to you that shocked you?

Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t like this question at all.

do you like talking on the phone?

It depends who I am talking to, but sometimes, yes, I can be like a teenager that way. It can also feel like a terrible intrusion. I don’t like hierarchical phone menus. Who does?

did either of your parents ever talk to you about sex when you were growing up?

Yes. I wasn’t really sheltered from anything. I remember being physically innocent, but I don’t remember ever really being innocent.

what do you think happens to us after we die?

I think we disintegrate and become like compost (if we are not too pumped with embalming chemicals), which makes more energy for things to grow and then life continues, but not with us as “individuals.” I think this is a beautiful and mysterious phenomenon. What happens to us is not important, but I think that the people around us feel awful after we die.

do you like where you live?

Hmm. I need more closet space. I like the Moorish archways and my DIY custom paint job (which looks a little like something you would see in an Italian restaurant, or a Starbucks). I like the art deco detailing: coved ceilings, original flooring, etc. Many people say I live in the sort of building their grandparents lived in, and I like that “Brooklynness” about it. I like how the peoples of the world converge in Brooklyn and in my neighborhood. I like it in spring and summer and autumn and not at all in winter. I do not like it as much as other places I have been, or have lived.

what sort of things would cause you to lose your temper?

Being lied to. Not being listened to. I get angry also when I know I am right and someone keeps telling me I am not right. I sometimes lose my temper when I feel I am being condescended to, as well.

what do you want your last meal to be?

I think I might not want to know it was my last meal. If I absolutely did have to know that, I might ask for some really beautiful kaiseki ryori… onsen cuisine: a poached egg in dashi, some fresh-caught grilled fish, selected local sashimi, yudofu, mountain vegetables, etc., all surrounded by lovely little edible flowers.

how do you feel about this interview?

Self-reflexive and a little lazy.