It's such a crappy day outside, rainy and cold, that I thought I'd post this fabulous photo, which Cris Smith shot during a much more comfortable day earlier this fall.
It was Sunday, September 26, to be exact, and Cris and Jeff were back in town for the weekend. Jim, Jeff, Ami, Ira, Seth, Finn and I were leisurely hanging out in Winnemac Park in the last couple hours before Jeff and Cris flew back to Nebraska.
I just spoke with Ira a few minutes ago on the phone, which is what made me think of this photo.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Rossett, Rasmussen & Rettberg Celebrate the ELO
A great photo from my days with the Electronic Literature Organization, back when the ELO was in an industrial building in the Ravenswood neighborhood on Chicago's North Side. I've gotta admit that when I walk west on Montrose, past the old ELO offices, I think fondly of the many hours that Scott and I clocked in there.
Meeting Barney Rossett--the founder of Grove Press, publisher of the Evergreen Review, and the man responsible for publishing Samuel Beckett, Henry Miller, and other modern literary greats in the USA--was definitely the highlight of my time working for the ELO. It was inspiring to meet a literary legend like Barney in person and to get words of encouragement about our project from him.
On the night that this photo was taken, I really lucked out. John Vincler, who was doing an internship with the ELO, and I got to share a table with Barney, so we spent the evening hearing his stories, about everything from serving in the Korean War to his exchanges with Beckett to the bombing of the Evergreen Review offices by anti-Castro Cubans, who were upset that the Evergreen Review ran a piece by Che Guevara.
Later that week, we were invited to Barney's loft, which was lined with bound correspondences with all the great writers with whom he'd published. Barney even showed us his FBI files, which he'd obtained via the Freedom of Information Act.
Meeting Barney Rossett--the founder of Grove Press, publisher of the Evergreen Review, and the man responsible for publishing Samuel Beckett, Henry Miller, and other modern literary greats in the USA--was definitely the highlight of my time working for the ELO. It was inspiring to meet a literary legend like Barney in person and to get words of encouragement about our project from him.
On the night that this photo was taken, I really lucked out. John Vincler, who was doing an internship with the ELO, and I got to share a table with Barney, so we spent the evening hearing his stories, about everything from serving in the Korean War to his exchanges with Beckett to the bombing of the Evergreen Review offices by anti-Castro Cubans, who were upset that the Evergreen Review ran a piece by Che Guevara.
Later that week, we were invited to Barney's loft, which was lined with bound correspondences with all the great writers with whom he'd published. Barney even showed us his FBI files, which he'd obtained via the Freedom of Information Act.
Saturday, July 24, 2004
Millennium Park: Believe the Hype
| I'm posting a few pics from our visit to Chicago's new Millennium Park, which is located just north of the Art Institute in the area that was formally an industrial wasteland containing old train cars. The park opened to the public last weekend (July 16-18) and more than lived up to its hype. Despite the predictable cost overruns, I left feeling a bit better about the 8.75% sales tax (not to mention the ridiculous 'sin taxes' on booze) we pay here in Chitown. This picture of Daniel, Ira, and me sitting on the Great Lawn was taken by Adam Richer. |  Daniel Ira Eric Originally uploaded by erasmus. |
Saturday, May 01, 2004
I Love The Unknown
On both a personal and a professional level, I'm pleased to report that
But seriously (as Derrida said to Searle) as a friend of The Unknown, I'm glad to see that the fellas got their shit together and not only archived this beast (which, judging from recent posts on
Were I to pimp The Unknown to Paula Geyh and the other Norton editors, my argument on behalf of the work would be that it is an exemplary piece of what Deleuze dubbed "minor literature," and that the major tongue they were twisting was that of the pre-millenial literary establishment. This hypertext appeared at a time when the literati were begrudgingly shocked into acknowledging that the printed word has always been a network technology for establishing connections between readers, and The Unknown can be read as a testimonial to a joyful belief that the publishing industry, just like the music industry, was in the midst of losing its grip on the dissemination of art. Obviously, this historical moment hasn't played itself out.
The Unknown deserves to me read for more than socioeconomic or historical reasons. I think it demonstrated that metafictional irony hasn't exhausted its potential, and that self-reflexive writing was more necessary than ever in a culture where everything seems to be choreographed for a voyeurs. The also reminded those who forgot that metafiction needn't be smug and smarmy or cold and impersonal. Somewhere Donald Barthelme was laughing.
I realize that I'm using this post as a way to avoid grading final exams. But before I return to the grading, a bit more on the Deleuze... I know it's something of a cliche to talk about hypertext as an embodiment of Deleuzean concepts like the "rhizome" or "the body without organs," but in the case of The Unknown, it really makes sense. A major trope in the hypertext (in the tradition of Burroughs, Pynchon, etc.) is how intoxication can function to reinscribe disembodied information within the realm of the all-too-human.
The Unknown carry on the migratory, masculinist tradition in American Literature that Deleuze & Guattari so admire (Melville, Miller, Kerouac, etc) and in tracing their quasi-autobiographical line of flight across American (a fictional book tour), they managed to make it funnier through parodistic power riffs on intellectual tropes like the death drive, the will to power, etc. that permeate so much of literary modernism. Were Deleuze still with his, I think he'd appreciate The Unknown, though he'd probably refer the fellas to the passages in A Thousand Plateaus advocating the practice of getting high on water.
Thanks to accolades bestowed upon it by Robert Coover, The Unknown stand a decent chance of being remembered the annals of e-literary history. Not that Scott, who, when he is in his carny barker mode can make Mark Leyner appear modest, is likely to let that happen. But it takes more than a streetstoopid, self-promotional machine to spread the word. Reliable access is key, and it's good to know that (God forbid) should this gonzo crew push things too far & disappear forever into cyberspace, or some dungeon created by John Ashcroft for domestic threats to Homeland Security, The Unknown will remain available for reading.
But seriously (as Derrida said to Searle) as a friend of The Unknown, I'm glad to see that the fellas got their shit together and not only archived this beast (which, judging from recent posts on
Were I to pimp The Unknown to Paula Geyh and the other Norton editors, my argument on behalf of the work would be that it is an exemplary piece of what Deleuze dubbed "minor literature," and that the major tongue they were twisting was that of the pre-millenial literary establishment. This hypertext appeared at a time when the literati were begrudgingly shocked into acknowledging that the printed word has always been a network technology for establishing connections between readers, and The Unknown can be read as a testimonial to a joyful belief that the publishing industry, just like the music industry, was in the midst of losing its grip on the dissemination of art. Obviously, this historical moment hasn't played itself out.
The Unknown deserves to me read for more than socioeconomic or historical reasons. I think it demonstrated that metafictional irony hasn't exhausted its potential, and that self-reflexive writing was more necessary than ever in a culture where everything seems to be choreographed for a voyeurs. The also reminded those who forgot that metafiction needn't be smug and smarmy or cold and impersonal. Somewhere Donald Barthelme was laughing.
I realize that I'm using this post as a way to avoid grading final exams. But before I return to the grading, a bit more on the Deleuze... I know it's something of a cliche to talk about hypertext as an embodiment of Deleuzean concepts like the "rhizome" or "the body without organs," but in the case of The Unknown, it really makes sense. A major trope in the hypertext (in the tradition of Burroughs, Pynchon, etc.) is how intoxication can function to reinscribe disembodied information within the realm of the all-too-human.
The Unknown carry on the migratory, masculinist tradition in American Literature that Deleuze & Guattari so admire (Melville, Miller, Kerouac, etc) and in tracing their quasi-autobiographical line of flight across American (a fictional book tour), they managed to make it funnier through parodistic power riffs on intellectual tropes like the death drive, the will to power, etc. that permeate so much of literary modernism. Were Deleuze still with his, I think he'd appreciate The Unknown, though he'd probably refer the fellas to the passages in A Thousand Plateaus advocating the practice of getting high on water.
Thanks to accolades bestowed upon it by Robert Coover, The Unknown stand a decent chance of being remembered the annals of e-literary history. Not that Scott, who, when he is in his carny barker mode can make Mark Leyner appear modest, is likely to let that happen. But it takes more than a streetstoopid, self-promotional machine to spread the word. Reliable access is key, and it's good to know that (God forbid) should this gonzo crew push things too far & disappear forever into cyberspace, or some dungeon created by John Ashcroft for domestic threats to Homeland Security, The Unknown will remain available for reading.
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