Ritual and Chance

Samhain                                                                 Thanksgiving Moon

Ritual purification proceeding according to the rules set down in the book of codes, an ancient text hidden deep beneath the skyscraper headquarters of Insurance Company. The plan is working.

We’re into the next to last week of ModPo now, the poets of chance.  These poets push further away from authorial authority, even from the Steinian modernism and the Beat emphasis on automatic writing.  John Cage, familiar to many through his musical compositions, plays an important role in contemporary poetry, too.  He and Jackson Mac Low are the two poets of this bent I’ve studied so far.

(John Cage)

The key move among these poets is a deterministic method of creating poetry that removes the creative act from writing, putting it instead in the creation of various methods for choosing words, texts, lines.  An example is a third poet whom I studied in another section, Bernadette Mayer.  She has rules for creating new poetry out of old.  Pick a poem, any poem, and, say, take out all the prepositions.  Or, all the words beginning with a.  Perhaps removing every third letter or every third line.  Then, there is a new piece, based on what Cage called a seed text, or an oracle text, one that served as the material from which the method would create a new work.

The term oracle text comes from Cage’s fascination with the methodology of the I Ching, the Chinese taoist Book of Changes.  By casting straws the user of the I Ching can determine which of 64 hexagrams apply to a particular situation.  Cage adapted the notion of a method like casting straws to his creation of poetry in a manner resembling Mayers.

Here is a portion of Mac Low’s “Feather Likeness of the Justice Chair” created by applying a rigorous method to Gertrude Stein’s famous “Tender Buttons.”  Below it is the method he used.  Still not sure about this myself.

Pedestrianism showed itself triumphant and disagreeable.
That which was hidden worried them.
They asked that her speech be repeated.
Summer light bears a likeness to justice.
Then the light is supposing attention.
That section has a resemblance to light.
Is it a likeness of the justice chair?

 

Author’s Note:
Eight strophes initially drawing upon the whole text of Gertrude Stein’s Tender Buttons.
I sent the entire text through DIASTEX5 (Charles O. Hartman’s 1994 update of DIASTEXT [1989],
his automation of one of my diastic text-selection procedures [1963], using as a seed text
the fifty-third paragraph of the book (exclusive of titles, etc), which begins, “A fact
is that when any direction is just like that, . . .” I selected the paragraph by random-digit
chance operations using the RAND Corporation’s table A Million Random Digits with 100,000 Normal
Deviates. (The Free Press, 1955).

My source and seed texts came from the first edition of Tender Buttons, issued by Donald Evan’s
publishing house Claire Marie (1914), as posted online in The Bartleby Archive (1995) and The New
Bartleby Library (1999), both edited by Steven van Leeuwen, with editorial contributions by Gordon
Dahlquist. However, I incorporated in my file of Tender Buttons fourteen corrections written
in ink in Stein’s hand, which Ulla E. Dydo found in Donald Sutherland’s copy of this edition,
now owned by the Special Collections of the University of Colorado at Boulder.

I “mined” the program’s output for words which I included in 117 sentences (several elliptical
and each one a verse line) by changes and/or additions of suffixes, pronouns, structure
words, forms of “to be,” etc. and changes of word order. Initially, in making these sentences,
I placed lexical words’ root morphemes near others that were near them in the raw output–in fact
I included many phrases, and even whole verse lines, of unedited, though punctuated, ouput,
mostly in early strophes–but I was able to do this less and less in the course of writing the poem.

While composing the 117 verse-line sentences, I divided them into eight strophes that
successively comprise numbers of sentences corresponding to the prime-number sequence
2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19.

New York: 20 September 1999

 

 

Snowing

Samhain                                                                    Thanksgiving Moon

Snow has begun to fall, pelting down in thick wet clumps.  It could be that we’ll get enough to plow.  Maybe.  We have a snow plower contracted and he’ll be here tomorrow if we need him.   Our Simplicity snow blower worked very well for us over the 16 plus years we had it, but I grew weary of getting up early to blow the snow and fuss with the inevitable mechanical difficulties.  When our Tundra collapsed, we no longer had a straightforward way of moving it.

Now the snow can come and Jeremy will remove what we need removed.  The deck off our kitchen needs shoveling, too, but I do that.  I like being able to enjoy the snow.  There’s something soothing and quintessentially northern about snow.  It represents the southward sweep of polar conditions, a reminder that once again, even though we warm the globe now, that ice and snow will cover most of this state again as it has in the geologic past.

These first snows also serve as heralds of the winter holidays, reminding us of hot chocolate, cookies and roaring fires.

Good-Bye Garden. See You On the Flipside.

Samhain                                                          Thanksgiving Moon

The transition from growing season to fallow season creates a sudden release from one IMAG0604domain of chores.  No more spraying, harvesting, weeding, checking the health of the plants.  No more colony inspections.

Many baby boomers, the paper says, have migrated to downtown apartments citing outdoor work and home maintenance as primary motivation.  While that once might have made sense to me, now I wonder.  The outdoor work, as long as I’m able, keeps me active, close to the rhythms of the natural world.  It gives more than it takes.  Cut off from it in an apartment doesn’t sound appealing.  If you don’t like it, if it takes more than it gives, then, yes.

I know that feeling. Home maintenance would take far more than it gives if I felt IMAG0944 Kate and me1000croppedresponsible for doing it myself.  So I can understand wanting to move away from that.  In an apartment the building takes over the plumbing, the furnace, the windows, the doors. Even there, however, being responsible for seeing that the maintenance gets done, though it does feel burdensome, maintains our agency.  And I like that.

More than any of these matters, though, is the single word home.  This is home.  Though we could, I don’t want to create another one.  At least not now.

Let It Snow

Samhain                                                                     New (Thanksgiving) Moon

A quiet, wet night with the temperature already at 33.  A snow storm is in the prediction for tomorrow night.  We’re ready for it and I’d like to see it.  It would tamp down the leaves we used for mulch, help them stay in place.

Early snow cover, though this would not be it, serves as good a purpose as mulch for keeping the ground cold.  Yes, paradoxical as it seems, that nice blanket of leaves or straw or a snow mound works to prevent frost heaves in the often violent temperature shifts as winter ends.  Those shifts can literally uproot plants, destroy just begun growth.  So, you want to keep the bed cold and let it thaw out gradually.

 

 

 

The Wall

Samhain                                                              New (Thanksgiving) Moon

Hit a mental wall yesterday.  Could. Not. Do. One more MOOC or Latin related thing. Brain was not interested.  In the AM  we completed the last of the garden chores for the season and I went downstairs to work on Ovid.  Nope.  Then turned on ModPo and, for the first time since both MOOCs started I did not complete a week’s work on time.  So this week I have to finish week 9 and do all of Week 10.

Doable because I no longer have Modern and Post Modern, but I don’t like to be behind.  I’ll catch up today or tomorrow.  At the same the new Latin learning style Greg recommended is, again, doable, but it takes more time.  For now.  The combination of the ending of Modern/Post Modern, the assessments due in ModPo, the home work Kate and I did to get ready for the Samhain bonfire and the bonfire itself, coupled with the changed Latin working style short circuited me.  Or threw an internal G.F.I.

Then, there is, too, the G.D. time switch.  I’m a naked, blanket, no prisoners opponent of messing with time.  Leave it on standard time and damn the consequences.

As I write this, I realize I’m not much further along today.  Need some more rest.  On the other hand, feeling tired means I’ve been active and that’s how I want to be.

There is, though, one more flaw in this ointment.  I started my low fiber diet yesterday, clear liquids starting at 11:45 pm tonight.  Then that fun couple of hours with a Powerade Miralax punch.  Those of you over 50 almost certainly know this routine.

As I read the rules for this procedure, it reminded me of ascetics who would undergo elaborate rites of purification before entering the temple to commune with their gods.  In this case the god will appear in white armed with a long, skinny camera.  He, not me, will be going deep inside myself, gaining self-knowledge for me and recording it with a camera. It’s better than meditation! Gastroenterologist be with me now and in the time of my procedure.  So help me Galen.

 

 

Ah.

Samhain                                                 New (Thanksgiving) Moon

Finished.  Go now. The growing season has ended.  The last chores are complete:  bees gefscorked, cardboarded and moisture boarded. (not at all the same as water boarding), tulips planted.  Mulch laid down where it can be and the rest waits until the ground freezes.  Over the new bulbs for example.  That’s it. Every apple, leek, raspberry, tomato, beet, garlic, onion, carrot, ground cherry, herb and pepper has either been eaten or preserved.

The next big gardening moment is the arrival of the seed catalogs in January.  That will prompt a round of garden planning, getting ready for the 2014 garden. That’ll also be time to check on the bees, see how they’re doing.  Until then, hasta la vista, horticultura.

 

Samhain                                                     New (Thanksgiving) Moon

Forgot to say Happy New Year.  Samhain is the beginning of the Celtic new year. Celebrating the beginning of the year at the end of the growing season makes sense to me. The old productive year has finished and a time of rest for the land, and to some extent for those who work the land, begins.

 

Pushing past a plateau

Samhain                                                                  Samhain Moon

Latin.  Better today.  Greg pushing me to do sight reading at a higher level of proficiency. He wants me to read the Latin, without aids, and translate it for him during our sessions. This will entail, he says, going over each sentence or verse at least four times until it becomes embedded.  He believes this will push me off my current plateau.

(old roman)

I’m excited about this.  It will make my translation pop, he says.  At some point.  There is, though, the inevitable regression in terms of time, since this will make each sentence take longer. How much longer I can’t tell yet because I haven’t practiced it.  It does mean I’m headed in the right direction.

 

A Birthday Card

by: Ted Kooser
from: One World at a Time
In her eighties now, and weak and ill
with emphysema, my aunt sends me
a birthday card—a tossing ocean
with clipper ship—and wishes me
well at forty-four. She’s included
a note—hard-bitten in ball-point,
with a pen that sometimes skips whole words
but never turns back—to tell me
her end of the news: how the steroids
have softened her spine, and now how
every x-ray shows more shattered bone.
Her hasty words skip in and out,
their little grooves washed clean of ink,
the message rising and falling
like short-wave radio, sending
this hurried SOS, with love.