tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post8011544307828848833..comments2024-01-28T03:56:39.351-08:00Comments on TOM CLARK: The Day Goes On ForeverUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-26908220696231935742013-06-06T06:22:44.405-07:002013-06-06T06:22:44.405-07:00Time is not a linear matter in any case.
(But wha...Time is not a linear matter in any case.<br /><br />(But what kind of matter is it?)TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-85717901851357842332013-06-06T05:34:51.344-07:002013-06-06T05:34:51.344-07:00Tom
I think so. Perhaps - following Benjamin on t...Tom<br /><br />I think so. Perhaps - following Benjamin on the Angel of History - Kafka somehow anticipated the past?Simon Howardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09309155964441551619noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-45522153602551795102013-06-05T06:47:00.550-07:002013-06-05T06:47:00.550-07:00Thanks to all for helping me look for that door......Thanks to all for helping me look for that door... <br /><br />Simon,<br /><br />Didn't Kafka, with his hypersensitive paranoiac antennae, anticipate everything?<br /><br /><a href="http://tomclarkblog.blogspot.com/2011/03/franz-kafka-before-law.html" rel="nofollow">Franz Kafka: Before the Law</a>TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-4354174049210728212013-06-05T00:53:51.937-07:002013-06-05T00:53:51.937-07:00"How come nobody thought to put in a door&quo..."How come nobody thought to put in a door" <br /><br />Or: THEY have thought of everything & have put in a door, which is precisely why it's impossible to ever cross the threshold: <br /><br />http://records.viu.ca/~johnstoi/kafka/beforethelaw.htmSimon Howardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09309155964441551619noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-62481395098166493732013-06-04T20:55:33.517-07:002013-06-04T20:55:33.517-07:00Picture 7 in the sequence tells me that the world ...Picture 7 in the sequence tells me that the world really is upside downDalriadahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12004167335881293080noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-38896220379944552072013-06-04T17:07:55.241-07:002013-06-04T17:07:55.241-07:00Beats me. Like Merle, I learned the hard way about...Beats me. Like Merle, I learned the hard way about braving the wrong rapids.<br /><a href="http://youtu.be/6jlVdC4qxsQ" rel="nofollow"> Kern River</a> <br /><br />Yes, I normally would have just hit the audio link, but my pc currently has no sound card! <br /><br />My old one ceased to be, after a series of near fatal collapses. Money being a vagrant bird in these parts, Devin called in a favor from a friend who, on the downlow, creates Frankenputers from parts gleaned from the reject pile at his networking company employer. Although I now have a monstrous amount of storage, I guess the morgue was out of sound cards. I realize they can easily be bought for about fifty bucks, but must hold off for the time being. Hence, the need to resort to older formats like the car radio.Anniehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11244365893431612743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-22386109244772685152013-06-04T15:58:31.589-07:002013-06-04T15:58:31.589-07:00A fantastic poem, Tom. We're alone my shadow a...A fantastic poem, Tom. We're alone my shadow and me You're alone with your shadow too - this place is very pretty Excellent for lunch fine for sleeping. Of course I'm thinking of the pretty place my mice live in in their day that goes on forever. Never more than five per suite. Free food and drinks (variety could be improved though), room is cleaned and sheets are changed on a daily basis (by hormone-rushed techs, haha, you watching "Hulk" in spanish cracked me up). Is it even worse if the door is there but cannot be pushed open even by five snouts in joined effort?<br />Strawberry Creek, such a beautiful name, such a beautiful place it could be. Here in the lab we have to throw away used chemicals into well-labeled, separate pails/jars, one per category, never mixed or mixed up or even worse dumped down the sink. Everything following very strict regulations. But none of us has any doubt that further down the line they are just poured into one giant something. Sad.Marie Whttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07787850063283960703noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-69669141996102555382013-06-04T12:37:30.274-07:002013-06-04T12:37:30.274-07:00How come nobody thought to put in a door
I guess ...How come nobody thought to put in a door<br /><br />I guess there are no exits now.Mose23https://www.blogger.com/profile/01100756913131511440noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-59285066246557772332013-06-04T11:37:24.728-07:002013-06-04T11:37:24.728-07:00(By the way, Annie, that audio link is there on th...(By the way, Annie, that audio link is there on the Writer's Almanac page, to get to it just click the box that says LISTEN.)TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-64730281329354605122013-06-04T08:50:40.502-07:002013-06-04T08:50:40.502-07:00Annie,
Virginia Woolf (who of course was such a t...Annie,<br /><br />Virginia Woolf (who of course was such a terrible snob and given to saying things like "The poor are SOOO boring") had it quite right, I think, when she said, with just that perfect slight quiver of snobbish disdain that only the hounds can make out, "One never knows where a word has BEEN". <br /><br />Words are like money in that respect, they've been touched by so many hands and traveled into so many places, who knows if we'd have wanted to be along for every lap of the ride?<br /><br />Still they're all we've got, if we want to say things. So it seems we're stuck with them, and given that, it would probably be best to act nice and try to get on.<br /><br />Of course I suppose we could always substitute animal noises, like "Awesome!" or "like" (as in I'm like..."), & c.<br /><br />Sooo... To answer your query, I guess I kind of like did know, and it was kind of like almost awesome. <br /><br />Canoe trips this time of year in the north woods, no paddle, no mosquito repellent, no buttered toast, no words, just Garrison and you and me and the words.<br /><br />And Pinch Me.<br /><br />And Garrison and the words fell in, and who was left?TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-28125923939220544592013-06-04T08:22:12.972-07:002013-06-04T08:22:12.972-07:00Did you know they'd be broadcasting your poem ...Did you know they'd be broadcasting your poem today, or was it further anecdotal evidence of synchronicity? (I like Mr. Keillor's Indian name. But it makes me want to eat a piece of toast slathered in butter.)<br /><br />At any rate, I am happy for the heads up. I will tune in to catch the KALW broadcast en route to taking Quincy and Mojo out to run along the banks of yet another compromised bit of urban wildness, our next door neighbor, Guadalupe River. We usually go at dawn, but I had to drive my storyteller pal Olga to her knee surgery early today. Dogs are a bit puzzled, but I'm sure they will rally once I don the "magic shoes" that mean happiness awaits. Hopefully, we won't encounter either a skunk or a no-no NanoFrog.<br /><br />I'm sure you deflated the level of pretension among the elite. Funny how association can taint an innocent word. Assuming there is such a thing. Anniehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11244365893431612743noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-28218025562346100252013-06-04T08:06:05.958-07:002013-06-04T08:06:05.958-07:00Steve,
Yes, I was happy for that wee squirrel.
...Steve,<br /><br />Yes, I was happy for that wee squirrel. <br /><br />Michael,<br /><br />It's hard not to love that word, so that makes two brain-damaged lovers it has. <br /><br />But I must also concede that the word and me have experienced a few bumps in the road over the history of our relationship.<br /><br />There was a time c. maybe twenty-five years back, when I actually had the nerve to attempt to "pass", back-of-the-bus style to be sure, amid the dull-glazed glitterati of that grand U up on the hill.<br /><br />At a dinner party for somebody, I think maybe it was Robin Blaser, I found myself in a small circle of academic-familiars, who, as it developed, held weekly gatherings at which everyone spoke in turn about the feelings evoked in them by a certain word of the week, chosen by the master of ceremonies.<br /><br />At this precious event the word was, yes, elate.<br /><br />Neither the word nor me has yet recovered.<br /><br />But a fine word it is and I am entirely thrilled to have it resurrected here, henceforth I shall always love it with all my heart and tell it I'm sorry I ever cheated on it.<br /><br />elate (v.) <br /> 1570s, literal, "to raise, elevate," probably from Latin elatus "uplifted, exalted," past participle of effere, or else a back-formation from elation. Figurative use from 1610s. <br /><br />But the literal is good enough for me.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-80092067551380529562013-06-04T07:51:10.341-07:002013-06-04T07:51:10.341-07:00Tom,
"The first day and the last day are the...Tom,<br /><br />"The first day and the last day are the same"<br /><br />Despite the diesel and the booms and the skimmers that little red squirrel who makes an appearance at 1 minute in that "bit of video" seems to have found the door. Meanwhile and otherwise, good to see you've made your own appearance somewhere 'out there' on the radio.<br /><br />light coming into fog against invisible<br />top of ridge, shadowed sparrow in right<br />foreground, no sound of wave in channel<br /><br /> positions form arrangements,<br /> possible variation of<br /><br /> frame, space in the picture,<br /> memory from elsewhere<br /><br />grey white of fog against top of ridge,<br />white line of wave breaking in channel<br /><br /><br />STEPHEN RATCLIFFEhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12339481653546188412noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-54231850252765518082013-06-04T07:34:19.643-07:002013-06-04T07:34:19.643-07:00the realities described in your comment are certai...the realities described in your comment are certainly depressing but the poem transcends it in ways (individual, creative, etc.) that somehow elate (if that is the proper way to use that term, my post op brain unsure)...Lallyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05310472614196384595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-64296291700124651542013-06-04T07:18:15.095-07:002013-06-04T07:18:15.095-07:00There are actually a few grisly and mostly silence...There are actually a few grisly and mostly silenced locals who recall the days before animal torture labs, brain imaging centres, bioengineering factories & c. took over this territory. The creek was once a relatively peaceful patch, a sanctuary of sorts, bucolic, vernal, a glade of green quietness and clear flowing water. Now it's merely another vulnerable landscape-feature permanently subject to technological revision in the midst of a totally bought situation. But then, what isn't anymore.<br /><br />A couple of days after that spill at the bioengineering doom factory, some enterprising photographer snuck under the yellow tape when the authorities were out to lunch (literally as well as figuratively) and shot <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qo0p21905Vw" rel="nofollow">this bit of video</a>.<br /><br />I thought of this poem twice in the past few days. The first time came when in the middle of the night I hooked up the converter box to the antediluvian non-cable telly and picked up the one channel that comes in on this makeshift medieval rig, a Mexican superstation. A film was playing. We see inside some church-of-high-tech labs where some bored lab techies are busy having hormone rushes while idly monitoring a screen upon which we see a wee frog encased in a sort of glass cake dish. Harming no one, as it were -- just another sacrificial lab toy with biology included in the package giving up its wee life for the good of mankind, hollywood ho ho ho hum. Cut to knobs and dials and flashing-coloured-light techie displays (the new Hollywood-Ho version of neutered-sexy). A button says "Inject nano-meds". Girl techie pushes it. Rival hunky lab love-interests come and go, distracting her attention a bit. Now we see the frog's brain, invaded by greenish fluids. Now we see the frog on a monitor inside the glass cake dish. Its head has grown suddenly bulbous, and much, much too large. A viscous fluid is seeping out through its eyes. Poor froggie! Surely nothing good can come of this!<br /><br />Watching movies in Spanish without a program guide is always interesting. The game is, Guess what the movie is.<br /><br />At this point I guessed: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8SyqH3fjfA" rel="nofollow">Hulk</a>.<br /><br />Location shooting of the lab scenes in the film took place just up the hill from where the 2011 toxic diesel fuel spill occurred, at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lawrence_Berkeley_National_Laboratory" rel="nofollow">this cuddly place</a> -- maybe a half mile or so above the site of the vintage postcard shot that's the fourth image in this post.<br /><br />The second time I slowflashbacked the poem this week (why didn't somebody think to put in a door??) came a few hours ago, when I heard it read on National Public Radio. Sponsored by the pharmaceutical moneybags of Hulk, Inc. -- er, the Poetry Foundation.<br /><br />Garrison Little Town in The Land o Lakes was away on a canoe cruise so the poem was read by a stand-in -- but that's a proper celebrity stand-in, naturally.<br /><br /><a href="http://app.info.americanpublicmediagroup.org/e/es?s=1715082578&e=19370&elq=fab8bbd4f6bb4348a6ce88c6a5a27236" rel="nofollow">The Day Goes On Forever</a>.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.com