Blurbs for That Rare Amalgamation of Blue Hair and Women's Formal Wear
I like Moscovich's book. Read it this weekend. Shards
of it pierced me. Like when you cut yourself a little
while shaving. You don't realize you've done it but
then you look in the mirror later and see a big red
splotch on your neck. Unsettling.
Not a single weak link in the whole thing, absolutely
superb sequencing. My jaw is agape as if I've lockjaw.
I laughed out loud throughout the read.
I like the way the words are on the page - it shows
care about the way one uses language.
I find this micro fiction not only well written well
conceived. I like especially the economy of the
language you use.
I like how yu squeeze other genres between the
micro-fictions -- streamlining the journey -- with a
powerful little aside --
oh I like the titles in large letters - makes it
easier for retirees to read them
Find a copy of the extremely limited edition, handpainted book at the following locations:
Quimby's: Chicago, Illinois
City Lights: San Francisco, CA
Magpie: Vancouver, BC
Confounded Books: Seattle Washington
Powell's City of Books: Portland, Oregon
Looking Glass Books: Portland, Oregon
Reading Frenzy: Portland, Oregon
Skylight Books: Los Angeles, CA
Guitarist Derek Bailey Dies December 25, 2005
Here's a group email I received from Portland improviser JP Jenkins, a guitar player carving his own niche in a wall of dried rosepetals.
Derek Bailey died of motor neuron disease (Lou Gehrig's disease) in
London on the morning of the 25th
I can only say that he is one of my heroes and if you don't know his
music you should try listening to it.
luv JP
"The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and
the intelligent are full of doubt."
-- Bertrand Russell
You can read an interview with Derek Bailey here, he touches on many things, including touring Japan:
Inner-View [The Painted Word]
This series of paintings were done in a Federfrenzy which broke my dot matrix printer. The text is taken from Federman's description of what this photographer put him through in France:
This is this new magazine. The photographer that was sent by the magazine. He came to my hotel room in Paris, closed the curtains, moved the furniture, put me against a little stool in one curtain. He said, look. I don't photograph you to make you look better, I want to find what's inside you. And I tell you that's what he did - look what the finger is doing. He kept saying, open your eyes, because I want to get inside.
Photos from The Sheep Boneyard at the Center for Dyslexistential Studies
Death is a perfect event because you cannot speak your own death. You cannot say, I am dead. Your death goes into the mouth of others.
Raymond Federman
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