enjoying this collaboration
enjoying this collaboration
Webbings
Clotted knots over darkness, what it had all become, and barely holding on. Together? I couldn’t say. I had thought it was my innards: veins, nerve endings, cells. Suspended precariously over bleak. Clinging. Trembling in a void. I had thought it was existence. An only way to survive. Just hanging on. In. But then you’d said it was “us.” The precarious thing, the tendentious, the threatened. You said our attachments were thin, and weakening, our threads hardly visible anymore. But look! Look at us love! We’re all woven together – we connect at many points – we form a pattern! We are webbed things. Oh don’t detach a filament, no don’t detach a one, beloved. Oh say it won’t come undone this way?
N Filbert 2012
a little something something
Messages
“…I do not know what to do…
We begin, or end, there.”
“while poetry will be the clear, the fact of the head,
prose will be the coming, and going. Around.
…It is not a matter of better, or worse. There is no competition.”
-Robert Creeley-
current efforts / byproducts
Imagined Hike with Companion
(for S.K.)
Looking at you
as into a tree
full of running water,
that steady,
that moving,
an attempt at description
of cognitive complexity
and integrity,
my friend
you exhibit fidelity,
similitude of redundancy,
my familiar
coupled with surprise
or invention,
the information
your embeddedness enacts
with this world
of flowing waters
and sturdy trees.
N Filbert 2012
Your Own Story
For over a month I have faced the following on my desk:
created for me and delivered with a a sheaf of empty pages and a stapled complete story by my precious daughter Ida, aged 8:
I am passing it along to each of you…as I struggle with the task…
“One needs to have wandered a lot, to have taken many paths, to realize, when all is said and done,
that at no moment one has left one’s own…
…To forget in order to know; to know in order to fill up the forgotten, in its own time.”
-Edmond Jabes-
and another that calls to all interests held here!
“HENRY” is a new bi-yearly magazine in Le Zaporogue’s free press collection.
It is a magazine about literature, arts, music, philosophy and those who make it by those who make it, in other words, writers, artists, musicians and philosophers.
It will be a heartfelt magazine about passion and creation, far from the traditional academic literary mags.
It’s all about first-hand experience, thoughts and feelings.
Of course, loving amateurs are welcome, as “HENRY” hates snobbery and small mindedness.
It is a place of freedom and quality, where there is no sterile categorizations, nor themes – all genres are welcome, all periods, all fields.
The editors are Seb Doubinsky and Lisa Thatcher, both enlightened amateurs in a variety of fields.
The magazine is named after Henry Miller, a writer we both have a great passion for.
Call for Submissions
The first publication of Henry will come out in January 2013.
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LOVE this!
Thanks to the Laughing Squid and Justin Page (September 10, 2012), I bring you street art by Banksy… ANIMATED!
Longest Salmon Call for Submissions
Hey creative writer types!
Qualia…an introduction of sorts
Qualia
“Most of each lobe is employed in the grand human saga of making associations among events, ideas, personal experiences, strategies and people. It seems absurd to lump all that tempest together, but we do: thought. The word even sounds like a thick knot. Endless raveling and unraveling, thought combines colorful yarns to clothe each moment”
-Diane Ackerman-
“This is why we create: to keep our demons down without banishing them entirely”
-Marie Palermo-
“It is hard to seize what is”
-Laurie Scheck-
“Raw feel, a name for the peculiar quale of experience”
-E.C. Tolman-
“It is possible to hold that certain properties of certain mental states, namely those I’ve called qualia, are such that their possession or absence makes no difference to the physical world”
-Philosophical Quarterly 32/133-
“an unfamiliar term for something that could not be more familiar to each of us: the ways things seem to us”
-Daniel Dennett-
“[Qualia are] the whole ensemble of consciousness or experiences”
-Gerald Edelman-
“When I do not know the ‘quid’ of anything how can I know the ‘quale’?”
-Plato, The Dialogues-
“The quale is directly intuited, given, and is not the subject of any possible error because it is purely subjective”
-C.I. Lewis-
“’what kind,’ ‘that sort,’ unobservable in others and unquantifiable in us”
-Wikipedia-
“…a proposition flaunts every logical scratch that follows from it…
Then I saw you were trying to lean against the weight of missing words, a wall at the end of the world”
-Rosmarie Waldrop-
Inescapable Intersubjectivity
Ineffaceable Tentativeness
“No self is thus separate from the total venture of language”
(Wikipedia entry – “Qualia”)
“Inside the workings of language clear vision is impossible”
-Rosmarie Waldrop-
“The brain is embodied and the body is embedded” (Gerald Edelman, 2006). A phrase like that implies mysteries. As if something might be explained or described. At least. Scribbling maps at random: entailment, entangled.
She said, “memory – a mirror with ambition,” I questioned the memory and the mirror both. A quail quickly turns tail, coveys away, Blanchot’s ever-ultimate (as in final), question: questioning itself.
That is, what is unquestionable?
Or, everything unfinished.
I’ve introduced this all before, and now I’m building with logical scratches. Sketching plans.
I meant to address this before, but someone’s former second grade teacher (actually only a substitute), assigned his class a writing as a way to pass the time. “Write about the process of choosing.”
Entailment, entanglement, words with activity in me, like haunting. The concept of selection. What must be going on.
I must be moving on.
Earlier and consistently, the lusting of language toward the intrinsic, the ineffable. What is private and immediate. What cancels out in signs or symbols. Gordian knot of tricker, Ouroborous. So much so as to seem identified. Inherent.
What is not possible.
My wife’s eyes swell large in a blue as yet reproduced. This elicits in me what science designates “raw feels.” By the time I’ve gazed enough to start cooking them, they’re a meal in themselves. Or, “knowledge as illusion (delusion).” At any instant, process.
Accepting awards from strangers one strangely respects. Not profound enough for tears, significant enough to change.
I can’t explain it.
(Meaning: it doesn’t accord my theories, or, “what’s wired together, fires…”)
Entanglement. Arbitrary associations. Blips and bits. Intention.
You (can’t) get the picture.
What we mean is like this.
When I first stood in the grandeur of Il Duomo, Milan. First naked body different from mine own. Learning differance. Similarity. Metaphor versus analogue. Random maps of light and entropy.
In ambiguity lies possibilities.
Where we’ve doubted.
Those final questions.
All those books I’ve written, published under others’ names.
N Filbert 2012
