Welcome to a brave new world, where the author swings out over the very abyss he allegedly abhors. Here he dangles, acknowledging that his exposure goes against all the pro- & con-fessions of his aesthetic intent. Realizing he may (likely?) rue the day he laid his huff-and-puff intentions at the altar of the beast, he yet hereby does so, affirming that it is done by his own hand–feeble as it is, still done with a mind as sound as most of those around about (or so he thinks).
Technology is a fancy name for tools. But it is more than that. That is, a tool shapes things, directs things, creates things, changing things in a way that may transform the thing upon which it operates. Perhaps even disguising it so as to make it unrecognizable. But the thing remains, can still be discovered if mulled enough. But Technology may transform a thing so fundamentally that it becomes somehow different – or No – changes it in such a way that the user, observer, sees it as something completely new, a sui generis; the world is transformed and the past is obliterated.
But this is a ramble. Swinging – not by the neck, but, one hopes, by the seat of the pants, like a kid in the schoolyard who arcing ever higher hopes to wow the cutest girl in the class with his fearless acrobatical skills.
So again, welcome to this brave new world, (at least for the author). I have no idea how I got here, much less what i’m supposed to be doing. But here we are. It has been pointed out that this thing which has been launched needs some kind of explanation as to what it’s all about. Via negativa–i’m better at what’s not than what’s what. Subtraction is my method. “Just chip away everything that’s not horse.”
So, approach Pilgrim, without fear. There’s nothing here that will harm you. There is nothing being sold; relaxo emptor. Yet i admit to hoping that i might purchase a bit of your time and attention. And hope that a few minutes spent here will provide some amusement, a respite from whatever it is you think needs to be done.
Nothing herein is meant to sway the reader in any way, shape or form. These are merely observations, in no way intended to be objective – mainly because they are not about “the world.” They are an examination of the self. Perhaps you’ll find something that will seem familiar within your ownself. That can be a comfort in itself. There is no presumption that there is any kind of wisdom to be gleaned from the chaff here winnowed. But mixed with a bit of mud and spit, one might make up a nice sludge pie.
All well and good, but the query remains, “what is this all about?” Well, that is a good question. Best as i can tell ya, the answer to that is best explicated in the all that follows. Wish there was an easier (i.e. shorter) answer, but if it could have been said so, believe me you, it would’ve been done long ago.
This eponymous first collection of pieces will be followed by newer pieces written since its original inception nearly 10 years ago. Thank you to those who offered encouragement after the first print edition. It is hoped you may enjoy revisiting it in this new format, which was never imagined until something sudden and unexpected came along. This “new world” would never have come into being, much less look and operate as beautifully as it does without my “sudden and unexpected” partner in this endeavor, Lisa Schiff, a demanding editrix whose confidence in the idea that this should come into being, ever present encouragement, passionate love of literature and poetry in particular, astounding intellect and love of debate, not to mention technical expertise, and above all, loving patience, has brought this into the world.
Introducing Clive Gravitas [grə-VEE-təs]
A ghost of a fellow met around Broadway and Columbus in North Beach, San Francisco. One of those ‘legacy’ bars where some beat literary giant is supposed have Got Drunk once upon a time and—guessing here—dandled some acolyte upon his metaphoric knee. Now Clive is not one of those, though he bandies about the neighborhood in his period get-up for the amusement of tourists and locals alike. But he should not be so simply dismissed, despite his undeniable doofiosity. His cultural arcana being an inch deep and a mile wide, he does actually know an interesting thing or two. He is, in fact, a Virgual guide who can walk you down this and that side street or alley that you might miss. So if you run into him along your ramble here, give him a tap and take a detour; he’s completely harmless, means only the best, and being Virgual will not hit you up for a smoke, a drink, change, or even the chance to hear him recite his own poetry, though he’s got ’em, he’s got ’em.
poetastrophy 