A poem I always go back to in my head.
This is my favorite version of this poem in English. Though there are others here.

Why is there a difference between South America and North America.
There is no difference he meant to go there.

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Don't please me with Mexico.

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We believe in Mexico.

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Mexico is never a disappointment.



- All from Mexico: A Play by Gertrude Stein


Last night, stepping through the weeds across a low wall into the lot where Mt. Carmel Baptist Church used to be. Remembering what used to be. Gathering in a place of destruction to mourn destruction. Gathering in a place of continuity to pray for continuity. Meek smiles. Tears. The names of so many human beings who have lost their lives in Gaza since July 8. An hour to read almost 400 names and ages. Less than a third of the now more than 1200 killed. Including an eighteen-month old girl. The same age as my daughter. A welling up of tears. Next to me, a man sobbed quietly, wiping away his tears with his hand. The circles of protective paper on the candles inadvertently burning occasionally as people lost track of the flame slowly burning down. An invitation to read the rest of the names at home. Something heartening, something necessary and significant, about standing outside with others, together in solidarity, physically, under a setting sun, an occasional light breeze coming in from the Gulf putting out my candle. Leaning over to the men next to me to re-light. The sounds of names continuing slowly, ploddingly, every accent a bit different, every voice intoning the names with their own rhythm, their own sadness.


Al parecer me he convertido repentinamente en escritor solitario sentado en su escritorio. Él que no habla con la gente. Él que no sale. Y no me disgusta.
Spent all morning thinking about Trenton Doyle Hancock and watching Youtube videos of him:







No quiero que se termine el verano. No quiero que empiece de nuevo la "programación".

"No había nada especial."
Adentro no hay nada: el rumor del aire condicionado, la cadenita del ventilador golpeándole levemente al foco, los reportes de genocidio viniendo del otro lado del mundo.
Por fin tengo espacio y tiempo como para ponerme a escribir. Pero siento que mi ser se tiene que limpiar de alguna manera, que estoy arrastrando un algo desconocido. No, ni eso. En lugar de escribir o de concentrarme en los proyectos en los que debería (y quisiera) enfocarme, caigo en los loops de Yutúb. Empecé con un escritor norteño que dizque hizo un repaso de la literatura del Norte de México sin mencionar ni una mujer. Después escuché unos poemas y entrevistas con Raúl Zurita, después pasé a un video de Cecilia Vicuña, luego unas travestis me enseñaron como hacer tostones y posteriormente vi un documental sobre Pinochet hecho por unos franceses y así y así. Por lo menos estuve maquilando libros durante mucho de ese tiempo. Hoy otra vez tengo la oportunidad de escribir o de ponerme a trabajar y sigo envilecido, sigo brincando de un video a otro. De Susana Chávez a Bolaño a Juan Rulfo. Oy, no sé si esto me va a ayudar a escribir. Siento que extraño el español. Que extraño su presencia en mi vida. Aunque claro hablo en espanish con la mayoría de mis queridos, pero igual, extraño el sentirme rodeado de español. Ma da ganas de escribir aquí en el blog de nuevo—como la hacen mis amigas a las que leo en sus blogs. Ay, el blog, tan de otra época. Aunque me da pavor ahora el Feis y no puedo terminar de convencerme nunca a postear allí. Siempre escribiendo y borrando comentarios y posts. Así que bueno, a seguir surfeando y tratando de convencerme a ponerme a (realmente) trabajar.
Perhaps the primary distinction of the artist is that he must actively cultivate that state
which most men, necessarily, must avoid; the state of being alone. That all men are, when
the chips are down, alone, is a banality—a banality because it is very frequently stated,
but very rarely, on the evidence, believed. Most of us are not compelled to linger with
the knowledge of our aloneness, for it is a knowledge that can paralyze all action in this
world. There are, forever, swamps to be drained, cities to be created, mines to be
exploited, children to be fed. None of these things can be done alone. But the conquest of
the physical world is not man’s only duty. He is also enjoined to conquer the great
wilderness of himself. The precise role of the artist, then, is to illuminate that darkness,
blaze roads through that vast forest, so that we will not, in all our doing, lose sight of its
purpose, which is, after all, to make the world a more human dwelling place.

- James Baldwin "The Creative Process"
Jack Halberstam speaks out against triggers and perceived censorship here in "You Are Triggering Me!"


The debate is super interesting no matter where you fall on this topic. And I fall on a different side ever few minutes it seems.

I want to write more about this, but we'll see if I ever get to it.


You should be angry. You must not be bitter. Let me show you why. Bitterness is like cancer, it eats upon the host. It doesn't do anything to the object of its displeasure. So use that anger, yes. You write it, you paint it, you dance it, you march it, you vote it, you do everything about it. You talk it. Never stop talking it.

- Maya Angelou to Dave Chappelle in this video:

 
Yesterday and today I wrote two long posts. And then I decided to remove them.

Years after starting a blog, I still don't know quite what this space is for me. Or what I am to do here.
What is the collective emotional investment in a white male artist’s fantasy of black female artistry in a milieu that is overwhelmingly dominated by white money, power, and tradition? Why does that milieu take great pains to mask the reality of white dominance with a fetishistic display of black bodies and style? 

- Coco Fusco. More here.

Russian as Threat / Русский как угроза

Russian as Threat

On language politics in Ukraine... Can the Russian language threaten the governmental security of Ukraine? Super interesting... With Елена Фанайлова - Может ли угрожать русский язык государственной безопасности Украины?