Cami Park

Archive for February, 2010|Monthly archive page

lil bitches

In Confessional, Film, Poetry on February 28, 2010 at 11:08 am

Chelsea Martin and Elizabeth Ellen offer their insights into major minor writers players in the internet literary scene. I learned some things.

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On fire

In Art, Household, Poetry on February 27, 2010 at 11:57 pm

PEEP/SHOW is a new poetry publication that, according to its Peepifesto, intends to publish innovative poetry every 5 months and unfold “over the course of time, with a large chunk of serially-minded work by a different poet added every few weeks.”  Their debut issue, 10 Women, is impressive, including substantial work by Kate Schapira and Kimberly Lyons.

We would rather set things on fire than carve them in stone. –Lynn Behrendt and Anne Gorrick, Curators

Red excerpt
Kate Schapira

…freshly presented,
newly created …

not disenchanted. If you lay
the red surfaces
together they may regenerate.
They have some give if you
get to them in time,
the siren says. Concern
reddens and tightens
your brow as the siren
passes. What’s going on under
the wrinkles could be any color.

If you lay the surfaces together
you may be startled by pleasure.
May think of frostbite
to calm yourself, your circulation
may return, the siren may …

There are nicks in …

Valentine/subtitle/promise/retort

In Art, Confessional, Link collage on February 26, 2010 at 7:00 pm

Angela Simione

Received this resonant thing in the mail today from Angela Simione, so I thought I’d do one of my link collages in honor. Enjoy (hopefully).

It is easy to say, but believe me it is horrifying to see 20 people die in front of you.

It takes some serious nerve to have a person die in front of you, and ask people how good your lighting is.

I believe that seeing someone you love die in front of you or watching your own body collapse makes it more difficult to act in bad faith.

Suppose you have a (possibly biased) die in front of you.

I remember covering the famine in Sudan and seeing people die in front of you.

It would be exquisite to die in front of you, I thought.

when he turns 10000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 years old so he wont die in front of you fatass!!

Otherwise I’ll die in front of you.

It’s not the greatest feeling I tell ya but to watch mates etc die in front of you in time of war?????

Like, I could write about the Triple Crown, but it’s hard to wrap your arms around a sport where the star athletes have a tendency to, you know, die in front of you.

Dying mice may come out from their hiding places and die in front of you.

Shall we die in front of you just because all our silver is gone?

Follow, follow, follow

In Art, Film, Music on February 25, 2010 at 1:21 am

Vodpod videos no longer available.
Destino, a Salvador Dali/Walt Disney production.

Get out of the bullet

In Philosophy, Photography, Prose on February 24, 2010 at 8:46 am

The Dove
Djuna Barnes

THE DOVE: There are enough people preventing things, aren’t there?
VERA: Yes — that’s why you frighten me.
THE DOVE: Because I let everything go on, as far as it can go?
VERA: Yes, because you disturb nothing.
THE DOVE: I see.
VERA: You never meddle —
THE DOVE: No, I never meddle.
VERA: You don’t even observe as other people do, you don’t watch. Why, if I were to come up to you, wringing my hands saying, “Amelia has shot herself,” I don’t believe you would stand up.
THE DOVE: No, I don’t suppose I would, but I would do something for all that.
VERA: What?
THE DOVE: I should want to be very sure you wrung your hands as much as possible, and that Amelia had gotten all there was to get out of the bullet before she died.

Somewhere between

In Photography, Science, Sex on February 23, 2010 at 11:47 pm

Caleb Charland, 15 Hours

Wonder is a state of mind somewhere between knowledge and uncertainty.Caleb Charland

Hula, hula

In Film, Hobby, Prose on February 22, 2010 at 9:24 pm

Witches have no wit, said the magician who was weak. Hula, hula, said the witches.Norman Mailer, An American Dream

True for life

In Confessional, Philosophy, Prose on February 21, 2010 at 2:38 am

Fuck me for not being Lydia Davis.

Still. It’s not for everyone.

Bed crumbs of all ages spiled

In Photography, Poetry, Sex on February 20, 2010 at 2:46 am

My Bed is Covered Yellow
Peter Orlovsky

        My bed is covered yellow – Oh Sun, I sit on you
Oh golden field I lay on you
Oh money I dream of you
More, More, cried the bed – talk to me more –
Oh bed that taked the weight of the world –
        all the lost dreams laid on you
Oh bed that grows no hair, that cannot be fucked
        or can be fucked
Oh bed crumbs of all ages spiled on you
Oh yellow bed march to the sun whear yr journey will be done
Oh 50 lbs. of bed that takes 400 more lbs-
        how strong you are
Oh bed, only for man & not for animals
        yellow bed when will the animals have equal rights?
Oh 4 legged bed off the floor forever built
Oh yellow bed all the news of the world
        lay on you at one time or another

1957, Paris

“Any one for shoes”

In Art, Household, Photography on February 19, 2010 at 11:53 pm

Andy Warhol