Earl Gray

Earl Gray
"You can argue with me but, in the end, you'll have to face that fact that you're arguing with a squirrel." - Earl Gray

Friday, September 19, 2014

Three Friends and a Stranger

     The expression "three friends and a stranger" refers to competitors ganging up to eliminate or fleece an opponent.  The word "friends" may be figurative;  reasons for this ad hoc alliance may be more strategic or financial than social.

     Poetry is a competition, as is the pursuit of jobs teaching it.  One is an artistic endeavor, though, and the other is commerce.  How much of the PoBiz is poetry and how much is business?

     To appreciate this distinction, compare the North Carolina Poet Laureate Scandal to a slam contest.  The former was a PoBiz concern related directly to employment.  Not surprisingly, we saw "three friends", the Carolina Arts Council, and "a stranger", Valerie Macon.

     Slam is at the far end of the spectrum.  While the PoBiz is a labor exchange, slams are, for better or worse, exercises in democracy.  Judges are drawn from the crowd.  Highest scoring participant wins.  Simple, right?

    "But aren't slams cliquish?"

     People who wonder this are inferring that, by "democracy", we mean people voting for candidates.  No.  More often than not, the Realpolitik of democracy involves people voting against candidates.

Piping in the vote results
     Suppose Bob, Carol, Ted and Alice are the forerunners pitted against each other at a slam.  Regulars Bob, Carol and Ted may bring tagalongs who serve as judges.  Newcomer Alice is on her own.  In order to help Bob win, his buddy on the panel may downgrade the scores for Carole and Ted but will see little reason to assess unknowns on anything but merit.  Supporters of Carol and Ted may do the same for their favorite.  Thus, if the performances are approximately equal, being an outsider--a novelty to judges tired of the same-old-same-old--might actually benefit Alice.  In my experience, this is the rule, not the exception, for new talent.

     Between these two extremes, the more directly a decision affects possible employment the stronger the "three friends and a stranger" influence.  Publishers associated with colleges or poetry organizations tend to be more closed in terms of participation and audience input.  That is, neither the poet nor the poetry are crowd-pleasers.  Contests--especially those with blind judging--and independent publishers tend to be more merit-based and audience-oriented.  The explains the vast difference in name recognition, aesthetics and entertainment value between The Paris Review or Poetry Magazine and Rattle, The Pedestal, or TheHyperTexts.



Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Episode 4b - Poets Say the Funniest Things

     When we last left our hero, Juan Vidal amused us with the notion that virtually nothing written before the death of poetry in the 1920s constituted poetry because it wasn't political.

     You may need to reread that last sentence for comprehension and effect.

     Believe it or not, this was not his punch line.  No, he saved that for last.  To fully appreciate its silliness in all its glory we need to bear in mind two indisputable facts:

1.  There is more poetry¹ being published today than ever before; and,

2.  Nobody Reads Poetry.

     This is news to no one.

Marc Bolan
     Mr. Vidal prattles on about the disappearance of "political poets¹".  You know, the kind we see in the millions at slam and open mic soirées.  The kind that cause those of us in attendance to mutter "Bob Dylan knows (and I'll bet Alan Freed does) there are things in the night that are better not to behold."

     With no hint of irony or self-awareness, Juan Vidal ends his argument with the most ridiculous question ever posed in earnest:  "Did they stop speaking, or have we stopped listening?"

     Mr. Vidal missed his cue [by generations] and his calling [as a sitcom writer].



Footnotes:

¹ - I rarely use the term this loosely.



Links:

Episode 1 - Poets Say the Funniest Things

Episode 2 - Poets Say the Funniest Things

Episode 3 - Poets Say the Funniest Things

Episode 4a - Poets Say the Funniest Things

Episode 4b - Poets Say the Funniest Things


Monday, September 15, 2014

Genius

      "Genius" is a word I do not bandy about.  It should describe the rarest of traits, not wasted on our favorite obscure poet.  Chances are, if you know three or more geniuses you know zero geniuses.

     What, then, is a genius?  More specifically, what is a creative genius?  For once, I don't find a dictionary definition particularly helpful since it addresses none of the practical concerns:  consensus, consistency, and production.

      Suppose someone creates a work that a few people consider a masterpiece.  By "few" I mean a tiny minority, even among fans of that particular subject and genre.  Because common understanding is the purpose of language, we cannot identify the author as a genius because too many people disagree with the assignation.  At most, we can preface the term with a disclaimer such as "In my opinion [this person is a genius]."

      Suppose a person creates one brilliancy in a career besmirched by enumerable embarrassing failures.  That artist may be a financial success but "genius"?  No.  There is simply too much evidence to the contrary.  This is equally true of the individual who recreates the same item, perhaps with minor variations, over and over again.

      Now suppose someone writes one gem and then quits.  "Genius"?  Hard to say, since genius comes in a pattern.  Is the artist a one-shot-wonder?  A flash in the pan?  Consistency implies a sizeable number of confirming examples, notwithstanding the occasional clunker.

      When, then, can we use the word without qualification?

Kelly Nishimoto
      As I use the term, a genius is someone who can reliably produce unique items that please a significant consumer market.  As such, we obviously don't have a living poetry genius.  This is true even if we accept a demographic limited to fellow writers as a "market".  Of course, we may be getting ahead of ourselves.  In the last half century, other than Dr. Seuss, we haven't produced a single successful poem, let alone a Shakespeare capable of cranking them out in series.

      The good news is that, contrary to what passes for conventional "wisdom" today, the products of genius are never difficult to spot.  For example, take The Learning Channel's "Something Borrowed, Something New".  Resident genius, Kelly Nishimoto, reworks dresses worn by the bride's mother decades earlier, presenting each as a palatable option to modern gowns.  She does this every episode.  The results amaze even those of us with no interest in fashion and design.

      Watch a few of her shows.  It may be a life-changing experience to be able to point at something or someone and say without equivocation or reservation "Now that is genius!"





Saturday, September 6, 2014

Episode 4a - Poets Say the Funniest Things

DPK's "Beans"
      In "Where Have All The Poets Gone?" Juan Vidal wrote:  "For centuries, poets were the mouthpieces railing loudly against injustice."

      Actually, no, they weren't.  Not the poets we remember from when poetry had an audience, at least.  Drama, comedy, romance, elegy?  Sure.  Philosophy and religion?  Maybe.  Polemics?  For niche publishers, perhaps, but not as a general rule.  To be clear:  Mr. Vidal isn't saying "political" in the usual reductionist sense that everything is political (or dramatic, romantic or even humorous--whatever the pseudointellectual wants to argue).

      His example of "for centuries"?  "From Langston Hughes to Jack Kerouac..." leading to other contemporaries:  Pablo Neruda, Allen Ginsberg, and Amiri Baraka.

Garcia Lorca in 1914
      You couldn't guess his other example:  Federico del Sagrado Corazón de Jesús García Lorca (5 June 1898 - 19 August 1936).  In none of the theories about Lorca does anyone describe his body of work as "overtly political".  Lorca didn't consider it so, else he might never have left Madrid.  His Falangist friends and hosts didn't seem to have a problem with it.  Indeed, if the nationalists considered his poetry "overtly political" would it have taken them more than 30 minutes, let alone more than 30 days, to arrest and execute him?

      Needless to say, Mr. Vidal doesn't list examples of political pieces by Lorca.  Nor can anyone explain how badly one would have to misread Lorca's poetry before describing it as "overtly political".  Are we supposed to view "Llanto por Ignacio Sánchez Mejías" as...what?...a diatribe against bullfighting?

      Mr. Vidal continues unabated:  "At its root, poetry is the language of protest."

      Yes, that would explain the paeans, love sonnets, praise poems, non-satirical comedies, commercial jingles, bawdy limericks, and just about every canonical poem written before WWI.

      Do people actually think before they write these things?

=======================================================

     "I want to die decently in my bed." - Lorca, in "Romance Sonambulo"

=======================================================

Friday, August 29, 2014

Signs

Earl the Squirrel's Rule #69
     There is an old joke about a guy concerned about his sudden weight loss.  The doctor tells him he has a tapeworm that is impervious to all pharmacological remedies.  Not to worry, though.  The patient is told to return the next day with three cookies and a hammer.  When he does, the medico shoves a cookie into the patient, waits one minute, pushes another cookie in, waits a minute, and, ultimately, inserts the final cookie.  Then the physician waits, hammer in hand. 

     Two minutes pass.  Three.  Four.  Five.

     Finally, the tapeworm pops out, saying "Alright, where's my cookie?"

     Wham! 

     Problem solved.  Another triumph of modern medicine!




     WTF?

     You're driving down the dullest stretch of divided prairie highway on the planet.  We're talking about a patch of pavement that makes contemporary poetry seem interesting by comparison.  The locals call it "Death Row" in honor of those who have fallen asleep at the wheel here.  Suddenly, in the ditch between the eastbound and your westbound lanes you see a light purple sign with this text:

"The world won't change for one so small"

     What gives?  Soon you see a second sign of the same color, this one reading:

"that teardrops wound with gravity."

     Clearly, these are related.  As you continue, another iteration appears every kilometer (i.e. every 5/8th of a mile).  After a few phrases you figure out that it is a story, a tribute to someone.

Sign #1:  The world won't change for one so small
Sign #2:  that teardrops wound with gravity.
Sign #3:  We braced ourselves with weights and walls.
Sign #4:  You faced strict winds with levity,
Sign #5:  with your coat buttoned tight, still green
Sign #6:  and brown with Dead Sea mud and kelp.

Sign #7:  When what was whole is lost we lean
Sign #8:  on rain, on roots and suds for help.

Sign #9:  When you died and the bees did not mourn, did the crickets
Sign 10:  hesitate? Did they draw long blue chords on each thigh?
Sign 11:  Did they speak? Did they say "She is gone. Face that fact."?
Sign 12:  It's the truth but, in every other sense, it's a lie!
Sign 13:  You remain, sui generis, one light that beams
Sign 14:  as the guide of my passing and mother to my dreams.

Earl the Squirrel's Rule #72
     Not until the final couplet do you realize it's a poem.  Weird!

     Unfortunately, by the time you discern the sonnet format and get used to reading a line every 36 seconds the damned thing is over!  You feel like the aforementioned tapeworm.  Speaking of worms, it's similar to that earworm on the radio;  you try putting the words out of your head but they keep bouncing around like dice in the cup of your skull.  What or whom was all that about?

     Speaking of cups, some coffee would be an idea.  A few minutes later you see an announcement of the next exit to a service station and diner.  At the bottom, in that now-familiar pale purple, are the words:

    "Poem details."

    You turn in, as much out of curiosity as caffeine withdrawal.

     Once inside, you see photomemes on the wall, each depicting an aspect of the poem, its subject or author.  You sit down, order some java and discover that your paper placemat features the words of the poem, some explanatory text and a note saying that, if asked, the waiting staff will step onstage and perform the verse for you.  (That explains the microphone and tiny bandstand in the corner.)

     At the cashier's counter on your way out you find copies of the book containing the roadside verses.  Motorists buy them not only as souvenirs and as gifts for readers but to help them explain the experience¹ they have just enjoyed.  Thousands of copies are sold each month by a staff oblivious to the fact that Nobody Reads Poetry.



 Earl the Squirrel's Rule #20
Footnotes:

¹ - Unbeknownst to you until your return trip, on the back of those billboards was another poem for eastbound travellers--why waste sign posts?--leading to a similar themed restaurant and gas bar on the other side of the superhighway.  Months later, two other poems replace these two.  For some reason, the locals turn down the government's offer to provide modern electronic signage which would allow unlimited, instantaneous changes. 

     This was part of a local initiative in conjunction with the department of transport.  Business, including tips for the talented staff, has exploded and highway fatalities in that stretch have disappeared since the plan, called "AutoMau[ti]ve", was initiated.


Thursday, August 28, 2014

A Simple Question

Catherine Stukel
An Open Letter to "The Chronicle of Higher Education":

    Whom do we want teaching our young?  A heartless semiliterate or Ned Balbo?

     Unfortunately, this is not an entirely hypothetical question.

Signed,

Earl Gray, Esquirrel



Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Spoken Word and Slam...Poetry?

Kyle "Guante" Tran Myhre
     Kyle "Guante" Tran Myhre's "Both Sides of the 'Is Poetry Dead?' Debate Miss the Big Picture" doesn't really address the title's topic for long.  The text is wordy.  He engages in the typical synecdochical fallacy, wantonly conflating "poetry" with two of its supersets, "slam" and "spoken word".  He confuses form, medium and content in places.  He doesn't seem to understand what poetry is...but there's a lot of that going around.  Like his textual counterparts, he wastes verbage on discussions of content:  "Everyone Has a Story", "Every Story Has Value", there's politics, "social justice issues", abuse, healing power, etc.  Having established that, as a mode of speech, poetry can be used to address every genre and topic imaginable, why get into content at all?

     Nevertheless, he [perhaps inadvertently] raises an interesting point.

Earl the Squirrel's Rule #62
     For this to make sense, we need to go over a few basics.  Poetry is verbatim.  It is learned and reproduced word for word by others over time.  It isn't "dead because fewer people buy poetry books";  it is dead because no one, usually starting with the author, cares to commit it to memory and present it.  Where would film and theatre be if there were no performances? 

     I agree with the thrust of "Guante's" thesis:  a slam might include things closer to poetry than the typical reading simply because at least some of the competitors will have bothered to memorize their work and all of them understand the need to present it to viewers.  What we see in 'zines and books may be better written than most spoken word but, with few exceptions, it satisfies neither of the requirements¹ for actual poetry.  Still, the open mic is the closest facsimile of the gatherings that led to the first poetry.  What is missing is that one speech that so impressed the listeners that they preserved it in memory and culture, much as we do today with song lyrics.  What is missing is people who give a damn.

Earl the Squirrel's Rule #9
     Mr. Myhre correctly surmises that YouTube serves and will serve as the proving ground.  He errs in assuming that the measure of poetry is how many people view it.  If this were the case, the average SuperBowl commercial would be considered Shakespeare.  A better indicator would be how many people cover or quote it.  That is, how many others reproduce that piece, in whole or in part? 

     When that happens we can talk about "slam-" or "spoken word poetry".  Or contemporary print poetry, for that matter.



Footnotes:

¹ - The two requirements being that it be reproduced verbatim and for an audience.  Put simply, a person is not a poet until others choose to perform his or her work.