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  • You, triumphing at last, flags wave

    the elephants do their dance
    and you know that it’s your time
    how they’re dancing for you
    how they’ve painted their names
    how they’ve polished their pokey things
    and you’re just sitting back and letting
    the bump of their girth
    flop you out of your
    chair with each move
    flop you out
    onto the dance floor
    and you’re thinking
    I’m dancing
    and it’s effortless.
    Look at me.

  • Everyday chug

    Everybody’s tired of it today.
    Tired of the same old everyday vibrations
    chugging through their bodies
    down from their throats to
    their hands
    to the ground.
    The lechers are too tired to lech today.
    You see?
    Dogs don’t even try to lick their buddies.
    And now the sidewalk prophets are even putting down their
    street signs, even walking off their jobs
    saying: “Doom.
    Whatever.
    Doom.”

  • The At Swim-Two-Birds Deathmarch, Week 2

    Week 2 starts here, and if you’ve been reading along at home, that’ll place you on page 54 (Darlkey), at the very moment of John Furriskey’s unusual birth.
    I’m enjoying the heck outta the book so far. In particular, the Fin Mac Cool stuff just slays me. It struck me that beyond a predeliction for unusual names, this also does ASTB have in common with Pale Fire and Gravity’s Rainbow: the big brainflood (aka the use of detail as an opiate).
    Hope you’re enjoying yourself and keeping yer socks clean. Best I can tell we have something like 20 folks on the march. Nice healthy headcount. This one seems a little easier on the eyes than the last two, and I’m guessing most of us will make it through. What say we pick up the pace just a tad in the coming week?
    Next week: See you at the bottom of page 115 (Dalkey), where the two of them are “talking with each other in a lay of generous staves.”

  • The At Swim-Two-Birds Deathmarch, Week 1

    *****
    From the intro to the Dalkey edition:
    “According to its author, Adolf Hitler hated At Swim-Two-Birds so vehemently he started World War II in order to interfere with its sales.”
    *****
    Welcome to Day 1 of Week 1, which means for them that are marching, the marching starts roughly…now! In fact, once I hit Save, I’ll be heading off to BART, ASTB in hand. Looks like it starts with someone eating, which is always a good way to kick off really any work of art. Except for perhaps a trumpet solo.
    If this is your first march, (1) yay! and (2) here’s how it works: we’ll tackle the book in 40-50 pages/week chunks. Don’t sweat it if you fall a little behind — most folks do at some point. Try to resist racing ahead so as to accentuate the commonality of referential data. Every Tuesday, I’ll post a thread right here on cv.com. Use that thread for comments, which can be as low-key as “I am the ‘At Swim-Two-Bird Man of Alcatraz.’” or as thought provoking as [very thought provoking example here].
    (And of course: If you’re re-reading the book, please do yer level best to avoid spoilers.)
    And that’s it. Both the kit and the kaboose.
    Thanks much for coming along. This is our third book, and it’s the one I’m the most outright excited to read. In fact: I’m way too excited. In fact: I think my brain is vibrating.
    I’m reading the so-called Dalkey Archive Press edition and will be using that for page break references — if you have a different edition with different breaks, just let me know and I’ll see what we can do to synch up….
    Next week: Let’s meet at page 54 (Dalkey), just before the “Extract from Press regarding Furriskey’s birth.”

  • Still more wahoo

    Alameda’s own Red Hills Review is the gift that keeps on giving. They’re hosting the second reading for their current issue Wednesday night at 7:30, at Books Inc., in the heart of the Island City (also known as The City That Looks Suspiciously Like a Whale.
    I’ll amongst them what’re reading their wares — love to see yer there.

  • Cold

    put on a fat coat
    bagel coat
    butter coat
    wind too sharp
    biscuit coat
    bones

  • The At Swim-Two-Birds Deathmarch Pause That Refreshes

    Hi,
    Next Tuesday we start up Deathmarch #3. This time out it’s another relatively short book — At Swim-Two-Birds written by Irish author Flann O’Brien and published back in 1939. I’m especially looking forward to this one — a brilliant darkly comic romp, or so I’ve been told by some really smart people. But that said, I’ll keep this post a bit on the ultrashort side since I’m on the road this week and up way past my bedtime. Hope to see you out on the trail….
    -Cecil

  • Let’s talk about (Tuttle’s line)

    Taking us from a to b.
    Varying in heft.
    Guileless.
    Craftless.
    Curving shiny sometimes
    but still always essentially
    linear.
    Scribbly.
    Stand in front of thirty.
    “Which one is my favorite?”
    But how could he
    possibly
    know?