Ron Silliman's Recently Received Looks

Scowl (barista)

Fangs (motorist in adjacent vehicle)

Smile (SPD representative)

Wink (mirror)

 

"RoSi ain't nothin' to fuck wit"--Ron Silliman

Ask Antonin Artaud--a New Column for Struggling Poets Everywhere

We are very excited here at GP to introduce our new feature column entitled "Ask Antonin Artaud." We know that a lot of our poetry-writing comrades out there experience many peaks and valleys in their careers (this is a tough job we've all taken on!); and we therefore thought that soliciting the advice of the great Artaud would be a wonderful help to all of us proud practitioners of poesy. So, please do send in your questions as we hope to have Artaud respond to your queries once a week. Please see below for the first installment of "Ask Artaud"! Exciting!

Dear Artaud,
  I think I'm a pretty good young poet but often times my poems are rejected. Do you have any advice for how to keep my spirits up in this demanding way of life that we call poetry?
Sincerely,
Douglas MacKenzie, poet

"Pigshit."

 

 

New Beckett Manuscript Discovered!

The literary world is abuzz with the Beckett Estate's recent announcement that a new Beckett manuscript, Waiting for Frodo, has been discovered at a Value Village in Mississauga, Ontario.  The manuscript was purchased by Douggy Smith, a 45 year old stay-at-home gamer, because he "liked the look of the dot-matrix letters on the pages." Upon purchasing the manuscript (for $2.99 CND or €3000) Mr. Smith immediately showed it to his older brother, Dr. Bruce Smith, a professor of English at Streetsville Community College and a Beckett enthusiast, who thereupon wedgied his brother until he agreed to contact--and even donate Frodo back to--the Beckett Estate. "It was the least I could do" said Douggy. "Because Dr. Smith was wedgy-ing me and stuff at the time."

Waiting for Frodo centers on a pair of vagrant men (Aragorn and Legolas) and their efforts to divert themselves while waiting, on a vague pretense, for the arrival of a furry man named Frodo, whom they only know by reputation. To occupy the time they philosophize, sleep, argue, sing, exercise, swap hats, kill orcs and consider suicide – anything "to hold the terrible silence at bay."

According to the Beckett Estate the manuscript is worth about $5.99 CND or €6000.

"I wrote Frodo for the laughs"--Sam B.

Risque Photographs & Audacious Sound-Bites of Famous Poets Pooping

"Ehhhn"

"Ehhhn"

"Like playing tennis without shorts on"

"Om"

"Éhhn"

"Money"

An Interview with Mark Edmundson about his Polemical Harper's Essay Entitled "Poetry Slam Or, the Decline of American Verse"

G'Morning Poetry: Mark!

Mark Edmundson: Good afternoon.

GP: Marky!

ME: Hello.

GP: Markay!

ME:

GP: Marky Mark!

ME:

GP: The Mark! El Marko!

ME:

GP: Markness!

ME:

GP: Markitude!

ME:

GP: Markimillion! Markibillion!

ME:

GP: Meester Mark! Master Mark!

ME:

GP: Markman! Markwoman! Markgender! Markjudithbutler! Dr. Mark! Dr. Markest! Dr. Maaaark!

ME:

GP: What do you mean by "leafing through a volume of Robert Lowell's poetry?"

ME: I mean--

GP: What does "leafing" mean?

ME: Leafing? Well it means to read or turn pages.

GP: Uh huh.

ME: Leafing.

GP: And what does "subtlety and melancholy grace" mean?

ME: Well.

GP: What does "haunted" mean and what is a "haunting sound"?

ME: Well--

GP: And what does "ambition" mean?

ME: If you'll--

GP: More to the point, look at this image here, please:

Mark Edmundson

Are you looking at this photograph of yourself?

ME: Yes.

GP: Okay--do you consider this a full-lotus position? Cos it's not. You're cheating here.

ME: What?

GP: Now look at this pic, please:

Mark Edmundson

Now, why did you ask the Yale graduating class of 2012 here to pull your finger? Why'd you do that?

ME: What?

GP: We think it was totally ambitious and we applaud you. Good day, sir, and g'morning poetry!

Upper Body Workout Suggestions from Northrop Frye (excerpted from his book Creation/Recreation/Hitting the Gym)

I AM A LITERARY CRITIC, mainly concerned with English literature, but I have recently developed a special interest in the way that "working out" has affected the structure and imagery of that literature. The first word to attract one's notice in both fields is the word deltoids. Page one of the Bible says that God created the deltoids. In this book I should like to look at certain aspects of the conception or metaphor of "getting ripped," as it applies to both its divine and its human context, and, also, at what effect the extending of the same phrase  to cover these areas has had on our habits of thought.                                                                                                                

Place one fist over your other hand. Now try to lift your lowest hand. Oh it's a humdinger of an exercise--but you can do it!

Try to curl two books at once. It's a doozy but you can do it! Think fierce thoughts, as I am doing here.

Try these digit-extensions. William Blake swore by them. They're real burners but you can do it!

Now you're ready for the beach--as I am here. You can do it!

GP's Awards for Canadian Authors Doing Truly Impolite Things

Judges: "We really liked the impoliteness of Pierre Berton rubbing his underarm sweat on the GG nominees. Incendiary."

Judges: "We really liked the impoliteness of Anne Michaels writing 'fuck you' on her honorary degree from Wawa University. Daring"

Judges: "We really liked the impoliteness of Mr. Ondaatje pooping in Peter Mansbridge's chair. Bold."

Judges: "We really liked the impoliteness of Yann Martel throwing his Frisbee at Adrienne Clarkson's face. Audacious."

Judges: "We really liked the impoliteness of Mr. Cohen trying to pop off Ms. Vega's head. Avant-garde."

Lance Armstrong Admits to Writing Poetry

Armstrong kept his eyes closed for much of the interview

He did it. He finally admitted it. Lance Armstrong wrote poetry during all seven of his Tour de France victories.

He was light on the details and didn't name names. He mused (!) that he might not have been caught if not for his comeback in 2009. And he was certain his "fate was sealed" when longtime friend, training partner and trusted lieutenant George Hincapie, who was along for the ride on all seven of Armstrong's Tour de France wins from 1999-2005, was forced to give him up to anti-poetry authorities.

But right from the start and more than two dozen times during the first of a two-part interview Thursday night with Oprah Winfrey on her OWN network, the disgraced former cycling champion acknowledged what he had lied about repeatedly for years, and what had been one of the worst-kept secrets for the better part of a week: He was the ringleader of an elaborate poetry scheme on a U.S. Postal Service team that swept him to the top of the podium at the Tour de France time after time.

"I'm a flawed character," he said.
Did it feel wrong?
"No," Armstrong replied. "Scary."
"Did you feel bad about it?" Winfrey pressed him.
"No," he said. "Even scarier."
"Did you feel in any way that you were cheating?"
"No," Armstrong paused. "Scariest."
"I went and looked up the definition of cheat," he added a moment later. "And the definition is to gain an advantage on a rival or foe. I didn't view it that way. I viewed it as a level playing field. I was just writing poems."
"Were other members of the Tour writing poetry?"
"You know it."
 "What kind of poetry did you write?"
"Lyrics, conceptual shit--it didn't matter. I just wanted to write."
"That sounds ruthless," said Winfrey.
"It was," replied Armstrong.
"What would you say to all of the young people watching this interview right now?"
"I would say 'don't ever write poetry like I did--cos it'll cost you, kids. Big time'."

Alice Munro Puts Down Her Pen Cos She's Boring

CLINTON, Ontario — Accepting a literary prize in Toronto last month, Alice Munro, the acclaimed short-story writer — “our boring Chekhov,” as Cynthia Ozick has called her — winner of the Man Booker International Prize and just about every boring North American literary award for which she is eligible, told a newspaper interviewer, “I’m probably not going to write anymore because I'm fucking boring.”

Ms. Munro, in Clinton, Ontario, sitting on a boring railroad track.

Ms. Munro, who will turn 82 next week, has talked this way before. In 2006 she told a writer from The Toronto Globe and Mail, “I don’t know if I have the energy to be this boring anymore.” She then went on to publish yet another story collection, her 14th, called “Dear Life.” It came out last fall, and reviewers, as usual, remarked on her boring handling of themes like the boringness of small-town life; the boringness of sex; and the boredom of women in a boring world run by boring men. 

But recently, sitting on the back porch of her home on the edge of town here, Ms. Munro insisted that this time she really means to retire. She was wearing pants, a loose cotton top and sensible sandals that revealed toenails painted electric blue, and she seemed cheerful and relaxed. There will be no more books after “Dear Life,” she said, and the four autobiographical stories that conclude the book — retellings, in a way, of ones with which she began her career — will be her last. “Here I am--wearing pants and sensible sandals," she said. "Put your money on it--I'm boring as fuck. Bring on the bingo!"

Cooking the Bookings: Episode 3 w/ Jason Christie! E-Poetry Edition!

Thanks you, Los!