Yesterday, 08:55 PM
When I watch YouTube videos, the 20-somethings and the older professional teachers know so much and see so much, there's not much left to say.
People are more intelligent and well-read than ever. They can understand. They don't believe they need spellcheckers and ai examtakers and to watch the network news.
The ads do. And ads promote content. Why you can't promote content without sponsors, I don't know. Lots of people do. I guess people have to get paid to have time to not work. Which is why they wanted T. S. Eliot to leave the bank and have a grant from the Art World. And why Henry Miller had to have charm and celebrate his intolerance for a real job.
But everybody keeps saying they're stupid and their meaning is in crisis. That's affect, not reality.
Affect is what poets do. Intellectuals are now coming around to Jung and Zen and Magick and Idealism.
They are sewing a tapestry of forethought as the Thing. The thing itself.
America has no foresight. It roars ahead and cleans up later. That's how progress works.
I have no real interest in progress of that kind, not because (to paraphrase ai) it's immoral, but because poetry needs a stable slaveharem of meaning to be resonant.
People go back to Tradition to rest in a realm of tropes that make sense. A unified effect. Coherent Affect.
I just as well write poetry about anything and nothing. A world of Mad Max-like retro-novelty mixed with real novelty is the world I was born into, and is my version of cohesion.
Woot the wanderer
I don't see how the world is weird at all. I don't see much of any difference other than in attitudes swapping from smaller to larger groups of people and their content at different times.
People are more intelligent and well-read than ever. They can understand. They don't believe they need spellcheckers and ai examtakers and to watch the network news.
The ads do. And ads promote content. Why you can't promote content without sponsors, I don't know. Lots of people do. I guess people have to get paid to have time to not work. Which is why they wanted T. S. Eliot to leave the bank and have a grant from the Art World. And why Henry Miller had to have charm and celebrate his intolerance for a real job.
But everybody keeps saying they're stupid and their meaning is in crisis. That's affect, not reality.
Affect is what poets do. Intellectuals are now coming around to Jung and Zen and Magick and Idealism.
They are sewing a tapestry of forethought as the Thing. The thing itself.
America has no foresight. It roars ahead and cleans up later. That's how progress works.
I have no real interest in progress of that kind, not because (to paraphrase ai) it's immoral, but because poetry needs a stable slaveharem of meaning to be resonant.
People go back to Tradition to rest in a realm of tropes that make sense. A unified effect. Coherent Affect.
I just as well write poetry about anything and nothing. A world of Mad Max-like retro-novelty mixed with real novelty is the world I was born into, and is my version of cohesion.
Woot the wanderer
I don't see how the world is weird at all. I don't see much of any difference other than in attitudes swapping from smaller to larger groups of people and their content at different times.