Oh hope!

"Metal prices fall further than during the Great Depression"

Present day view of 1929 to 1933: dust, horses and the longing for gold.

Present day view of 2007-2009: flat screens, SUV's and the longing for old Hollywood drug binges.

Our society just can't seem to figure out what this headline means.

The Author's Chair

The 25th anniversary of Graves and Hansen's article, "The Author's Chair" falls upon us in the mist of economic turmoil and crumbling hopes. But this idea still holds merit. In the classroom, the author's chair is the essential link between reading and writing - a place for one student, or should I say one writer, to sit and discuss his ideas with his peers and teacher alike. He is the author of what will become a work of writing, and he is the to be writer of this same work. It gives power and ownership. It shows students that they are what matters when writing. It offers a place to vent ideas and receive instant, immediate feedback.

News

No posts in quite some time. One man's election, an economic landslide, quite a few to do's in the making.

Instead of making excuses, here is an idea:

Bored with a toothache.

A writer should write what he has to say and not speak it, says Hemingway.

Freegans!

In an attempt to stay out of the increasing wave of consumerism swarming our country, these young folk try to buy as little as possible. Finding their goods in dumpsters, grocery store trash and other such places, freegans are protesting in a strong, but silent way. If Americans keep needing and needing, consuming and consuming, when will we run dry?

I Want to Believe

Everybody must go see the current Cai Guo-Qiang exhibit at The Guggenheim. This multimedia presentation of his work is both shocking and intriguing. From The Guggenheim website, "Drawing freely from ancient mythology, military history, Taoist cosmology, extraterrestrial observations, Maoist revolutionary tactics, Buddhist philosophy, gunpowder-related technology, Chinese medicine, and methods of terrorist violence, Cai’s art is a form of social energy, constantly mutable, linking what he refers to as 'the seen and unseen worlds.'"

His philosophy of art seems to mirror and comment on aspects of Communism - everything new that is created must come from something that was forcefully destroyed.

Us Golgos were moved, not only by the 99 wolves that slowly ascended upwards only to hit a glass wall (mimicking the Berlin Wall) and fall frustratingly to their death to the big screen display depicting "explosion" events in a fierce and aggressive manner. Supposedly, according to the Times, his next "explosion" event is set for the upcoming Olympic games in China.

In case you forgot - The Guggenheim is located on 5th Avenue and 88th Street.

Letter from Gilmore

SEPTEMBER 11,1976

"I've told you I haven't slept lately - the ghosts have descended and set upon me with a force I didn't believe they possessed. I smack 'em down but they sneak back and climb in my ear and demons that they are tell me foul jokes, they want to sap my will, drink my strength, drain my hope leave me derelict bereft of hope lost empty alone foul demon motherfuckers with dirty furry bodies whispering vile things in the nite chortling and laughing with a hideous glee to see me toss sleepless in durance truly vile they plan to pounce on me in a shrieking mad fury when I leave with their hideous yellow long toe and finger claws teeth dripping with rank saliva and mucous thick yellow green. Dirty inhuman beasts jackals hyena rumor monger plague ridden unhappy lost ghostly foul ungodly things unacceptable creeping crawling red eyed bat eared soulless beasts.

They won't let the ol' boy have a nites sleep. God-damned lost motherfuckers.
I need our silver sword against them. They're slippery motherfuckers.
The demon ghosts
trick tease tantalize
bite and claw scratch and screech
weave a web of oldness pull in harness
like oxen a wood creaking tumbrel a gray wood
tumbrel through the cobbled streets of my
ancient mind... "

Excerpt of a letter written from jail by Gary Gilmore to Nicole Barret...

Miller on New York