Since it's Friday and even later everywhere else on the list, I think I can send out this
week's snapshots! Thanks, again, to everyone for this particularly fine bunch of snaps.
And, once again, let me know if I left anything out (yes, Patrick, you are there!) or
if corrections are needed.
Best,
Rebecca
Rebecca Seiferle
www.thedrunkenboat.com
HERS AND HIS
he looked across
at her books
............................................................................
.....................................................
'Mintzberg,H. Five Ps for Strategy, in Mintzberg, H. Quinn,J. and Ghoshal,
S. The Strategy Process. 1998. Prentice Hall Europe, Hemel Hempstead.
Whipp, R. Creative Deconstruction: Strategy and Organisations, in Clegg,S.,
Hardy,C., and Nord,W. Managing Organisations: Current Issues. 1999, Sage,
London.
Andrews, K. The Concept of Corporate Strategy, in Mintzberg et al, 1998
op.cit.
Quinn,J and Voyer,J. Logical Incrementalism: Strategy Formation, in
Mintzberg et al, 1998 op.cit.
Mintzberg, H. Crafting Strategy. in Mintzberg et al. 1998, op.cit.
Joyce, P. and Woods, A. Essential Strategic Management. 1996.
Butterworth-Heinemann. Oxford
Hudson, M. Managing Without Profit. 2nd ed. 1999. Penguin, Harmondsworth
Mintzberg, H. The Rise and Fall of Strategic Planning. 1994. Prentice Hall,
Hemel Hempstead.
Handy, C. Understanding Voluntary Organisations. 1990. Penguin,
Harmondsworth.
Darwin, J., Johnson, P. and McAuley, J. Developing Strategies for Change.
2002. Pearson Education, Harlow.
Stacey,R. Strategic Management and Organisational Dynamics. 2nd ed. 1996.
Pitman, london
Bourgeois,L. Strategic management and determinism. Academy of Management
Review, 9(4): 586-96. in Whipp, op.cit
Donaldson, L American Anti-Management Theories of Organisation. 1995.
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.
Grint, K. Fuzzy Management. 1997. Oxford University Press. Oxford.
DoH on health Act
Mintzberg, H. , Ahlstrand,B. and Lampel,J. Strategy Safari. 1998. Prentice
Hall, Hemel Hempstead
Weick, K. Sensemaking in Organisations, 1995. Sage, London
Kosko, B. Fuzzy Thinking. 1994. Flamingo. London
Pascale, R. Managing on the Edge. 1990. Penguin, London.
Jaques, E. Social Systems as Defence Against Persecutory and Depressive
Anxiety. in Klein, M, Heimann, P and Money-Kyrle, R. New Directions in
Psychoanalysis. 1955. Basic Books, New York.
De Board, R. The Psychoanalysis of Organisations. 2002. Brunner-Routledge.
Hove.
Stokes, J. Institutional Chaos and Personal Stress. in Obholzer, A. and
Roberts, V. The Unconscious at Work. 1994. Routledge, London.'
............................................................................
.........................
and then
he looked across
at his books
Best SF,
Rattlebag,
Erotic Verse,
and thought
that perhaps
his were
rather more
fun.
pmcmanus 21-21 raynes park uk
cold scratchy broken light
blue slots in sky
wind stream an opaque zigzag
rotations in the scheme of things
surface twist paper squalls
ditched lines
a call to order but
fatigue hunger questions
a funky worry
day slopes on my stupid
nation weary
the bashings the fits
street streaky how it gets
scotty should get checked
where they hit you
no memorials
nothing comfortable in this
Jill Jones, 1.05pm, Surry Hills, Wed 12 November 2003
Snapshot
(found poem on Graphics webpage)
Church
For Non-commercial Use Only
Add-on Item
Coffin
For Non-commercial Use Only
Stand Alone Item
---Ivy
I now know
it's no use living
like rain present
where I was or
where dead leaves swirl
across macadam
that parchment dance
yet here I
am again
treed to tomorrows
somewhere in our virtuals
brimming with ghosts
windfalls redoubts
...Gerald Schwartz 10:50 AM, West Irondequoit, New York, United States
accrue meaning
or gather it
patterns that cohere or seem to attach
movement air
the throat
transubstantiation held in the centre of the mouth
suspended
moist air
impossible to swallow or spit
Liz Kirby
CHRIS. MARKER CATS
He plays piano,
listens to piano,
sees himself shot (“digital video”).
Still shots.
Stretches to circuitry.
Barry Alpert / Silver Spring, MD USA / 11-8, 11/12 (5:42 PM)
First draft written during a screening of Marker's BESTIARE
The soil burned black. In places
an overlay of ash where a tree had been,
stretched in the direction of the wind,
as if the wind
had left its shadow in passing.
In other places
where there had been no wind
and a slow burn
a small circle, a dome
the color of bones,
perhaps an inch above the blackened soil,
the footprint of the missing tree
marked for the moment
(until the next wind)
by what the fire left.
Mark Weiss
[a rough reading]
translation of Mark’s snapshot
Svörðurinn blakkur sviðinn. Hér og þar
öskulag eftir tré, strokið
eftir vindáttinni,
líkt og vindurinn
hafi látið skugga eftir í leiðinni.
Á öðrum stöðum
þar sem vindurinn kom ekki
og bruninn hægur
er lítill hringur, beinlitað
hvolfþak,
þumlung kannski yfir svertum sverðinum,
far eftir gengið tré
greinilega merkt um stund
(uns hvessir aftur)
af því sem eldurinn lét eftir.
Árni Ibsen
Waking, young and old
Waking shouldn¹t be so difficult:
open the eyes, engage the morning light,
slide out of bed Š soon you¹re talking,
breakfasting, reading, even singing.
Oh that¹s how it used to be. These days
the mouth is a problematical organ:
take it to the bathroom (an exercise in
tottering), treat it to spring-cleaning.
Avoid the mirror the comb knows its
meagre job; move about the house as
tentatively as the body requires
yesterday walking was natural,
today it needs to be learned again;
sit near a window and practice looking.
Daylight is a boon; the garden survived
correctly green and florid and with birds.
Yes, all as I remember it, and more.
And looking brings to mind so many words.
6.30am, Wednesday 12 November 2003
Max Richards, North Balwyn, Melbourne
watched the man lie
again move as if
on strings
mouth words
once meaningful
demeaned by misuse
lay that wreath
those crocodile tears
a slow march
never learned
in the real
just the bought
and sanitized
all that quick march
sans the lonely dead
Edmonton 08: 17 November 12/03
Douglas Barbour
SNAPSHOT 29
moon wading through clouddrifts
or else cloudwaves slapping against
the bow of this pale skyship ghostsun
while glen miller's lazy moonlight serenade
laps the airwaves moored to a past
floating me back to a time never lived
a distant war never experienced but
through tales in celluloid a curious
nostalgia for an invented image until
this alien line of voyage is split wide open
by a passing car radio blaring full-blast
that insistent line sweet child in time from
deep purple in rock some bruised rock of this age
árni ibsen
11:48 pm
november 12 2003
hafnarfjördur
iceland
Howard Street
“ gotta dolla, gotta dolla?”
she wore
layers -
dirt and stains and hungry pleas
she hung around, down,
down on Howard Street
with a small child
and a scheme
hand
out-stretched
sweat
beading
drips of yesterday’s dream
suicidal things
suddenly blind
( me, like a wristwatch without time)
neither one of us
can tell yesterday
from today or tomorrow
“ gotta dolla, gotta dolla?”
over there,
there's a one armed man
with graffiti on his feet, face and hand
parched skin
wrapped like a drum around
the tight throat of melody
war songs between soldiers
and long lost sons—
they peer out
from peircing bloodshot eyes
my blade's serrated.
“ Hey you! Gotta dolla, gotta dolla?”
Deborah Russell © 2003
11-12-03 5:06 pm
Baltimore, Maryland USA
Tedium. Drive time. Donne wrote
of Good Friday heading westward.
The march toward Death, not the recalled
Passion leading to the Cross
but the shared Passion, the fact of humanity
the common ticket.
This is mundane: westward each morning
on Route 33, bad pavement, gravel trucks,
talk show hosts, NPR, sometimes broken by music,
a clarinetist playing Debussy--
barely a comfort, inappropriate
as Bjoerling singing in a whorehouse.
Westward not toward death but toward
employment, what was so long craved turned
to the morning small-p sexless passion.
KTW/11-12-03
Gastro-enteritis does the rounds.
My son lies patient in his soiled pyjamas
waiting for morning. "Why didn't you call?"
I ask. "We would have come". He shakes his head.
His driver was talking to another driver
so he must be quiet and still. Later the same
driver insists he go and fetch some cornflakes,
bounce on the sofa and put a video on.
I want a word with this guy. Oliver agrees:
"he's naughty, a bad driver". But brave in crisis
and quick to thwart the Pontypandy arsonist.
Hare Krishna, Hare Rama. Hare, hare Fireman Sam.
Bouncing again. "My driver's making me".
I steer him quickly to the lavatory.
Dominic Fox, Leicester 12/11/03 22:17pm
thinking of tomorrow’s snapshot
I needed the disgusting smell
of boiled cabbages in the house,
not hungry - might once ready, but this warm smell propagating through the
flat like a plushy hand
talks of winter of a family of a barren landscape with free scenes of mirth
and wind of the taste of sea
of long twisting roads up to the fortified bridge barking of dogs black
windows shut on the harshness of soil
it is thick opaque green - heavy like a used Russian fur coat like the
breath of a cow its moist dung
until it is so dense you almost forget it’s there because it is your clothes
your hair yourself liquid
in the stagnant night distant from the town the world tomorrow and
thereafter forever again
anny 10 pm pre-shot of a snap
Anny Ballardini
Here's an exiting gift
suggestion (and they --
at KB Toys) are
targeting it to
boys 12 to 16...
You can find the Elite
Force Aviator: George
W. Bush - U.S. President
and Naval Aviator - 12"
Action Figure that Gerald
is requesting at:
http://www.kbtoys.com/toys/product.html
He finds it quite droll
to have come across
this on Veteran's Day.
5:27 PM
Gerald Schwartz
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