Sorry about the incoherent garbled text you link to Jeff. And sorry for the
unacceptable and below the belt loutish digs that just made me look thick.
But no bones broken, and if I wanted to worm a way out of it, I could always
pull the eternally deniable strategy of denying I am the author, even whent
he facts look incontravertable - a la Kent Johnson and the Japanese
Hiroshima eyewitness poet hoax. But that would be too boring to read, all
that deconstructive jargon and semiotic argot: so I will just be honest and
apologise. Sorry.
~
I have always viewed online gassing about poetry, (critical prose) as a
continuation of my third level learning, which I finsihed in 2004. Whereas
you did formal post-grad research on Ezra and Bill 'turdsworth' (as a
recently discovered letter by Byron calls him) my own course was somewhat
different.
I developed a self-extemporised curriculum whose goal was to discover as
much as I possibly could on the truth of the bardic curriculum, which hasn't
been done before in any formal way, and so having no template to go by, had
to trust to poetic instinct when making up my own.
When I wrote the insultive text on pee in the pool, I was nearing the
denoument of this semester, which culminated on Thursday night in O'Neills
pub on Suffolk Street, Dublin: with the Leinster heat of the third
consecutive All Ireland Grand Poetry Slam Championships.
If it was up to me i would have the event the All Ireland Live Poetry
Championships; but the consensus between the various regional organisers was
Slam, and so slam it is.
~
I won't bore you with the details, but effectively, I have graduated to the
next level of practice, and part of that involved speaking in two places at
once: not in the physical sense, but psychic realm: speaking in one voice
for Europe and another America, until the two merged into one global voice I
am now gassing in.
All of my learning and development has been driven solely by instinct, and
part of that latest exercise, involved some fairly unusual practise which
the observer can easilty mistake for me being a dickhead, but which - trust
me - is not.
Anway, no hard feelings, very sorry to have said what i did, and if we ever
meet, i will buy you you're drink all night, and if we ever make it over to
Sullivans bar, Kent Johnsons as well.
cheers.
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