Ktismatics

28 June 2011

The Interrogative Mood by Powell, 2009

Filed under: Fiction — ktismatics @ 9:23 pm

Would you rather be beaten with a board or a chain? Does any particular person strike you as the most intelligent you have seen or known? Have you ever participated in a cakewalk? What do you take on popcorn? Do you know what is meant by high explosive? What term would most accurately oppose the term “rigorous argument”? Would you rather spend an hour driving a hot rod or talking to a whore? If you could elect to find yourself in a Mahogany Chris-Craft powerboat on Lake Michigan in 1930 and then live out the life of that person in that time without returning to your life in this time, would you? Have you ever bred mice? Do you like tar? Do you know much about plate tectonics? Do you regard yourself as redeemed, redeemable, or irretrievably lost? Do you find that the flavor butter pecan, as in butter-pecan ice cream, sounds better than it tastes? What is the loudest noise you have ever heard? Have you done any mountain climbing? Would you eat a monkey? What broke your heart?

When the going gets tough, are you one of the tough that gets going? Have you ever dreamed you had apartments you were only sometimes aware you had? Do you have any ballet training, and if not, would you like some? Have you ever seen Newton’s Optiks? I have a vision of Debbie Marsden in a light blue dress saying somewhat proudly as we did the dishes that we would not do the flatware because “Mommie scalds these”; have you ever heard of someone boiling the silverware in her own household? Do you think Debbie Marsden might have become maladjusted somehow? Do you think there is any statistical merit to the possibility that quiet shy girls stand a chance higher in proportion to that of more robust girls of turning nymphomaniac?

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39 Comments »

  1. What? Me. Eh? TAKE ON popcorn, like wrestling? High explosives are explosive materials that detonate, meaning that the explosive shock front passes through the material at a supersonic speed. High explosives detonate with explosive velocity rates ranging from 3,000 to 9,000 meters per second. They are normally employed in mining, demolition, and military applications. They can be divided into two explosives classes differentiated by sensitivity: Primary explosive and secondary explosive. The term high explosive is in contrast to the term low explosive, which explodes (deflagrates) at a slower rate. An incoherently constructed argument whereby the conclusions beg the question. Driving a whore in a hot rod. What the fuck, have you been regressed or something? No. It’s okay. Enough to know that it’s not the wrath of God. None of them. We don’t really have it in the UK. The 1992 IRA bomb in the City of London. Yes. If I was peckish enough. Only love can break your heart. I had Billy Ocean’s single on 7″ for the film Jewel of the Nile, so yes. Can’t make any sense of that question at all. No – yes. I have now – and it’s OptiCks, you fool. Yes. No, that’s a shitty thing to say. No.

    My question to you Mr Powell is: have I missed the point?

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    Comment by NB — 29 June 2011 @ 5:25 am

  2. The full title is The Interrogative Mood: A Novel? — so that’s the first question Padgett Powell has for his reader. It’s novel adjectivally, in the sense of being a novelty — never before have I come across an entire book comprised entirely of questions. It’s also a novel nominally, in the grammatical and perhaps also in the dismissive meaning of the word “nominal.” I found out about this book from the same source that turned me on to a Shaggs record — is that music, would you say? I’m very interested in fiction stripped of setting, character, and plot, which in my own categorization scheme would include works like the Apostle Paul’s letters and most metaphysical philosophy, and perhaps also poetry. Just recently I had been considering the differences between, say, a novel entitled The Vampire’s Analyst and a self-help book for vampires. Both would unfold in an imaginary world but, whereas the former would be a dialogue between two fictional characters. the latter would consist of an implicit dialogue between the narrator and the reader — which is what Powell does here. His onslaught of questions refers to the real world, but in engaging with this text I can imagine a companion book consisting of my responses to those questions as prompts. Clearly you can too, nb — you’ve just written a paragraph of your text. Thank you for the information on explosives, by the way. I take salt and butter on my popcorn myself. Can you picture writing a story in which a guy is driving a whore in a hot rod — elsewhere Powell expresses enthusiasm for 1969 American models, so perhaps it might be either the Mustang or the Charger from Bullitt, advanced one year into the future — eating popcorn and carrying either low or high explosives in the back seat? For twenty years Powell has taught writing at the University of Florida — I could imagine him either extracting questions from manuscripts submitted by his students, or posing them as stimuli to students who are blocked. I read the whole thing through quickly, letting the questions fly by without thinking much about most of them. The questions aggregate into a loose matrix of a way of seeing the world, as well as a memory dump of cultural references ingrained in someone who has lived in a particular place and time. As an American who’s the same age as Powell I know most of the references, though he’s more Southern and more of a “motorhead” than I. If I had never drunk from pastel-colored aluminum tumblers would I have found the question about those glasses less nostalgic and more exotic? And I did promise to email you my most recent novel, didn’t I, nb? I’ve been withholding until I start the next one, which I think might affect the completed book’s last section. The danger is that I never actually start the next book. I’ll keep you apprised.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 7:02 am

  3. I got the impression that he may have experienced a serious illness. That’s not a criticism by the way. It did make me feel more alert to the world reading it. Had a very strange effect – perky celebration mixed with deep melancholy. I came away thinking: “I should know the answers by now!”

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    Comment by W.Kasper — 29 June 2011 @ 8:52 am

  4. It does remind me a little of writing exercises, like writing a CV for your character etc.

    You never did send me that mansuscript! If you send it to me, I promise I won’t write responses like the ones above. I’m interested in using experiments like this and going all the way with them to create a/n a/effect. That was kind of my idea with that story about the two women I posted on navelgazers. I think I might give Powell’s novel a read.

    I once heard a radio show where someone was asking people “What is the answer to this question?” I really don’t think it’s facetious to say “What is the answer to the question.” It’s a call and response that can only be answered through writing. Who’s on first base?

    My answers to Mr Powell were honest. Apart from the popcorn question (it’s salt and butter too). But I don’t think he’s looking for answers! Hence the metaphysical sense you might have when reading through it. The melancholy comes in because we often ask questions of the past without realising it? Such as: would you like to see Debbie Marsden again?

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    Comment by NB — 29 June 2011 @ 10:28 am

  5. I don’t know Powell’s medical history, but I agree that the questions convey an impression about the sort of guy who’s asking them. And it’s infectious — “perky celebration mixed with deep melancholy” could just as accurately characterize the questioner’s “interrogative mood” as its effect on the reader.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 10:29 am

  6. He’s certainly nostalgic and regretful in much of his questioning, and these little idiosyncratic bits of autobiography like Debbie Marsden appear intermittently throughout. You’re right, nb: having written that alternating-line dialogue form of story, you might well resonate with Powell’s structure, or at least make a decision about it when applied consistently over 160 pages. It was hard to select a particular bit to excerpt for this post, inasmuch as any particular paragraph is both sort of random as well as representative of the book as a whole. Most questions are one-liners, but here’s a longer one you might like:

    If you had enough money to live on, could you see retiring to a small village in France and never being heard of or from again, and not speaking French when there, mostly because you can’t, but also because you have nothing to say, and mostly just sleeping in your quaint medieval stone cottage? Could you make do with a little exercise once in a while and a piece of Beaufort of very high quality? And maybe a look-in on the pigs? What if the cartoonist R. Crumb were your neighbor? Would you sleep better, or worse, or the same knowing R. Crumb was your neighbor in the next quaint stone medieval cottage in the south of France? Would life go on, or would you have to move to another village, or would you have to abandon the idea of retiring to France altogether realizing R. Crumb had done it and that he was the tip of an iceberg going back through hundreds of persecuted sensitive American martyrs, from the Josephine Bakers and James Baldwins and Paul Robesons to the precious Fitzgeralds all the way up even to profane California cartoonists — wouldn’t you just be so yanked out of the frame that you’d feel it would be better to move not to gentle France but to, say, Burma where like Jeffrey Dahmer in prison you could be killed almost instantly when you set foot there? Wouldn’t it be better to have a Muslim in Burma put a cobra in your suitcase on day two rather than go through the long pleasant sunset desuetude of retiring silently in France? Would it, in fact, not be better were you to assassinate ten or so pleasant American retirees on your way out of sunny France en route to your rude and immediate fatal neurologic toxic death in Burma? Would there not be cause for wild cheer among a certain kind of depression-suffering person who reads the headline “Suspected Slayer of Cartoonist R. Crumb Victim of Cobra in Burma”? Would it be the worst thing said of you that your last act was expended on behalf of the depressed? Do you want something said of you, or nothing said of you, when you go?

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 11:03 am

  7. The R. Crumb question was very jarring – I probably asked myself similar as a much younger man (kind of idolised him as a teenager, but by many accounts he’s something of an asshole). Without the tangent on US exiles, that is.

    And yeah – the regret jumps out. He makes it clear how things simply aren’t there anymore (although in the back of one’s mind we may assume they are) – particularly melancholic when it leads to species on their way to extinction etc.

    Think I might read it again…

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    Comment by W.Kasper — 29 June 2011 @ 11:57 am

  8. Apparently R. Crumb really does live in the south of France.

    So Wayne, I was trying to remember if you were the one who asserted on the Impostume blog that Jesus’ Son by Denis Johnson was crap. I searched the archives and found that in fact it was Greyhoos. I read Jesus’ Son recently and found it admirable, a view which in juxtaposition with Greyhoos’ assured dismissal caused me to doubt my literary acumen. Perhaps two years ago I read one of the Impostume’s short stories on his blog archive and wrote an enthusiastic comment, but he never even acknowledged it — so I already felt judged as inconsequential by this silence. Do English lit majors really learn/know something that I’m missing, such that what I regard as opinion they can more accurately see as either true or false? Or is it this opinionated self-confidence that’s learned, or at least the sort of self-presentation in which uncertainty is suppressed? I find that my opinions about movies emerge from interacting with others about them; novels, OTOH, I tend to evaluate while reading them. The Interrogative Mood was harder for me to decide on, but now I find myself liking it more for having discussed it here. Also, I find that typing an excerpt of text into the blog causes me to enter into that text more thoroughly, perhaps in a kind of vicarious identification with the author.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 12:21 pm

  9. I find most of his questrions alien, except odd ones like ‘butter pecan’ and educational ones like ‘high explosives’ (half-trolls who look up things one would have had to otherwise are are, one is grateful…). I found it starnge I found most of the questions almost distinguished in their unattractiveness to ponder, so the state of the author may mean more. Perhaps I ought to read up on him, unless one of the trolls will do it for me…The Burma Cobra just made me think of Capote’s essay on the Rattlesnakes-on-Amphetamine Murders in one of his old essay collections (I think it was ‘The Dogs Bark’) I wasn’t able to get past just the thought of the snakes. The butter pecan one was interesting because the actual flavour of good butter pecan ice cream IS better than the term used, which is as bad as ‘cherry vanilla’, and not as good as ‘rum raisin’ by Haagen-Dazs, which is equivalent in flavour and phrase. But that was not the point, the individual questions, you’re supposed to take them seriously for a second, then go on to the next and forget the last, aren’t you? What difference from any list? If the guy is interesting, I’ll obviously have to find out some other way.

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    Comment by Illegal dances of New York City — 29 June 2011 @ 12:45 pm

  10. His first novel is a well-regarded bildungsroman, a genre of which I’m wary. I may try another of his books at some point.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 1:08 pm

  11. Your kinda touchy about ‘blog etiquette’ no? A lot of it’s just absent-mindedness I think, or abandoning the laptop for a day or two (at least that’s how it is with me). As for assertive declarations in comments boxes etc. – that seems more based on mood than critical stance at times (I’m wondering if people can tell when someone comments drunk, stoned etc. – I can always spell, whatever condition I’m in).

    Never read Jesus’ Son – but really liked the movie. Seemed to capture a life pattern or ‘lifestyle’ I once thought was unique to the 90s.

    I thought you were an Eng Lit teacher?

    ‘Dances’ –
    I found a lot of his questions alien – but enough familiar ones jumped out to make me wonder why I hadn’t considered the other ones before. Found it very effective for that.

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    Comment by W.Kasper — 29 June 2011 @ 1:42 pm

  12. What’s your view, if any, of Raymond Carver, Illegal — the flat, blunt, so-called minimalist, almost rednecky American style?

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 1:42 pm

    • Embarassing as it is to say, I know nothing at all of Carver, and never even heard of Padgett Powell till Wayne and a correspondent started talking about him. Of ‘rednecky’, I know of Elmore Leonard, but only read one thing it was pretty good pulp, and in the old days, the Southern Erskine Caldwell, who is underrated. Who else would have written something called ‘Tobacco Road?’ I discussed my contemporary literary ignorance with AWP once, because he knows far more than I do about who’s writing what these days, but since he’s always talking about what he wants to write as being accessible, I said something about that, because it’s possible that knowing too much about literary trends makes it all the hard to find your own voice. Of course, you’re then stuck with isolation, of which I’ve got more than I want, but then I did get this fucker finished and bound, against all odds. So now I can perish in peace, if necessary.

      Wayne: of these just in a row: ” Have you ever bred mice?”

      That one seems insane, just to be obnoxious.

      ” Do you like tar?”

      That one I found very original and one of the best, but still…I don’t see the pattern.

      “Do you know much about plate tectonics?”

      Loved that one, for ‘educational reminder’ again. I like to hit the wikis on things like that.

      “Do you regard yourself as redeemed, redeemable, or irretrievably lost? ”

      Interesting one. Made me think specifically of you, that that would be your kind of question, Wayne.

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      Comment by Illegal dances of New York City — 29 June 2011 @ 2:09 pm

      • since he’s always talking about what he wants to write as being accessible,

        I meant ‘as being inaccessible’. I just write, which might sound boastful, if I also didn’t think it felt suicidal a lot of the time. that’s why NO MORE LONG BOOKS. I’m turning over a new leaf and deciding to ACT MY AGE (just so I still don’t quite look it…you know, us metro-fag-gits…)

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        Comment by Illegal dances of New York City — 29 June 2011 @ 2:12 pm

  13. On the blogs I find that I’m more prepared to discuss philosophy with philosophers than literature with literary types, even though I’m no better versed in the one than the other. Perhaps less touchy than insecure on these matters. I tend to blog more about things I know little about — which gives me wide latitude. I’ve not seen the movie of Jesus’ Son. The book has a sort of abrupt stoner poeticism to it, though I’m not sure I’d gain much more with a second reading. Its interrelated short story structure gives it a disjointed feel, but that’s part of its intrinsic stoner logic I think. Or rather, it’s DEFINITELY part of its intrinsic…

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 1:50 pm

  14. The other thing about the Impostume interaction… I write fiction, which isn’t particularly common in these particular blogging circles. So I thought maybe that by extending myself Impostume-ward — reading his story, commenting on it — I might find a writing buddy. As far as I could tell no one had ever commented on any of his stories, so it wasn’t like mine was going to get lost in the shuffle. It’s certainly possible that his server doesn’t alert him to new comments, and since the short story in question was tucked back in the archives he might never have seen my comment. It’s also possible that the Impostume was in a bad state of mind at the time with respect to fiction-writing, and preferred not to think about that or any other fiction. As I mentioned in comments to the S. King book, I often find myself imagining others’ motivations for doing or not doing something, which I acknowledge is itself a kind of fiction-writing.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 2:03 pm

  15. “it’s possible that knowing too much about literary trends makes it all the hard to find your own voice. Of course, you’re then stuck with isolation, of which I’ve got more than I want”

    Yes, I’m stuck on the horns of that dilemma as well. I find that American contemporary so-called lit’ry fiction is so homogeneous that I can rarely bother myself with it. Genre? I’ve expanded my tastes in that direction, though with notable exceptions it is pretty airy. As I believe we’ve discussed elsewhere, I tend to gravitate toward foreign contemporary — perhaps like Wayne being drawn to conversations among the Spanish and the Irish in his Manchester pub — as well as older American works.

    “but then I did get this fucker finished and bound, against all odds.”

    I expect it to be sui generis, as with your prior works.

    “NO MORE LONG BOOKS.”

    Short books are fine too. This one by Powell we’ve been discussing can’t be more than 40,000 words.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 2:22 pm

  16. Carver’s excellent – but I haven’t read any wider ‘scene’ he may be associated with. I did feel like I was given a glimpse into a class/region I’m not familiar with (except TV corniness). Love the film Short Cuts too. Only Altman could make Chris Penn look good!

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    Comment by W.Kasper — 29 June 2011 @ 2:25 pm

    • I love Short Cuts, too. So there, i do know at least a superficial bit of Carver. I also think Peter Gallagher, Frances McDormand are all great in it, and it’s a REAL Los Angeles movie. As for ‘breakfast/masturbation’, now that we’re talking about ‘remembered bleug comments’, were you thinking of Spacey in ‘American Beauty’, that’s one of the many funny scenes he’s in there.

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      Comment by Illegal dances of New York City — 29 June 2011 @ 3:42 pm

      • Wasn’t thinking of a film. I actually thought that would be his routine!

        Altman’s almost always great with actors, even when the film doesn’t really work. He even brings out the concealed oddness of superstar-types like Warren Beatty and Paul Newman. Tanner ’88 is still the best of the HBO dramas.

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        Comment by W.Kasper — 29 June 2011 @ 3:56 pm

  17. English teacher? I failed the only elective English class I took at the university. It was a poetry class and the grade was based entirely on an essay I was to write about Ginsberg’s Howl. Vietnam was still on, protests were in full bloom, the scent of teargas was in the air: going to school seemed like a waste of time. In short, I never wrote that paper.

    I wonder whether Carver, Powell, and D. Johnson occupy roughly the same fictional space both stylistically and sociologically, although Carver’s structures are more traditional.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 2:34 pm

  18. Powell’s book was a breeze to read on a train (maybe the best setting?). Know what you mean about long books. For some reason, I’d rather re-read long stuff that I may have been too young and inexperienced to ‘get’ at the time. It seems ‘Dances’ is the kind of ‘literate’ American I’d imagine in younger days – familiar with a post-war metropolitan canon (Capote etc). Not all this cutesy po-mo Brett Easton McSweeney shit.

    I hate tar, but I actually knew a guy who bred mice. He rescued neglected/abused snakes. Had a whole room of ’em (the smell of snake piss is UNBEARABLE) so they had to be fed. Know about tectonics at school-level. Of course I’m irretrievably lost – it’s why I’m always on the damn internet! Currently attempting SOME kind of redemption, but I’m unlikely to blog about that anytime soon.

    I’m starting to freak at off-the-cuff comments getting quoted back at me lately. I didn’t actually talk to the Spanish/Irish pub customers, y’know!

    I get the impression that lots of bloggers want to write fiction (or some kind of printed word), especially if they’re ‘text-heavy’. Artists just post photos of themselves.

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    Comment by W.Kasper — 29 June 2011 @ 2:44 pm

  19. Yes I know you didn’t talk with the interesting foreigners, though they probably would have welcomed your intrusion. But see, at least some blog remarks live longer than the moment of their being written. Have you considered expatriating, or have you done so previously, or does Manchester count as a foreign country for you? Do you want to write fiction, or would it be some other kind of printed word beyond blogging? I presume you’ve done so in the past at least.

    When I was a patrol boy I would chew tar that bubbled up from the pavement. I still remember what it tasted like.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 2:54 pm

  20. I’ve helped kids do creative writing, and done stuff for local mags/zines/promo publications, but only the first as full-time work.

    Manchester just feels as ‘foreign’ as the rest of the UK does, and I’ve always lived here. Knowing this seems to have woke my brain up quite a bit though. Not sure how. I’d be comfy writing all kinds of things at the moment. Expatriating would be cool by me, but as something of a ‘journeyman’, I’m low on the essential skills (ie. certificated, set in stone by some national body).

    I once made the mistake of smoking near a tar pit once. I nearly puked.

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    Comment by W.Kasper — 29 June 2011 @ 3:04 pm

  21. My father’s father’s family — the Doyles — emigrated to the US from Glossop, which is near Manchester. The old man worked in the cotton mills in England, then wound up doing the same sort of work in Massachusetts. I have no idea why they came to America or whether they found it an improvement over England.

    The only sort of writing I’ve done professionally consisted of technical reports prepared for consulting clients.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 29 June 2011 @ 3:11 pm

  22. BTW I heard Carver was much less ‘minimal’ – a lot of that was his editor. May be untrue, but that seems to be a consensus of sorts.

    I studied English. Did quite well, but regret how I didn’t do so much better because I was so wrapped up in ‘young guy shit’. Hence the yearning to re-read a lot of stuff now.

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    Comment by W.Kasper — 29 June 2011 @ 3:23 pm

  23. I was so wrapped up in ‘young guy shit’

    Yeah, so was Impostume – spent most of her academic days boozin’ around, with ”wyatting” as her most remarkable accomplishment to date.
    Now her spouses pay for her holidays, and she’s in a constant identity crisis. All of which gets pinned down to the fault of the Capitalism.

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    Comment by parody center — 1 July 2011 @ 6:14 pm

    • Aww – didn’t the big kids ask you to play Deejo? Wetting yourself in protest again? This time, you’ll have to wash your own pants.

      *Yawn*

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      Comment by W.Kasper — 3 July 2011 @ 10:09 am

  24. PC, you’ve often alluded to a prior parodic collaboration between yourself and the Impostume. What form did this collaboration take? What brought it to an end? I had to look up “wyatting.” Since I’ve never attempted to use an mp3 jukebox — didn’t even know there was such a thing, to be honest, though it makes sense — and since I’d never heard of Robert Wyatt, this particular hip coinage would have gone right past me had someone used it conversationally.

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    Comment by ktismatics — 3 July 2011 @ 10:55 am

    • Wyatting wasn’t exactly ‘hip’ – most of its practioners were pushing 40.

      Just a guess – but I assume the parodic collaboration fell through when PC’s very ‘personal’ agenda became apparent. Beware the concern troll – especially if he’s been looking for your home address!

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      Comment by W.Kasper — 3 July 2011 @ 11:04 am

      • My Crisis on the Greek Angle definitely got me all a-chuckle. Dejan’s concern troll’s limp attempt to follow it up with desperate Chinese takeout was pretty sad, even if she did eat her green veg.

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        Comment by Illegal dances of New York City — 3 July 2011 @ 11:57 am

  25. What form did this collaboration take? What brought it to an end?

    Here’s an example http://theimpostume.blogspot.com/search?q=lacan+deleuze+parody; he wrote this based on my concept, and I illustrated (the drawings are down – I don’t know why)

    I think the post-alcoholic ended the collaboration because she decided to sober up and was entering the negotiation stages for her book with K-punk, who as you know became parody collateral damage during the
    golden years of Colonel Chabert debates. However I’ve never read anything interesting from her since she ”sobered up”.

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    Comment by Center of Parody — 3 July 2011 @ 5:55 pm

    • You’re narcissism is truly incredible.

      You’ve never had “parody collateral damage”. You crawl round comments boxes insulting whoever’s on their blogroll, hoping they’ll go “yeah I hate them too – you can be my friend now!” But you just end up eventually swatted away. Then you retreat to your own blog whingeing for sympathy from the five or six people who read it. In between treating world events like they’re an insensitive reflection of your own neurosis. That’s basically it.

      You don’t have ‘concepts’ – you just have very apparent personality disorders. It’s like treating a case of shingles as an art project. Maybe the “drawings are down” because they weren’t very good?

      If you want to talk “collateral damage”, you wouldn’t believe the goodwill emails I got for thoroughly pwning you after you had a hissy fit over David Lynch. However, unlike yourself I respect people’s privacy and honour their goodwill without feeling the need to lash out. You should rename your blog ‘Center of Paranoia’ – you’re too vain to realise how many people have dismissed you as an annoying creep.

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      Comment by W.Kasper — 3 July 2011 @ 6:49 pm

    • These remarks are not our style here at Ktismatics, W. Feel free to heap scorn on what other people say publicly, but keep the personal insults out of it, please — even if the recipient seems not only to be asking for it, but to enjoy the abuse.

      To illustrate, your last comment after editing would ordinarily be reduced to this:

      You’ve never had “parody collateral damage”.

      You don’t have ‘concepts’. Maybe the “drawings are down” because they weren’t very good?

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      Comment by ktismatics — 3 July 2011 @ 7:46 pm

      • “even if the recipient seems not only to be asking for it, ”

        I think this should be edited to “even if, on occasion, the recipient wishes to be referred to as SHE”..

        One of the best things about the removal of my person from the CPC is that it actually sounds perfectly weird to describe every single male as ‘her this’ or ‘her that’, but it still doesn’t feel right to refer to Dejan as “him”, although I can’t think why…although I have started using ‘she’ for Dejan’s concern troll. That concern troll is so evil I think Dejan deserves anything, since she’s conspired with her, but obviously Wayne can say that at CPC and it goes a little better with the bordello wallpaper.

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        Comment by Illegal dances of New York City — 3 July 2011 @ 8:22 pm

      • Ok apologies – granted this appears a more polite space than most. I’ll try to respect that.

        Its just that I’ve been reading various blogs for some time and his modus operandi bugged me even as a passive reader. That I’m being drawn into it despite my relatively short blog ‘career’ is making me livid. I’ve developed zero tolerance for that stuff in real life, and there’s a lot of it about where I come from. The time, brainpower and aquaintances lost to it can be quite haunting.

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        Comment by W.Kasper — 3 July 2011 @ 9:14 pm

  26. Are you really going on hiatus, Wayne? I was just browsing your back catalog today, beginning at the beginning, and I came upon a post from 22 January of this year. I quote:

    “I am angry, but my arse gets fatter; and not due to dietary abundance either. The anger, the spectacle, the isolated pursuit of blogging – they all feed into each other, with diminishing nourishment. Alienation discourages social interaction, and the reduced social interaction encourages further alienation. Sport is beneath my radar. I stopped watching TV or keeping up with the latest music some time ago. This may have left me with little else to talk about (especially with the ‘straighter’ corners of society). What remains is politics/economics and the web – prime conduits for numbing, impotent rage. The uglier my (res)sentiments, the more readers seem to click this way, especially if they’re British. Even without our current Tory horrors, we’re nothing less (or more) than an angry, frustrated nation. I love to communicate, but is this ‘going’ anywhere? I read this by Jodi Dean long before I posted anything, and much of it seems to hit the nail on the head. Is blogging anything more than a late capitalist synthesis of the Last Man and Underground Man? Maybe this is why the ‘blogosphere’ seems in thrall to so many alienated misanthropes; from Lovecraft to Houellebecq (or much worse).
     
    Maybe it’s time for a brief hiatus from Pere Lebrun. It’ll still be active (?), but I expect to post a little less frequently. Time to sustain more engagement with the unpredictable world of meat and heat. Or at least reserve more considered posting for these three blogs (their ‘content input’ appearing to have slowed down somewhat), and hopefully transmit neurons that bypass the ultimately deflating signals of nark and snark. Although the title of this blog may indicate its (vague) intentions, it’s important to note I came across the term while it was being disseminated as propaganda. It was tossed around as easily as my random rants. Is it possible to end up ‘trolling’ yourself? Arguing yourself into anhedonia instead of activity? Anyway, when I use the internet I find that an entire CD seems to be over within five minutes. We’re not getting any younger here…”

    That hiatus seems to have lasted about 3 days; maybe there were others to follow. I don’t know whether your reasons for stepping away are the same as last time, or whether I should wish you better perseverance this time around.

    Like

    Comment by ktismatics — 3 July 2011 @ 10:25 pm

  27. That I’m being drawn into it despite my relatively short blog ‘career’

    xxxxx [Deleted bits by Ed.] …then use mine as your REAL place of jouissance. Which is alright, actually – that’s what the Parody Center is for.

    xxxxx, I think you xxxx deserve an own cartoon – which as I just decided will be xxxx.

    Like

    Comment by Center of Parody — 3 July 2011 @ 10:35 pm

  28. I think we’re done here.

    Like

    Comment by ktismatics — 3 July 2011 @ 10:44 pm


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