I thought I was being very clever.
[as I so often think]
Until I realized.
The late David Markson had beaten me to the punch.
You get the concept.
When a creator (or destroyer?) reaches a point of exhaustion.
But the Zugzwang of expression results in a compulsion to write.
It is my sincere apology to my readers that I have strayed for so long from the path of writeousness.
Reading. Studying. Every day.
My endeavor of value-creation continues.
BECAUSE I have never made a cent from my film criticism.
Here, on my website.
My oeuvres complètes.
Nothing which I have put more of my soul into than this.
Over the years…a poem here, a wind symphony there.
Published rarely, performed infrequently.
But I have taken up my mantle of film criticism.
As a journey.
As a journeyman.
To pay my dues.
To an art for which my love came late.
Let us talk about Ezra Pound…by way of Walter Pater…by way of Peter Makin.
While, for Pound, artists were “the antennae of the race”…
this is in the context of what Makin describes in his book Pound’s Cantos as Pater’s conception of “the critic’s job”.
- Artists are, indeed (as Makin references Allen Upward…a touchstone for Pound), witchdoctors [for lack of a better anthropological term].
- Likewise, critics are creators (or destroyers). At the very least, they have a “job” specific to their métier.
So when we critics happen upon something wonderful…like, for instance, the film Till det som är vackert (Pure) with Alicia Vikander…we are transported with the ecstasy of sincere artistic production.
Why can Pound’s Cantos not be easily found in a city like San Antonio?
And why can Finnegans Wake only be found used?
Are we devolving?
Can we really afford to ignore Pound and Joyce?
I asked and I sought and I procured.
A MAGA hat and The Cantos of Ezra Pound.
And a healthy appreciation for applied psychology…what feminists would insist is “intersectional”.
Not a more overused word in pseudo-intellectual pursuits.
And I’m a feminist.
But we must seek and ask and discover.
Let Alicia Vikander stay in our hearts.
As we venture out into the world.
And when we come home.
With the same sore at the corner of our mouth(s).
From the same crumb of overwork.
And we plop down in front of Netflix.
That is the only #resist worth waging.
Thurston Moore must go back to the drawing board.
Because his mind is mush.
And Grasshopper needs to revisit the first two records.
Because he’s a fucking dick.
And the real winner is Ger Griffin of Rollerskate Skinny.
Whatever his political persuasion.
Ireland stays in the EU.
But the smart country (U.K.) got the fuck out. [in theory]
Thanks to the dumb people.
The “uneducated”, “racist” rural folk. [thanks BBC…you cocksuckers]
And I am the American version.
After BREXIT, Trump.
And (hopefully) after Trump, Le Pen.
But Le Pen is truly an amateur.
With a ragtag network.
I hope she pulls it off.
But we can’t really help across national lines.
Too much fear.
We don’t know how to vote in such a globalized world.
That we’re suspicious of foreigners…who have figured out our political landscape (before we have).
Which brings us back to applied psychology.
Profiling Political Leaders: Cross-Cultural Studies of Personality and Behavior.
By Ofer Feldman and Linda O. Valenty.
A steal at just $115.90 for the digital copy on the Amazon Kindle.
Because Jeff Bezos wants all those “intersectional” secrets for himself.
And doesn’t want you to know that you can glean better information simply by going to http://stevepieczenik.com
If you’re looking to save a few bucks (and merely a few), you might go with International Political Psychology: Explorations into a New Discipline.
By Anna Cornelia Beyer.
At bargain from Jeff Bezos Enterprises at just $103.20.
For a digital copy.
Because they’re textbooks (no doubt).
Gotta keep the students poor.
Keep them under control.
Cripple them with debt.
So that they will be craving to lick the boot heels of the first, craven “deep state” handler they come across.
[funny how the new buzz term hasn’t been properly attributed to Peter Dale Scott]
So yeah. 1993. The book on JFK. You can read the title and know that the mainstream media is at least 25 years behind the truth (even in a linguistic sense).
Just be aware that https://wikispooks.com exists 🙂
So saying all this, it’s obvious that I have not been suffering from writer’s block.
But watcher’s block.
Another trite feminist trope which, while grounded in truth, is used as merely a philosophical carjack with which to beat the patriarchy into near-submission…recovering into angry retribution.
Whenever you see “the gaze” in cinema writing, run far…far away.
For you have then entered the discourse of a charlatan.
It’s just one more reason to hate men. That’s how the mechanic would put it.
“Hey baby Que paso?”
That’s how The Texas Tornadoes would have put it.
Hey. How are you? Good. You? Alright.
Yes. I was just noticing your lovely…hair. So I kept the camera focused.
“…the critic can only communicate it by a non-literal language: by a kind of secondary art, or prose-poetry.”
You have been watching the Pauly Deathwish network.
Tune in next when we’ll discuss whether there’ll be a next time 🙂