Wallace Stevens
Don Zirilli
Dear rap,
This posts consist of an introductory preface, three poems by Wallace Stevens,
and an analysis of Wallace Stevens that refers to these poems. I challenge
Philip or a true Wally-hater to refute the implication of my analysis: mainly
that Wallace is very much a part of the poetic tradition regardless of the
fact that most of his poetry doesn't rhyme, and that he is as valid and as
worthy a poet as Shakespeare or Donne or whomever.
Asides on the Oboe
---------------------------------------------
The prologues are over. It is a question, now,
Of final belief. So, say that final belief
Must be in a fiction. It is time to choose.
I.
That Obsolete fiction of the wide river in
An empty land; the gods that Boucher killed;
And the metal heroes that time granulates--
The philosophers' man alone still walks in dew,
Still by the sea-side mutters milky lines
Concerning an immaculate imagery.
If you say on the hautboy man is not enough,
Can never stand as god, is ever wrong
In the end, however naked, tall, there is still
The impossible possible philosophers' man,
The man who has had the time to think enough,
The central man, the human globe, responsive
As a mirror with a voice, the man of glass,
Who in a million diamonds sums us up.
II.
He is the transparence of the place in which
He is and in his poems we find peace.
He sets this peddler's pie and cries in summer,
The glass man, cold and numbered, dewily cries,
"Thou art not August unless I make thee so."
Clandestine steps upon imagined stairs
Climb through the night, because his cuckoos call.
III.
One year, death and war prevented the jasmine scent
And the jasmine islands were bloddy martyrdoms.
How was it then with the central man? Did we
Find peace? We found the sum of men. We found,
If we found the central evil, the central good.
We buried the fallen without jasmine crowns.
There was nothing he did not suffer, no; nor we.
It was not as if the jasmine ever returned.
But we and the diamond globe at last were one.
We had always been partly one. It was as we came
To see him, that we were wholly one, as we heard
Him chanting for those buried in their blood,
In the jasmine haunted forests, that we knew
The glass man, without external reference.
Prologues to What is Possible
---------------------------------------------
I.
There was an ease of mind that was like being alone in a boat at sea,
A boat carried forward by waves resembling the bright backs of rowers,
Gripping their oars, as if they were sure of the way to their destination,
Bending over and pulling themselves erect on the wooden handles,
Wet with water and sparkling in the one-ness of their motion.
The boat was built of stones that had lost their weight and being no longer
heavy
Had left in them only a brilliance, of unaccustomed origin,
So that he that stood up in the boat leaning and looking before him
Did not pass like someone voyaging out of and beyond the familiar.
He belonged to the far-foreign departure of his vessel and was part of it,
Part of the speculum of fire on its prow, its symbol, whatever it was,
Part of the glass-like sides on which it gleded over the salt-stained water,
As he traveled alone, like a man lured on by a syllable without any meaning,
A syllable of which he felt, with an appointed sureness,
That it contained the meaning into which he wanted to enter,
A meaning which, as he entered it, would shatter the boat and leave the oarsmen
quiet
As at a point of central arrival, an instant moment, much or little,
Removed from any shore, from any man or woman, and needing none.
II.
The metaphor stirred his fear. The object with which he was compared
Was beyond his recognizing. By this he knew that likeness of him extended
Only a little way, and not beyond, unless between himself
And things beyond resemblance there was this and that intended to be recognized,
The this and that in the enclosures of hypotheses
On which men speculated in summer whent they were half asleep.
What self, for example, did he contain that had not yet been loosed,
Snarling in him for discovery as his attention spread,
As if all his hereditary lights were suddenly increased
By an access of color, a new and unobserved, slight dithering,
The smallest lamp, which added its puissant flick, to which he gave
A name and privilege over the ordinary of his commonplace--
A flick which added to what was real and its vocabulary,
The way some first thing coming into Northern trees
Adds to them the whole vocabulary of the South,
The way the earliest single light in the evening sky, in spring,
Creates a fresh universe out of nothingness by adding itself,
The way a look or a touch reveals its unexpected magnitudes.
The Poems of Our Climate
---------------------------------------------
I.
Clear water in a brilliant bowl,
Pink and white carnations. The light
In the room more like a snowy air,
Reflecting snow. A newly-fallen snow
At the end of winter when afternoons return.
Pink and white carnations--one desires
So much more than that. The day itself
Is simplified: a bowl of white,
Cold, a cold porcelain, low and round,
With nothing more than the carnations there.
II.
Say even that this complete simplicity
Stripped one of all one's torments, concealed
The evilly compounded, vital I
And made it fresh in a world of white,
A world of clear water, brilliant-edged,
Still one would want more, one would need more,
More than a world of white and snowy scents.
III.
There would still remain the never-resting mind,
So that one would want to escape, come back
To what had been so long composed.
The imperfect is our paradise.
Note that, in this bitterness, delight,
Since the imperfect is so hot in us,
Lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds.
Hi Simons, in an article called "The Genre of Wallace
Stevens," cites Eliot's essay, "The Metaphysical Poets." More
specifically, he points to the phrases, "a direct sensuous
apprehension of thought, or a re-creation of thought into
feeling." Simons believes these ideas describe not only the
Metaphysical poets, but Wallace Stevens as well. At the same
time, he admits differences between Stevens and the
Metaphysicals--or Donne, to be precise. The difference I find to
be most significant is Stevens' use of what Simons calls "the
radical metaphor." Stevens will give an image that is supposedly
a metaphor, but will not give the tenor of that metaphor. Simons
claims that he can intellectually interpret virtually all of
Stevens' poetry, and thus implies that he can figure out which
images are metaphors, if not all, and then explain what they
"really mean."
Simons' article examines in detail the poem, "Asides on the
Oboe," and look at a passage with three "radical metaphors":
That obsolete fiction of the wide river in
An empty land; the gods that Boucher killed;
And the metal heroes that time granulates---(250)
Simons provides an explanation for the river, the gods, and the
metal heroes. Even so, his paragraph of explanation is colored
with modifiers: "vague," "there is presumptive warrant for," "may
be considered to," and "I imagine that." His explanation thus
becomes more of a speculation. But it is intellectual
speculation, which makes the poem, for Simons, an intellectual
poem.
Simons then describes an even more radical form of radical
metaphor. The "wide river" above is an example. Such a metaphor
cannot even be explained by clues in the rest of the poem; one
must search through Stevens' body of work and see how the image
is used in other poems. Simons calls this "making ideas into
images." Conversely, we can say that images represent ideas and
a Stevens poem, when its radical metaphors interact, is an
interaction of ideas.
An idea is an abstraction. To put it Symbolically, an
interaction between concrete images in a Stevens poem points to,
or interacts with, a plane of abstraction where ideas interact.
But this simplification is at best misleading. It is possible to
describe some Symbolist poems as extended radical metaphors. In
other words, they never overtly state their abstract nature,
remaining completely concrete even if their images do not relate
to each other in a concrete way. Stevens, on the other hand,
intersperses his images with abstract thoughts and even some of
his images are abstract, i.e. virtually impossible to visualize
or put into sensual terms. The first three lines of "Asides on
the Oboe" are an example of the former:
The prologues are over. It is a question, now,
Of final belief. So, say that final belief
Must be in a fiction. It is time to choose.(250)
These lines seem more like an academic discourse than a Symbolist
poem. When Stevens talks about "the wide river," he refers to it
as "That obsolete fiction." He leaves no room for a purely
literal interpretation. "He is the transparence of the place in
which/He is"(251), is an example of an image with no literal or
sensual meaning. The concrete and the abstract interact as
cohabitants of the poem. But why use this technique?
One approach to this question is through analysis of
Stevens' subject matter. Simons, who is more concerned with form
than content, sums it up rather briefly in four points:
1. The socio-esthetic problem of the relation of the
artist to his environment...
2. The esthetic-epistemological problem of the relation
of imagination to reality...
3. The problem of belief, in both its metaphysical and
theological aspects...
4. In connection with the preceding, a peculiar humanism
most recently personified in "the hero" and "the major
man..."
The first point is about "the artist," implying a discussion in
the poems of art, or poetry. This implication suggests that
Stevens is self-reflexive. The second point states outright "the
relation of imagination to reality." This statement can be
interpreted as the interaction of the concrete and the abstract.
His poems are about the techniques he uses in his poems, and once
again we can say they are self-reflexive. Perhaps he uses
abstraction overtly because the above interaction is his subject
matter and not just his tool.
Charles Altieri has his own reasons "Why Stevens Must Be
Abstract." I find much of his article unreadable, but by the end
I caught on to some of his points. He proceeds from the
assertion that Stevens is self-reflexive. Stevens is constantly
discussing the process of abstraction, a process that he also
uses as a poetic technique. Altieri claims of "The Pastor
Caballero,"
This poem about heroism and nobility testifies to
what it asserts by foregrounding the powers of
abstraction to generate those very values without
relying on myth or dogma.
(Wallace Stevens: The poetics of modernism [PM] 103)
"Relying on myth or dogma" could be termed an intellectual
shortcut. By not relying on them, Stevens demands an
intellectual involvement on the part of the reader.
Simons, as I've said before, claimed that Stevens made ideas
into images. This creation is necessary if the poet discards the
traditional ways of relating ideas and images, i.e. the metaphors
of "myth or dogma." But the reader must be involved in the
process if the poem is truly "intellectual." Altieri posits that
As we read, we can reflect on ourselves trying out
possibilities, experiencing it this way or that,
until particulars cohere and the text is seen in
the size or scope of things it can maintain.(PM 113)
His next sentence is "Poems need not establish true
descriptions." It is this lack of determinism in Stevens that
permits "trying out possibilities." The poem has no conclusion
that would inhibit the continuation of the reader's thoughts.
Altieri goes even further, saying that "Reading is not
merely other-directed."(PM 113) The key for the reader's self-
involvement seems to be desire. The reader, in a sense, desires
to become "the textualized author," because this author has a
more straightforward control of his existence within the "verbal
structure" of the poem. This self-involvement, however, seems to
be applicable to the reader of any poem. But there's more,
according to Altieri,
Reading can be desiring to become, or glimpsing
ourselves becoming, a certain kind of person
figured as possible by the activity as well as by
the content of a text.(PM 114)
It is the "activity" of a Wallace Stevens poem that draws in
the reader by displaying to him a process of thought. The poem
"Prologues to What Is Possible"(515-517) can be used to
demonstrate my point.
The first line is a simile: "...an ease of mind that was
like being alone in a boat at sea," followed by another simile
expanded from the original simile: "...waves resembling the
bright backs of rowers," and then another simile expanding on the
rowers "Gripping their oars, as if they were sure of the way to
their destination," and after another line that lends visual
support to this third simile, the following metaphor is used in
the last line of the section: "sparkling in the one-ness of their
motion."
By using simile after simile, or analogy after analogy, the
reader sees how the "textualized author" goes deeper and deeper
into analogical thought. But Stevens doesn't stop there. He
continually reminds us that this is not reality he is
representing, but an abstraction thereof. In the next two lines,
he writes "The boat was built of stones that had lost their
weight and being no longer heavy/Had left in them only a
brilliance, of unaccustomed origin..." "Of unaccustomed origin"
is not enough to maintain our "suspension of disbelief" after
reading about a boat made of stones that not only weren't heavy
but were somehow "brilliant." The reader is forced to pull out
of the "boat at sea" scenario and examine the details in a more
abstract way. Only a few lines later, though, he brings us right
back into the boat, "the glass-like sides on which it glided over
the salt-stained water," with cogently sensual concrete images.
In the beginning of part II, he retains the analogical boat
rider of part I, but also discusses this character's reaction to
metaphor, thus keeping us both in and out of his created world,
simultaneously. The reader is not only transported between
different worlds, sometimes violently, but must sometimes
transport himself. This is because many of the "radical
metaphors" are so radical that they cannot be tied down to a
specific tenor. Each reader must discover his/her own pathway
through the poem. Stevens lights for each of us a world, "The
way the earliest single light in the evening sky, in
spring,/Creates a fresh universe out of nothingness by adding
itself..."
In "The Poems of Our Climate"(193-194), Stevens uses a very
clear metaphor for clarity. I could say the poem's prevalent
image, two carnations in a bowl, is the vehicle of the metaphor,
but it is more accurate to say that the presentation of the image
is the vehicle. Once again, Stevens reveals the process of the
poet, or the "textual author." In this case, he demonstrates how
the power of the poet can be abused.
The "light" in this poem is "more like a snowy
air,/Reflecting snow." It is a second-hand light, a light that
has taken the form of the snow before it illuminates the objects
in the room. I take this as a metaphor of the poet's light, and
how the light can be limited by the specific qualities of the
poet. I find a similarity between this metaphor and the
"personalization" that Eliot found so displeasing. It is also a
new light: the result of longer days "At the end of winter" and
"A newly-fallen snow" to reflect the additional light. This is
not an ancient stagnation of poetry which causes the problem; at
least, not necessarily. Any overzealous viewpoint, old or new,
can limit a poem.
Clear water in a brilliant bowl,
Pink and white carnations.
That's all there is to this image. The pink I consider a
contrast for the white. Sharp contrast is a form of clarity.
White is the dominant color of this poem, and it seems to hold a
traditional meaning of purity and simplicity. Stevens "expands"
the bowl and flowers image at the end of section I:
...a bowl of white,
Cold, a cold porcelain, low and round,
With nothing more than the carnations there.
This "expansion" is more like a limitation. The "brilliant bowl"
can no longer be imagined as freely as the reader likes; it must
be "white," "cold," "porcelain," "low and round." Not only that,
but Stevens disallows any imaginative insertions by the reader,
within those limits, by his proclamation of "nothing more."
In section II, he critiques what he did in section I. In
the style of an intellectual debating a point, Stevens begins
with the "side" against which he argues, i.e. strict, pure
clarity of meaning. He concedes that "this complete simplicity"
may end one's "torments" and make the "I" "fresh in a world of
white," but he already displays disapproval, saying that the "I"
would be "concealed." Even though the "I" is "evilly
compounded," it is also "vital." This lack of a linear
progression is typical of Stevens, who attempts to parallel the
thought process. He has given away his so-called "conclusion" in
the first section, when he says, "Pink and white carnations--one
desires/So much more than that." Stevens gives us both (or
however many) "sides" at once and lets them play off against each
other.
Section III drives the point home. Such clarity is of no
use to us: "The imperfect is our paradise." This final note is
too simple to ring true, though, much like the carnations
themselves. I detect in this section an underlying despair.
Note how the smooth, flowing syntax clashes with the "hot,"
"imperfect" content. Stevens seems to be reminding the reader
that the poet is constantly striving for perfection. His
paradise does not lie "in flawed words and stubborn sounds."
Every poet is a strong, snowy light that imposes his world view
upon the reader.
I do not mean this poem ends in despair. Rather, it leaves
the argument open, and is not as conclusive as it appears. How
could it be conclusive when it is criticizing just the sort of
clarity that is the consequence of a clear-cut conclusion?
The poet's power, addressed in this poem, is something the
reader would desire, according to Altieri. But Stevens
consciously uses too much power to show that poetry is a balance
and not just a brute force. The poem as a whole is an example of
this balance. It appears to be tightly controlled and logical,
but this control is ironic because it is juxtaposed with a
contrary theme. The stated theme is not the "end" or ultimate
destination of the poem; its interaction with the form leads to a
continuation of the thought process. This is what I believe
Altieri is talking about when he refers to "the activity...of the
text," and when he says, "Poems need not establish true
descriptions."
I found another statement by Altieri particularly striking.
He suggests Penelope in "The World as Meditation" to be a
metaphor for the reader "desiring to become." I find this
striking in two very different ways. The first is that I always
thought of Penelope as the writer, and this new idea adds another
dimension to the poem. The second has to do with something that
occurs throughout the article: Altieri seems to be simultaneously
discussing how the poems "work" and what the poems are about.
Everything Altieri says seems to be previously discussed in some
Stevens poem. I have never before encountered self-reflexivity
to such an astounding degree. One of the benefits of
abstraction, no doubt.
I have been examining Stevens as an "intellectual poet," but
I have also been referring to his abstract qualities. My
justification is that thought is abstract by definition, and
Stevens achieves a "thought-process poem" through the use of
abstraction. I have already attempted to show this in my brief
analyses of "Prologues to What Is Possible" and "The Poems of Our
Climate." And now that I am as close as I can be to a
conclusion, I (unlike Stevens) am quite content to leave it at
that.
yours,
Posthumous O'Toole
--
Chucklehead awaits the return of his .sig
Aaron Radomski, where are you???
Marek Lugowski
your commentary on "on Stevens" simply leaves me cold and bored. Reading
Mr. Wallace Stevens' verse was punishment enough, but I did you the
courtesy of reading slowly and enjoying this lingustic flourish peeking
through that linguistic self-indulgence. However, the criticism you cite
is bewilderingly dense, numbing and dated-sounding. It's completely arbitrary
literary rubbish with no immediacy to human condition of any kind.
Compare this with Maxine Kumin's writing on Anne Sexton, another poet I
know you like. You will see the difference. Perhaps this reflects
accurately and deservedly my preference of Anne Sexton, to me, a real-life
poet, to Wallace Stevens, a -- possibly -- accomplished writer by avocation.
Please, no comparisons to Shakespeare, either. Nor should you even come up
with silly old categories such as "validity". Validity is a term reserved
for formal systems, such as logics, or ID cards.
The more I see these flare-ups about which poet is good or whose poetry is
poetry, and are lyrics poems -- the more I am reminded of my old college
English prof, Dr. Joe Price, who taught me that basically, it's good if you
like it. Good lesson, Dr. Joe. I'm glad we liked the same things...
-- Marek
Don Zirilli
>However, the criticism you cite
>is bewilderingly dense, numbing and dated-sounding. It's completely arbitrary
>literary rubbish with no immediacy to human condition of any kind.
You're entitled to outrageous anti-intellectual opinions, but don't think
I'm going to pay them any mind if you don't back them up even a little.
>Perhaps this reflects
>accurately and deservedly my preference of Anne Sexton, to me, a real-life
>poet, to Wallace Stevens, a -- possibly -- accomplished writer by avocation.
The problem is that you don't get Wallace Stevens. That's fine. He's not
easy to get: some tastes are acquired. But to say someone is more "real-
life" just because she is easier to understand is ridiculous.
>Nor should you even come up
>with silly old categories such as "validity". Validity is a term reserved
>for formal systems, such as logics, or ID cards.
Puh-lease. I checked the old dictionary, and it looks like validity was
just a plain old word before it was utilized by things like logics and
formal systems. So I'm allowed to use it. I even double-checked with the
English Language Police.
>
>The more I see these flare-ups about which poet is good or whose poetry is
>poetry, and are lyrics poems -- the more I am reminded of my old college
>English prof, Dr. Joe Price, who taught me that basically, it's good if you
>like it. Good lesson, Dr. Joe. I'm glad we liked the same things...
So we can't have any discussions about the value of poetry? Take a hike,
buster. And don't abuse the aphorisms of poor Dr. Joe. He could sue you
for libel, on the grounds that you're using "valid" insights of his to
squash serious discussion in his very field of study.
yours ever and always,
Posthumous O'Toole
Defender of the Realm
Marek Lugowski
what "valid" means and when it aquired its meanings. The logical meanings
are listed first in Merriam-Webster, and Merriam Webster lists by
chronology of use and appearance int he langauge. Also note the following
synopsis of synonyms taken from the Collegiate 9th edition on line.
syn VALID, SOUND, COGENT, CONVINCING, TELLING mean having such force
as to compel serious attention and usu. acceptance. VALID implies
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
being supported by objective truth or generally accepted authority
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
<a contract which satisfies all the requirements for enforceability
by a court is termed a valid contract --L. B Howard> SOUND impliesa
a basis of flawless reasoning or of solid grounds <a
separate foundation designed to sponsor and support innovation in
higher education is not a sound policy proposal --H. D. Gideonse>
COGENT may stress either weight of sound argument and evidence
or lucidity of presentation <a soul-searching melancholia through
which he was to create a cogent universality of form and meaning
--J. A. Dennis> CONVINCING suggests a power to overcome doubt,
opposition, or reluctance
to accept <the very lack of planning...is convincing proof
that there was no conspiracy --Sylvan Fox> TELLING stresses an
immediate and crucial effect striking at the heart of a matter <a
telling attack, made with skill and shrewd insight --V. L. Parrington>
---
To talk about Stevens as being just as valid a poet as Shakespeare belies
some appeal to The God of Poetry or some authoritative absolutist
ordering, according to Merriam-Webster, above. I like their definiition,
and your vigilante english police possy does not impress me.
At the risk of being denounced as having no morals and an appettite for
11year-old-dates, I choose to dissent from this view of cosmology of art.
As for the "intellectual" spoutings of your Stevens critic, I am sure he
would be just as puzzled by the presentday rap artists. It's all dated
material, Don, existing within its cultural niche. Your critic does
nothing for me, today, with his abstract sterile mumbo jumbo and I care not
to step any deeper into it. A 20yearold becons, if you know what I mean.
Now, that's poetry.
-- Marek
Mike Gadberry
[. . .]
>
> The more I see these flare-ups about which poet is good or whose poetry is
> poetry, and are lyrics poems -- the more I am reminded of my old college
> English prof, Dr. Joe Price, who taught me that basically, it's good if you
> like it. Good lesson, Dr. Joe. I'm glad we liked the same things...
>
> -- Marek
I'm glad to see M. Lugoski back in form. I was afraid I was going to
have to put him in my Kill file when he could find nothing better to do than
rhapsodize about the joys of fucking and chocolate milk. :^>
I looked at my bookshelves the other day, and noticed the following
titles sitting side by side:
Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
The Poetry of Robert Frost
Rilke -- selected poems
Norton Anthology of (English Language) Poetry
The Sonnets of Wm. Shakespeare (the critical edition)
The Palm at the End of the Mind by Wallace Stevens
The Art of Writing Poetry (sic?) by some guy whose name starts with a P.
Some Men are too Gentle to Live Among Wolves by Rod McKuen
Archy and Mehitabel by don marquis
Fleurs du Mal by Baudelaire (Thought I tossed that old misogynist back in 83)
My bookshelves are not meticulously organized, so I guess these tomes just
migrated to the same area in my library. Gee, could it be because I think
they're all somehow related? Maybe they all contain poetry?
I think Marek's point is well-taken. I'm somewhat tired of the flame
war over *What is Poetry and how do we Tell?* which seems to be the major contribution of some of the folk around here. (You listening, Nicolayev?) I can't speak for Ralph, or Marie, or Zita Marie, or Bing, or some of the other
regulars (since last summer anyway), but I wonder if they get as annoyed as
I do when they see these flippant (and false) comments to the effect that "nobody is putting any poetry on rap lately". I wonder how the fledgling poets who are brave enough to post their efforts, feel. So far, I've delivered
at least six poems to rec.arts.poems (*not* rec.art.poetry), and while I admit
it often feels like I'm shouting into a vacuum, I've been somewhat glad that the folk who think "c&c" means cruel & callous have elected to leave me alone. (I
imagine that's about to change.)
I'd like to encourage those of you shy folk who don't eat Powdermilk
Biscuits to follow the advice of Vachel Lindsay in "The Leaden-Eyed", (if you
know where to look it up :^>), and don't interpret the silence as disregard,
but self-absorption and shyness (that, at least, is the only force strong
enough to hold my "tongue"), and don't take the insensitive behavior personally. I HATE flame wars, and I've seen few that don't degenerate into name-calling on *any newsgroup. We don't know each other, however strange that may seem in the intimate warmth of our computer interfaces, and I think we owe each other some courtesy. Like Marek, I just don't much give a damn what a bunch of
strangers think poetry has to look like. I just enjoy reading the poems
people get motivated to put up, *even those that don't suit my personal taste*.
Enough. For now. (This kind of hand-wringing probably needs to be done
periodically, but it should stay at the low-frequency end of the spectrum :^>)
-Michael gadb...@neurocog.lrdc.pitt.edu
Don Zirilli
> VALID implies
> ^^^^^^^^^^^^^
> being supported by objective truth or generally accepted authority
> ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>
>To talk about Stevens as being just as valid a poet as Shakespeare belies
>some appeal to The God of Poetry or some authoritative absolutist
>ordering, according to Merriam-Webster, above. I like their definiition,
>and your vigilante english police possy does not impress me.
Any sort of judgement implies "objective truth". Big deal. I'm not such
a slave to relativism that I won't imply such a Terrible Thing in order
to talk intelligently about something very important to me. Or do you
have a more PC word than valid without evil authoritarian implications?
>As for the "intellectual" spoutings of your Stevens critic, I am sure he
>would be just as puzzled by the presentday rap artists.
What critic are you talking about? That analysis was done by me. I quoted
two critics or so within the analysis. And if you are talking about me,
I'm not nearly as puzzled by most of the poetry on rap.
It's all dated
>material, Don, existing within its cultural niche.
Everything is dated. When the sun goes Nova it'll all be gone. However,
at this relatively insignificant point in time, I grok Wallace Stevens just
fine and I grok my critique of it. And now please show me something that's
not in a cultural niche.
Your critic does
>nothing for me, today, with his abstract sterile mumbo jumbo and I care not
>to step any deeper into it. A 20yearold becons, if you know what I mean.
>Now, that's poetry.
Nope. Poetry is words. Poetry is abstract. Once you realize this, your
poetry is bound to improve (he said, implying objective truth).
relatively yours,
Marek Lugowski
>> VALID implies
>> ^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>> being supported by objective truth or generally accepted authority
>> ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>>To talk about Stevens as being just as valid a poet as Shakespeare belies
>>some appeal to The God of Poetry or some authoritative absolutist
>>ordering, according to Merriam-Webster, above. I like their definiition,
>>and your vigilante english police possy does not impress me.
>Any sort of judgement implies "objective truth". Big deal. I'm not such
>a slave to relativism that I won't imply such a Terrible Thing in order
>to talk intelligently about something very important to me. Or do you
>have a more PC word than valid without evil authoritarian implications?
Prey tell how any sort of judgment implies "objective truth"? Are you
reading Ayn Rand under the covers? Or what?
A cultural anthropologist can make distinctions of colors based on the
categorial systems of any one of many nonagreeing cultures, be aware of
this, and make perfectly consistent "judgments." I can read your stupid
Wallace Stevens and see why you might like this piece over that without
losing the ability to read the same from the Talmudic tradition, to invoke
Zeleny's words. I can read Wallace Stevens with Marie Coffin and snicker,
or I can read Wallace Stevens with some enthusiastic student of Wallace
Stevens to see why he wrote what he wrote. I can have very many
simultaneous frames of reference and no objective truth. Where is the
careless "implies" you throw about? If you would think more carefully and
less dogmatically you might get more respect for your words.
>>As for the "intellectual" spoutings of your Stevens critic, I am sure he
>>would be just as puzzled by the presentday rap artists.
>
>What critic are you talking about? That analysis was done by me. I quoted
>two critics or so within the analysis. And if you are talking about me,
>I'm not nearly as puzzled by most of the poetry on rap.
Small confusion, Don. I meant rap music, and I did mean your quoted
critics. Your own analysis I left unmentioned for reasons of tact. Please
do not press me on my views of your analysis and commentary to date on rap.
>It's all dated
>>material, Don, existing within its cultural niche.
>
>Everything is dated. When the sun goes Nova it'll all be gone. However,
>at this relatively insignificant point in time, I grok Wallace Stevens just
>fine and I grok my critique of it. And now please show me something that's
>not in a cultural niche.
I am speaking of the analysis by the critics you bring. Other critics will
yield differing analyses. This is the glorious relativism that I celebrate
and you should bask in it. Have fun groking Wallace Stevens, just lay off
asserting objective truths and validating them. Jesus.
>> A 20yearold becons, if you know what I mean.
>>Now, that's poetry.
>
>Nope. Poetry is words. Poetry is abstract. Once you realize this, your
>poetry is bound to improve (he said, implying objective truth).
You are too humorless and hostile for me to humor you, so let's drop it.
We know already that you don't care for my writing. I am greatly relieved
by this because I consider your taste in poetry glib and unworthy, and you
a dabler and a facetious imp who hides behind crass-to-cute forays into
"criticism" with occasional jaunts into marginal scholarship. Who else on
this newsgroup would have had the indecency of going from self-appointed
rap guardian angel/court jester to a structuralist semiotician by checking
out *one* book on the subject. At least I completed a doctoral minor (12
hours) in semiotics under a world-famous professor (Thomas Sebeok, Indiana
University Bloomington), having to incorporate my own thoughts on metaphor
into a survey and a development of my own model, thus having earned the
right to dismiss semiotics as a useless, vague and sterile (in)discipline.
Sometimes I exercise it, particularly when witnessing cases of malpractice.
-- Marek
Don Zirilli
>>Any sort of judgement implies "objective truth". Big deal. I'm not such
>>a slave to relativism that I won't imply such a Terrible Thing in order
>>to talk intelligently about something very important to me. Or do you
>>have a more PC word than valid without evil authoritarian implications?
>Prey tell how any sort of judgment implies "objective truth"? Are you
>reading Ayn Rand under the covers? Or what?
Jiminy Christmas. Don't try to paint me as an Absolutist. I'm such a
Relativist that I spend every moment wondering whether the world around
me will shimmer once and disappear. You're the one who started talking
about objective truth. All "valid" or "judgement" imples is a standard,
a frame of reference from which to "judge" the "validity". In the
original question of Shakespeare vs. Stevens, the standard is a debatable
one involving ideas of "canon" and "literature". I said "objective truth"
to humor you, and because I didn't want to get into this very discussion
of Relativism which is repeated time and time again all over the NET.
To me, objective truth is a blue fairy that whispers in my ear and, in
spite of your chagrin, says "keep writing" with profound insistence.
>>Nope. Poetry is words. Poetry is abstract. Once you realize this, your
>>poetry is bound to improve (he said, implying objective truth).
>You are too humorless and hostile for me to humor you, so let's drop it.
No humor intended. qv below.
>We know already that you don't care for my writing. I am greatly relieved
>by this because I consider your taste in poetry glib and unworthy, and you
>a dabler and a facetious imp who hides behind crass-to-cute forays into
>"criticism" with occasional jaunts into marginal scholarship. Who else on
>this newsgroup would have had the indecency of going from self-appointed
>rap guardian angel/court jester to a structuralist semiotician by checking
>out *one* book on the subject. At least I completed a doctoral minor (12
>hours) in semiotics under a world-famous professor (Thomas Sebeok, Indiana
>University Bloomington), having to incorporate my own thoughts on metaphor
>into a survey and a development of my own model, thus having earned the
>right to dismiss semiotics as a useless, vague and sterile (in)discipline.
It seems that some training is bad for one. This training seems to have
left you with a hatred for words unless they're _signifying_ something.
What I said above about "Poetry is words" was more than just a jab. It's
my theory about poetry. And it is not so unheard of that I need
extensive training to propound it. It just has to do with the ideas of
1. words as signifieds.
2. the active reader.
I don't need a degree to make use of these concepts. There are plenty of
"world famous" people who propound these ideas, and plenty who don't.
It's just a matter of the frame of reference you choose, not of being an
"imp" and a "dabler".
yours,
Posthumous O'Toole
Dabler
Facetious Imp
Crass-to-Cute
Rap Guardian Angel
Court Jester (sorry, Wlod)
Structuralist Semiotician (Not!)
Philip Nikolayev
> The more I see these flare-ups about which poet is good or whose
> poetry is poetry, and are lyrics poems -- the more I am reminded of
> my old college English prof, Dr. Joe Price, who taught me that
> basically, it's good if you like it. Good lesson, Dr. Joe. I'm
> glad we liked the same things...
But you still haven't answered the elementary question: Is there
nothing wrong with the lust murder of a three-year-old child, if the
person who commits it simply happens to like that sort of thing? The
honest relativist's reply must be: 'No, there's nothing wrong with
it.' I would simply like to see you say that.
> -- Marek
Philip Nikolayev
nik...@husc.harvard.edu
Marek Lugowski
>But you still haven't answered the elementary question: Is there
>nothing wrong with the lust murder of a three-year-old child, if the
>person who commits it simply happens to like that sort of thing? The
>honest relativist's reply must be: 'No, there's nothing wrong with
>it.' I would simply like to see you say that.
No doubt you would, motherfucker. The simple truth (relative, of course)
is that it is *not* an elementary question but a baiting set-up that I
should have simply ignored. But insomnia delivers:
Doubtless one could construct a value system in which *any* act is valued,
tolerated, or tacitly encouraged. You yourself on this very newsgroup
publically offfered to sodomize Rebecca or some unnamed person either as a
gesture of domination, aprobation or intellectual acceptance -- my memory
fails me as to the details. We could, of course, ask if sodomizing
putatively unwilling adults is "wrong" or if there is "anything wrong" with
even joking that way (we will assume you were joking), other than bad
taste. And what is bad taste? And what is a funny joke? Freud has a
theory of jokes that makes your theory of jokes crude and stupid-sounding,
and his is, arguably, already crude and stupid-sounding. I think you could
elevate your theory of jokes by aquainting yourself with his, which is
basically, that jokes are a means of talking about hurtful things.
No, a lust murder is not inherently wrong. Calling it wrong presuposes
constructing and *defending* an ethic. Finding it awful presuposes
constructing and defending an aesthetic. An unexamined aesthetic may seem
to us instinctive and universal -- and perhaps there are universal elements
in our lives. This would not surprise me as we are creatures with much in
comon, especially our perceptual systems which depend on our bodies for
structure and processing, and these bodies are alike. Still, one only
needs to aquaint oneself with a small cross-section on world cultures and
practices to find a rich diveristy of belief, practice and taboo.
Asking sophomoric questions on the net designed to shock, asserting that jokes
are funny because *you* laugh at them and those who don't just don't have
any sense of humor, and beguiling us with visions of getting poofted, be it
as joke or reality are just the kind of stupidity, Nikolayev, that lose my
interest in your interests... You are not my value-kin, and neither is the
village where they lust murder three year olds.
-- Marek
jjw...@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us
ML> At least I completed a doctoral minor (12 hours) in semiotics under
ML> a world-famous professor (Thomas Sebeok, Indiana University
ML> Bloomington), having to incorporate my own thoughts on metaphor
ML> into a survey and a development of my own model, thus having earned
ML> the right to dismiss semiotics as a useless, vague and sterile
ML> (in)discipline.
Confronted by a villianous camarilla, our hero flashed his badge,
hoping to blind as many eyes as possible with its brilliance. Alas,
it wasn't meant to be. The chocolate stain dulled its shine and the
couscous crumbs clinging to its surface made it appear pathetic,
impotent, laughable. The group's leader grinned and snorted
sarcastically, "Oooo, I'm impressed!" He pulled a .357 magnum from
under his jacket and shot our hero in the mouth.
"OK everybody, head for the boat! We gotta get outta here before
Minos wakes up. Remember, these second circle broads are nothin'
but TROUBLE!"
The pack faded into the fire. Cleopatra, bored at the sight of
another wounded roue, sighed.
--
>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<
jjw...@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us :-) "You mean .. there are lines?"
copyright (c) 1993 -- Beau Blue
>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<>><><><<
Marek Lugowski
>Confronted by a villianous camarilla, our hero flashed his badge,
What badge? We don't need no steenkin' badges. All I wrote is that I did
my penitence, and that it was a very good penitence indeed, which means
that I don't have to take any folk wisdom from volunteer fire brigade
self-described (post-)structuralists.
-- Marek
P.s. Living the vicarious rambo/dirty harry in the 'Cruz mountains, jj?
"show us your guns!!" (tm)
Philip Nikolayev
ma...@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski) writes:
>Nikolayev:
>>But you still haven't answered the elementary question: Is there
>>nothing wrong with the lust murder of a three-year-old child, if the
>>person who commits it simply happens to like that sort of thing? The
>>honest relativist's reply must be: 'No, there's nothing wrong with
>>it.' I would simply like to see you say that.
> No doubt you would, motherfucker. The simple truth (relative, of
> course) is that it is *not* an elementary question but a baiting
> set-up that I should have simply ignored. But insomnia delivers:
For your own sake, perhaps you should ignore most elementary questions
after all, seeing that you seem unable to respond to such things
without getting intensely personal and intensely vulgar. But thanks
for responding to this one - I *really* wanted to hear that.
> Doubtless one could construct a value system in which *any* act is
> valued, tolerated, or tacitly encouraged. You yourself on this very
> newsgroup publically offfered to sodomize Rebecca or some unnamed
> person either as a gesture of domination, aprobation or intellectual
> acceptance -- my memory fails me as to the details. We could, of
> course, ask if sodomizing putatively unwilling adults is "wrong" or
> if there is "anything wrong" with even joking that way (we will
> assume you were joking), other than bad taste.
I'll remind you as to the details: I offered to sodomise the
'historian' of your acquaintance on whose authority you asserted that
Plato had fucked little boys in the arse all his life. Surely this
vulgar propagandistic untruth needed to be exposed. I find it very
entertaining to watch you wince self-righteously at this nasty verb,
especially since you profess to be an advocate of free use of
language. Either you can't understand a simple metaphor, in which case
you are stupid, or you pretend not to be able to understand it, in
which case you are cheap. Of course, if the latter is true, you
inability to see the cheapness of your tactic may also point to
stupidity, but of a different, more publicly acceptable and even
encouraged sort.
> And what is bad
> taste? And what is a funny joke? Freud has a theory of jokes that
> makes your theory of jokes crude and stupid-sounding, and his is,
> arguably, already crude and stupid-sounding. I think you could
> elevate your theory of jokes by aquainting yourself with his, which
> is basically, that jokes are a means of talking about hurtful
> things.
I have no personal theory of jokes, and I don't think that Freud's is
crude and stupid-sounding in the least. But I don't understand why are
you dragging this in, while my question had nothing to do with jokes.
Raise your objections in the appropriate threads, if you wish.
> No, a lust murder is not inherently wrong.
This is all I wanted to hear, actually.
> Calling it wrong
> presuposes constructing and *defending* an ethic. Finding it awful
> presuposes constructing and defending an aesthetic. An unexamined
> aesthetic may seem to us instinctive and universal -- and perhaps
> there are universal elements in our lives. This would not surprise
> me as we are creatures with much in comon, especially our perceptual
> systems which depend on our bodies for structure and processing, and
> these bodies are alike.
Oh my, is a relativist stating a self-evident truth? I'm impressed.
Only one step from here to universal values.
> Still, one only needs to aquaint oneself
> with a small cross-section on world cultures and practices to find a
> rich diveristy of belief, practice and taboo.
So what? I see no point in naively admiring the *merely big*, be it
infinity, eternity or diversity. I refer all lovers of 'diversity as
such' to Baudelaire's 'Voyage' - one of my favourite poems.
> Asking sophomoric questions on the net designed to shock, asserting
> that jokes are funny because *you* laugh at them and those who don't
> just don't have any sense of humor, and beguiling us with visions of
> getting poofted, be it as joke or reality are just the kind of
> stupidity, Nikolayev, that lose my interest in your interests...
> You are not my value-kin, and neither is the village where they lust
> murder three year olds.
I don't think my question could possibly shock anyone in his right
mind, or that it is sophomoric, especially since your answer that
there is nothing wrong with lust murder is not at all trivial. I think
it's an honest answer, and and it does you credit, inspite of all the
alleviating verbiage you surround it with. I suspect that the
lack of proportion between the nature of my question and your
emotional outburst suggests that perhaps the question touches a
sensitive and vulnerable point that characterises all relativism; and
your reply reveals an important aspect of popular relativism which
most relativists are not usually prepared to emphasise.
Elsewhere you said, vaguely, that relativism allows one a sense of
responsibility to the community. I wonder, since you see no objective
values, if perhaps this responsibility is after all based on the
*authority* of the community? And isn't authority something that you
reject in the first place, be it God's or misunderstood Plato's? And
can't one succumb to the the community's authority without embracing
relativism? Or does one simply need to justify such submission? Or was
it just a bit of meaningless praise of relativism?
Regarding your indignation at my bad manners, do you really imagine
your own to be much superior? Do I hear a jangle of moral outrage
there, of the king that a relativist can't afford? Rest assured that I
don't need your respect in the slightest, and I would be truly shocked
if, against all instinct, you proclaimed me your 'value kin'. I want
no share in systems of thought that implicitly justify anything from
lust murder to mass annihilation. The best a relativist can do is
pound his chest helplessly and yell that he personally doesn't justify
such things. Even such chest-pounding does not rule out complicity.
Thomas E. Davidson
In a previous article, nik...@husc11.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev) says:
>I'll remind you as to the details: I offered to sodomise the
>'historian' of your acquaintance on whose authority you asserted that
>Plato had fucked little boys in the arse all his life.
How about Socrates himself, who frequently hinted at Plato's taste in
sodomy? Don't forget, of course, that sodomy was NOT considered immoral in that
era, and so it would almost be expected of someone of Plato's stature to own
a few slaves exclusively for that purpose.
>So what? I see no point in naively admiring the *merely big*, be it
>infinity, eternity or diversity. I refer all lovers of 'diversity as
>such' to Baudelaire's 'Voyage' - one of my favourite poems.
Quite frankly, I hate Baudelaire with a passion approaching something
akin to incandescence. Have you ever considered, sir, that your own pompous
appreciation of Harvard english gospel might blind you to the perhaps more
relevant poetry and theories of the modern era--including relativism, which
(although not a belief which I personally espouse) explains many of the
current trends in literature and society?
>it's an honest answer, and and it does you credit, in spite of all the
>alleviating verbiage you surround it with. I suspect that the
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>lack of proportion between the nature of my question and your
>emotional outburst suggests that perhaps the question touches a
>sensitive and vulnerable point that characterises all relativism; and
>your reply reveals an important aspect of popular relativism which
>most relativists are not usually prepared to emphasise.
I just love this paragraph. :) The hypocrisy verily drips from it
like honey after a long day at the beach.
>Regarding your indignation at my bad manners, do you really imagine
>your own to be much superior? Do I hear a jangle of moral outrage
>there, of the king that a relativist can't afford? Rest assured that I
>don't need your respect in the slightest, and I would be truly shocked
>if, against all instinct, you proclaimed me your 'value kin'.
Um....Don't you think you're getting a bit above yourself, here?
Nothing personal, but you're really blowing the debate way out of proportion.
Tom
--
"Its inhabitants are, as the man once said, 'whores, pimps, gamblers, and
SOBs,' by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another
peephole he might have said 'saints, angels, martyrs, and holy men' and he
would have meant the same thing." --John Steinbeck, _Cannery Row_
Philip Nikolayev
> In a previous article, nik...@husc11.harvard.edu
(Philip Nikolayev) says:
>>I'll remind you as to the details: I offered to sodomise the
>>'historian' of your acquaintance on whose authority you asserted
>>that Plato had fucked little boys in the arse all his life.
> How about Socrates himself, who frequently hinted at Plato's
> taste in sodomy? Don't forget, of course, that sodomy was NOT
> considered immoral in that era, and so it would almost be expected
> of someone of Plato's stature to own a few slaves exclusively for
> that purpose.
Sodomy was considered immoral in that era all right, and nothing of
that stupid sort was expected. Socrates makes no hints about Plato's
'taste in sodomy' anywhere, you ignorant dweeb. Should you really care
to figure out this matter, check out Dover's _Greek Homosexuality_.
>>So what? I see no point in naively admiring the *merely big*, be it
>>infinity, eternity or diversity. I refer all lovers of 'diversity as
>>such' to Baudelaire's 'Voyage' - one of my favourite poems.
> Quite frankly, I hate Baudelaire with a passion approaching
> something akin to incandescence.
Piss on it - it'll cool off.
> Have you ever considered, sir, that
> your own pompous appreciation of Harvard english gospel might blind
> you to the perhaps more relevant poetry and theories of the modern
> era--including relativism, which (although not a belief which I
> personally espouse) explains many of the current trends in
> literature and society?
Oh, Harvard's full of dead reader-response meat. My taste in poetry
has nothing to do with Harvard, nor am an English major. Nor was
Baudelaire an English poet, shocked as you may be to find out. Look,
you haven't been around long enough. I can't be bothered to go over
the same elementary things ad infinitum with every self-assured
twittering twat. I am fully aware that relativism explains many of
the current trends in literature and society. Fuck relativism and
those trends. Fuck reader-response. Go back to sucking Wolfgang Iser,
Stanley Fish or whoever your current curricular idol happens to be.
>>it's an honest answer, and and it does you credit, in spite of all the
>>alleviating verbiage you surround it with. I suspect that the
> ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>>lack of proportion between the nature of my question and your
>>emotional outburst suggests that perhaps the question touches a
>>sensitive and vulnerable point that characterises all relativism;
>>and your reply reveals an important aspect of popular relativism
>>which
>>most relativists are not usually prepared to emphasise.
> I just love this paragraph. :) The hypocrisy verily drips from
> it like honey after a long day at the beach.
I don't suppose the logophobic fuckwit that you are could try to come
up with anything that makes sense.
>>Regarding your indignation at my bad manners, do you really imagine
>>your own to be much superior? Do I hear a jangle of moral outrage
>>there, of the king that a relativist can't afford? Rest assured that
>>I don't need your respect in the slightest, and I would be truly
>>shocked if, against all instinct, you proclaimed me your 'value
>>kin'.
> Um....Don't you think you're getting a bit above yourself,
> here? Nothing personal, but you're really blowing the debate way
> out of proportion.
Go fuck yourself. If you think that your selective editing can impress
me, I'll remind you that in the part you craftily cut out Marek says
that there's nothing inherently wrong with fucking a tree-year-old.
Get lost in peace, or I'll blow your own ghostly self-righteous
blithering presence here out of proportion too - so badly that you'll
become permanently incapable of fucking, but only of being fucked. As
a good reader-response cunt, you get the idea.
I mean it.
> Tom
> --
> "Its inhabitants are, as the man once said, 'whores, pimps, gamblers, and
> SOBs,' by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another
> peephole he might have said 'saints, angels, martyrs, and holy men' and he
> would have meant the same thing." --John Steinbeck, _Cannery Row_
Philip Nikolayev
nik...@husc.harvard.edu