OCTOBER 5 — PHILIP BERRIGAN
Rebel American Catholic priest, antiwar activist.
ALSO ON OCTOBER 5 IN HISTORY…
1582 — Pope Gregory annuls 14 days, bringing calendar back in line with seasons.
1713 — Encyclopedist Denis Diderot born, Langres, France.
1789 —Declaration of The Rights of Man published.
1813 — Shawnee Chief Tecumseh killed in War of 1812.
1864 — Louis-Jean Lumière, film pioneer, born, Besançon, France.
1877 — Chief Joseph, Nez Percé chief, surrenders to U.S. troops.
1923 — Rebel priest, antiwar activist Phil Berrigan born, Two Harbors, Minnesota.
1934 — French surrealist filmmaker Jean Vigo dies, Paris, France. `
“This WORLD is UNREAL like a SNAKE in a ROPE” by Robert Millis
“A collage of sights and sounds from the eternal never-ending collage that is INDIA. A trip through the Southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu featuring Hindu trance ceremonies, free jazz nagaswaram improvisations, impossibly loud cities, processions, devotion, blessings, color, abstractions, detail, music and more. India is impossible to know: it is too vast, too rich and too much of a dream, it is impossibly old and impossibly new. Offered here is one perspective, one dream, subjective and flawed, hanging by a thread, captured live and in the moment and in the midst. One journey revealed in the order it happened. Not quite ethnography. Not quite documentary.”
Says director Robert Millis: “I will introduce the film and have informal Q and A at the Merch table after the screenings. These are the premier screenings of this film (which is still a work in progress) which should be released on DVD by Sublime Frequencies some time next year. I purposefully prefer to do screenings like this in music/sound/DIY oriented venues rather than more formal movie houses. It fits the vibe of the film.”
Each night, Mills will also do a solo performance involving found sound collage, drone, and field recordings mixed with songs performed on acoustic guitar: old murder ballads, originals and instrumentals. Here is a link to a solo release from last year: http://www.etuderecords.com/120.htm
Robert Millis is a musician and artist, a founding member of Climax Golden Twins and AFCGT and a frequent contributor to the Sublime Frequencies and Dust-to-Digital record labels. His previous films include Phi Ta Khon: Ghosts of Isan and My Friend Rain and he was the co-author of Victrola Favorites, released on Dust-to-Digital in 2008.
Prices vary per venue, many are donation or sliding scale $5-$10; in most cases screenings will be first, followed by music. Check with venues for full details.
The 64 page book is a gorgeous showcase of Aidan’s ethereal pencil illustrations and poetic storytelling. The story follows a young woman who has just suffered the loss of a loved one. There is no backstory or explanation. Instead we simply follow the protagonist for a day as she walks her dog on the beach, makes tea at home, is surprised that all of her loved one’s belongings fit in a couple cardboard boxes. The text is minimal, just her internal dialogue, but very resonant.
Most of the time we keep death at bay as an abstract mystery. Butwhen death cannot be avoided it pierces each moment like a needle.Those painful hours become linked with normally small and mundane details, almost absurd, always irreversible. I think the book is trying to capture this melancholy paradox; the complex idea that we live in a world of objects, sweaters and seashells, while simultaneously existing in the overwhelming emotional world of our memories. In our hearts we identify with the grandeur of existence, and in our minds we know there is nothing.
Special thanks to Blaise and Aidan for sharing this 12 page preview. Preorders are available on Gaze Books’ website (http://www.gazebooks.com/store.html) and Blaise has announced a release party in October, at his apartment.
I’ve opened a can with its opener.
I’ve opened a can with my teeth.
I’ve returned to find fire in the kitchen.
I’ve found my keys, instead.
My favorite dress is the backless one.
There’s always the problem of the bra.
How much fuel runs the 1956 bulldozer?
Why does the brush acquiesce to its bulk?
Does the brush reap rewards for prostration?
Does the onion lust for eyes?
I’ve lied, but only twice in this poem.
Here’s some dirt I’d like to bulldoze.
It’s civic, that dirt, heaped over bodies, cultivated toward lawns.
The house’s vendettas are ready for new occupants.
My arm is long with fingers
turning on the truthful lamp, folding habits of a blanket.
fidgeting lectures in my lap
I’m feeling more bingo than slot machine, social, I mean.
The way the mosquitoes share my face with me.
OCTOBER 3 — WOODY GUTHRIE
American folk singer, composer, rebel free spirit.
Woody Guthrie, “Ranger’s Command.” One of two surviving film clips of Guthrie performing.
ALSO ON OCTOBER 3 IN HISTORY…
1226 — Pantheistic social revolutionary Francis of Assisi dies, Assisi, Italy.
1838 — Chief Black Hawk, Native American leader, dies.
1896 — British socialist designer William Morris dies, Kelmscott House.
1900 — American novelist Thomas Wolfe born, Asheville, North Carolina.
1925 — American writer Gore Vidal born, West Point, New York.
1967 — Radical American folk singer Woody Guthrie dies, New York City.
The shame in the church crawls out of each human. A mild sin grows first behind the ears.
The wind: it comes without thought or any use of my hands. My hair grows the same color as the red scarf covering a lamp. I’ve heard of women who lead men into a chamber that is stained like the pit of a cherry. Place something upon the tongue. Go in peace.
Pretending there is no time to stop and look at the old gravestones that lean south, my father keeps driving. The common is cold and blown clear of leaves. This is near Chocksett School playground where a German shepherd tore up my soft back. My father took me to the dog that night to let it smell me. I held it in my arms. We’re all bound to something.
The strain of the body in trauma stresses the heart muscle. When I come up for air, the wind fills my throat before I realize I want it to.
When I think of what I am, I think of this small town. The dog, my back, the women, my dog.
Moebius is arguably my favorite comics creator of all time. For the past few years, zero of his books have been in print in the US. Zero.
The good news is Humanoids is back and they’re bringing all of the Jodorowsky/Moebius collaborations back to print. Jodorowsky and Moebius worked together to create a film adaptation of Dune in 1974. The film was never made, but instead of letting all their designs and ideas go to waste, they took those concepts and made some awesome comics like Metabarons and The Incal. This November their finest collaboration, THE INCAL, returns with all three volumes collected in a deluxe slipcase format (with the original colors, not those terrible digital recolors from a few years ago).
Humanoids just received a sample copy of the book and there’s more great photos of the interiors on their blog.
Why I Left My Publisher in Order to Publish a Book by Douglas Rushkoff
I’m getting more questions about my latest book than about any other I’ve written. And this is before the book is even out—before anyone has even read the galleys.
That’s because the questions aren’t about what I wrote, but about how I ended up publishing it: with an independent publisher, for very little money, and through a distribution model that makes it available on only one website. Could I be doing this of sound mind and my own volition? Why would a bestselling author, capable of garnering a six-figure advance on a book, forgo the money, the media, and the mojo associated with a big publishing house?
Because it would make my book twice as expensive for you, half as profitable for me, less purposefully written, and unavailable until about two years from now. In short, the traditional publishing system is nearly dead. And publishing a book under its rules can mean the death of ideas within it, as well. Until it utterly reworks its method, gets rid of a majority of its corporate dead weight, releases its publishing houses from the conglomerates that own them, and embraces direct selling models, the publishing industry will remain rather useless to readers and writers alike.
Authors and readers no longer need Big Publishing to find and engage one another. The sooner we all realize this, the better off we’ll all be.
Think of it from the author’s perspective. In the traditional publishing model, I write a proposal over a period of months, submit it to publishers, and—if the ideas manage to match the agenda of an acquiring editor at a big house—I get a deal. That deal is nice a thing. It means the publishing house, acting like a bank, lends me the capital I need to research and write a book. This is no small gift.
Arthur Magazine 