“La Vie Ardente”, a poem by ÉMILE VERHAEREN (1855-1916) [PRECIOUS POETRY, #15th Edition]

Theo van Rysselberghe A Reading by Emile Verhaeren

Theo van Rysselberghe (1862-1926), “A Reading by Emile Verhaeren”

La vie ardente

Mon coeur, je l’ai rempli du beau tumulte humain:
Tout ce qui fut vivant et haletant sur terre,
Folle audace, volonté sourde, ardeur austère
Et la révolte d’hier et l’ordre de demain
N’ont point pour les juger refroidi ma pensée.
Sombres charbons, j’ai fait de vous un grand feu d’or,
N’exaltant que sa flamme et son volant essor

Qui mêlaient leur splendeur à la vie angoissée.
Et vous, haines, vertus, vices, rages, désirs,
je vous accueillis tous, avec tous vos contrastes,
Afin que fût plus long, plus complexe et plus vaste
Le merveilleux frisson qui me fit tressaillir.
Mon coeur à moi ne vit dûment que s’il s’efforce ;
L’humanité totale a besoin d’un tourment
Qui la travaille avec fureur, comme un ferment,
Pour élargir sa vie et soulever sa force.

ÉMILE VERHAEREN (1855-1916)

Read the whole poem (in French)

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Previously on Awestruck Wanderer:

# Compulsive Cinephilia, 8th Edition – Some awesome movies by Ken Russell, Sam Peckinpah, Joseph Mankiewicz, A. Lyne and Tommy Lee Jones!

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Adrian Lyne’s Jacob’s Ladder (1990)

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Ken Russell’s Altered States (1998)

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Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s There Was a Crooked Man… (1970)

 

 

Previously on Awestruck Wanderer:

#01 – The U.S. Against John Lennon (documentary)
#02 – David Cronenberg: an overview of his carreer
#03 – The Coen Brothers’s Big Lebowski
#04 – Recommended films

#05 – Woody Allen’s Blue Jasmine
 #06 – Luis Buñuel’s Los Olvidados (article by André Bazin)
#07 – Alex Cox’s Walker (starring Ed Harris)

 

#Great Films: Alex Cox’s “Walker” (1987) depicts Yankee Imperialism in Central America (Starring Ed Harris and with soundtrack by Joe Strummer)

DEVILS THAT CAN QUOTE SCRIPTURE
by Eduardo Carli de Moraes

Unfortunately, ours ears nowadays continue to be used as toilet seats by demagogues and warmongers who have shit for brains. They talk righteously about their intentions of exporting Democracy and Humanitarianism, when they actually mean Imperial Power and Mass Robbery Of Foreign Natural Resources. But I’m not even gonna start giving vent to my fury against the Yankee’s Petroleum Wars that followed the September 11th attacks, nor will I comment on the use of such techniques of interrogation used in Abu Ghraibs and Guantánamos; nor I’ll waste much time denouncing once again the fact that the Bush administration justified the Iraq War with a lie (no, the whole thing had nothing to do with Sadam’s weapons of mass destruction! And, by the way, it’s the U.S. Army who is written down in history as the only one ever to drop an atom bomb another country’s civil population…). But I won’t even get started on the theme of Hiroshima and Nagasaki being bombed to ashes at the end of the II World War, for what I intend to express here is something else, tough closely related to all these horrors here briefly refered to – here I would like to attempt to explain why I deem Alan Cox’s Walker to be an awesome, deeply provocative film, excellent both as an historical depiction of U.S. Imperialism in the 19th century and as a witty satire of a dangerous neurosis that can turn a man into a Fascist pig. This is a film that continues to have a lot to say to us at the dawn of the 21st century A.D.

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The reason that explains why Walker isn’t so widely recognized as a masterpiece of cinema in the 1980s, as I think it deserves to be, has to do with its very punkish depiction of a Yankee Fascist Pig. Audiences in the U.S. can’t find here any reason to be proud and patriotic. Watching it, one becomes acquainted with crimes against humanity so great that can rob someone of sleep: the bloody scenes may be filmed in Spaghetti-Western style, but they have the power to communicate to the audience the stature of this tragedy (and it’s huge). This is an unusual picture because it doesn’t have a hero as its protagonist, but much to the contrary: Walker is starred by a villanous mass-murderer and a Imperialist filibuster. Actually, according to Wikipedia, “the English term FILIBUSTER is derived from the Spanish filibustero, itself deriving originally from the Dutch vrijbuiter, and means “privateerpirate, robber” (also the root of English “freebooter”). The Spanish form entered the English language in the 1850s, as applied to military adventurers from the United States then operating in Central America and the Spanish West Indies such as William Walker…”. Behind Ed Harris’s blue eyes and blond hair and mild manners, there’s a “crazy gringo”, as many people in Nicaragua referred to him.

Possessed by delusions of grandeur, Walker believes that’s it’s a God-given duty for the United States of America to be leaders of the whole continent, to expand their way-of-life was widely as possible – and by the American Way he means a system quite similar to the one then dominant in U.S.’s South in the years leading up to the American Civil War (1861-1865). Walker is pro-slavery, but not only that: he thinks Slavery is so great an institution that the United States should export it. God up in the heavens wanted the U.S. to use military force, invasion of foreign countries with tanks and bombs, and the burning down of whole villages, believes Walker, in order that the “primitive” people of Nicaragua or Guatemala could be “enlightened” by a Superior Civilization. Alex Cox’s film is a satire because it shows how ridiculous this man’s ambitions and ideals are – he poses as a righteous man-of-God, but he’s in favour of a system of slavery, racial segregation, obscene economical inequalities etc. The Nicaraguans, when they discovered what sort of shit the gringos were trying to enforce upon them, fought against it with all their might. The film permits us to see that, in the perspective of the Nicaraguans, the invasion of the Americans, “the crazy gringos”, was similar to the sudden arrival of a plague of destructive insects, or an attack by a savage horde of barbarians.

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British director Alex Cox previous movie had been the bio-pic Sid & Nancy (1986), in which he captured quite authentically the downward spiral of The Sex Pistols’s musician Sid Vicious and his groupie-girlfriend Nancy Spungen, embodiments of the live fast, die young” motto. For his next project after Sid & Nancy, Cox teamed-up with Joe Strummer, who composed the original soundtrack of the film, in one of his greatest works after The Clash had disbanded and The Mescaleros hadn’t yet been born. Ed Harris played the lead role as William Walker (1824-1860) and as usually displayed his high excellence in acting. If Cox’s film can be called punk it’s not because its production is cheap or faulty – on the contrary, this is was a 5-million-dollar budget film, and technically it looks so great as Sergio Leone’s or Gillo Pontecorvo’s films did. It is quite punk for its courageous and rebellious attitude of denouncing, and covering in ridicule, an authoritarian war-criminal such as Walker. In other words: this is punkish left-wing cinema that portrays The Enemy.  Walker is a guy devoted to the dogma of Yankee superiority, and to the right of the United States to rule the whole world, and who puts his neurosis to practice in such murderous ways that I hope that you, dear readers, will agree with me in calling him by the un-polite but very fitting term “Fascist Pig”.

But one may ask: why make a movie, in the mid 1980s, about the international relations between the United States and Nicaragu ? Well, it was then a very urgent and pulsating theme in the public debate and on the media, and director Alex Cox remembers as follows the situation when Walker was made – the era of Ronald Reagan (in the U.S.) and Margaret Tatcher (in the U.K.):

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 “Reagan and Thatcher’s maniac front was working overtime to destroy the Sandinista revolution by any means. Thatcher had even attempted to criminalize the word ‘Sandinista’ – hence The Clash album of the same name. It would be a mistake to underestimate the power of the punk movement at that time. The Clash, The Jam, The Pistols, and their successors were almost the only beachhead many of us had against a tidal wave of reactionary politics.” (ALEX COX, in Let Fury Have The Hour, pg. 80)

That’s what makes Walker such an interesting and exciting movie: it feels like a manifesto written by British punks, in which they make a very powerful political statement about Imperialism and War Crimes. Even tough The Clash’s Sandinista was regarded by many as a lousy follow-up to one of the greatest albums in the history of popular music (1979’s  London Calling), it was also a political statement right from its title: “sandinista” was then a forbidden word, and the sandinistas were painted by Reagan and Tatcher’s obedient dogs at the commercial media as dangerous and deadly “commies”.  By doing an album like Sandinista, The Clash was trying to make several statements: firstly, they refused to record commercial bullshit only to sell records and honour contracts with CBS; they wouldn’t accept being censored in their language or themes, not they would accept quietly all the lies that were being spread about Nicaragua and the Sandinistas and the need for an Humanitarian Military Intervention by the Yankee’s armies; The Clash would stay rooted in rebellion against a establishment that, after Vietnam and Camboja, after spreading Military Dictatorships all over Latin America (Chile in 1973, Brazil in 1964…), was acting once again with murderous villany against other countries.

In “Washington Bullets”, one of Sandinista’s greatest songs, Joe Strummer asks The Clash’s audience to remember, among other things, the plots to kill Fidel Castro and to sabotage the Cuban Revolution, and also depicts what happened in Chile, in September 11th, 1973, when Salvador Allende’s regime came tumbling down (with lots of Washington Bullets and CIA agents helping out the installment of Pinochet’s dictartorship). “Eevery prison cell in Chile will tell”, sings Strummer,  “the cries of tortured men…”. Chile, after 3 years under the yoke of democratically-elected president Allende, was plunged in dark times while Pinochet’s system killed and tortured all around, in order to be able to enforce all the policies that Mr. Milton Friedman and the Chicago Boys deemed excellent for profitable markets (Naomi Klein’s The Shock Doctrine tells the whole history quite well).

Joe Strummer, in the 1980s, was moving away from the mainstream arena, venturing into of a shadowy underground where music and social activism were together as one: he didn’t want much to do with the music industry and its hit-producing machinery. Strummer was interested in radical political films – such as Gillo’s Pontecorvo’s The Battle of Algiers and Burn! – and he wanted music to act as a helping hand in the struggles for social justice around the world. Strummer wanted to be punk’s Woody Guthrie and in Sandinista, for example, he took his characters from recent History – in “Washington Bullets”, he was singing in memory of Chilean singer, songwriter, poet and teacher Victor Jara (1922-1973), who had been murdered by the fascists in Santiago, September 11th, 1973. With “Washington Bullets”!

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Joe Strummer, after The Clash had disbanded, wrote the soundtrack for Alan Cox’s Walker and acted in a supporting role. He would also be an actor in Cox’s next film, “Straight to Hell”.

William Walker is the embodiment of a very dangerous characteristic, that some insist on calling a virtue, but that should be looked upon with skepticism and suspicious, methinks: Walker is a deeply righteous and arrogant man. He believes he’s on the side of Civilization, of Goodness, of God. But in reality he acts like a mad assassin who won’t refrain from shooting his own brother down. Anyone who dares question his authority is treated like a beast that deserves to be spanked or  shot dead. He invades Nicaragua backed-up materially by big-money, big capitalist interests, greedy Yankee businessmen wanting to rule over Central America and control the territory that links the oceans. But he always tries to pretends he’s a saint and a god-send, who has just descended from Heaven to help the ignorant and uncivilized peoples of Central American (actually, Walker didn’t descend from Eden, but came out of Nashville, Tennessee…). Even tough he preaches lofty sermons as if he was the Messiah, the Chosen One that will lead his sheep to salvation, what he actually does is only to bring disaster and death to all those around him, including himself. Thus Alan Cox’s intermingles satire with tragedy – to impressive aesthetic effects.

Maddened by his Messiah Complex, delusional like those Insane Asylum Napoleons, Walker acts as if he is a Roman Emperor (he has even his moments of Nero-like incendiary behavior). Deeply racist, he tries to enforce slavery into Nicaragua and be the tyrant of an enslaved nation. He stinks of hypocrisy and agressiveness, and yet he seems to think of himself as a lofty idealist, a revolutionary of a New Enlightenment… He can’t see how blind and dumb he has become by his faithful obedience to his ideals: his righteousness is in fact an embodiment of Right-Wing politics, of Imperial Power acting to enslave and rob other nations. Smells like Bush, right? Walker calls himself a “social democrat”, but the democracy which he wishes to impose on Nicaragua is a bloody bad joke: after ordering the firing squad to get rid of the opposition to his presence in Nicaragua, he decrees himself president without any need for elections. He “democratically” proclaims himself president of Nicaragua, a country he had just invaded with murdering soldiers and mercenaries, and orders the newspapers to print that he has been elected (with only one vote – his own).

These occurrences that Alex Cox’s films depicts so well are also a interesting portrayal of an archetype, of a paradigm. What I mean is this: in many Historical occasions, methinks, men acted very similarly to Walker. If we push the forward button of the remote control of History’s Newsreel, and take a look some years ahead, we’ll discover very similar episodes – for example, as I tried to express in the previous paragraphs, Salvador Allende’s death in 1973 and the beginning of Pinochet’s dictartorship in Chile. But Walker still has a lot to say about much more contemporary events like The War on Terror. Walker is a great historical epic with a punkish mood and filled with witty satire. It’s a film that will be particularly tasty to those who enjoy violent Westerns such as Leone’s or Peckinpahs’s. But its great value lies in its denounciation of the inner machineries and outer actions of an archetypical fascist pig. Behind his blue eyes, this blondie is a “crazy gringo” that invades, plunders, murders and burns while always clinging to the belief that God is on his side and that he knows what’s better for the peoples of the whole globe. He’s just one more example of that archetypical figure, so common in History, of a human devil that can quote Scripture.

Nietzsche: In Praise of Wanderers (From “Human, All Too Human”, paragraph #638)

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“The wanderer above the sea of fog” – by Caspar David Friedrich (1818)

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NIETZSCHE, Friedrich. (1844-1900),
Human, All Too HumanAphorism 638.

 

“What Is It Like To Be A Bat?” – The Sci-Fi Philosophy of Thomas Nagel

BAT IN FLOWER A pollen-gilded bat emerging from a flower of the blue mahoe tree. This bat lives in eastern Cuba in a colony more than one million strong— a pollinating powerhouse. Photograph by Merlin Tuttle, National Geographic.

In one of the greatest essays in his book Mortal QuestionsThomas Nagel invites us to dare reflect in a bold and innovative way, as awe-inspiring as the best Science Fiction novels or films. Forget about mankind for a while and try to identify yourself with the perspective of an animal that’s quite different from bipeds and primates such as ourselves. Put yourself inside the skin of a bat, but not only in a cartoonish or playful way (don’t even waste time pretending you are Bruce Wayne, wearing a black costume and a horned mask, patrolling Gotham City in search of criminals to crush). Nagel is asking us to attempt to become a bat as it really is in Nature’s web of life, and how does it feel to be such a creature What Nagel is proposing is an exercise in which a human mind tries to move away from its humanness, venturing outside the zone of familiarity, and tries to really grasp what sort of experience it would be like to exist as a bat – or an eagle, or a worm. That ain’t easy, and “philosophers share the general human weakness for explanations of what is incomprehensible in terms suited for what is familiar and well understood.” (pg. 166)

This is not just a role-playing game (“let’s pretend we’re animals and meow like cats!”), nor it’s creative phantasy imagining the future (similarly to what was crafted with such greatness by David Cronenberg in The Fly). What Thomas Nagel is after with his sci-fi thinking, as we’ll further attempt to explore, is an explanation for consciousness in its great diversity. Reality contains objectively myriads of different organisms, with different perspectives and subjective experiences, and this field of study – Nature’s richness and diversity – may be explored not only by poets, mystics or people high on LSD, but also by philosophers, physicists, scientists, artists… Maybe we’ll become better humans if we try to understand better what it is like not to be human?

“Conscious experience is a widespread phenomenon. It occurs at many levels of animal life, though we cannot be sure of its presence in the simpler organisms, and it is very difficult to say in general what provides evidence of it. (Some extremists have been prepared to deny it even of mammals other than man.) No doubt it occurs in countless forms totally unimaginable to us, on other planets in other solar systems throughout the universe. But no matter how the form may vary, the fact that an organism has conscious experience at all means, basically, that there is something it is like to be that organism. (…) We may call this the subjective character of experience…” (p. 166)

 Those among you, dear readers, who are not poetically inclined, may deem as utter philosophical madness to refer to such a thing as “the subjectivity of bats” – or the conscious experience of pigs. But it’s been for centuries the self-imposed task and delight of poets, mystics, shamans, artists and many other human animals to understand and try to verbalize what it means like to be an animal different than ourselves. William Blake, for example, had a fruitful relationship with flies, as you’ll see in the following poem, and he also sung with his lyre some quite fascinating stuff about dogs, horses, skylarks:

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“Little Fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brush’d away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance,
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing…”

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“A dog starved at his master’s gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A horse misus’d upon the road
Calls to Heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing…”

  WILLIAM BLAKE

Thomas Nagel is interested in exploring the idea of animals as beings who experience the world from a perspective different from ours, from a subjective standpoint which differs greatly according to the organism’s complexity and to the various environments. For example, a polar bear and a huge whale like Moby Dick have very different conscious experiences by living where they do, I mean, the first in freezing snowy temperatures, the latter beneath the oceans’s rolling waves. But let’s go back to Nagel’s bats:

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“I assume all believe that bats have experience. After all, they are mammals, and there is no more doubt that they have experience than that mice or pigeons or whales have experience. (…) Bats, although closely related to us, nevertheless present a range of activity and a sensory apparatus so different from ours that the problem I want to pose is exceptionally vivid (though it certainly could be raised with other species). Now we know that most bats perceive the external world primarily by sonar, or echolocation, detecting the reflections, from objects within range, of their own rapid, subtly modulated, high-frequency shrieks. Their brains are designed to correlate the outgoing impulses with the subsequent echoes, and the information thus acquired enables bats to make precise discriminations of distance, size, shape, motion and texture – comparable to those we make by vision.” (pg. 168)

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These fascinating and scary creatures, winged mammals who fly speedily in the air even though they can’t see anything (thus the expression “blind as a bat”), have an existential experience which is quite hard for a human to imagine and that it’s impossible for us to really “live”. How is it like, subjectively, to fly around being a bat and using a sonar for sight? Does our imagination really permit us to truly experience Batness? And how to avoid scenes of Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, or from the Batman comics, from messing-up our experiment by appearing on our Hollywood-colonized human-minds everytime we think of men and bats? Imagination is limited and usually binds us to a human perspective, argues Thomas Nagel, and to experience what truly is the subjective consciousness of a bat it’s not enough “that one spends the day hanging upside down by one’s feet in an attic.” (pg. 169) Now we’re getting closer to his point: Nagel wants to know “what it is like for a bat to be a bat.” (p. 169)

There seems to exist an abyss of ignorance separating each species, though they all belong to the one and the same Web of Life. We might call this the Abyss of Alterity, but maybe someone needs to be a poet or a mystic to grasp what that means. Thomas Nagel paints a portrait of such an abyss, that we are seldom able to cross, when he writes about men and bats: humans can’t know what it’s like to be inside the skin of a bat, and neither the bat has a clue about how the heck it feels to be a primate such as ourselves. Simply because there’s no bridge that can serve as means of transportation, from human experience right into bat experience, and vice versa: “even if I could by gradual degrees be transformed into a bat, nothing in my present constitution enables me to imagine what the experiences of such a future stage of myself thus metamorphosed would be like.” (p. 169)

Even an imagination so powerfull and daring as Franz Kafka’s could only reach an anthropomorphized report of what it meant for Gregor Samsa to discover himself living inside the body of a bug. However, for Gregor Samsa, a human mind and a human consciousness are still locked inside the beastly body that he wakes up, in Kafka’s masterpiece The Metamorphosis, suddenly transformed into.  Thomas Nagel knows perfectly well that one can’t become a bat after being born a monkey, a wolf, a bacteria or a human being, but he also states that human imagination fails to give us any true depiction of the specific subjective character of the experienced subjectivity of creatures of other species  – “it’s beyond our ability to conceive.” (p. 170)

This sets, methinks, epistemology in new grounds and adds a new chapter to the history of Skepticism in philosophy. Nagel’s highly skeptical conclusion – we’ll never really experience what it’s like to be an animal different than the animal we are – also spreads into his consideration of human affairs, where similar abysses of mutual ignorance also exist. For example: “The subjective character of the experience of a person deaf and blind from birth is not accessible to me, nor presumably is mine to him. This does not prevent us each from believing that the other’s experience has such a subjective character.” (p. 170)

If we’re ever to meet extra-terrestrial organisms – be they iron-headed Martians, bizarre aliens from Titan, or other weird creatures from a far-away galaxy… – the same problem would certainly arise: the aliens wouldn’t have a clear perception of what it is like to be a human, similarly to our human difficulty – or even incapacity –  to truly understand what it is like to be a bat or a whale, a butterfly or an eagle, a worm or a lizard. Subjectivity, thus, is so highly varied in its manifestations, in its different incarnations, that we must revise our concepts and renew our vocabulary: “subjective” shouldn’t mean only “the personal self”, but some sort of existential perspective that exists in myriads of different ways according to the varied organisms and environments. This “enormous amount of variation and complexity” can be partially explained by Darwin’s theory of Evolution, but what Thomas Nagel seems to be pointing out is this: reality is too complex, its multiplicity is too great, for a mind such as ours, with a language such as we have developed so far, to truly understand it – which means, with an understanding that embraces all subjective conscious experiences of all living beings. This is one of the main problems his philosophy deals with, especially in the excellent mind-boggling philosophy-ride View From Nowhere.

The View From Nowhere

Buy The View From Nowhere at Amazon

“The fact that we cannot expect ever to accommodate in our language a detailed description of Martian or bat phenomenology should not lead us to dismiss as meaningless the claim that bats and Martians have experiences fully comparable in richness of detail to our own. It would be fine if someone were to develop concepts and a theory that enabled us to think about those things; but such an understanding may be permanently denied to us by the limits of our nature.” (pg. 170)

Some sort of disconnection between the human animals and the Animal Kingdom as a whole seems to arise, Thomas Nagel argues, from our mind’s incapacity to truly understand any subjective experience that differs too much from ours. This can’t be explained only by biology, by processes of Natural Selection, because Culture intervenes with its systems, its symbols, its values. In a civilization, for example, where in the thousands of supermarkets one can buy the meat of recently killed animals, already packed and frozen and wrapped in plastics, people tend to dissociate their minds from any sort of empathy with pigs, cows or chickens. When it’s barbecue time and the dead bodies of recently killed animals are being grilled, people tend to never think about the slaughterhouses, and never think about what life feels like when lived subjectively as life destined to be slaughtered for meat. Great masses of humans, then, devour tons of meat in their barbecues and in their day-to-day lifes, they erect myriads of fast-food joints and stain the Landscape with McDonald’s-like signs and ads, without paying no mind to what they deem an unimportant matter, I mean, what sort of existence the animals that ended up on the plate or inside the Big Mac had lived through from birth to bacon.

“This brings us to the edge of a topic that requires much more discussion than I can give it here: namely, the relation between facts on the one hand and conceptual schemes or systems of representation on the other. (…) Reflection on what it is like to be a bat seems to lead us, therefore, to the conclusion that there are facts that do not consist in the truth of propositions expressible in human language. (…) The more different from oneself the other experiencer is, the less success one can expect with this enterprise. (…) A Martian scientist with no understanding of visual perception could understand the rainbow, or lightning, or clouds as physical phenomena, though he would never be able to understand the human concepts of rainbow, lightning, or cloud, or the place these things occupy in our phenomenal world.  (…) Although the concepts themselves are connected with a particular point of view and a particular visual phenomenology, the things apprehended from that point of view are not: they are observable from the point of view but external to it; hence they can be comprehended from other points of view also, either by the same organisms or by others. Lightning has an objective character that is not exhausted by its visual appearance, and this can be investigated by a Martian without vision. And, in understanding a phenomenon like lightning, it is legitimate to go as far away as one can from a strictly human viewpoint.” (NAGEL, Mortal Questions, p. 173)

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TO BE CONTINUED…

Buy Mortal Questions by Thomas Nagel at Amazon.

A poet’s musings on Meaning, Hope, Love, and The Sun – By Nobel Prize of Literature Czeslaw Milosz (1911-2004)

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“MEANING”

– When I die, I will see the lining of the world.
The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset.
The true meaning, ready to be decoded.
What never added up will add up,
What was incomprehensible will be comprehended.

– And if there is no lining to the world?
If a thrush on a branch is not a sign,
But just a thrush on a branch? If night and day
Make no sense following each other?
And on this earth there is nothing except this earth?

– Even if that is so, there will remain
A word wakened by lips that perish,
A tireless messenger who runs and runs
Through interstellar fields, through the revolving galaxies,
And calls out, protests, screams.

“HOPE”

Hope is with you when you believe
The earth is not a dream but living flesh,
That sight, touch, and hearing do not lie,
That all things you have ever seen here
Are like a garden looked at from a gate.

You cannot enter. But you’re sure it’s there.
Could we but look more clearly and wisely
We might discover somewhere in the garden
A strange new flower and an unnamed star.

Some people say we should not trust our eyes,
That there is nothing, just a seeming,
These are the ones who have no hope.
They think that the moment we turn away,
The world, behind our backs, ceases to exist,
As if snatched up by the hands of thieves.

 

“LOVE”

Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills –
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.

 

“THE SUN”

All colors come from the sun. And it does not have
Any particular color, for it contains them all.
And the whole Earth is like a poem
While the sun above represents the artist.

Whoever wants to paint the variegated world
Let him never look straight up at the sun
Or he will lose the memory of things he has seen.
Only burning tears will stay in his eyes.

Let him kneel down, lower his face to the grass,
And look at light reflected by the ground.
There he will find everything we have lost:
The stars and the roses, the dusks and the dawns.

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Buy Selected And Last Poems: 1931-2004 at Amazon.
Intro by Seamus Heaney. Ed. Harper Collins, 2011.

The Birth of Fanzine Culture in 1970’s British Punk

Punk Rock history

THE BIRTH OF FANZINE CULTURE

It’s well known that Punk transcends music and embraces social activism, political protest, independent media, and alternative lifestyle. Punk included revolutions in the fields of dancing and body expression (I mean  stuff like pogo and stage diving), contestation of prevailing ideals of beauty (I mean mohawks and torn-up clothes which spell “Fuck the Fashion!”), as well as innovations in rock’n’roll aesthetics (I mean, speedy 3-chord screamalongs). Jello Biafra, shouter and growler at The Dead Kennedys hardcore factory, gives good piece of advice for youngsters who are willing to keep the Punk legacy alive-and-kicking when he recommends: “Don’t hate the media, become the media!” That’s sort of what happened with the rise of fanzine culture inside the Punk movement circa 1976 / 1977. One of the most important of the zines born-out out the Punk Scene was Sniffin’ Glue, whose 8th edition cover is reproduced above. Pamphlets in black-and-white, reproduced in cheap Xerox machines, where absolute freedom of expression was practised, were flooding England around the time of The Sex Pistols’s attack against the rotten British Monarchy. While the Pistols were being brats against the Queen and EMI and square society in general, and The Clash was shouting about how bored they were with the U.S.A. and calling for a White Riot, fanzine culture also made its loud statement of dissent and status-quo criticism. Here are some details more – quoted from The British Library and The Guardian – about how fanzine culture got started and ended-up inspiring many people to stop merely hating the bourgeois media crap and to start becoming themselves a rioting media of their own.

“There was no comfortable position for punk in mainstream culture when it exploded in England in 1976. The mainstream media could not accurately speak for punk, and punk could not represent itself through the mainstream media without radically compromising its own nature. Misrepresentation was inevitable because of the particular nature of the movement. Punk declared: ‘Stop consuming the culture that is made for you. Make your own culture’. It rebelled against established forms of expression and consumption; it was mainly expressed and experienced live… Sniffin Glue, the first punk fanzine, was produced by Mark Perry in July 1976 a few days after seeing US punk band The Ramones for the first time at the Roundhouse in London. He took the title from a Ramones song ‘Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue’.

Perry’s fanzine was the perfect punk form. It reported the moment immediately as it happened, reporting it from an insider’s point of view. Because Perry used everyday tools that were immediately to hand, Sniffin’ Glue fit with the do-it-yourself ethos which was already an important part of punk culture. A flood of punk zines followed with identifiable cut and paste graphics, typewritten or felt tip text, misspellings and crossings out. Photocopying also contributed to punk zine look by limiting graphic experimentation to black and white tones and imagery based on collage, enlargement and reduction. Sniffin’ Glue demonstrated that anyone could easily, cheaply and quickly produce a fanzine.” –BRITISH LIBRARY.UK 

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PUNK
“Sniffin’ Glue wasn’t the first fanzine – Punk (which famously coined the genre’s moniker) started self-publishing in New York six months earlier – but its primitive Xerox’n’Sellotape aesthetic was the perfect medium to capture British punk’s early energy, and to inspire a generation of copyists.

Founded by bank clerk Mark Perry, aided by friends Danny Baker and Steve Micalef, its first cover boasted (in felt-tip scrawl) stories on the Ramones and Blue Öyster Cult. Soon, however, Sniffin’ Glue was offering grass-roots reportage on British punk’s first flowering, while also lambasting the Clash for signing to the major label CBS. Sniffin’ Glue was primitive but opinionated, offering a crucial alternative voice to the mainstream music papers (most of which were late to cover punk’s rise) at a time when none was available.

Though Sniffin’ Glue never actually printed the legendary instructions often ascribed to it – “This is a chord. This is another. This is a third. Now form a band” – (that was Sideburns, another punk zine from 1977), its example spawned a slew of followers – including Jamming!, Burnt Offering and Chainsaw (which featured ribald cartoons from a young Andrew Marr) – and established a culture of DIY underground rock criticism that thrives to this day, both in print and online. Perry, meanwhile, ended Sniffin’ Glue in 1977 after 12 issues, concentrating on his own punk group, Alternative TV.” – THE GUARDIAN

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