This video reminds me of my grandma.

Hope y’all like the new format. Thought the blog could use some change. Change is good.

Reading update:

First, a list of graphic narratives (or, something similar to that). These things are addictive and I’m making myself stop (cold-turkey).

Graphic books:
It’s a Good Life, If You Don’t Weaken by Seth
The Fixer by Joe Sacco
A Drifting Life by Yoshihiro Tatsumi
Against Pain by Ronrege Jr.

The Seth and Sacco books were disappointing. Seth, primarily because it wasn’t what I was looking for — an a/b narrative, in a stricter sense of the genre. Sacco’s book is interesting, but his arrangement of the frames disorients the reader (which might very well be the point) but I also am not drawn to his artistic style. Also, I suspect he, Spiegelman, Pekar, Crum, et al work off of each other in a little comix boys club, which is off-putting to me (not to mention my disgust for what too often seems to be an acceptance/tolerance for anger and violence; these folks might be in need of anger management classes…. But, of course, Maus is a must-read. And, Sacco’s work on the Bosnian war is quite important; I’m just not sure his aesthetics are as well-thought out as say — Bechdel, Satrapi, or Spiegelman’s work.) Tatsumi’s brilliant — this work just wasn’t quite what I was looking for (again, I’ve been seeking out a particular sub-genre in this field). Ronrege’s Against Pain, however, is fantastic. Avant-garde and difficult to read sometimes, but very very interesting artwork there. Though, there’s nothing autobiographical about his cartoons, if that’s something you’re hoping to find.

Other reading (not comprehensive):
–Harriet Jacobs’ Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl.
–James Dawes, That the World May Know: Bearing Witness to Atrocity. Crazzzy awesome book. I’d only read an excerpted chapter before, which *did not* do justice to the entire book project. Highly recommend!
–Language of Comics
–Felman and Laub’s Testimony: Crises of Witnessing in Literature, Psychoanalysis, and History. An oldie, but goodie. Also, essential for trauma theory.
–Also numerous articles here and there. Too disbursed to list them all, but there are several interesting pieces from the latest PMLA on the topic of war.

There’s a book coming out in November with a chapter that most likely covers what I wrote about in my Master’s Thesis. It makes me sick to my stomach. All the folks published in X book are heavy-hitters so that’s one consolation. Meaning, they probably wouldn’t have wanted my work (seeing how I’m not famous). And, I still am hoping that I can publish what I have on this topic in response to this new work. All the same, there were only two articles on the topic out before (and they sorta blew) so…this new pub kinda makes me want to hurl. [gag]

Publish soon and often, folks.

Dr. Dixon, who has asperger’s syndrome, requires a “hugging machine.” Seems like a perfectly reasonable request to me.

Bastard Out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison. Feels too familiar but a most excellent a/b. Also starting History in Transit, Dominick LaCapra. His latest one’s checked out of the library right now so I’m waiting…for it.

Note to self: must blog more and find solid purpose for this writing space. I think that’s primarily why I’ve left it alone lately — not sure what writing is appropriate here. Casually thinking of making my other “feminist” blog private (I don’t really use it anymore). That way I could use the space titled “ecriturefemme” for personal writing or scholarly thinking that I’m not ready to go public with yet. For now, on eeink, I may just pull a Juliana Spahr and list things I’m reading lately, along with a few brief random comments. It’s quick; it’s easy; and, it has a nice little purpose all of its own. At the moment though — the migraine pounding in my head deters me from listing all that I’ve been reading lately. It’s a persistent migraine and my current reading list would be too long anyway. Lots about trauma, torture, and prisons. Focused on trauma with a fair amount of intensity lately, but am not entirely sure I like where this work has been taking me. It’s work that needs to be done; it’s important — politically and in the interest of human rights, which is where I’d like to go (maybe) — but it’s emotionally draining and I’m just not sure I want this field of study to define my career. We’ll see. This line of thought requires more meditation before any definitive decisions can be made. But, for now, expect random blog musings on trauma. Perhaps. Most likely. Probably. Sometime.

For me, to be a writer is to acknowledge the secret wounds that we carry inside us, wounds so secret that we ourselves are barely aware of them, and to patiently explore them, know them, illuminate them, own them, and make them a conscious part of our spirit and our writing. ~Orhan Pamuk, Nobel Lecture 2006

This evening while driving I heard a guy on NPR talk about his process for improvising on the piano. He explained that there was no preparation before performing at a concert. He tries not to, in fact, become attached to a particular subject matter or idea because “it locks [him] in a room.” But it’s impossible to have an event where one knows a performance is expected and to not already have some ideas in the cooker. So, when he sits down at the piano for a public event he’s really playing the middle of a piece, rather than the beginning. What might be a slow beginning has already occurred in his head but rather than try to capture all of what he has imagined and then move forward — he just lets the music happen has he touches the keyboard. Often the pianist noted, things are born out of explosions, which is what audiences likely hear in his improvisations, pieces already in progress.

The radio announcer then asked him if he’d play a piece on the air. Initially he started trying to explain what he might play, then stopped himself and simply said: “I’ll play something that’s nothing until I play it.”

A striking comment on the creative process and how to let writing flow without the interruption of starts and stops.

Philosophical conundrum: How do we know we exist? I mean, really. Moving about the world isn’t proof enough. I know plenty of folks who walk this earth not knowing what their existences are about. What’s worse — they don’t care to investigate either. Introspection may be difficult (very, sometimes) but the need to ask questions and seek answers remains essential to those on the path to transformation or enlightenment. This flabby flesh of mine proves nothing. Being in language and actively engaging with it provides such proof — but what gets us there? (What gets me there?) How do we know we exist enough to speak, write, author, or — to simply be? This line of questioning has been on my mind for nearly a year now. It’s been there lurking behind my work, never overtly, but its continued presence caught my attention today. I’m not sure I’m much closer to an answer than I was 10 months ago. My search, however, will not cease.