2013.04<\/b><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Pop music is the solution to all the world\u2019s problems.<\/p>\n
And so are you. B\/c you know you are. If only everyone<\/p>\n
thought like you, acted like you, was<\/i> like you, we\u2019d all<\/p>\n
be better off . . . wouldn\u2019t we? Yup. Like you<\/i>. I\u2019m so fucking<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
sick of you<\/i>. (But I\u2019m even more sick of \u201cme,\u201d of course,<\/p>\n
the \u201cyou\u201d I construct out of some imagined addressee,<\/p>\n
and then the complexities of you\/I\/reader\/other entity<\/p>\n
only make me want to Whitman y\u2019all up into one Katamari.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Or something.) More importantly, we should take<\/p>\n
the following question quite seriously: can one write<\/p>\n
an effective sonnet w\/o an argument, w\/o some stake,<\/p>\n
whether it be lyrical, metaphysical, ontological? Well,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
yes. Of course we can. B\/c if we\u2019re in this form, we can<\/p>\n
imagine that something is changing here near the end. Where<\/p>\n
ends happen. See?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
__________________________<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/b>2013.05<\/b><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Pop music is ruining the moral fabric<\/p>\n
of America. Sigh. It\u2019s terrible. We\u2019ve<\/p>\n
all become writers w\/ terribly pitched<\/p>\n
consciousnesses, staggering in ignorance,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
bliss, kisses, and paragons rather than peers.<\/p>\n
We condescend to admit the most unholy<\/p>\n
of comparisons as we cavort into the evening,<\/p>\n
this flattening sin of imitation, this looking to<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
a suicide to explain a work, a fullest self.[1]<\/a><\/p>\n This is a politics of self, a foppish disclosure<\/p>\n in the depths of the night, a moment of nyah-nyah<\/i>;<\/p>\n we all coalesce around the truth we couldn\u2019t receive<\/p>\n <\/p>\n when we were too busy buying copious amounts<\/p>\n of pornography and too many cigarettes for our shame<\/p>\n in the morning.<\/p>\n \u00a0__________________________<\/b><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/b>2013.06<\/b><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Let\u2019s all go springing into the ball-pit of a nostalgically<\/p>\n reconfigured poststructuralism. Give up sex. Fornication.<\/p>\n Orgies. Internet advertisements. The rest. We\u2019ll bring him<\/p>\n <\/p>\n down down. Lyrics lyrics. Yo bro, yo yo bro. Horny. Etc.<\/p>\n We\u2019ll string Baudrillard up by his skinny little neck, take<\/p>\n a Proustian dump on his tits, and throw him back<\/p>\n <\/p>\n into the Faustian debauch. Yes we will, Gabriel Garcia.<\/p>\n And still we will be asking for forgiveness. After the orgy,<\/p>\n do you wanna confess, or do you want to suggest a no<\/p>\n <\/p>\n apologia<\/i> . . . probably not now. After the orgy,<\/p>\n what are your engagements and where do<\/p>\n you want me to put your affects? I suppose<\/p>\n <\/p>\n in the dresser, or else the post-apocalyptic simulation on the TV?<\/p>\n But I hope it\u2019s up your tight little asshole. You fuck.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n [1]<\/a> Perhaps Bloom has to weigh in yet again on this one.<\/p>\n __________________________<\/p>\n Bradley J. Fest\u00a0<\/strong>received his MFA in poetry from the University of Pittsburgh, where he is now a Visiting Instructor and PhD candidate studying nineteenth through twenty-first century American literature. This April he will defend his dissertation, \u201cThe Apocalypse Archive: American Literature and the Nuclear Bomb.\u201d His work has appeared in\u00a0boundary 2, Studies in the Novel,<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0Critical Quarterly<\/em>, and he has an essay forthcoming this spring in\u00a0The Silence of Fallout: Nuclear Criticism in a Post-Cold War World<\/em>. His poems have appeared in\u00a0Open Thread, BathHouse, Flywheel<\/em>, and elsewhere. He blogs regularly at\u00a0The Hyperarchival Parallax.<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" 2013.04 Pop music is the solution to all the world\u2019s problems. And so are you. B\/c you know you are. If only everyone thought like you, acted like you, was like you, we\u2019d all be better off . . . wouldn\u2019t we? Yup. Like you. I\u2019m so fucking sick of you. (But I\u2019m […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3973","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","category-things"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3973","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3973"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3973\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3973"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3973"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thisissporkpress.com\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3973"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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