most hits ever on the blog yesterday. i know you tire of reading about this, but i can’t help but think it has to do with the increasing prevalence of the term ‘porn’ in these postings. what is the trace of history inhering in that arrangement of characters?

tim made a comment on the previous post, & he’s mentioned the things that have helped him write. (i like that by the way: ‘has the telephone ever helped you write a poem?’) its made me think a little (apart from wondering how a cup can help someone write, unless it happened to be paired with the dice…) i’m wondering what has helped me. i won’t make a list. it might just end up as ‘sensory input of all varieties’.

because often i pluck a line from the tv sounding in the background, but it’s not just tv, it’s the bombardment: it comes from many other places, & that’s the stuff i like: text, sound, image…well, pain & passion too.

so, in terms of the media i’m engaging with, what matters? the blogging matters, & the online journals / publishing matters. both have helped me write. i’m not a pen & paper in the cafe type person. i have been a handwriter before, but now, my hand cramps up. i guess, hence: typingspace. the blogging has given me impetus to write poetry & on poetics because people read what i write & i want to write for them. they are much less anonymous than the readers of a print journal. & the public thinking is something i’m kinda keen on. the private thinking, it often strays into poetics but doesn’t ever get going. what to cook for dinner or how much money left in the bank account often hijacks the private thinking. & the poetry is online, published in the journals or blogs: this is where i read the poets that are writing well, are not just Australian. this is where i gather in the works that influence my outlook.

i did want to talk a little tonight about ‘poetics spasming…feedback staining yr shirt’ etc. i tire, but i press on. there’s nothing a close read or two can’t solve. poetics spasms – there’s poetics on the bed (an ambulance chugging outside while a paramedic curses & lights a cigarette) & the spasm suggests things are bad. will ‘poetics’ die? but what stains the shirt (of you: maybe a trainee surgeon, or post-calyx poet, or something)? it’s feedback. feedback is sonic; i think of it most typically as the sound you’ll get if you move your guitar (switched to ‘distort’, to high-gain) too close to the speakers amplifying the signal. so can we blame the feedback, or is this just a symptom? am i pushing my poem to close to the network, to the blog, to the internet? losing the clarity of the original signal?

i’m not sure. but i’m interested, switched on. sometimes i really do plan to leave the computer & the attendant network behind, at least for a while. but then i don’t want to take the pen & paper with me either, on this imaginary hike through uncharted wildernesses. i think i just want to think more clearly about what to have for dinner, without the interruptions of poetics. (damn poetics – it just won’t die. one is forced to re-locate, take out AVOs). but i only desire this respite for short periods. mostly, i feel not unhappy.

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