20080729

The Death of Academic Authority

If blogging isn't proof positive that the ohso '67 concept "Death of the Author" wasn't just abuncha theoretical puff-bluffing -- a radical reaction to the established literary criticism of the time -- tough luck pal (or dame). If you don't think that the World Wide Web has greatly altered, modified and/or progressed our concept/notion of what writing, reading, author & reader is, does, or how the vast informational processing ghostnotes float thru airs of daily, permeating everything we think knowledge is -- then look out for that snake afronta yer nose,
(bite)
Self-evidence yes, easy seeings. Nothing has changed? For you perhaps, but the rest of the world is always moving on -- you'll get left behind if you continue with this antiquity fetish you've developed. What Canon? Fuck the Canon! Ain't not nothin' wrote in stone & brittle bones break from the extreme pressure of newer flesh generating generations of supplemental skin -- you shouldn't ignore it.

The Death of the Author has turned out to be a hollow epitaph just as with The Death of Painting -- lay your faith not with Academics, but with those whose fiery eyes blink past blank into the instant of uncooked instrumentality raw with brut foods never picked for eating, but for throwing at THOSE WHO think THEY KNOW it all already.
(like tomatoes thrown at the bad actor on stage)

6 kommentarer:

kookoo for cocoa puffs sa...

( rant! )

troylloyd sa...

slight explanation :

of course the whole deconstructive process can be useful unto its own ends, but being a bit of a romantic humanist myself, i can only bear its dryness up until a certain threshold -- the "just the facts and nothing but the facts ma'am" systematic Dragnet of information/thesis building can become too detatched, too machine-like, too removed from spirit to herald the Heavens as Blake did. I'm no machine & won't fall victim to any robotic methodology no matter how highly acclaimed, entrenched or accepted as standard operating procedure it becomes.

a short story:
a few years back, we were sitting on the couch relaxing with a mixtape i had made, it was winter & the fireplace was burning warmbright from real wood which had been collected by my comrade & close friend of many years: Dirty Dave a.k.a. Shoestring -- a month earlier he had attempted suicide via the locked garage carbon monoxide technique & had only been saved by his brother (who he was living with at the time) who had forgotten something & had to return to the house instead of continuing on to the restaurant for dinner -- he discovered Dave unconscious & called the paramedics. He lived, and when we were sitting fireside in winter & a Spacemen 3 track came on, "transparent radiation" which is a Red Krayola coversong, but i had slowed it down to around 28 rpm instead of the normal 33 anda third so Sonic Boom's (the singer) words are more enhanced -- i found myself crying, crying tears of joy -- which nobody seems to understand. Tears of joy are one of the most beautiful things in the world, to be so happy as to cry! i was so happy that Dave had lived & we were simply sitting around listening to Spacemen 3.

I cried when i heard Geof Huth reading "Man as Green as Eye" because i was so happy he's alive & doing his goodwork in the world & i knew this avenue of personal narrative was a fairly recent avenue of exploration in his work -- would my emotional reaction had been different if i was not aware of the biographical details from earlier this year in March? of course, which is why i think biographical knowledge is enriching to a reader -- it rewards to a deeper meaning of things, or at least to a subjectively reader-perceived meaning of things. the biographical info has an impact which cannot be denied.

am i glad i know Artaud was often in the asylum & smoked alotta opium? damnstraight!

isn't it beneficial to know why Yoko Ono loves clouds so much & how that love was the direct result of an early childhood experience?
of course!

will i ever tire of reading about the exploits of William S. Burroughs which exist outside his work yet somehow directly are his work?

aren't i fortunate to know about Philip K. Dick's twin sister & him working at the record store & the xerox missive & how he dug underground comics & how he could identify one of those foriegn numbers as something more precise thanna "little red sportscar" and state correctly it was a Fiat 1500 droptop & what kind of typewriter he liked & how amphetamines were his favored mode of chemical enhancement & how many words per minute he could madly type?

i could go on & on...

troylloyd sa...

6:00 a.m. EST
=
24:00

(i think?)

troylloyd sa...

yes, it does.

justa test folks.

mike cannell sa...

(rent?)

troylloyd sa...

(sent!)