tao lin poetry in new elimae
i have two poems in the new elimaei want to talk about people congratulating other people for publishing things or getting book deals and people who jump around and call everyone they know after getting a book deal
the url says 'bacon'
i might type a post soon where i force myself to talk shit about everything published in the august elimae
i'm confused
if you are writing about meaninglessness, art vs. politics, loneliness, depression, ethics, morals, consciousness, birth and life, philosophies of living, limited-time, the paradoxical nature of all true things, or anything like this
why are you very happy and why do you act suddenly demented and why do you exclude information about all those things i just listed if you get a book deal or if a literary magazine accepts your writing?
the only concrete thing that happens when you get a book deal is that you might get some money
you have not overcome the meaninglessness of the universe, you have not merged brains with another human being on the same plane of space and time, you have not reconciled art and politics, you have not solved the problem of being forced to make choices in a universe that does not tell you what to do, you have not reversed time, you have not changed your worldview in order to accomodate and really understand and experience the paradoxical nature of all true things, etc.
what you have is you probably have some more money
what else you have is 'success,' maybe some more 'respect,' a stronger 'identity,' a greater feeling of 'self-worth,' and other abstract things that originated in society in order to perpetuate society, which itself is an abstraction
28 Comments:
if you get accepted in a tiny literary magazine you are loved by the entire universe
if you get accepted by a tiny literary magazine you finally feel love for every person walking down the street
if you get accepted in a tiny literary magazine you become immortal, literally immortal
i guess you didn't know that
i dunno. i am not charismatic enough to organize a snowfight is still pretty great.
Besides you, chapman, and bernice i don't think anyone cares if i get a book published that I communicate with. I don't even tell anyone else.
I like to tell you and chapman things besides i like what you have to say in response. You both will either say something informative, or something funny.
I also tell you when I have to shit.
I noticed this, authors say this press or magazine is prestigious, giving that press or magazine a certain connotation. But what it really means, "This press will make me money." I'm sure getting an article in Harper's or the New Yorker pays more than getting a short story in Punk Planet or in 3am.
The rating of importance has to do with money, the best writer gets paid the most.
chapman,
still, i don't want to read anyone's writings who jumps around screeching demented after attaining immortality
clay,
i'm embarrassed
noah,
your sentences, capitalization, and paragraphs are very neat and i like it
yes, it is about money
if you are jumping around because you have some money i am ok with that
if you are jumping around because of abstract reasons i am confused by you
this post is stupid
tao lin is the greatest downtown-manhattan-based under-30 Male Amerasian Poet of the Early Post-Eggers era
'post-eggars' is like a chickenbone.
"amerasian" is like an omlette
atheletes when they win, they jump around and go "woo."
they yell and laugh and make the "i'm number 1" sign.
then they drink a lot that night, and they punch their wives in the parking lot.
i don't know if that's bad, that's what they do.
sometimes writers do that also. if they "win."
the kind of writer i like never feels like he won.
because existence is seriously fucked and he doesn't forget about that just because he supposedly won something.
if you give him a prize he just feels embarassed and stupid.
of course i wouldn't know, myself
If I were forced to always recognize the fact of everything's interconnectedness, the banality of publishing a story or three poems when that publication is placed alongside all the pain and suffering in the world, I would probably kill myself somehow.
Sleeping pills, maybe.
Which would just cause more pain and suffering. Except for mine. So that would be selfish.
Therefore I artificially distinguish the act of publication from the stuff in the poem or story. And maybe this publication is a "happy" event. I know this is a fake distinction, so that's probably why I never really "jump around." Even when I used to play tennis and win "important" matches, my celebrations would be fairly restrained, results of chemicals flooding my brain, which other more pragmatic chemicals would counterbalance.
Other people on the team would hug and jump and spill buckets of yellow sports liquid.
I always acted a little awkward. My fists wouldn't pump right.
But yeah, fake happiness. Or grim contentment. Or something. Etc.
Talk shit...
mike
wtf?
fake happiness?
i'm going to call bullshit here. i don't really know what point you're trying to prove, or if you are defending yourself, or what, but this seems like some cop out bullshit.
so the people who spilled gatorade are pathetic people who lead banal and boring lives because they are not constantly trying to be sad?
if you stay busy, you have less time to concentrate on sad things, which is what i think you should do. call it 'fake happiness' but i highly recommend it over the alternative.
Bryan:
Why am I the only one you attack (again)? I don't understand that.
it's not an attack. an attack is when i hit you in the face with that cardboard that one time. your comment just made me very angry. am i supposed to 'attack' other people? i don't know anyone else. the reason i am so critical is because i know you. you are a good friend, and i don't think it's good to say things like 'fake happiness.' what is the point in saying something like that? all of it?
Bryan:
I am just trying to explain what happens to me when I "win," which is not so much with the jumping and more with the muted grin. My explanation could be completely wrong. It might just be that the celebration feels puny against the effort made. I never said anything about other people being pathetic. In the context of, say, the tennis situation, to make people feel generally comfortable, it would've been more "right" for me to pump fists like everyone else.
But that doesn't really happen to me.
Sorry.
No, I don't know what the point of things happening to me is.
It seems sort of silly to have an exclusive conversation in Tao's comment box. I think for initiating such a conversation you should buy everyone a horny panda.
Dear Mike Young,
We used to play tennis, too.
congrats on not overcoming the meaninglessness of the universe and
congrats on not changing your worldview in order to accomodate and really understand and experience the paradoxical nature of all true things,
etc.
just so everyone knows: i am not buying anyone a horny panda.
SORRY FOR HAVING AN EXCLUSIVE CONVERSATION IN TAO'S COMMENT BOX!
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a little cranky here, but i enjoy it.
where's the shit talking?
have you read the lesser known krishnamurti?
i had to look up deboton to get the joke, it was a joke, right?
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yeah, and you wouldn't find him jumping up and down if he got a book deal.
If you know of him you know why.
I haven't read everything on Juked yet, but Seamus by Edward McWhinney is the best story so far.
I'm working on stories about human feces, two brothers & role reversal, and a country star who is a brilliant lyricist.
And eventually a story about the second coming of Christ. I'm afraid to start it.
whats wrong with money?
Shit, I was thinking Juked instead of Elimae, for some reason.
i will answer questions soon
joseph:
sorry, you are not allowed to feel happiness at 'success'
no, you are not allowed
I love this shit. Great comments. Money is great, too, if you can make it off your writing. However, when they start jumping around gloating about it, all I do is get jealous and wish it was me making all that money from writing. Does that make me a 'defective person'?
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