Tue Dec 19th, 2006 at 08:17:39 PM EST
I write this diary, to protest the shallow level of analysis that often appears in the comments to ET diaries, as in this Diary here.
"rg, what I think you are attempting here is an entirely new art form that merges Burroughsian extremes of random deconstruction, a dash of Kurt Schwitterianism collage, the CopyPaste basis of future society (The Cloners are already at work on CopyPasting humans), and the self-reflective nature of contemporary lexographic art which examines the definitions of all art that has gone before in a kinda sorta appendicial, footnotey kinda way."
Actually, I think this was a brilliant example of an older form of criticism and analysis, of the paleo-destructionist school, which often appears superficially similar to prehistoric stream of consciousness, even to the most knowledgeable students of the genres. It is not surprising that a dilettantish slacker such as Mr. Triloquist , who obviously has never cracked a tablet in the Journal of Paleolithic Studies, would see a Burroughs influence where there is none.
However, we are all postmodern simians now, and RG, I think, faces a steep learning curve. The climb is not insuperable; no oxygen needed; and perhaps a little paint thinner or PVC glue will make the journey easier.
I embarked on this pilgrimage yesterday. I ordered Postmodern Pooh from Abe Books.
I have downloaded Beginning Conversational Crit from Rosetta Stone, and have been reading elsewhere for clues in grammar, syntax, and acceptable argumentive forms:
Unfortunately, after the first of the year I will be unable to visit ET very much. I have been accepted into the graduate program at the Rae Dawn Chong Institute of Feminist Studies. I plan to specialize in historical and cultural anthropology with emphasis on Pre-Cro-Magnon Civilizations.
The implications of some of the Institute's recent monographs are revolutionary, as you can see.
I will be posting a wish list on my website (screwyouguysimgoinghome.com) before Christmas. Hope you will contribute. Pates, meat pies, chicarrones and passable burgundies always appreciated, but money is really sweet.
In the absense of workhouses, I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas.