See Spots Go

As a result of several interesting turns of events, two tiny goldfish are now sharing my office space. Rilke and Wallace (will Stevens turn over in his grave knowing a fish is his namesake?) are happy - at least they appear healthy. Wallace used to have miniature black spots on his underbelly which have now disappeared, to be replaced by two white blotches, one on each side. I wonder, does he know what has happened? Does he sense the loss and replacement? Without mirrors, what does he see and what does he feel? I can't imagine that he could actually be absorbed in what has been taken from him. Yet, is it something taken from him? Or is it something he has willed himself to lose?

And can a fish will itself to anything? Rilke and Wallace exist in my admiration and adoration of their existence. They swim round and round without ever knowing that they are being admired, gawked at, examined. Theirs is an existence independent of whether or not I place a mirror inside their watery world.

How is he reacting to this changing? He shows nothing. They are superficial, physical colorings that an outsider--someone other than his self--would be aware. Rilke, too, is unphased by this changing. Perhaps he is used to being in the presence of transformations. He offers nothing and acknowledges nothing...

Flying Manuscript

On Tuesday, 07 February 2006, Marion Grau and I attended a lecture given by Helene Cixous. Hers was a talk about self and identity and language. For the first hour, I paid attention to a mixture of English, French and German, picking up smatterings of French and trying to grasp her explanations of the German. She is revolutionary in her discussions of ecriture feminine. Yet, it was always about Derrida - what he did, what he said, what she saw and understood. The influence of this one man on such a thinker... how can we ever escape into or own writing when even Cixous leans so heavily upon Derrida? Her current writings are on Derrida. Even in death he follows her around.

Nhan Truong Hop Chi Tho Bong

"...Khan gia la khong dang tin hoan toan. Tuy tac gia van phai can cu vao khach hang cua minh ma lay chuan lam viec, nhung chi nen can cu mot phan nao thoi. Viec cua nguoi sang tac la phai co het suc dua ra nhung cai hay, cao cao hon so dong khan gia, noi voi ho, "xem nay, o day dep hon, kho hon nhung dep hon;" chu khong phai la chieu theo khan gia, ha moi thu xuong cho vua tam. Lam nhu the la coi thuong khan gia, boi khan gia la mot kho co gian, anh do may no cung hut anh duoc, va anh gioi may thi no cung lon hon anh duoc. Anh cho co tu cao ma ha chuan muc moi thu di va nghi la lam nhu the la cho khan gia 'hieu duoc'. " (-Nhan Truong Hop Chi Tho Bong, Thao Hao)

Tet Binh Tuat 2006

Binh Tuat 2006... nam nay la nam con Cho, known for its obedience, diligence and steadfast loyalty. Most would say that is a great beginning for a new year. Yet, nam nay lai thay nhu tat ca tinh ban cua minh lai la o phuong troi xa. Nhung nguoi ban tai UNCW, tai Vietnam, tu Fulbright, tat ca moi nguoi deu o mot noi xa xa. Co le minh cam thay vui hon, nhung cung buon hon. Trong mot the gioi kha to, khung troi xanh cua minh lai thay nho nho.

Books Writing Project

Benita Joswig exhibited a creative art project (installation?) to the Bade Museum at PSR this past week. Entitled "Books Writing," this transnational and international project allows people to handwrite in a set of archive books (which are labeled under certain categories like Blood, City, Joy, Healing, Words, Me, etc., with chapters of the same categories). These books have been traveling and will be traveling all over the world. People have written private narratives, public histories, copied poetry, written letters, journal entries, anything, everything... There are theologians, students, artists, poets, cooks, activists, teachers, learners, mothers, daughters, rockers, punkers, etc. They have written their selves onto these pages, as a giving of their spirit.