November 25, 2011 § Leave a comment
[M]odernity often prefers the sketch to the finished painting and prizes the draft, chaotic with corrections, to the published text.
– George Steiner, Grammars of Creation 2001
November 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
Cath Clarke, “‘I’ve Got to Find the Flaming Nipple!': The Hunt for Blue Velvet‘s Lost Footage,” The Guardian Thursday 3 November 2011:
“I’ve got to find the flaming nipple!” No, it’s not a line from a David Lynch script. That’s the man himself, reacting to the news last year that missing footage from Blue Velvet had been rediscovered. For years, Lynch-heads and film historians had speculated about the whereabouts of the deleted scenes: footage left on the cutting room floor after Lynch snipped his three-and-a-half-hour rough cut into a two-hour movie. Time passed and everyone — director included — figured it was lost for ever. As for the flaming nipple (nipples, in fact), they belong to a dropped scene. “That’s one of my favourite scenes,” Lynch said in an interview for the book Lynch on Lynch. Why cut it and (metaphorically speaking) kill his baby? “It was too much of a good thing.”
November 11, 2011 § Leave a comment
“All literature carries exile within it… Bartleby, who prefers not to, is an absolute exile, an alien on planet Earth.”
– Roberto Bolaño, “Exiles,” Between Parentheses: Essays, Articles and Speeches (1998–2003)
November 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
EM Cioran, Exercices d’admiration (Anathemas and Admirations), 1986
We are increasingly interested not in what an author says but in what he may have meant, not in his actions but in his projects, less in his actual work than in the work he dreamed of. If Mallarmé intrigues us, it is because he fulfills the conditions of the writer who is unrealised in relation to the disproportionate ideal he has assigned himself… We are adepts of the work that is aborted, abandoned halfway through, impossible to complete, undermined by its very requirements. The strange thing in this case is that the work was not even begun, for of the book, that rival of the universe, there remains virtually no revealing clue; it is doubtful that its structure was outlined in the notes Mallarmé destroyed, those that have survived being unworthy of our attention. Mallarmé: an impulse of thought, a thought that was never actualised, that snagged itself on the potential, on the unreal, disengaged from all actions, superior to all objects, even to all concepts — an expectation of thought.
November 2, 2011 § Leave a comment
Darran Anderson briefly mentions “Dr Martens’ Bouncing Souls” in his review of the New Cross-Fucked Musings on a Manic Reality anthology (edited by Tom Bradley). He describes the story as “a bruising but graceful play on language, violence and cocksmanship,” which just about sums it up. (The review appeared in 3:AM Magazine on 27 October 2011.)