Hitchens sacrificed his principles on the altar of the Second Gulf War. His legacy consists of the suffering caused by that act of aggression. Hitchens has played many roles, but he is essentially a more articulate version of George W. Bush—a spoiled child of privilege who played toy soldiers with human beings.
"The music you are listening to comes from the incomparable Seeburg 1000 Background Music System that was in popular use in the 1950's, 1960's and into the 1970's"
Pool Films resulted from the creative collaboration of writers Kenneth Macpherson and Bryher (Annie Winifred Ellerman) and Imagist poet H. D. (Hilda Doolittle). Funded by Bryhers inheritance from a vast family fortune, their projects were fueled by the principals interest in film and artistic experimentation. The three were invested in developing a context in which the young medium of film might be viewed as a fine art as well as interact with other verbal and visual art forms. The Pool Films productions, which were directed by Macpherson and often featured H. D. and Bryher as actors, experimented with narrative forms and explored the use of dramatic lighting and effects such as montage to represent emotional and psychological states.
Monkeys Moon, a film featuring two of his and Bryhers pet monkeys, was thought to be lost until the Beinecke Library acquired a copy in 2008. Some eighty years later, this film has been fully restored and digitized. Learn more at the Beinecke Library: http://bit.ly/xjlqn
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Lee Ann Brown's video of OWS Library recovery (with Betsy Fagin)
This yard is about more than you or me now commitment's more than a handshake ink on a rag rag on a stick sweat on a stump vinegar vat whiff catflap Delius screeched popcorn ears sewn over walked out on your subwoofered telenovelas about fake animals rattling under real distress Littlest Hobo Shark Week Lancelot Link Wigs Out I don't fucking dig it any more than any other daytime Darwin, Sunday supplemental sitcom doorbells horses shuffling in jazz pants peas, leashes, slushes, fleas anything I can't tax, leave or by loving through your brutal small mind make go away.
You owe me you must have meant.
To walk from pole to pole then tree to tree was the squirrel's one good idea, our quadripedal commons becoming the flanked nuts of an overhead contempt his ruined Chernobyl tail only partly concealed.
But fall means new storage for everybody caramelized skies bleed pumpkin tiretracks weeping lamps lit with trailer drying bulbs thorns facing units through chainlink raven-pecked pears in a white bag a slow weapon for the horse people to shoplift….
