1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Dont think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You’re a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven
source: Document URL: http://www.english.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/kerouac-technique.html
New Adventures in Sound Art has been advocating for experimentation in radio and sound for almost two decades. The first time I met artistic director Darren Copeland was back in 1998 at a ‘sound art retreat’ called Full Moon Over Killaloe in Ontario. For a week, artists camped out on a rustic rural property, discussing, listening and making sound. Since then, Darren and his partner Nadene Thériault-Copeland, have created hundreds of opportunities for the production and dissemination of innovative sound works.
When they asked me to participate in a new series they’ve created called Crosswaves, I was pumped.
Cross Waves is a Canadian Sound Art series that includes performances and internet radio programs curated by eight media artists representing various regional and cultural perspectives in Canada: Chantal Dumas, Steve Bates, Jason Ryle, Peter Courtemanche, Janna Graham, Christof Migone, Anna Friz and Eleanor King. The series will take place between July 2014 and July 2015. The content will be contextualized by the curators through commentaries and essays and will draw attention to Sound Artists from across Canada.
I put together a two-hour program that is meant to be a bit of a panaroma of the sounds and voices of the north. It is not complete and it’s a story still being written but I hope that it does offer an ear towards the rich world we live in north of 60.
Check out the Program Notes here.
Rosanna Strong and I made an app. We launched it with fish chowder on the government wharf.
It’s an audio tour around Yellowknife’s historical and quirky neighbourhoods. All kinds of fun extras like ‘Talk Like An Old Towner’ (honey bags, pluggers and more!), local music and archival photos and maps by the talented Myka Jones.
Here me yammer on about it here on CBC North’s The Trailbreaker
And download the app for Android here. Apple users will have to wait a few weeks for the release.
Summer has come and gone. I think a drawing Alison McCreesh did of Penny sleeping on the dock perfectly sums up my summer in Yellowknife.
Man, I sure do love where I live. Take tonight, for instance. I decide to go for a walk on the lake to pick up some fresh white fish from a local fisherman. The lake is still solid and I start to walk with the little white dog. About five minutes into the walk, I hear someone calling and three dogs running towards us. Alison and Summer were by the remants of the snow castle, skating on the last patches of sleek ice and letting their dogs run. We chatted, the dogs romped, and then I carried on.
Shawn, the fisherman, was home and sold me fresh, beautiful white fish filets. He was hosting a dinner in a little houseboat for some youth he took out on the land earlier that day so I didn’t stick around.
On the walk home, I bumped into Wade who was biking home on the lake. We had a brief, funny conversation about meeting up with old friends, the pressure to have children and stolen bicycles.
I got home and cooked it up on my little stove with olive oil, a wee bit of balsamic vinegar and a dash of maple syrup. Heavenly. Just as I finished eating, I heard the loud rumblings of a bomboardier outside my door. I looked out and it was Shawn and Mike getting ready to hook up my neighbour’s little shack and haul it down the lake to a nearby island.
Now, I’m sitting back with a glass of red wine. It’s ten o’clock and it’s not dark yet. The lake is still solid except for where the current rips through next to JY’s place (yesterday Vince hauled a canoe out there and tried fishing). Life is good.