Unlikely 2.0


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Editors' Notes

Maria Damon and Michelle Greenblatt
Jim Leftwich and Michelle Greenblatt
Sheila E. Murphy and Michelle Greenblatt

A Visual Conversation on Michelle Greenblatt's ASHES AND SEEDS with Stephen Harrison, Monika Mori | MOO, Jonathan Penton and Michelle Greenblatt

Letters for Michelle: with work by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen, Jeffrey Side, Larry Goodell, mark hartenbach, Charles J. Butler, Alexandria Bryan and Brian Kovich

Visual Poetry by Reed Altemus
Poetry by Glen Armstrong
Poetry by Lana Bella
A Eulogic Poem by John M. Bennett
Elegic Poetry by John M. Bennett
Poetry by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
A Eulogy by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Joel Chace
A Spoken Word Poem and Visual Art by K.R. Copeland
A Eulogy by Alan Fyfe
Poetry by Win Harms
Poetry by Carolyn Hembree
Poetry by Cindy Hochman
A Eulogy by Steffen Horstmann
A Eulogic Poem by Dylan Krieger
An Elegic Poem by Dylan Krieger
Visual Art by Donna Kuhn
Poetry by Louise Landes Levi
Poetry by Jim Lineberger
Poetry by Dennis Mahagin
Poetry by Peter Marra
A Eulogy by Frankie Metro
A Song by Alexis Moon and Jonathan Penton
Poetry by Jay Passer
A Eulogy by Jonathan Penton
Visual Poetry by Anne Elezabeth Pluto and Bryson Dean-Gauthier
Visual Art by Marthe Reed
A Eulogy by Gabriel Ricard
Poetry by Alison Ross
A Short Movie by Bernd Sauermann
Poetry by Christopher Shipman
A Spoken Word Poem by Larissa Shmailo
A Eulogic Poem by Jay Sizemore
Elegic Poetry by Jay Sizemore
Poetry by Felino A. Soriano
Visual Art by Jamie Stoneman
Poetry by Ray Succre
Poetry by Yuriy Tarnawsky
A Song by Marc Vincenz


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An Interview with Thokozani Mthiyane
Part 5

AK: Thank you for your 3 replies. I just re-read all our questions and answers thus far. It struck me that we are both of us in our own worlds and communicating very little across them. It struck me that you are writing in a second language that you are highly ambivalent about at best. I am writing in a first language, a mother tongue, that I have loved and savoured since before I knew what I was saying meant. It struck me that you are writing in an internet cafe for R30 an hour and therefore rushed and uncomfortable while I am sitting at home in the comfort of my study with my own computer and all the time in the world to formulate my questions. Perhaps it isn't relevant. But I feel it is relevant to make our concrete situations apparent to the eventual reader. Not to do so would be to allow our apparent non-communications to become a parody - when in fact it's an indictment.

I feel disillusioned with asking you questions. Instead, to end this interview, I am going to quote you a piece of prose from Alain's book The Gods, and ask you to respond to it. (especially in terms of a "liberated" South Africa where indigenous language and knowledge still plays second fiddle everywhere to the colonial speech impediment). Thank you in advance.

PRAYER

Asking is the means. Knowing how to ask is the first knowledge. And language, to be exact, is the most ancient method of action. It begins with the cry, which is at first the only power the child has, a power which moves from afar and without contact. The school of the will is persuasion. To recognize, to smile, to name, are often the conditions for obtaining something which otherwise would only be held out and then refused. We must do what it takes. Politeness is a tool and a means long before the bow and arrow. And the power of names remains mixed in with our physical powers. We speak to things. But even if we consider language from every side, we will not arrive at a real understanding of how it is our first attempt to know or to change the world around us. And the unavoidable condition of naming before knowing should explain all the detours of knowledge. We talk, we tell stories, to ourselves and others. Our thinking life is first a speech, which carries over even into sleep. But what is to be noted above all is the advance that speech has over thought; which would hardly be believable did we not know that a child naturally speaks before he knows what he is saying. Analyze the dialogue between a mother and her child, and you will see that the child returns her words as if he were playing with a ball, and is surprised that he can hear his own voice as well as hers; this kind of echo is the first meaning of language and it always will be. It is a human resonance which later develops into music; but in another way, the music of words develops into magic, through the necessity of praying continually to the familiar spirits, the masters of toys, the masters of food, the sovereign lords of the doors, windows, and stairs. This method of obtaining, which is at first the only one, and for a long time the principal one, accounts for a function of words that is almost always forgotten in deference to the idea that we form our knowledge first and then express it. For, if the notion of an object always results from the efforts by which it is reached, and grasped, and mastered, then it is clear, if only because of the weakness of the child, that language is the first means of conquest, and therefore the first form of knowledge. Incantation, which, by means of exactness, repetition, and insistence, conjures up what it names, is the first physics. The movement of poetry, and even of the simplest story, is on the verge of giving body to what it names, almost gives body to it, and the attitude of the listener, even better is he is also the storyteller, is an attentiveness like the attentiveness of early childhood.

TK:
hey kaganof
insanity is the essence of western civilization -hence
its virus seems so eternally contagious to black
people meaning the insane group for us who have
poisoned our minds with volumes from the west there's no other reality except that which epitomises the vision of hobbes, kant, and perhaps bush as long as it
guarantees the illusion of safety and clean decadence
of which the supposedly liberated blacks aspire to- if
it's not yielding materially it's void - utopia is the
promise yet inferno is the realisation
when language is degenarated beyond the comprehension
of the the speaker and the hearer - when consciousness
does not prevail beyond the five senses- when memory
has nothing to do with history it is time to realise
that a people are in serious trouble - the
engineering of the post apartheid south africa leaves
no space for contemplation let alone on the memory of
pain, loss and despair the campaigns for hope are void
of meaning and i happened to be on the receiving end
of your violent civilization—

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Aryan KaganofKaganof was born again in 2001. He used to drive a Toyota Corolla but that got stolen. He shoots Glock. He has three books available from Pine Slopes Publications.


Comments (closed)

judith
2011-02-18 14:10:40

i hope your week-end is as dope as the hope of a better world
peace