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Serious heterosexual guys: a portrait of limited reading

I teach a class called Women In Literature.  Every couple of years, I come up with a completely new reading list, mostly so that I don’t get bored.   I typically use as my starting place a passage from Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own that interrogates the idea of women and fiction:

Women and fiction might mean … women and what they are like; or it might mean women and the fiction that they write; or it might mean women and the fiction that is written about them; or it might mean that somehow all three are inextricably mixed together.

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Myopic Poetry Series and CSoP present Sharon Mesmer and CSoP faculty

This is a featured event for Chicago Artists Month

Myopic Poetry Series and Chicago School of Poetics present a reading by featured poet Sharon Mesmer, along with fellow CSoP faculty members Francesco Levato, Larry Sawyer, Lina ramona Vitkauskas, and Barbara Barg. Native Chicagoan Sharon Mesmer returns to her hometown to perform a reading of her poetry at the Myopic Poetry Series. Mesmer is an award-winning poet, member of the influential Flarf poetry movement, and an instructor at the Chicago School of Poetics; an outsider institution dedicated to avant-garde poetics. Held at Myopic Books, one of Chicago’s oldest and largest used bookstores, the Myopic Poetry Series, curated by Larry Sawyer, is a fixture of the Wicker Park arts scene and has featured innovative writers from Chicago and around the world.

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Let’s Get Rejected

I have a residency application due at midnight tomorrow, so last night, I lie awake dreaming up excuses why I wouldn’t even apply,  including:

  • I applied to another residency that was very similar just a few days ago.
  • Applications cost money.
  • I have time and space to write at home; if I’m not getting it done here, who says I’ll be more productive in a cabin in the Pacific Northwest?
  • I need to stop applying for women-only projects.  If I was really a good writer, I could stand on my own in competition with men.
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Putting Down My Burger To Kick In the Door: An Appreciation of Flarf

1. The Big Ugly Thing That Totally Ruined Poetry

Squid, nuthatch urethras, pizza kitties, unicorn boners and unicorn believers, 9/11 and the Iraq War: some basic ingredients of flarf, in case you hadn’t already noticed.  Oh, and rage.  Rage was definitely a factor.  And Google — I almost forgot about Google! But Google seems, oddly, to have not been the most important thing about flarf from my perspective, and my perspective, twelve years on, is: flarf is dead, long live flarf.

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