“..America, when will you behave like a civilized nation?
Go fuck yourself with your armed federal agents and your tear gas
I’m in a bad mood tonight so get lost
I won’t finish this poem until I can clear my head
America when will you become enlightened
when will you strip down before all the nations of the world
when will you see who you really are…”
For the full poem/parody/updated indictment/screed – see here
The Fall of America Journals – 675 pages plus index, official publication date, November 10th (one week after election date) – we can’t wait!
Meanwhile, word out that indie-band Social Animals will be hosting (creating and recording) a 14-hour live-stream (in support of the vote-counting non-profit, HeadCount), taking inspiration from, making a song from, ‘Falling Asleep in America” (from The Fall of America), setting Allen’s words to music. Tune in. Follow the whole process. That one-off’s today – today only – (starting mid-day EST).
Keith Stroup, attorney, and founder of NORML (the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws) has been posting some interesting historical articles. We’ve already mentioned his piece on the early days of the organization – here. Most recently (last week) he turned his attention to the legendary 1971 John Sinclair Freedom Rally – “The “Free John Sinclair” Rally – Public Protests Sometimes Matter”
For more on Sinclair on The Allen Ginsberg Project – see here and here.
Following up on another recent posting – AI (Artificial Intelligence) – Gwern Branwen has gathered together some extraordinary (GPT) computer-generated writing, computer-generated parody. Here’s the opening of “Howl” (the boldface registers the initial prompt)
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
bobbing their heads into cafe doors to flash the white eyes and receive the bad coffee of betrayal,
who william telled, who samuel beckett, who johnson, to snap out of the dream,
to smash the machine, to unfreeze the zombies,
who drove west in gray Buicks, face full of egg, to hock the furniture,
who lost every thing, even the shirt off their back, who burnt their pencils, and drank cyanide in the form of freedom,
who translated the metaphysics of love into forgotten languages of the body, who ate the lamb, and slept in the rain….
For more of this re-imagination – see here
Keep yr mask on.