March Hare raising readings; April fooleries & frolics

Hi Everyone ----


A bit more info re the March 20th CLWN WR (don't try to pronounce this no matter what you do) reading at the Safe-T Gallery, 7 - 10 pm ( or as late as you're allowed to stay out):

I'll be reading loopy lyricals (whatelseisnewdon'task) with live collaboration by the non pareil beyond postmodern sound and noise artist Austin Publicover (on his noise/sound machine). Atop this post (I hope) is the intricately designed flyer created by the ingenious Bob Heman, Publisher of I bet you can't pronounce it journal (CLWN WR).

If you don't know Austin, proceed to this page at mad hatters'review:

Austin has joined our music department and is assisting in our organization of THE MAD HATTERS' REVUE & LUNATIK BALL at The Bowery Poetry Club on May 4th. He'll also be accompanying Alan Davies's recitation of his wonderful sound/language poems.

Recorded recitations of some of my quirkies will be broadcast on Anne Fiero's "Art Waves' show on Friday, March 14th, from 9-10 PM on WKCR FM NY (89.9 FM and www.wkcr.org). A bunch of the pieces I recited for the show are available, with accompanying sounds and music, on my CD Inventions II: (for a modest song).

In case you happen to be passing through Oxford, Mississippi the Friday eve of March 28th, I'll be somewhere around there at some kind of avantgardey poetry thang.

On April 3rd, I'll be in Buffalo, NY. Write for details if you happen to be in Buffalo.

Then, ok ... lots of miles to the west and south on April 15th and 17th (and afore and aft) for the &NOW Festival at Chapman University, Orange County (http://www.andnowfestival.com/schedule/), right-wing Disney country. And and THEN....

Back in NYC on Sunday, April 20th, I'll be reading in Patricia Eakins's Sunday Best Reading Series, 4pm, at The Lounge, Hudson View Gardens - Pinehurst Avenue and 183rd Street. The other featured readers are Nicholas Johnson and Hattie Gossett. I'll send the official flyer when it's completed. Directions to the Lounge: By subway from downtown: Take the A train to 181st Street. Be at the front of the train. Walk upstairs; take the elevator to Fort Washington Avenue. Cross the little park you'll see (Bennett Park), bearing left around the great circle. When you've crossed the park, you'll be on Pinehurst Avenue. Look left. You'll see 183rd Street, which continues into Hudson View Gardens as a private road. To your right, you'll see a sign that says "The Lounge." )


Have you been getting heartburn from the primaries, no matter whom (if anyone) you're rooting for? Throw your televisions out and check into my two favorite blogs/political websites to find (generally) intelligent commentaries and articles of substance. http://www.markcrispinmiller.blogspot.com/ and http://www.bradblog.com/. You'll get the scoop on everyone, not simply the candidate the blogger's supporting (if any). Of course, you can't believe everything . . ..

Happy Dazelight!

OK I'M DISGUSTED. BACK TO WRITING

to express what I feel. The misogyny is making me ill.

Here is a "literary" re/action to what's happening, part of my new piece "PICNIC."

Beginning:

PICNIC
By Carol Novack


Introduction
In the game “picnic,” a designated leader creates a secret rule concerning what other players may bring to a picnic. Players must attempt to guess what rule the leader (Player 1) has created in order to participate in the picnic. PICNIC, a conceptual play by the author (Player 1), is a reworking of her part (interior and exterior monologues, plus the omniscient voice) in the unfinished collaborative play, PICNIC, co-authored by four players who departed from the playing field.


---------------------------------------------------- EXCERPT:


PLAYER 1 INTERJECTS

You are veering off the course, chasing after your own balls, Player 3. Off the course, what course? You might ask naturally, always asking yourself questions you don't understand. You are breaking o lives not bread. You are full of static. I cannot hear your voice amongst the many. I heard you ask Grandma: Is it essential to stick to a course, to go from A to B, B to C, logically? Decide for yourself -- don't bother me. Do you know how to ride a donkey? Do you know how to see? Watch the Valentine roses and beware. Their mouths open, displaying eloquent pink tongues. Flies swoon and drop, head first, into the roses. Promises promises. When will the primaries end?

In these fields of mine, Player 1 loses score of the supplicants. What does Player 3 say? I lost my hearing aide. Who is coming? No one is really here. I am looking for nourishment, as usual, so boring I am. No one has brought anything of use to the Picnic. The Players come and go. Those who drop by cough and stutter, claiming helplessness, inoculation, family crises, weddings and anniversaries. There are CEO's around. We are afraid to speak. What did you say, Player 4? Focus!

I hallucinate Players in a fog, cough from the stench from the oil refineries belching the new fuel: lard from the bodies of prisoners, the cellular energy of the putrefied dying and dead. When will the hurley-burley end?

Don't lose the evidence. Place it in baggies as if it were peanut butter sandwiches for the detainees. Continue to drown them, but keep them alive: they’ll talk sooner or later. Tell me what they say.