Taking Another Artaud in hand, the well-informed fringe reader will be struck by its mirror-like similarity to another Artaud, the City Lights Artaud Anthology, published in the early Sixties and superbly edited by Jack Hirschman. If one leafs through the pages of Another Artaud, the visual and structural similarities hold, and if one goes no further, a conclusion might be reached that a rather clever thing has been done. But if one delves into the writing itself, distinctions blur, and one Artaud bleeds into the other. Antonin Artaud, Rychard Artaud--will the real Artaud please stand? Two men who straddle three centuries and who have battled hard to ward off mental extinction; two men touched by madness exacerbated by drugs and alcohol; two poets, two thinkers, two philosophers who suffered incarceration in penal and mental institutions--at this juncture the comparisons end and fusion begins to take place.
Antonin Artaud died in unresolved torment, and after reading Another
Artaud, one is left with the disquieting sense that Rychard Artaud may
very well be the reincarnation of Antonin Artaud, and that he has--after
much purging--spiritually elevated Artaud's struggle and transcended
the darkness. This speculation is, I think, worthy of consideration,
as the book in hand will attest. |
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SOUL OF THE ANTI-POET Spring into movement like 111 or 666— it’s all in the wrist. Take your hat off, and stand alone. Wipe that smirk off your chops. Don’t fart. Salute the sun. The mucus of life is before you Eat up! |
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SELF-REPLICATING ROBOTS dearth decay division disaster |
Drawing by Ethan Allan Davis |
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MARILYN MANSON ON THE RAG Billy Blake wanders in the chartered streets crying weep weep weep Sylvia Plath lies in a basement her cunt full of worms Williams Carlos Williams crawls to his Asphodel Dylan Thomas slashes his eye Francois Villon thrashes on the scaffold and the Old Gray Poet mad blind gay SEES all the stars and all the grains of sand all the bacteria in the shit pile are children born trembling |
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