tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7465670077072331575.post5844522828576526508..comments2023-08-16T17:00:44.726+01:00Comments on all over the grid: a short note on Wordsworth, Benjamin, Baudelaire, from a reply on the same to the question of identifying contemporary "meanest objects"Joe Lunahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10479580962361074459noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7465670077072331575.post-27884276217737908202019-06-03T11:43:21.164+01:002019-06-03T11:43:21.164+01:00Along these lines it is conceivable to check consi... 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been removed by the author.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7465670077072331575.post-50811846541113813072011-12-03T15:33:58.142+00:002011-12-03T15:33:58.142+00:001. Given that I live in history, expostulating &qu...1. Given that I live in history, expostulating "then" and "now" in relation to myself, I feel justified in doing that; I was at one point a fucking transcendentalist, is all I'm saying. No doubt it would have been better if I started listening to the Germs in the womb, but it took a few years. It was a subjective option, maybe always was; is not now, cannot be, because if we are interested in the real class struggle then my little glimpse into the infinite doesn't help much; Mallarmé or International Klein Bleu might only work for little particular me once they translate the real instead of by-passing it into abstraction; otherwise we're just setting up an infinite series of reciprocally-facing trampolines.<br /><br />2. The teleology of universalism is usually marked, like time, at the end of the poem; given prosodic temporality, and given age's love-increaser, but concomitant decline of everything's celestial delight, I thought it best to concentrate on the concentrate; this is, however, only the beginning.<br /><br />3. Climate change would be an historical artefact, not an object, more akin to the French Revolution or Time.<br /><br />4. But here is the crux, and thanks for instantaneously picking that out, which I knew you would really, as the point. For me (lol), I know what I need, and that is not to know what kind of humanity is to come, but what kind of humanity posits itself qua humanity right now. I am impatient for this. My point (lol) is that poetry has spent a lot of time and effort figuring out ways to figure out humanity, but not nearly enough ways to figure out how that "humanity" is constituted in toto by the powers that would have us constantly appeal to that which is the projected image of a certain class-interest [Pound's "usura" notwithstanding]: Benjamin: "For positive law, if conscious of its roots, will certainly claim to acknowledge and promote the interest of mankind in the person of each individual. It sees this interest in the representation and presentation of an order imposed by fate". Thus (not thus, but, you know what I mean) bourgeois universalism. Those powers are, as you rightly point out, also us. But can I point to a "bad human" without thinking for at least a second that he or she looks a bit like me? Well, yes, because the language of "bad humans" has less to do with your "man-shame", which is itself an inherited description of the violence of your class, than the detriment to consciousness that is perpetuated by their hilarious despair; Sean Bonney's litmus test of "the bourgeois mind" from a talk at Sussex on Thursday night came down to this: whoever sees a video of Jeremy Clarkson announcing strikers should be shot in front of their families doesn't immediately think that Jeremy Clarkson should be shot in front of his family, is plainly not on our side. Which is not to demand that Jeremy Clarkson is to be shot in our poems, that would be hysterical. There is obviously a difference between self-castigation and the identification of social reality. Wordsworth had the advantage of having a heart, of course, whereas all we have is lethean satnav.<br /><br />5. Marx was not joking, exactly.Joe Lunahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10479580962361074459noreply@blogger.com