Completed Ginsberg’s Howl. How refreshing his words are. Common words rearranged in different forms and new juxtapositions. And like all great art, in his common observations of everyday things, he illuminates the universal.
Also finished Acker’s Great Expectations. An odd occurrence while reading: a portion of the end was duplicated and bound in with the rest of the book. The problem with avant grade writing is that you can’t separate intentional otherness from common mistakes. Either my version was bound incorrectly, or it wasn’t, but I have already gleaned my experience and meaning from the copy I had to read and that can never be erased. I don’t think she would mind. Part of postmodern reductionism is everything is art.
Everything is true. Everything is divine.
How pure that makes one’s meagre contribution to society.