The Gods Did Give Us Orgasms

Last month I ploughed through Sid­dhartha, for the first time since tenth grade. Then I fin­ished The Eth­i­cal Slut (only took me a year). This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to bracket sex and spir­i­tu­al­ity, and I’m, like, the last per­son on the planet to argue they’re not, pos­si­bly, the same thing.

Gingrinton

Newt Gin­grich was recently ques­tioned about his insis­tence Bill Clin­ton be impeached, given Newt’s own clear stance on non-​​consensual non-​​monogamy. Putting aside the redi­rec­tion game of chas­ing Clinton’s lie (rather than the act), I can’t help but think about another clas­sic Clin­ton line. You know the one.

Indeterminacy

The last few weeks I’ve been going to see some Clas­si­cal on Sun­day morn­ings. Sort of. The group who puts it on, Sun­day Chat­ter, fea­tures a poet, and at the start of the month, my boy J.W. Basillo fea­tured. And wouldn’t you know it: they’re doing a Steve Reich cel­e­bra­tion. I love Steve Reich; I’ve been jam­ming to “Proverb” and “Piano Phase” for years. “Marimba Phase” live was sick. So what an awe­some sur­prise last Sun­day to see a hand­ful of John Cage pieces in the mix. If you know any­thing about Cage, it’s prob­a­bly that he’s the lov­able ass­hole who gave us 4’33″. If you’re not famil­iar, the piece was first per­formed like this: pianist…

X-Men: The Anim… oh, nevermind

I’ve been indulging the hell out of my mostly-​​quiet inner 9-​​year-​​old with a 2-​​week marathon of that clas­sic 90s Sat­ur­day morn­ing toon. This is only sort of like my Star Trek: TNG Obses­sion of 2010; I watched TNG reli­giously, with my fam­ily, every Sat­ur­day night. For seven years. But X-​​Men was mine and mine alone.

Sifting

I’m try­ing to coun­ter­weight sci­ence and spir­i­tu­al­ity in my heart. It’s strangely really tricky. As some­one pointed out at a Lan­guage of Spirit dia­log last year, spir­i­tu­al­ity has room for sci­ence, but sci­ence doesn’t have room for it.

Baiting the Chase

Most of 2011, I’ve been rolling a stone up a hill, and it’s soon to hit the top. Which means no more push­ing – but also no brakes. I sense this is hap­pen­ing all over – not only in my phys­i­cal, eco­nomic, inter­per­sonal day-​​to-​​day, but in poems, in dreams. If you wanna know the happs, here it is.

They Told Us Their Names

Oh, Gen­e­sis. You’re kinda ridicu­lous, but so embed­ded in our cul­tural DNA, you make an odd, dis­turb­ing kind of sense. At least you did, until last Feb­ru­ary, when Daniel Quinn (white dude) made quick work of you, and last week­end, when Dan Long­boat (Mohawk) fin­ished the job.

Evolution and the Gods

My think­ing goes like this: When we began our exper­i­ment with Total­i­tar­ian Agri­cul­ture (grow­ing & domes­ti­cat­ing all we eat, then stock­pil­ing and pro­tect­ing it) we started exert­ing pres­sure on evo­lu­tion. Total­i­tar­ian Agri­cul­ture inter­rupts Nat­ural Selection’s penal­iza­tion of bad genes in the pool, in this case, the ones that say “keep breed­ing.” This can only end badly.

Continua

I make it no secret that my book is pow­ered by con­tinua. Though as a pos­ses­sor of opin­ions, and a left-​​of-​​leftist when pol­i­tics come up, I’m invested in con­clu­sions – when I’m work­ing with process, I’m much more inter­ested in ques­tions. And con­tinua – gra­di­ents – turn ques­tions into lit­er­ary mechanics.

To Answer an Old Question

In 12^th grade, my girl­friend asked every­one why we sing along to our favorite songs. It’s taken me about ten years to come up with a respectable answer. Given that this com­ing week­end hosts, coin­ci­den­tally, my 10-​​year high school reunion, I fig­ure now’s a fit­ting time. Erin Feeney, if you’re out there, this one’s for you.