Obviously, yes, I am still alive.

Andrew and I have decided to take a short break from melancholia's tremulous dreadlocks. If you have some poems accepted, worry not, they will appear in January when we come back.

In other news, those were recently acquired, in no order in particular:
-School Among the Ruins, Adrienne Rich
-Elegy on Toy Piano, Dean Young
-The Lost Lunar Baedecker, Mina Loy
-The Promises of Glass, Michael Palmer
-Recyclopedia, Harryette Mullen
-The Inordinate Eye, Lois Parkinson Zamora

Michael Dumanis once said Dr. Zamora is probably the best literature professor at the University of Houston. I feel quite inclined to agree with him. First, as one of the only two comparative literature professors at UH (the other one being Dorothy Baker), it is quite obvious she is knowledgeable about continental philosophy (her book cites Deleuze and Benjamin). But what is most striking about her new book is its temerity to go outside the boundaries of literature and into the realms of visual arts and architecture. From comparative literature, the book becomes a study of comparative arts, examining the hybrid nature of Latin American art and how incestuous its actors are. The book opens with a reproduction of Hurran's sketch Coatlicue Transformed, showing a Christ figure crucified on an Aztec divinity. Yes, magical realism is post modern, Zamora argues, but not in its displacement of meaning. It is, as Lima asserted, a narrative of "counterconquest."

Okay, I'm too exhausted to make sense.

Houston is a dreadful place. I hate it here. Yes, allergies are making me cranky.

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