wake up, rod

Hey kids, The title and topic was inspired by a wonderful babelfish translation Mjr. Gn. Bea Mao gave me once. section ii is entirely round-trip spanish translated in babelfish, which means that the original is lost (though I will say that one of the original lines was from a book i read about pedagogy, saying that teaching creative writing was equivalent to "putting wings on the invisible." guess which sentence it is! it's like a treasure hunt). the poem's pretty crass and ridiculous but i think it's super fun and stuff. Sorry for the lateness mi nalgas de cigarrillo son su nalgas de cigarrillo 1. expletive deleted We buttfucked at her house which made me uncomfortable but you said it was the only way you’d get lit in this wind. Between giant pulls from a jug of Carlo, we talked of rumps and junks and badonk adonks, but never addressed that if you burn from the ass, what goes up to your lips? Nips of whiskey all around, but when “all around” is two people alone i...

Due to the generosity of my lovely, brilliant friend Rory, I've recently been reading a book called Tolstoy Lied: A Love Story . Despite its myriad flaws, this novel draws attention to an at-least-half-truth: us academics, us rampant intellectuals, whether we embrace post-modernism & Derrida's deconstructionism or not, are afraid of writing about happiness or joy with the kind of sparkle WE KNOW seasons our lives. Fuck, it's hard to write about transcendence with a kind of real nuance, with complexity that works. So, though these effervescent moments comprise the promise that keeps us waking up in the morning, it's so difficult to find this promise in our writing. Thus, I make the following (1) mandate and (2) suggestion for this assignment. (1) Write about some joy, with joy and depth. There must be hope in this piece that is not wholly meta-commentated away. (2) Stuck on boring syntax? Tired of your own phraseology? Have a translation party. http://www.translation...