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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Writer’s Block - Jade Sterling Simon
The Story of a Musician - Gregory Poblete
The Story of Some Teenagers - Gregory Poblete
Time against Romanticism- Oscar Valle
The Age of Video Games - Christian Concha
Five Pythons Loose in a Theater - Dani Sami
Poetry - Hugo Ace
Poetry - Gill Hill
Poetry - Nicholas Vasquez
Hey Short-Timer, yes you!
Is it hard to find the time?
If you are of the regular Modern Corsair audience and or subscribers, welcome
to another issue. But before the time stream flows us onwards we need to talk.
No, you did nothing wrong. (Except tampering in your own past just to keep
that trinket) We want you to know that we are looking to bring on a new bunch
of writers into the bright future of the Corsair. Now, if you’re a creative sort you
may be wondering what took us so long to invite you. Sorry about that. It was
disrupted by anachronistic Huns. We though we mentioned it at the christening
of the nineteenth emperor of New England. Regardless we want you. We want
submissions from you. And here’s how this can work: do you write fiction, poetry, essays, non-fiction, reviews, or have you ever in general organized words
so that on lookers might drive meaning from these shapes? If so you can submit
and we’ll get back to you about if and when you can expect to see your labor in
are magazine. You can also feel free to send us comments or questions any time.
Just put what you’re submitting in the ‘subject’ line of the e-mail. You can also
contact or keep up with Modern Corsair goodies on are Facebook, Tumblr and
Twitter accounts. We’ll be posing the next month’s themes and deadlines along
with prompts. We hope to hear from a lot of you.
You may now continue with the normal entertainment.
Jade Sterling Simon
I should have known this would happen. It happened every time our publisher
set guidelines for a new story. All production comes to a grinding halt.
“Alright,” I started, “so for the new book in The Forest Folk series, I was thinking there should be a love triangle between Rahva, Velocity and Half-tail. I think
that would create some conflict as the pack fights to maintain their hold on Minx’s
territory.” Arthur was silent for a moment as he pondered my idea. When he finally
broke the silence his eyes were alive with a glint of wicked delight.
“Yeah, that’s good. And then Rahva and Velocity kill each other in a fight to
the death for Half-tail’s affection. Little do they know Half-tail wants neither of them
and is really interested in his rival pack leader Minx, who is insulted by this desires
and kills him as well.”
I was shaking my head before he even finished. “Arthur, that kills off all the
main characters. Our publisher wants−“
“To hell with what the publisher wants!” His voice had always been gruff and
intimidating and having lived with the man since childhood I was accustomed to the
harshness of his tone, but every now and then his outburst would catch me off guard
and make my heart jump rope with my stomach.
“I’m not writing one damn word. Why in hell do they insist on making changes and more importantly, why are you putting up with it? You know as well as I do
that ‘guidelines’ are just a fancy word for restrictions”. I sighed in frustration.
He was right, of course. It was our story so you’d think we’d have the right to write it
however we see fit. But when you’re a writer working through a publisher that’s willing to publish your work without some kind of upfront fee it’s in your best interest to
follow their guidelines. From a cynical perspective it was similar to being in a cage,
the best way to get what you need is to follow the rules whoever has the key. Arthur
knew about cages, and hated them. I was about eight years old when he broke free
of his. He was tired of watching me get hurt and once I was safe, he stuck around.
As we spent more time together he told me stories. Some were to help me sleep and
others were for simple amusement. I was so taken with his tales I picked up a pencil one day and began casting his whispered words within my school notebooks. He
awakened my passion for writing.
By the time I was in college many of the stories had received substantial reviews in local papers and magazines. And although my grandparents supported
my craft they were concerned that Arthur might be having a dark influence on my
writing. And while it was true that whenever Arthur had a hand in the writing process the plot more often than not took a dark turn, it always felt real to me, more…
human. My grandparents on the other hand felt the two of us spent too much time
together and thought it would do m-- us some good to separate. So they signed us
up for counseling sessions, thinking it might make the process easier somehow. It
did not, because to Arthur, they were just trying to put him back into the cage.
During our meetings, Dr. Holtz attempted to convince me I no longer needed Arthur and that it was time for me to let him go. I remember looking at him question-
ingly and saying, “You speak as if Arthur is something I conjured up one night after
a really bad dream.”
Dr. Holtz stared at me over the rim his glasses and asked in what I believed
to be a sarcastic tone “Isn’t that the way it usually starts, Rena?” I didn’t appreciate
what he was suggesting. It was thanks to Arthur that my life had improved as much
as it had. It was his ideas that gave me the material needed to write an essay worthy
of a full ride scholarship to Berkley State University. The doctor leaned forward in
his chair, adjusting his eye wear. “Where is Arthur by the way?”
“He’s not coming,” I said nonchalantly.
“This is the third session he’s missed this month. You know, it’s very difficult
to make progress without the both of you being present,” he sighed and scribbled
something onto his clipboard. I shrugged and said, “He says he’s tired of talking to
you. You give him headaches and make difficult for him to write. He says all his best
ideas manifest on the days he doesn’t see you.”
If the doctor was offended by my statement, he didn’t show it. He simply looked up
from his clipboard with a cocked eyebrow and said, “Hold on, I thought you were
the writer of the two.”
I shrugged again and replied, “It’s a team effort. But most of the creativity
comes from him. I just put it on paper.”
“But you’re the only one credited as the author.”
“Arthur doesn’t really like the spotlight. He prefers to stay ‘behind the scenes’.
As long as his work gets published he’s content. So, I take the public credit.”
“I thought you were the shy one?”
“And you wonder why Arthur doesn’t like coming here; you don’t seem to
listen very well. I don’t like confrontation. He helps me in those situations. Arthur is
fearless. He’s the most intimidating person I know. It’s not that he fears public situations, he’s just doesn’t like crowds, which is exactly what you find at public readings.
Crowds make him anxious and when he’s anxious he is liable to hurt somebody.
Thus, I handle situations of that nature. Our relationship may seem... complex,
but have no doubt that it’s necessary. My grandparents mean well but they do not
understand, and neither do you doctor. For all your knowledge you could not begin
to fathom the workings of my mind, let alone Arthur’s. That being said, I’m inclined
to inform you that this will be our last secession. It’s been... interesting, but it doesn’t
sit right with me allowing my grandparents spend their retirement funds on a problem you can’t comprehend and need not fix.”
As I grabbed my purse and started for the door Dr. Holtz called after me with a
question, “Is... there more to this relationship than you’re telling me, Rena? I mean...
is there something I’ve overlooked in this story?” I smiled knowingly as I turned
back to address him.
“You mean are we in love with one another? I suppose that would make it easier to understand why we refuse to part ways despite the concern it seems to be causing everybody else. But that’s just it, isn’t it? It’s everybody else who seems perplexed
or uneasy about our union. Arthur and I are not uneasy, we are not confused, and
while we are closer than most could ever hope to understand, no, we are not in love.
We are simply two people playing necessary roles in each other’s lives.” With those
final words I exited his office for the last time.
Although the desire to save my grandparents’ retirement money did influence
my decision to end our meetings with the doctor, it was Arthur who made the initial
call to end what he classified as an invasion of our lives. I also stopped mentioning
Arthur to my grandparents so they wouldn’t get any more ideas. To enforce this
further, Arthur stopped coming around when I was in their presence. He even attempted to come up with lighthearted stories so they wouldn’t suspect we still collaborated, although those stories were never as good as the ones he wrote naturally.
However, since my grandparents stopped hearing about Arthur they accepted the
darker plots as just another part of my personality.
Three years and two successfully published novels later, here I am telling Arthur once again that sometimes to get things done you have to follow someone else’s
“Trust me, of I can put up with it, so can you,” I told him. He turns back to the
laptop in a huff drumming his fingers upon the keys with a snort.
“Course you can put up with. You don’t seem to mind publishers dictating our
“I wasn’t talking about the publisher,” I retorted swiftly and regretted the words
even swifter. If it were possible, Arthur’s neck should’ve snapped considering the
force he used to send a glare my direction.
“And just what are you implying?” I gave another sigh. If I couldn’t get past his
stubbornness we’d never get this story done in time.
“Hey,” a voice called from outside my study. The owner of the voice, my fiancé,
entered surveying the room. “How’s it comin’?”
“Not great, got writer’s block again. My publisher doesn’t want me killing off
too many major characters, so I have to scrap my original idea and come up with a
“Well I know you’ll come up with something, you always do. But it’s getting
late so why don’t you get some sleep. You’ll be able to think better in the morning.”
“Alright, I’ll be up soon, I just need to save what I have on my laptop.”
“Sure thing,” he turned to exit but stopped suddenly and rotated back to me.
“Uh... Honey, were you talking to someone before I came in here?”
I broke into a confused smile, “Of course not baby, the only person in the room
He chuckles with embarrassment, unconsciously massaging the back of his
neck. “Yeah, crazy I know. Guess it’s late for me too, huh?”
“Go on upstairs, Hun. I’ll be up shortly,” I told him.
He gave nod accompanied with a sheepish smile and left the room.
I started to shut down the computer, then thought better of it and left it running on the desk. Just in case one of us got some inspiration in the middle of the
THE STORY OF A MUSICIAN
MOVIE REVIEW: BEGIN AGAIN
To the reader who wanted me to review more
recent films, this one is for you. I won’t promise the
theme of this issue ties perfectly into this film but
just like all of my essays I have ever turned into any
English class, it will most likely be BS. The movie I
watched has a pretty dull title, Begin Again. Begin
Again stars Mark Ruffalo (The Avengers, Now You
See Me) as a washed up record label executive in
New York who has failed to sign an artist in seven
years claiming that everyone he has listened to hasn’t
had the right sound he is looking for, that is, until he
discovers Gretta’s music.
The movie begins with Keira Knightley’s character, Gretta being forced to play one of her songs
at an open-mic at a bar to a very passive audience
except one individual who we later find out is Mark
Ruffalo’s character, Dan. After the performance, the
film plays a flashback sequence showing the terrible
day that Dan has had because he just lost his job at
the record company. When Dan finally catches up to
where the story left off at the bar, we then get to see
Gretta’s back-story and see how she got to playing at an open-mic at a random bar in New
York. Gretta’s story goes back a little further than Dan’s and shows her and her boyfriend
Dave (Adam Levine) moving to New York because of Dave’s new record deal. With Gretta and Dave both being musicians, one would assume that this relationship is a matched
made in heaven, but things begin to get shaky when Dave hippie voice stops doing it for
the music, man. Gretta eventually discovers that Dave has been cheating on her with another girl from the record label and breaks up with him.
Now that both characters’ back-stories are finished being told, Dan and Gretta finally meet and Dan proposes that he signs her to his record label. Gretta declines at first,
but she gives it a second thought and decides to go for it. Not technically working for the
record label anymore, Dan goes to the company and asks the head of the company if he
can make an impressive demo album for Gretta, then she can get a record deal and he can
get his job back. So the majority of the film is Gretta and Dan trying to prove to all the
naysayers that they can record an amazing album in the streets of New York.
This is where the title of the film comes into play. Dan is getting a second chance or
a second time to find a new musical hit and prove to the record company that he isn’t just
some washed up executive with a one hit wonder
under his belt.
Gretta on the other hand is getting a second
chance at being able to actually be in the spotlight
rather than be in the shadows of her famous musician boyfriend. She has a clean slate to start out with
and essentially has another opportunity to begin
again. Get it?
So, for the most part, I loved this
movie. Begin Again is filled with a ton of
really great original songs written specifically for the movie performed by Keira
Knightley, Adam Levine and also Cee-Lo
Green. The story was mildly cheesey but
not a full wheel of cheese. Probably just
a few slices. Adam Levine did a great job
in his acting debut playing a douchey
musician who stops caring about the
meaning of the music and starts doing it
for the fame, but it’s totally okay because
the songs that Adam Levine sang for the movie are totally dope. If you haven’t found your
summer jam yet, I definitely recommend “No One Else Like You.” Even though he didn’t
sing at all, Mark Ruffalo did a wonderful job in this movie as well. The only person that I
had a slight Ariana Grande’s “Problem” with was Keira Knightley. I’m not saying the Keira Knightley can’t sing, it is just that her singing voice does not match her face at all. For
example, if you had no idea that Zooey Deschanel sang in a band, but you heard a song by
them on the radio, you would probably be able to recognize that the girl singing is in fact,
Zooey Deschanel. However, Keira Knightley does that thing in this movie where British
people sing without an accent and it totally threw me off. Again, she sang great, it’s just her
voice was not what I was imagining. But other than that, this movie was very enjoyable
and had all around good vibes. I will give Begin Again 3.5 Cee-Lo Greens out of 5. Just be
warned, you will get “Lost Stars” stuck in your head after watching this movie.
THE STORY OF SOME TEENAGERS
TV SHOW REVIEW: BRAVEST WARRIORS
So far, all the reviews that I have written
have been about the most obscure movies
hidden in the weird part of Netflix and I’m
always surprised when these movies are actually good. However, this review is about a
series that I genuinely enjoy entitled Bravest
Warriors. Bravest Warriors is a series created by the mastermind behind the television
show, Adventure Time, Pendleton Ward. The
series follows four teenagers living in the
year 3085 that consistently save little, tiny
aliens from the evils of the universe. It wouldn’t be an Adventure Time-isque show
without having some emotional drama, which actually holds a very important role
in the show. In Bravest Warriors, there are these people called “emotion lords” who
can basically defy what is naturally possible in the universe by using their emotions
as powers to see into the future, hop through different timelines, and even make
themselves turn into a pizza if they really wanted. Emotion lords can basically do
anything. Although, things get a little tricky when it comes the topic of love.
But first let me introduce to you some of the characters in Bravest Warriors.
The four main teenagers are Chris, Beth, Danny, and Wallow. Chris is the main guy
who obviously has a crush on his longtime friend, Beth, but he tries to hide any
feelings towards her because he
is scared that he will ruin the
friendship that they have. Eventually we find out that Chris
becomes an old Emotion Lord
who enjoys pranking his younger self and driving himself crazy.
Beth is basically the girl of the
group. That’s it. Feminism. Danny is the cool guy of the group
but he has a little bit of a temper
issue from time to time.
And finally, Wallow is the big, beloved black guy of the group who is a sweetheart
and enjoys hanging out with adorable creatures such as Catbug and Impossibear. If
I could only give one reason to watch the Bravest Warriors, it would be because of
Catbug. Oh. My. God. Catbug is the most adorable character to ever exist. There is
no one else that can compare to how adorable this little thing is. I am telling you,
there is no Pokémon, no Disney pet, no Minion that can even come close Catbug’s
adorableness. If you disagree with me then you can make like a tree and stop reading
this article because trees can’t read.
Alright, back to the love thing. If you follow Adventure Time, then you may know
that Finn the Human doesn’t have the best of luck when it comes to the dating scene.
I mean, he is only 15 years old and is already trying to find true love. When I was
15, I was too busy discovering the Internet and trying to keep my MySpace game on
point. Chris has the same thing going on with his
feelings for Beth but it’s a little different because
he is a few years older than Finn. I’m not saying
that there is an age limit when you are allowed
to actually fall in love but when you’re older you
begin to understand the world a little bit more.
What does all this have to do about time? Not
only is Bravest Warriors set in the future, but also
the idea of time is something that is precious to
Chris. Chris and Beth grew up together and have
had many awesome memories together and attempting to make their friendship anything more
than what it is might taint their relationship forever and Chris does not want that to
happen. Chris values the time he does have with Beth and
understands that it should not be
taken for granted.
So, if you are a college-educated student who still watches cartoons on a daily basis, then you will absolutely love Bravest Warriors. Bravest Warriors has the
perfect combination of humor, drama, and heart blended into a visually appetizing
smoothie of colors and shapes. Your first instinct when watching this series is to
compare it to Adventure Time, which is totally fine, but you will notice that Bravest
Warriors is geared toward a more mature audience. Not as a mature audience such
as South Park but more like The Simpsons. You can still watch it with your little
cousin who loves Adventure Time, but they might drop a few “asses” here and there.
With that being said, I am just going to have to pull an Anthony Fantano reviewing
a Death Grips album and give Bravest Warriors five sticker pets out of five. Probably
the best thing about Bravest Warriors is that the entire series is available to watch
entirely for free on Cartoon Hangover’s Youtube channel. So if you have an hour to
kill, you can watch the entire first season no biggie.
TIME AGAINST ROMANTICISM
‘What a joke?’ What a joke to think that Wordsworth words were not full
of apprehension within the dilemma of time. He wrote completely of a time
remembered, in the matter of sets of images that were produced by the perspective on nature. While William Blake was able to exaggerate the process of
nature under the matter that was there changing before the minuscule and the
absolute.—But this is beginning to sound like a paper, that will be dealing with
the works of two great English writers
or poets, and that is not my purpose;
my intention is to interpolate from
the English literary tradition, an ideal
“network”, that was serving an understanding of the phenomenal percept,
in truth, on nature: “To her fair works
did Nature link/The human soul that
through me ran;” (Wordsworth, Anthology of Poetry) To then placing the
post-modern novel written by Aravind Adiga, White Tiger, side to side.
For by placing the texts side to side,
what becomes apparent is the meaning
of the English tradition itself and the
loss of the romantic as time has passed in between them. What has become the
truth of nature has come by way of sculpting away at the ideal of nature, created by a limit explored by Wordsworth, down to the absence of the ideal by this
very process of de-absolutization in time.
In Wordsworth’s Lines Written in Early Spring (1798), Wordsworth writes,
“If this belief from heaven be sent, /If such be Nature’s holy plan, /Have I not
reason to lament/What man has made of man?” (Wordsworth, Anthology of
Poetry) Wordsworth in this poem gives ‘Nature’ a mega-soul. The birds around
him that are making him joyful have thoughts, and the flowers around him act
to him as if they were there for him or for-us. He has a feeling of shame towards
man because his pity has him sad from the fact that man has not made man in
the image of Nature. Perhaps he thought man was so ugly that he blamed the
parents for having produced his ugly generation. But that is most likely not the
case. If the text is read symptomatically, we get to interpret Wordsworth words
as a believer in the transcendental given in Nature. (That is the reason why he
gives nature a capital ‘N’). It is not solely what has been given ‘to-us’ that man
does not take as a principle for his fellow man, the problem lies in that for this
sort of idealism, Wordsworth exaggerates nature to the point of making nature a moral entity. The factual experience that Wordsworth is going through is
based off the ‘Human soul’ that through him ran; and what exactly is the Human soul? Why is it that it was not already given to him? How did it decide to
run through him?
Wordsworth did carry a few lines within his thought from Milton. That
is, he retained a value of belief in Milton’s thought. Milton owed most of his
thought to the Christian Tradition, and did not obscure from the loss of origin.
Here the very idea of an a priori disposed humanity to an all-around perfect
origin is mythological at the wrong time. For example, in dealing with his discourse on Milton’s political thought, Benjamin Myers writes: “I say that Milton’s
account should relativize heresy—but it is important to ask whether Milton
in fact achieves the degree of religious relativization that he is pursuing. If the
underlying basis of a free society is the practice of individual religious choice,
what then becomes of those who refuse to engage in this practice? What becomes of Roman Catholics, who simply refuse to become heretics in Milton’s
(positive) sense—that is, they refuse to make the individual conscience the
locus of religious authority? In Milton’s conception of English society, such persons are clearly excluded: their refusal of individualistic choice is tantamount to
a repudiation of the entire social order, so that the possibility of their toleration
by the state cannot even be entertained. In other words, Milton’s relativization
of heresy, if carried out as a social program, would lead to precisely the same
impasse as Locke’s theory of toleration: the practice of subjective Protestant
piety gives rise to the right to toleration, but the resulting construction necessarily excludes those who do not practice such piety, or who practice the wrong
kind. For all its uniqueness, then, Milton’s reinvention of heresy finally leads to
the same place as the Lockean theory. Although Milton’s conception [End Page
390] of society is much more radical and fissiparous than Locke’s, Milton still
supplies the political architecture for his own radicalized ideal of a Protestant
confessional state.” (Myers) The beginning of Milton’s Paradise Lost begins as
Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit
Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast
Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,
Sing Heav’nly Muse, that on the secret top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed,
In the Beginning how the Heav’ns and Earth
Rose out of Chaos: Or if Sion Hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa’s Brook that flow’d
Fast by the Oracle of God; I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventrous Song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th’ Aonian Mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime.
We should ask Milton, what is man’s necessary obedience? Not only to
ask him that but to grab him and invite him to a party with the Ancient Greeks
and Homer. Without the existence of that forbidden tree, the possibility of responsibility is unthinkable to Adam and Eve, while Eve’s decision enhances the
development of the meaning on fate, she is the proper model of the difference
between ‘Reason’ and ‘the Necessity of Contingency’ (63 Meillassoux).
The quoting on Milton may have nothing to do with Wordsworth politics,
but to narrow their points of connection, we must look at the influence between
both of their thought. It is said by Mathew Arnold that the shifting of our world
comes between Hebraism and Hellenism and in 18th century England there
was a scrambling of values – and this did not exclude Wordsworth -: “Puritanism, which has been so great a power in the English nation, and in the strongest
part of the English nation, was originally the reaction, in the seventeenth century, of the conscience and moral sense of our race, against the moral indifference
and lax rule of conduct which in the sixteenth century came in with the Renascence. It was a reaction of Hebraism against Hellenism; and it powerfully manifested itself, as was natural, in a people with much of what we call a Hebraising
turn, with a signal affinity for the bent which was the master-bent of Hebrew
life.” (Arnold) Arnold, English writer as well, came after Wordsworth and was
considered a Victorian. Matthew Arnold agreed, that Wordsworth was limited
by the knowledge he was disposed to, and Wordsworth had plenty to say on
feelings. If this is so, the origin dreamt of by Milton passed down to the romantics was a violent reach. The English around this time were going through revolutionary times, and hard times during Wordsworth’s time. It may not be far
from the symptom of the texts. And this is a borderline of disbelief: knowledge
was beginning to gain a different value by the sciences. It has had no restraints
on its devolution in truth, thus a new origin must have been sought at the cost
(Satan as the protagonist) of prior origins in the world.
So, what happens when there is no sense of belief in the non-colloquial sense? Belief as the possibility of knowledge from principle and, or, fact in
thought. Loss of belief in fiction is crucial and that is what Wordsworth feared,
but he did not place himself as the ‘creator of all the world’ in reaction to this
effect like Milton did. Lucy is Wordsworth anti-muse do to what was mentioned in the last paragraph. Wordsworth did not take on the Greek gods and
there influence, and for that reason he introduces to the English tradition a
Hebraic structure. “Among the mountains did I feel/The joy of my desire; /And
she I cherish’d turn’d her wheel/Beside an English fire.” (Wordsworth Bartleby)
: and alongside this line we can put another line on Lucy to show the influence
of a transcendental value of nature without the specificity of Wordsworths
thought placed on the knowledge of the Christian tradition – for after all, his
truths were contesting were in an attempt to transvaluate those Christian morals that were limiting the world -: “Thus Nature spake -- The work was done
--/How soon my Lucy’s race was run!/She died, and left to me/This heath, this
calm and quiet scene;/The memory of what
has been,/And never more will be.” (Wordsworth Bartleby) Wordsworth takes his fixity
at the authority in the voice of Nature when
talking about creating Lucy out of his body.
So Lucy is an ‘X’: with no reason at all for her
existence. The unknown (Lucy) incapable of
surviving the total force of Nature. Here what
must be caught between his Lucy poems is the
typology of play in omnipotence; what Wordsworth means to omnipotence. And therefore
the originality of the English belief must be
introduced to the tradition, and tradition in
the strict sense of the term. Play is not possible without belief…especially when in the
creation of a true value in nature by natural
perception, by the senses. Wordsworth’s problem becomes a question: when is responsibili-
ty a value after play?
A clear transition can be made by Adiga’s White Tiger and a movement
from the limited truth in the idealism produced in Wordsworth’s romanticism.
The main character, Balram, is a victim of a world without the possibility of
belief – again, in the non-religious sense of belief. Balram is a thinker, who is,
limited by the law and the structure that he calls “Rooster Coop”. He describes
the Coop as being“ Hundreds of pale hens and brightly colored roosters, stuffed
tightly into wire-mesh cages, packed as tightly as worms in a belly, pecking each
other and shitting on each other, jostling just for breathing space; the whole
cage giving off a horrible stench—the stench of terrified, feathered flesh. On
the wooden desk above this coop sits a grinning young butcher, showing off the
flesh and organs of a recently chopped-up chicken, still oleaginous with a coating of dark blood. The roosters in the coop smell the blood from above. They
see the organs of their brothers lying around them. They know they’re next. Yet
they do not rebel. They do not try to get out of the coop.” (109 Adiga) and that
“… the pride and glory of our nation, the repository of all our love and sacrifice,
the subject of no doubt considerable space in the pamphlet that the prime minister will hand over to you, the Indian family, is the reason we are trapped and
tied to the coop.” (110 Adiga) Not to mention, his speech on the Rooster Coop
came after a reaction (on the body). His dignity had arisen by the circumstance
placed on him by his masters, and was given the blame for the death of a child
on the road: his truth was based off his suffering, his belief in that India functions in a specific way comes from his belief in his name ‘White Tiger’, and his
interpolation within capitalist grounds—or, in the fucking joke, “the world’s
greatest democracy” (107 Adiga).
Belief here takes the same route it
did for Wordsworth—except that
for Wordsworth, he actually was
aware of the access to the belief
in the imagination, and Balram’s
imagination cannot be other than
to be plastered by the necessary
condition of reality. The abstract
within India, is in the favor of the
rich; but not for Balram the child,
or the White Tiger who, takes on
a metaphoric name that serves his
abstract identity, because the conditions in the structure of (concrete) nature maintain the truth
on the play of reactive forces within this specific context in India. We could say
that belief relayed an identity unknown to Balram.
And right now I can quickly relay a few metaphors, traditional ones
to be exact…such as, the constant use of the term “wind” in Mexican lyrics
(in general), and running down the phantom pipelines of history through the
Aztec and Mayan texts in particular. In the mariachi tradition, we may listen
to the meaning of the word, as a debasement on an original home. By consequence of the modification and reattachment, the listener begins to listen to the
cries of a man who has been abandoned by his lover; or in other cases, the cry is
of a nostalgic ambivalence, a constant torture, which pervades within the rush
of blank time. These music lyrics are usually heard in the mariachi, but also
‘rancheras’ and contemporary folk. The so called ‘tradition’ – which means that
under time as flux, necessity has demanded from artists, tacticians and thinkers, a production of forceful structures which are only called structures because
of their reproducibility for thought (whether it is accessible to all or not, that
is another question) but I still maintain that what I mean by necessity is not ex
corpus, the living-present creates the possibility from that ‘will to power’ itself,
whether it be a fiction or not: interpreted through a constancy in genealogical fashion, a history has a fundamental factor of speed, under what French
philosopher Quentin Meillassoux in his essay titled Subtraction and Contraction: Deleuze, Immanence, and Matter and Memory, called ‘concrete scale of
temporalities’. In his own words he describes this concept as humans living “at
one scale of matter – immensely vaster than that of the atom, and immensely
less vast than that of galaxies. We thus occupy a scale of durations, a particular rhythm of the current time, which renders us unconscious of all events
below two millionths of a second, whereas such duration is sufficient for luminous matter to produce millions of vibrations, that is to say millions of distinct
events.” (80 Meillassoux) So speed and the concept constructed by the factor of
an ontological variance under the name of the ‘idea’, and under the context of a
variance in forms in finitude. An instance of value tied to ‘velocity’ is that of the
problem of technology, and the Lamarckian survivial of techniques, or cultural
inheritance --not genetically transferred as the man thought (117 Beeckman).
To clear what may seem obscure, the word in use “structure” is of a irreducible
By this declaration, it can be intended to make clear why there is a “correlation” between what is called tradition, and culture as such. – A repetition
which has taken shape at least for the Mexican subject – from the figure of Topiltzin-Quetzalcoatl. But we will not do that here.
Another metaphor, or here a literal one, is that of the mask, special to
the Mexicans production-out-of-necessity (from out
of the incapacity of our organs)—its ‘will to power’,
that produced its truth by the technology - (perhaps,
anthropology has a say on what role ‘animals’ as a
technics, had in their civilization) – involved in the
perfection of a political trickery in play. This exhausted form, has deflated to the point where it works as a
perfected cynicism, the one familiar to the White Tiger. So the difference between Castilian Spanish, and
Mexican Spanish, derives from this fold; its variance
acts in front of the face…the closer the “dance is per-
formed in front of the judge, the more distant – but not less risky – play is able
to become a possibility, in close proximity to the oppressor. We become avatars,
for we take ourselves to be already absent. As Octavio Paz said, “The Aztec religion is full of great sinful gods – Quetzalcoatl is the major example – who grow
weak and abandon their believers, in the same way that Christians sometimes
deny God.” (56 Paz)
The capacity of art lies in the victory that goes beyond the law, ‘the system
of judgement’ and ‘God’. That by these things it may be called a pure corruption; this kind of power supplements the subject(s), and subjective value from
historical time given to (an) object(s), that were believed, or thought to have
no utility, thus the power being supplemented, is the one where a ‘possibility
of ignorance’ narrowed the limits on mortality, and consequently leads to what
philosopher Ray Brassier has called ‘Mimetic phenomenon’ (146 Brassier) in
his essay titled “The Thanatosis of Enlightenment”. The unlimited post-romantic tremor from the system of a Wordsworth, Coleridge, Blake. Produces a conflict in the worker, and an advantage towards their masters. The conflict moves
within a dyad of decision in thought.
1. The Miltonian model mimes the web of the western conviction on truth
and purity. To put it in a more concrete way, (or at least, to try to), the structure
which always already interferes with the virtualization of the origin of humans
as value, and the actualization of truth as full-sense by historical time. Not nature, not natural history, “for it proceeds regardless of whether anyone belongs
to it or not”. (Brassier 147)
2. Necessary action at the cost of poverty, and death. What is meant by ‘to
live’, can evolve into ‘to die so…’.
Balram changes signatures by the trace of his ex-teacher. Balram is himself
a victim of the new jungle. At the same time – to return to White Tiger – Balrams ‘will to power’ is shown when making friends at a bookshop in a servants
market. The conversation became possible by the glimpse of a free mouth in a
possible democratic space. “I raised my head to the sky and whistled. “Amazing how much money they have,” I said, aloud, yet as if talking to myself. “And
yet they treat us like animals.” (128 Adiga) The storekeeper remains stunned.
Balram is beginning to act on his courage, and there is where he becomes the
White tiger out of necessity; the non-liberated spaces of the universal servant.
Adiga here, is ‘not human’, a ‘freak’, ‘pervert of Nature’, spotted in society by its
A nonromantic demand, leads to the invariance of the human in the
event. Miltons belief that he was not any animal due to his dogmatic view on
the world, lead to speaking on absurdity in on ‘the sticky temptation of poetry,
for, not being simply a thing, the animal is not closed and inscrutable to us. The
animal opens before me a depth that attracts me and is familiar to me.’ And, ‘[I]
n a sense, I know this depth: it is my own. It is also that which is farthest removed from me, that which deserves the name depth, which means that which
is unfathomable to me. But this too is poetry…” (22 Bataille) Wordsworth’s
thought enables a reduction in naturalism. But where romanticism fails, Latin
American poet and writer, Bolano prevails. A romantic dog (or, a non-romantic
White Tiger), what else can he be as a Latin American but a dog who dreams.
A non-romantic demand is what gives (transcendental) Nihilism its purpose if
any novelty in the point of intersection between origins of civilizations is to be
a fortiori created and produced. Like the white tiger, who stands out in a space
where others are base. The same applies to the duration based off value in time
for Quetzalcoatl, not intending to find a similarity between cultures as the logic of identity always tempts one - like Milton’s Satan -, but raising a dead “god”
into a concept like Nietzsche did with Dionysus and the crucified, raising play,
out above what is determined as society. It is said Mexicans are sons and daughters of corruption. What about India? Mexican texts are not any kind of ‘myths’,
they conserved knowledge by story, the first technicians of what science fiction
has ever offered, and perhaps, the first creators of ‘philosophy fiction’.
Adiga, Aravind. The White Tiger.
Arnold, Mathew. http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/a/arnold/matthew/culture-and
anarchy/chapter4.html. Last updated
Wednesday, March 12, 2014 at 12:59
Bataille, George. Theory of Religion. New York: Zone Books, 1992. Print.
Benjamin Myers. ““Following the Way Which Is Called Heresy”: Milton and the Heretical Imperative.” Journal of the History of Ideas 69.3 (2008): 375-393. Project MUSE. Web. 14 May. 2014. <http://muse.jhu.edu/>.
Brassier, Ray, and Christian Kerslake, eds. Origins and Ends of the Mind Philosophical
Essays on Psychoanalysis. Leuven University Press, 2007. Print.
Gill, Stephen, Wordsworth and the Victorians (Oxford, 1998).
Meillassoux, Quentin. After Finitude An Essay on the Necessity of Contingency. New York:
Continuum International Publishing Group, 2009. Print.
Meillassoux, Quentin (2007). Subtraction and Contraction. Collapse :63-107.
Milton, John. Complete Poems. Vol. IV. The Harvard Classics. New York: P.F. Collier & Son,
2001. www.bartleby.com/4/. [Date of Printout].
Paz, Octavio. The Labyrinth of Solitude. New York: Grove Press, 1994. Print.
Wordsworth, William. English Poetry II: From Collins to Fitzgerald. Vol. XLI. The Harvard Classics. New York: P.F. Collier
& Son, 1909–14; Bartleby.com, 2001.www.bartleby.com/41/. [Date of Printout].
Wordsworth, William. Poetry foundation. Lines Written in Early Spring. The Longman Anthology of Poetry (Pearson,
THE AGE OF VIDEO GAMES
Before you read this I want you to think for a second on what a video game is
to you. What do you like about them? Dislike? Do you even play video games that
much? Or even care
about them? Well for me
I grew up surrounded
by video game players.
Playing everything from
Atari to the Genesis to
the PlayStation, NES, Super NES, Nintendo 64
and so on. The theme for
this issue as you know
is time so I figured why
not go through the history of the Video Game
and just where it’s going.
First off, what is
the first video game and when exactly did “Video Game” become a thing? For those
of you thinking Pong, like I did, you may actually be surprised. Computer technology flourished early in the 1940’s with strong development in the Artificial Intelligence department of technology with smarter computers. Then one of the earliest
known video games came in 1951 from a computer, you may laugh all you want
at the name, called the Nimrod which played a math game called Nim. This was a
very easy program compared to the sophisticated stuff we have now but hey it was a
start then. Next in line in 1958 came a game made by physicist William Higinbotham called Tennis for two. This was viewed on an oscilloscope and actually played
with controls that looked like a switch to a freaking nuclear warhead. This became
a good source of entertainment for visitors of the Brookhaven National Laboratory.
Next in 1962 came Spacewar the first computer video game to be sold nationally as a test program on the PDP-1 computer. This game had two space ships shoot-
ing the crap out of each other with
space torpedoes..... in space. This
game became a hit and caused a
surge of students to begin their
own variations of the game. Soon
more games were produced like
Computer space and Galaxy Game
for computer owners. Now I know
one thing that really burned me
was what was the first at home
console? Well its name was the
Magnavox Odyssey and the carrier
of the legal definition of a video
game which is too long and boring
for me to write down. This system
came with a set of 12 video games
and other games sold separately and priced at 100 dollars for a
system. Sadly, the system didn’t sell well and failed to catch on in popularity. So now
that you have seen the start we can really get into them rising to glory. First off who
doesn’t like a good arcade game? I played the 1978 space invaders all the freaking
time. Space invaders is said to have kick started the arcade franchise into motion but
before space invaders was, you guessed it, Pong! These two sold very well and eventually paved the way for other great arcade games like Galaga and Pac Man. Let’s
face it these games are games I could play till the day I die and then keep playing in
hell. Now the console games though were great as well. We can argue all we want
over what the best system but face it, the NES continually kicked major ass all over
the world. Released in 1983 As a Family Computer (FamiCom) in Japan, this system
swept the floor, in popularity and kick the Sega Master Systems anus. I would stare
at the game Excitebike for the NES with as much intensity as a teen who just discov-
Anyway, soon after followed
other things like the Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis, and eventually the PlayStation. But before we
continue I’ll back it up a bit and
take a look at how the games are
following suit with their consoles.
First games began to get a little
more than the arcade games of
the past in the early 80’s Legend of
Zelda brought to light the idea of
adventure to games and yes kicked major freaking ass along with my personal favorite Metroid in 1986. There were also the early that brought adventure to fame. Metal
Gear also started, and we all know where those lead to. Also on the list were First
Person Shooters like Spasim, Doom, and Wolfenstein which gave action adventure
a hell of a lot of fun. Doom especially creeped the shit out of the 6 year old me. One
last one was Tomb Raider because come on guys, its fucking Tomb Raider. What’s
not to love about exploring ancient ruins with two Desert Eagles in each hand?
However, jumping and climbing in the originals was freaking hard. Perhaps
the most important part that has grown in games over the generations is story.
Games compared to 70’s have writers and people who make a world of amazement.
I especially loved the little story snippets in the Silent Hill franchise with puzzles
that often delved into the stories
of individuals with horrid pasts
or were executed convicts like in
Silent Hill 2’s Dead Men Hanging
from a Tree puzzle. My personal
favorite was Ico and the world that
game had. To many this game was
an amazing story that even Guillermo Del Toro even found to be
magnificent. This game even became a novel which I found to be
a fantastic read. Of course the one
thing that needs to be mentioned
is what makes a game a game, the gameplay we all so love. When I think of totally
revolutionary gameplay I think of Shadow of the Colossus. I mean seriously you are
taking down monsters you have to freaking climb to kill. Not only that, but the way
the Wander was hit by shock waves and could lose his balance made the gameplay
amazing for its time.
Now let’s get to how Consoles and games are today. Games today are amazing
in every sense and aspect that makes them.
With ever advancing technology games now look like extremely cinematic and
even boast an amazing music score. Games like Journey and Rain with a truly artistic look and such simplicity and an amazing music score to boast made them stand
as pieces of art. The new Tomb Raider made the origin story of Lara Croft something
really cool from taking a scared young girl to become a hardened survivor. Plus
the team made their own freaking instrument for Tomb Raider! Metal Gear Sold
V pushes the bar on every level. One of the most iconic franchises taking things so
many levels up with both great looking story and gameplay. When I saw the E3 trailer for MGSV I literally orgasmed in my pants slightly. Other releases like No Mans
Sky and ABZU add much more of an artistic flare to games. The Evil Within is even
bringing back Survival Horror roots back to life. Even The Order 1886, Destiny, and
BloodBorne are looking great
and so much beyond what’s been done in the past. Games now are becoming more
than games boast such a cinematic feel that produces tears in my eyes. Hopefully, it
can be something taken more seriously and be considered much more artistic because the effort in games now is astounding.
So if you’re someone who enjoys video games as much as I do, then please keep
being a bad ass and play. If your skeptical about games just try them there is much
more than meets the eye. Time has definitely taken games a great deal towards greatness. Now being apart of The Modern Corsair as its video game reviewer hopefully
I can bring all you readers great coverage of the games to come in the near future.
Now before this ends I want to say the one thing that has been on my mind since I
started all this. Sony where the hell is The Last Guardian!
FIVE PYTHONS LOOSE IN A THEATER
One down, five to go, it’s for this last cash grab benefiting a pack of aging British bastards to talk about parrots, silly walks and what it all really means anyway.
It was about two-ish years ago that I
went to see Paul McCartney in Candlestick Stadium. He was loud, confident,
and really, really old. Now there is nothing wrong with being old, growing old or
having Gerontophilia (*see lead guitarist
Skwisgaar Skwigelf). Being old is great.
It comes with a wisdom, and sense of natural authority. The trouble is some old people don’t know how to be old. Paul McCartney of Liverpool cannot do that. He can
belt out a great song he’s written and composed himself, play every interment on his
studio albums, but he can’t go around this far into his later years with tight jeans, a
pierced ear and gyration moves on the stage and expect the same reaction. Unlike a
man like Morgan Freeman who has an element of youth in his actually well-aged face,
Paul cannot face his age. He is living in denial of it, and it make him look all the more
aged, and wrinkled, and generally sort of like your Dad still trying out his letterman
jacket from back in the day’s The Crazy Market was still touring. When aging a certain
number of allowances need to be made like in the case of older, yet seemingly youthful Freeman, Lady Dench, or J. K. Simmons, that comes from not doing everything
just the way you would when young, dumb, and full of cum twenty-something. So
why bring up all that? So I could get most of the ugliness out of the way when talking
about British icons of comedy I respect so much. I was amped to see in last month’s
issue that including mine, there were two references to Monty Python. I watched the
show so much as a kid with PBS. I’ve loved their body of work. All the movies and the
comedy records, real venal that I plug in my actual leather case record player to enjoy
the crackling audio.
Big duh- it is hard to critique something you love, and harder to admit when
it’s a negative reality on that thing. I believe I am living through what Stone’s fans
have been squirming in distress over for decades now. Since Keith Richards released
Voodoo Lounge in the 90’s, and reached the age McCartney had found unapologetically harsh when I saw him at Candlestick Stadium, wherein men look a lot like
some one’s smoker aunt, there is a cognitive dissidence. This voice, the one
that I the listener connects to so well, on
such a primal level as it touched me in
the first age of confusion, and hormones
and emotion, is one of youth, and decent
and rebellion for my cause against the
suits, squares, fascists and morons in power. But you look at your idol, and it is like
looking in a mirror for the first time in sixty-five years. ‘Where did my hair go?! What
are these spots? I’m so weak, deaf and near sighted’. That is an ugly way to realize the
reality of your life.
So- is it obvious that I’m dragging my feet on this one? Because I’m on the third
paragraph on this thing (it was, doubt if you will the seventh in the first draft) and
have yet to actually talk about the show. So here I go. Actually talking about it. Here
comes the actual intellectual response to a valuable artistic institution of the most successful sketch group in history.
It was good. If that is all you wanted to know before I tell you where you can see
this, there you are: the show was good, the jokes are still funny and they know more
about springing a joke (let alone punchline on a crowd) in such a way that the laughs
are never guarded and thus ultra-successful. If this is all you need to here, skip to
the end of this section to read about when and where to see the Monty Python Live
(Almost) taped at the O2 Arena. If you’d like more, and are a Python fan like me…
So good is good right? Good is what
sells tickets. Well, I can say so does nostalgia, and we ,collectively, are sat in the
pungent funk of a generation who feed
and bread on nostalgia. It’s the reason
that as fucking shitty a movie maker Michael Bay is we still watch Transformers,
the Simpsons has passed any hope of having a dignified end and why Nickelodeon’s hit
The Adventures of Pete & Pete had a 20th anniversary reunion at the last SF Sketchfest. The show is over all good. Five living members of Monty Python’s Flying Circus
come together in England’s biggest theater to perform a night of their most popular
hits along with a few underrated gems from the show that never saw the light of live
When the Python’s held the press conference months ago announcing that Eric
Idle would organize a reunion for their first united performance in forty years the
hype that followed was rabid. People on all sides voiced their shock, approval, confusion and disapproval. Why now? Said Idle “Some idiot. One of the producers from the
Holy Grail,” who had sued the group for upwards of a million pounds. “One night at
the O2, 200,000 seats, we’d make that back.”
After the 1989 death of Graham Chapman the groups last moments collected
in the same room was at Chapman’s
funeral and weeks prior when Steve
Martin had the six locked in a cupboard. From there on they went about
finding their own careers. John Cleese
more or less retired from show business after his smash hit sitcom, Faulty
Towers and movie A Fish Called
Wanda. Michael Palin made a series
of travel shows about the less traveled path or Ernest Hemingway’s haunts. He is now finishing a supernatural mystery
mini-series called Remember Me. Terry Gilliam went on to direct his own signature
style of serial movies, frequently dealing with hidden worlds or dismal futures, such as
Time Bandits and The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. Having officially renounced
his American citizenship he went on to direct his own take on opera, the most resent
Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini .Terry Jones filmed a humorous abut educational
series of historical documentaries. Welsh Terry will be returning to directing in Sci Fi
film Absolutely Anything staring comedy all-stars Simon Pegg, Robin Williams, Eddie Izzard and all those Pythons still with us.
Nearly as old as Time Lords, at 369 years in performing collectively, the five
men over seventy emerge from a TARDIS framed by rosy, bright stage curtains. They
hit the big notes through the night Catty Judges, Spam, The Argument Clinic, The
Lumberjack Song, and of course the gem of Chapman’s writing career, The Dead Parrot sketch. There were pleasant surprises of animation and Cleese acting as a strange
woman with a dinosaur theory. Choreographing a series of musical dance numbers in
between was Arlene Phillips who previously worked on the dances in Spamalot and
The Meaning of Life. Well organized, and very energetic there came a moment witch
most blatantly shown a light on the trouble with the Python’s Live at O2. There is a
dance number about the Ministry of Silly Walks sketch, which was not performed by a
seventy year old comedian leaping, kicking and worming around stage, but by a troop
of fit dancers in business suits.
Monty Python’s comedy is clearly definable. It’s Pythonesq. It is surreal, with a
measure of intellect, without being pretentious, and holds commentary on middle
class life. But prat falls and physical wackiness was well incorporated. So yet again- doy,
none of those seventy year olds can me expected to leap and fumble and hit like they
were twenty. Now that’s not everything, a lot of the humor was cerebral and wordy,
and could work on radio even. But
Monty Python did use their bodies
to comedic effect, and that is missing. With the buxom women in leggings and the chiseled men moving in step between the five writer’s
sketches there is no transfer of energy. It is not making them look more
upbeat and frisky. They look like
seventy something’s around a litter of frolicking puppies who are wearing them out
There are many great cameos from Stephen Fry, who read’s the Harry Potter audiobooks, Eddie Izzard from show’s like The Riches and United States of Tara, and Noel
Fielding from The Mighty Boosh about musical adventures of two Englishman who
work in a shaman’s antique shop. The view of many others is great to the pace of the
show. And at the end of it, even though they stumbled on lines in the wordier monologs and cannot dash about like the strapping young bucks they were once the hits are
hits for a reason. They can make the jokes land with sniper accuracy.
So the show is good. Why did I bitch so much? Because I think that Monty Python Live (Almost) at O2 is a part of a bigger problem. And so am I. We now live in
a world were in many ways Peter Pan’s Neverland fantasy is real, in that childhood is
indefinitely prolonged. In many ways there are swaths of the world who will never
have to truly grow up and deal with the rough edges of reality. Weather it is Jagger still
morning Ruby Tuesday, those Japanese 40-something’s who have virtual girlfriends
and no interest in any other sort, or Joss Whedon fan’s still moaning over Firefly’s
short run we can live in a bubble of past comforts. This is the generation who brought
Family Guy back to see it get really unfunny, 1980’s metta, and up its own ass preachy.
We saw Beavis and Butt-head, 24, Heroes, and upcoming Entourage movie and few
wondered, is that necessary? In this nostalgia we thirst to squeeze out any last drop
from a media that has been tapped. I loved Invader Zim as a kid, but I accept that
Jhonen Vasquez has made a wise choice to not attempt to go back to a project that
ended over a decade ago. And when we do this, desperately cling to that thing we
licked when we were little, or hotter than the flab monster we’ve become, it tells executives that nostalgic is the wisest market.
We have no right to ask why it is that shity shit, like Fast and Furious 9 will be
a thing. Or why it is a producer would make a movie called Battleship, passed on
a board game. We cannot turn up are
noses and scoff derisively at Jack Black
playing R.L. Stine in the Goosebumps
movie this fall. We pan Scott Pilgrim
and Safety Not Garneted to see the remake of Old Boy with white guys but
still no guns. We attack people for the
mere suggestion that Don Glover could
play a good Spider-Man or if the Englishman playing him thinks Peter Parker could
be gay for Harry. We, the American public, have chosen by that witch we fund and
made our bed. This bed of the recycled, rehashed, reiterated junk, along with preventing the option for retirement for those who may like to or in better conscious should.
If you’d like to see the last performance of the most talented sketch group of this
century go to Edwards Long Beach
Stadium, where it will be played until
the 24th of July.
are both proud associates of the Modern
May the pen flow from the energy of your mind
Like liquid motion
Dancing with time
The Concept of Time
You will never know him. Until you understand him.
God is infinite.
Like a number line extending from
Negative infinity to positive infinity
Impossible to count.
Like on that number line – to +
All on the foundations of Nature.
We are like him on a human level.
For he created us from dust in his own image.
An existence destined to fail, destroyed in its conception.
Salvaged if possible, otherwise eradicated.
Seeds of Sin
Are planted into the territory of God.
A borrowed land for our spirit to possess.
Those seeds take root and produce fruit.
That fruit, spoils and withers away,
The dying tree.
A lifeless barren land:
Once a garden, failed;
Incapable of producing life,
Returning to dust,
The deserted land’s winds, refine,
Back to a time before its time.
When the value of life is lost
Life is worth nothing.
Living every day of life
As an investment for the future
For time has already been created
Except the Remembering…
The mentality of remember…
cleaning out the old house
taking out boxes, old shoes, a hint
an abstraction , a fact -a ring, a sock,
a penny, a picture frame,
melancholia; the brick work
of lament. A laugh, a dirge,
motion, inertia- a narrow ledger
of what had been gently adrift
a dimension abandoned,
with a grip like iron…
memory casts another taunt
down the hall- a wooden
cane propped in the corner…use for it soon enough.
Behind the small black dusty
book shelf an empty cup
a stitch in the center of
the dream- when we will we be able to
say tomorrow and not look back that things will be different …on a highway
out of town nothing is ever the same…
except the remembering.
...On Earth as it is in Heaven
the last sinking sun
the waterfront dogs iron lung
chorus incite ... a moon rising
pallid and weak
the alley hounds us..
its Christmas or New Year’s day I saw the last bone of you
or was I dreaming
of dust or hunger
palimpsest scribbling skulking
lucky for us time rubbed
our hides bit by morsel
maybe its a long days
a longing for end days
wine incense chaos
a dismantled sonnet
of us in heaven harping
eternal hymnals fingering
smiling the two us
in the church gallery
an epistle whistling
snow on the ground outside
gospel tinkling as if
it mattered how we once
were lovers soft safe
and numb - the dogs bark
and I am in Bruges in
a cathedral candle glow
the only heat
before Bosch’s tri-panel
Garden of Earthly Delights
you might have been there
if not you should
have been –
A Begotten Conscience
A citadel to the forsaken;
Those that have mistaken their sunken lives
For suitable ones, that soars only when the sky
Is below their nimble clammy bodies.
A fearful, lament, firmament where the dead are buried
The silver slithering pasty clouds. Only to decay
As pettiness steam and somber ashes.
This stupendous, nefarious, imperial bastion
Open its bright warm gates for a child in
Sunset, with a pile of blushing sand he calls home
In his dismal hands.
Now crimson with resentment, the cosmos
Surround the strong hold with eons
Of desolate souls and solemn obscurity.
The warm rose gates open once more as it floats
Above the sky and into the frame of era.
Standing colossal to the blue souls below the bastion,
A frame of humanity, a human effigy cloaked in twilight
With sand in his hand now blows into the celestial space.
Like pollen, specks of flaming sand fades into
The souls that animate into the cosmic beach that carries
The strong hold.
Now the conscience of the child falls
into the void.
The soft void he calls home holds the begotten ashes
That dashes from left-to-right transcending
His eyes now open to an ocean of maroon sand with
No end in sight.
With all his might he screams at clouds above that
Fly like doves ablazed.
Letters to Modern Corsair:
@Modern_Corsair I like the Bible
Challenge article from this past
issue. The Mormon stuff lots. Can I
write in a team with someone else
IA: We would be more than happy to
read something written by you and
a partner if you would like. I have
done so on a number of projects
(some put out by the Modern Corsair) and thoroughly enjoyed it.
My one bit of advice, not that you
asked me for any, would be when
writing one project with another or
even more people, be sure that your
voices are similar and that you can
guide your work to shared conclusions and stances. If you and your
writing partner have drastically
different voices or opinions on the
subject you are working on the flow
will be ruined and there will be a
gigantic tangential path problem.
(From the parking lot of the Anarchy Library)
Modern Corsair, I graduated from
East Middle School last semester
and will be going up to freshman
year this September. I write poetry.
I saw you guys at the Stay shows on
Downey Avenue and wanted to know
if I can send in something.
AR: Here at the Modern Corsair we
would be amiss if we were to turn
down any poets or poets to be simply based upon a petty thing like
age. Elementary school, Middle
school, High school or beyond, if we
enjoy what we read, we will publish
it. Go ahead and send your stuff to
our email address. We look forward
to reading it.
The Modern Corsair for July - Issue Number 10
This issue was: Time
Excuse me sir, you can’t be there, yea, you can’t just cut to the front of the line. You have to wait in the
line to get a ticket to wait in the line to get a ticket to wait in the line to get a ticket to wait in the line
to get a ticket...
The next issue will be: Government
From this moment on, you and everybody else is free. No overbearing big brother, no shady goverment agents- you dismantled those the other day. Why don’t you go out for a walk? Perhaps enjoy
some fresh air? Maybe plot to take over the world again? This time for the better, right?
Check out our subreddit at www.reddit.com/r/themoderncorsair
Send all entries, comments, or suggestions to
firstname.lastname@example.org. We’d be happy to hear from our readers.
Special thanks to:
The Stay Gallery
And the biggest thanks of all to:
Not you as the reader of this magazine, specifically you as the human
reading this text in this moment. Keep on reading, beautiful person.
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