jürgen fauth’s muckworld

Yesterday, I escaped the puerile, disgusting, and (worst of all) staggeringly unfunny Poultrygeist to enjoy a banana in Central Park.

Today, unrelenting construction noise on our block makes me wish I could seek refuge at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, where the cherries are in full bloom. They’ve delighted us in the past — but alas, the Tribeca Film Festival begins today, and Cannes announced the linup.

A vaguely appropriate Ginsberg poem has been added to my muxtape.

Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead. Lloyd Kaufman, 2006. N/R

A friend sent this poem along apropos something entirely unrelated, but it suddenly makes sense to post it today. Haven’t been able to find an English translation yet; if anybody happens to have one handy, please don’t hesitate to leave a comment. Happy Thanksgiving all!

Im Atemholen liegen zweierlei Gnaden
Die Luft einholen, sich ihrer entladen
Dieses bedrängt, jenes erfrischt,
so wunderbar ist das Leben gemischt.
Du, danke Gott, wenn er Dich presst
Und dank ihm, wenn er Dich wieder entlässt.

Johann Wolfang von Goethe

At muckworld, we’re so bleeding edge that some of what we do goes straight from experimental to museum piece, without ever hitting that crucial middle phase of widespread success. Der Brennende Busch, an German-language online lit mag I founded and edited sometime in the last century, has been archived at Deutsches Literatur Archiv Marbach — you can now search for and dig through the proto-blog design, artwork by Dusty Domino, and a collection of stories, essays, poems, and multimedia pieces I’m still proud of.

Speaking of art work: my uncle-in-law Frank Ettenberg, an artist living and working in Vienna, sent along this painting, which I liked quite a bit. It’s called ‘Sea Swoosh’, approx 8 x 10″, acrylic on enameled composition board, and you can click it to enlarge. Frank’s portfolio.

Finally, news from everybody’s favorite red-headed guitar hero, Trey Anastasio. After his recent run-in with the law, Trey’s been holed up at an upstate rehab facility, but he just came out of hiding last Saturday to play a show with the latest incarnation of Phil and Friends. Every song on the setlist somehow referred to his troubles, but the extended arrest joke suddenly gave way to naked sentiment with the second-set appearance of the heavyweight Garcia ballad “Wharf Rat.”

You can download the whole show via bittorrent or watch some shaky videos. Let’s hope Trey gets to go on another furlough when Phil comes to the City next week for an 11-night-run at the Nokia, starting on Halloween. Here’s “Friend of the Devil” from Glens Falls:

Not as good as they’d have you believe. The interview bits with Cohen are terrific, but I could have stood to hear him sing some more songs. Instead, half the movie is taken up by a tribute concert with Nick Cave, Jarvis Cocker, Antony, the McGarrigle sisters, Beth Orton, Rufus Wainwright etc etc. Some of the covers are very good; some of them made me hide in the closet and wait for Marcy to give the all clear. These live sections are also poorly shot and directed — hell, I’ve made better concert videos than this. Bono and the Edge talk Cohen up like he’s a biblical prophet even though his lyrics and winning presence don’t need it. In the end they finally play a song with him.

Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man. Lian Lunson, 2005. ***

• Rotten Tomatoes
• Official Site
• The trailer, and more Cohen videos

Unlike, say, The Queen, Factotum doesn’t grow in complexity when you see it again, but it’s a hell of a fun place to revisit. My favorite scene this time is when Chinaski gives Lili Taylor his shoes.

• My Factotum review on About.com
• Bukowski: Born Into This Review
• Top Ten Movies About Writers
• Buk poem: “roll the dice”

Factotum. Bent Hamer, 2005. ****

[tags]charkles bukowski, poetry, writing, factotum, bent hamer, harry chinaski, lili taylor, matt dillon, marisa tomei, booze, film, 4 stars[/tags]

It was one of those downtown nights that go a long way toward justifying the absurd rent we pay: as part of an epic lineup, Marcy read at Rachel Kramer Bussel’s In the Flesh series at Happy Ending. There were Victorian choose-your-own-sex adventure novelists, Stephen Elliott, Mo Beasley’s UrbanErotika poet’s posse, and somebody simply known as the Pussy Miner.

My favorite reader I’m not married to was Jami Attenberg, whose story “Catch and Release” you can read at Nerve.com. Also seen eating cupcakes in the dark red recesses of Happy Ending: Lisa, Nichelle, Jolene, and Dan Alford. Here’s a little video of Marcy, which I hope you enjoy–I had to throw pornographic magazines at interfering paparazzi to get it. I’m not proud of this, but it’s true.

Later, we crashed the second open bar of the week, some kind of movie party for a shoot down the block, there was champagne and rumors of Hollywood stars. Night of the Hunter played on a wall and Jami introduced us to Indochina-bound John, Alternadad Neal Pollack, and the MacArthur-winning mastermind behind Diner Dash.

We got a ride home from Christen Clifford, who had read a piece about getting locked out of her apartment with a breastfeeding baby in one hand and a vibrator in the other. And here’s the last name I’ll drop in this post: on our way out, Marcy ran into Helen Hunt and handed her a copy of Twins. It was a decidedly Shortbus kind of night–sane and permeable.

[tags]nyc, reading, marcy, jurgen, books, sex, happyending, erotica, robert mitchum, helen hunt, rachel kramer bussel, cupcakes, stephen elliott, neal pollack, jami attenberg, christen clifford, breastfeeding, poetry, vibrators, youtube, video, paparazzi, namedropping, partycrashing, chinatown, linkfest, mo beasley, muckfilm[/tags]

Denk ich an Deutschland in der Nacht,
Dann bin ich um den Schlaf gebracht,
Ich kann nicht mehr die Augen schließen,
Und meine heißen Tränen fließen.

Die Jahre kommen und vergehn!
Seit ich die Mutter nicht gesehn,
Zwölf Jahre sind schon hingegangen;
Es wächst mein Sehnen und Verlangen.

Mein Sehnen und Verlangen wächst.
Die alte Frau hat mich behext.
Ich denke immer an die alte,
Die alte Frau, die Gott erhalte!

Die alte Frau hat mich so lieb,
Und in den Briefen, die sie schrieb,
Seh ich, wie ihre Hand gezittert,
Wie tief das Mutterherz erschüttert.

Die Mutter liegt mir stets im Sinn.
Zwölf lange Jahre flossen hin,
Zwölf Jahre sind verflossen,
Seit ich sie nicht ans Herz geschlossen.

Deutschland hat ewigen Bestand,
Es ist ein kerngesundes Land!
Mit seinen Eichen, seinen Linden
Werd ich es immer wiederfinden.

Nach Deutschland lechzt ich nicht so sehr,
Wenn nicht die Mutter dorten wär;
Das Vaterland wird nie verderben,
Jedoch die alte Frau kann sterben.

Seit ich das Land verlassen hab,
So viele sanken dort ins Grab,
Die ich geliebt - wenn ich sie zähle,
So will verbluten meine Seele.

Und zählen muß ich - Mit der Zahl
Schwillt immer höher meine Qual,
Mir ist, als wälzten sich die Leichen
Auf meine Brust - Gottlob! sie weichen!

Gottlob! durch meine Fenster bricht
Französisch heitres Tageslicht;
Es kommt mein Weib, schön wie der Morgen,
Und lächelt fort die deutschen Sorgen.

Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)

if you’re going to try, go all the
way. otherwise, don’t even start.

if you’re going to try, go all the
way. this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.

go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days.
it could mean freezing on a park bench.
it could mean jail, it could mean derision,
mockery, isolation.

isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of how much you really want to
do it. and you’ll do it despite rejection and the
worst odds and it will be better than
anything else you can imagine.

if you’re going to try,
go all the way. there is no other feeling like
that. you will be alone with the
gods and the nights will flame with
fire.

do it, do it, do it.
do it.

all the way
all the way.
you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter,
it’s the only good fight
there is.

from “what matters most is how
well you walk through the fire” by
charles bukowski