[8 October 2023]: "Primitive Hypertext" — wet books; encrusted forms; geological big data; vectors for movement; blissing out
[8 October 2023]: "Primitive Hypertext" — wet books; encrusted forms; geological big data; vectors for movement; blissing out
wet books; encrusted forms; geological big data; vectors for movement; blissing out
Bismillah. We begin everything with the name of Allah. We say Bismillah to initiate an act to acknowledge the intention and the ethics we carry with all that follows Bismillah.
This is part of the newsletter's “Primitive Hypertext” (Octavia Estelle Butler) strand.
An annotated list of five things I’ve read/seen/heard and want to share. [weekly: every Sunday] Read more about the changes in the newsletter rhythm here.
Hiya!
I got a good bit of reading and listening this week!
Rider, Bhanu Kapil. Schizophrene. United States: Nightboat Books, 2011.
I am returning to this text for a closer read and was re-struck by this page. Not just the language, but the composition of the text on the page. I am sure others have noted this, but this collection feels very geological. There are references to works cowritten with the earth — “On the night I knew my book had failed, I threw it – in the form of a notebook, a handwritten final draft – into the garden of my house in Colorado. Christmas Eve, 2007. It snowed that winter and into the spring; before the weather turned truly warm, I retrieved my notes, and began to write again, from the fragments, the phrases and lines still legible on the warped, decayed but curiously rigid pages.” (i)
Ogden, Emily. “how to catch a minnow.” in On Not Knowing: How to Love and Other Essays. United States: University of Chicago Press, 2022.
My interest in substrates, layers, and geology has heightened because of a few events: a short-term fellowship at the University of Washington in April, where I hung out with geomorphologists and experimental condensed matter physicists; bumping into an artist in Brooklyn whom I’d met once in Petersborough, Canada making rock art; and spending time this July on the Lofoten Islands literally looking at rocks all day. Ogden’s essay intersects with my ongoing interest in finality and ruin — when is something (or someone) “done”? When does ruin begin? The excerpt below reminds me of Amelia Groom’s The Marsh Ruins, where they write: “Buchanan’s stone pieces are absolutely entangled with their environment, which also means so that they have no stable form, remaining always in the ‘present participial’ tense.” Yes — more of this present participial ethos.
The geological obsession continues. I was drawn to this essay because I enjoy Shannon Mattern’s interdisciplinary and sprawling research interests. This particular essay is exciting for its articulations around data and what can or cannot be read.
While on the Lofoten Islands in June, I encountered some snails and grew interested in snail slime as a mode of writing and map-making. When I came across this article, I grew more excited about what the author calls “vectors for movement.”
I Can Only Bliss Out (F’D ays), Laraaji (1984)
Laraaji, or Laraaji Venus Nadabrahmananda is something I was looking for. I Can Only Bliss Out (F’Days) is on the 1984 self-released album, Vision Songs - Vol. I. This album was rereleased in 2018 by Numero Group, a reissue label based in Chicago. As I learned from a recent New Yorker article, the now 80-year-old hosts “Laraaji Laughs” every Thursday, 9:30 - 9:33 am on dublab. This laughter meditation is described as “three minutes of luminous laughter flowing on celestial music beds.” I listened to the October 5, 2023 episode and felt silly. Like silly as an invitation to be more buoyant.
Thank you for reading,
Kameelah 👽
Finally, while I do not organize my finances around paid newsletter subscriptions, wouldn’t it be cool if this wee little newsletter could allow me to take quarterly self-imposed writing retreats? Consider getting a one-year membership at $70 USD :)
How to cite this newsletter: Rasheed, K. (Year, Month Day). Newsletter Title. I Will (?) Figure This All Out Later. URL