Kultura

Listen, good people, and you shall hear / A story of old that will gladden your ear, / The Tale of Barnaby, who was, they say, / The finest tumbler of his day.

In every town great crowds he drew, / And all men marveled to see him do / The French Vault, the Vault of Champagne, / The Vault of Metz, and the Vault of Lorraine.

The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul
Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple
As false dawn.
Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.

Some are in bed-sheets, some are in blouses,
Some are in smocks: but truly there they are.
Now they are rising together in calm swells
Of halcyon feeling, filling whatever they wear
With the deep joy of their impersonal breathing;

Now they are flying in place, conveying

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

John Heartfield (19 June 1891, Berlin – 26 April 1968, East Berlin) is the anglicized name of the German photomontage artist Helmut Herzfeld. He chose to call himself Heartfield in 1916, to criticize the rabid nationalism and anti-British sentiment prevalent in Germany during World War I.

Career

Today my Father would have turned 87. This is the chapter from my new book, My Life Without Me, dedicated to him, Gojko Tesanovic (1923-2008)

3. My Father

- Never make decisions out of fear, he used to tell me.

I didn’t know how else to decide, so I stopped making any decisions.

- Take care of yourself, don’t give a damn what people demand from you if you don’t like it or want it.

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
and darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can
unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done

From Wikipedia

Béla Tarr (born July 21, 1955, Pécs, Hungary) is a Hungarian film director, screenwriter, and former actor.

Life

He and his man

But to return to my new companion. I was greatly delighted with him, and made it my business to teach him everything that was proper to make him useful, handy, and helpful; but especially to make him speak, and understand me when I spoke; and he was the aptest scholar there ever was.
Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe

Since we agreed to let the road between us
Fall to disuse,
And bricked our gates up, planted trees to screen us,
And turned all time's eroding agents loose,
Silence, and space, and strangers - our neglect
Has not had much effect.

Leaves drift unswept, perhaps; grass creeps unmown;
No other change.
So clear it stands, so little overgrown,
Walking that way tonight would not seem strange,
And still would be followed. A little longer,

Razgovor vodio Zorislav Paunković

Vladimir Glocer (1931) jedan je od prvih proučavalaca
stvaralaštva Danila Harmsa, kojim je počeo
da se bavi još pedesetih godina prošlog stoleća, ali i
drugim svojevremeno nepoznatim i nepriznatim ruskim
piscima (pesnik Georgij Oboldujev, na primer), čiji je
značaj u savremenoj književnosti i istoriji književnosti
sve veći. Na početku svog književnog delovanja bavio se
dečjom književnošću i radio kao književni sekretar

I was giving a lecture
to the "Friends of Cacania"
on the subject "Is Life Likely?"
when I remembered I
was totally agnostic,
love and hate in equal parts and the outcome
unsure, depending on the moment.
Then I decided five minutes
were enough--
two and a half for the thesis
two and a half for the antithesis
this was the only homage possible
for a man without qualities.
I spoke exactly thirty-five seconds.
And when I said
that yes and no were look alikes
shouts and whispers interrupted my talk

by John Simon

The Czech novelist Milan ­Kundera’s new essayistic book, “Encounter,” his fourth, is alternatingly elegiac and celebratory. An émigré from the Communist horror of what was then Czechoslovakia, he settled in Paris and proceeded to write in French. But he discovered in France “the sense that we have come to the era of post-art, in a world where art is dying because the need for art, the sensitivity and the love for it, is dying.”