Many quip that the more letters one accumulates after their name, the less they are able to exercise common sense. Of course, if you are a comparative lit professor reading this entry (right), you are undoubtedly bristling at the notion that there is such a thing as 'common sense.' Arguably, what constitutes 'common sense' is merely the product of cultural forces acting within a given historical context, and where meaning is relegated to the momentary consensus of buffoons struggling to fathom and negotiate their insignificance amid the material confines by which they have unwittingly enslaved themselves. But the sight of a distinguished and learned man in his fifties dumbfounded, incredulous, and powerless when half his class disappears forty minutes into lecture...yes, I'm sorry to say, there is such a thing as common sense, or lack thereof."Why don't you demand their presence, and give an exit quiz toward the end of lecture?"
"Because I don't want them to feel as if they are being held hostage."
The nature of work governing modern industrial nations exists within multiple, and often competing, layers of absurdity. Because of rapid technological advances, and given that we've transitioned into a period of perpetual change, tasks are managed not only by fewer individuals, but also in ways that seem redundant; we keep paper records in warped, metallic file cabinets alongside virtual, cloud-based data management systems, and the two hardly ever match. Additionally, companies are constantly changing platforms, ensuring an endless state of flux in a desperate attempt to keep pace with the ever fickle tastes and habits of the hyper-informed consumer.
Hang in there, a review is indeed forthcoming.
Don't get me wrong, I'm no Luddite. In fact, I love and obsess over technology. But during moments when I'm juggling an iPhone, laptop, PC, and iPad, each of which demands conversation with several people at once over an equally overwhelming number of issues and topics (and in the end accomplishing nothing), I am but forced to acknowledge the absurdity of existence.
It is for these reasons that Ernest Hilbert's online literary magazine, Now Culture, is a welcome and must-read addition to the bevy of tired, overly pedantic journals bobbing obnoxiously across the increasingly commercialized virtual seascape many still so foolishly regard with great excitement, enthusiasm, and hope...the internet. Editors Don Zirilli and Gene Myers venture into literary online territory that rivals the Mad Hatters Review.
Behold, the raven with a doughy-eyed cow's head with bristled snout nudging for endearment as Now Culture's introductory homepage graphic. It is a bizarre and reckless presentation that few will comprehend first glance. Begin clicking on links and you'll soon stumble across an even more obscure series of images, culminating, and only if you are lucky, in a vacant-eyed, mouth-gaping clown with an erect horn protruding from his right hip pocket. Ok, now I'm getting a little carried away, but this clown is one of two key directional icons the reader must decipher, the other is an equally obfuscated map with strange pencil etchings on a blurred glass background.
I will speak of this no more, for therein lies the fun (and madness) in trying to navigate through Now Culture's entries.
I despise the word "edgy." This is not an edgy online magazine but one that is visionary. Oh god, I hate that word too, "visionary."
Hmm...it is playful, brusque, imaginative, challenging, brilliant, and an utter failure.
The first publication that caught my prying critic slits is Sean Burke's poem, Guided Meditation.
"Now think of the sun as peremptory to a certain understanding of the sun think of horses felled think of field mice and think of egrets flown as forms of living mineral thing of all their bodies are capable of as you would think of a person you could love given different circumstances consider cold wrought iron"
It is a wonderful example of free association that challenges and disrupts the reader's perceptual and interpretive processes that are otherwise accustomed to the predictable schemata of the day-to-day. Be patient, don't rush trying to connect each phrase into a continuous and contiguous whole, rather, take a moment to digest and decode each phrase, most of whose self-generated meanings you'll be startled to discover has more to do with your own set of prior experiences as opposed to what the author is inherently attempting to convey.
I also enjoyed unearthing Leni Zumas's poem, And you will know us.
by the bars
on our eyes
you will know us
without wanting to
see our teeth
black from sugar
so much play
and no work
makes me ennui
said the hotel
Zuma's poem continues in this fashion; short controlled phrases whose seemingly cryptic meaning, and unique arrangement, entices the reader to revisit and delve, to subvert the cliche and reinterpret them in ways that broaden and expand sense impressions.
If you are looking for absurdist fiction, poetry, and non-fiction, I urge you to check out Now Culture. Although by no means a polished endeavor, it's on the right track, and I sincerely hope they gain greater traction.
