The blog of author Dennis Cooper

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Mai Zetterling Day

 

‘Undervalued and underseen, Mai Zetterling’s directorial work explodes like a firecracker. Even today, more than 50 years since her most fertile period, the films remain fresh in tone, content and form. Filled with transgressive eroticism, they arouse controversy and transcend conventional narrative structures. More often than not, they centre on characters trying to find their place in life – just as Zetterling was when she made them.

‘While still in her teens, she rose to prominence as an actor in her native Sweden, breaking through in Alf Sjöberg’s startling Torment (1944), written by a young Ingmar Bergman. The film’s success led her to the UK, where she played the eponymous immigrant in Basil Dearden’s excellent wartime drama Frieda (1947). A contract with the Rank Organisation followed, but sadly good roles didn’t: she was typecast as a refugee, and then as a sex symbol. A trip to Hollywood for the amusing Danny Kaye vehicle Knock on Wood (1954) paved the way for stardom, but Zetterling walked away, uncomfortable in the spotlight and unsatisfied with the quality of the female parts on offer.

‘Given such a predicament, it’s unsurprising that Zetterling’s own films show a concern for the role of women in contemporary society – something which didn’t always sit well with male critics. Time and again, reviewers refer to her films as ‘cold’ – perhaps because they engage the mind more than the heart, or perhaps because their explicit sexuality and pessimistic attitude towards marriage simply don’t fit with conventional notions of femininity. But even without her former image as Britain’s homely ‘Swede-heart’, Zetterling’s directorial work would feel brazen, bold and anarchic.

‘After directing 4 short documentaries for the BBC, Zetterling made a BAFTA-nominated, Golden Lion-winning short – The War Game (1963) – before returning to Sweden to make her debut feature: Loving Couples (1964). The film was adapted from a suite of novels by Agnes von Krusenstjerna, whose writing was known for its frank, scandalous sexuality and its detailed portrayal of women’s lives.

‘In condensing the 7-volume series, Zetterling utilised an elaborate flashback structure and personalised the material by adding scenes from her own life (recognisable from their description in All Those Tomorrows, her essential autobiography).

‘Set during the early days of the First World War, the story concerns 3 pregnant women (Gio Petré, Harriet Andersson and Gunnel Lindblom) who recall their lives and their lovers as they wait to give birth on a maternity ward. Flashbacks reveal their experiences and, as Zetterling put it, their “attitudes to the fundamentals of life: birth and marriage, sexual relations, human feelings, freedom”. In telling these women’s stories, Zetterling highlights the misogyny of the men that surround them.

‘Nominated for the Palme d’Or at Cannes, the film was condemned for its sexual (and homosexual) content – even its poster was banned. Part of the scandal was down to the director’s gender and misguided perceptions about what women should – and shouldn’t – talk about. Indeed, it was often said that Zetterling directed like a man (whatever that means).

‘For her next film, Night Games (1966), Zetterling adapted her own novel of the same name, which explored the decadence and perversity of the upper classes (serving as a wider metaphor for European society as a whole). Perfecting the flashback structure of Loving Couples, Zetterling fluidly interweaves the childhood and adulthood of Jan (Keve Hjelm and Jörgen Lindström) as he returns to his family home in an attempt to overcome the trauma of his incestuous upbringing. Filled with a baroque grotesqueness and an ending that foreshadows Michelangelo Antonioni’s Zabriskie Point (1970), it proved so provocative that, once again, even its poster was banned.

‘In 1968 came Zetterling’s 2 best films, made back-to-back – Doctor Glas and The Girls – both of which flopped massively upon release. In the former, adapted from a novel by Hjalmar Söderberg, the eponymous doctor helps a reverend’s estranged wife escape her husband’s lecherous, non-consensual clutches. In The Girls, 3 actresses (played by Bibi Andersson, Harriet Andersson and Gunnel Lindblom) go on a theatrical tour with Aristophanes’ Lysistrata and, inspired by their characters, find themselves battling for female liberation in a society dominated by men. Audaciously experimental, the film may be drenched in feminist theory, but it plays like an absurdist comedy.

‘Later, back in England, she was hired to direct the borstal drama Scrubbers (1982), which was originally intended as a quasi-sequel to Alan Clarke’s Scum (1979). Zetterling conducted extensive research, resulting in a compassionate portrayal of the young offenders, and a critical view of the prison system.

‘For her final feature, Amorosa (1986), Zetterling returned to Agnes von Krusenstjerna – this time telling the novelist’s life story rather than adapting her work. The film begins as a fever dream, with von Krusenstjerna being committed to an asylum during the Carnival of Venice. An extended flashback follows, beginning on a joyful note with the Swedish summer and her youthful (same-sex) dalliances, before becoming increasingly unhinged as illness, madness and an abusive husband take hold.

‘Towards the end of her life, Zetterling returned to acting, and there she found more luck with child-friendly material. One of her final roles was as the grandmother in Nicolas Roeg’s terrifyingly good Roald Dahl adaption, The Witches (1990).’ — Alex Barrett

 

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Stills














































 

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Further

Mai Zetterling @ Wikipedia
Mai Zetterling @ IMDb
DVD: Three Films by Mai Zetterling
MZ @ Cinememorial
Mai Zetterling – Nordic Women in Film
Gemini Rising: The Cinema of Mai Zetterling
A Cinema of Obsession: The Life and Work of Mai Zetterling
MZ @ Letterboxd
Directed by Mai Zetterling
Where to begin with Mai Zetterling
Barbara Kruger on “Scrubbers,” Directed By Mai Zetterling
Mai Zetterling and The Girls
Mai Zetterling Takes Us into the Lives and Societal Roles of Three Pregnant Women
EVERY DESIRE: MAI ZETTERLING

 

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Extras


Director of the Week: Mai Zetterling


Hommage à MAI ZETTERLING


Harriet Andersson and Mai Zetterling at Cannes 1965


Interview with Jo Batterham on the life and work of Mai Zetterling

 

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Monologue (1978)

 

There used to be a tradition in my country of introducing man says it was. So anonymous to introduce. Actress filmmaker my. Myself as I can Mr August and. Myself is also a philosopher runaway Queen Christina will shock the world. So. The Characters in Search of those. You know I am not on my way to heaven. I’m just the morgue. With a civic registration number. The proof that I. And when I die my number would be put onto another computer. This way I was never. Taking a bird’s eye view of a my. Team which would be named city of light and water. City of. And great. City between. There are many stuck on and the name of many people but for me it is the city of my childhood. The city of a thousand trades. This idiot decide and grow. The city with. The city of no. City. Hidden people. City with a creative on. The city of prosperity. The city would it’s hard because. Here we have problems with. Described. The largest monopolies in the world it’s a simple nodded as they drank chain store for of course. The city of Doc winters and many do me Mom there is a drop in marriages and the divorce rate has risen. The city that provide commute to tickets for dogs. On trains and buses. Stock comp is probably the most law abiding town in Western Europe the city with many laws and restrictions. Reforms protections against almost everything. The city with architecture of seven ten trees and it least seventeen. The god is a silent Lutheran God with little impact on society. Efforts have been made to disestablish to Lutheran Church first junk people or most people who are negative or indifferent to. It. This. Is the city which has been regarded by the world as a model city. Socially and culturally. However there is a system of compulsory military service for men between the ages of eighteen and forty seven. This is a city situated between east and west and who has the highest life expectancy in the world and the highest standard of living in Europe. Everything is organized for the people. Except sleep. Culture is on the top of the list of recreation. The National Theatre. Both pray to God when the two great Bergman’s Ingmar and Ingrid were connected with the star factory it has been called. It has a school with a three year course so I took my carriage in both hands and entered that monumental thing. I used to sit on the steps with my eyes down cost and didn’t think I really belong. But to my great surprise I was accepted at the age of eighteen and already off to one I paid big bucks in Shakespeare and Jane Doe. I was an actress. Our great dramatist all this when I have a lot to say about acting and actress. The art of acting seems to be the easiest of all. As any person can walk tall. Make gestures but of course that person is a self and that is not art. Give a person a role to play and the difficulties begin at for the dawning of the stage that a D.L. little woman she knows she has a charming figure lovely leg and a pair of flirtation. Being is all machines and she uses it. Because certainly nothing to do with talent. If she has words to say. We usually cannot hear them and if we do that is no depth behind the words. And their where about darling one knows she has a lovely voice. She only listens to herself and does not take into account what the author has to say. I should know I was married to two charming darling actresses myself. Poor old Strindberg women always women. He even went as far as thinking that the gang of women intellectuals were after him trying to seduce him being a misfortune is that would have been a feather in the hot foot as they couldn’t seduce him he then thought that they were after the plight he called them a bunch of blue stockings. Man haters. Half women. Self-centered little bitches trying to take over the world he was being persecuted. When its friends called him paranoid he denied it he could never get the fundamentals and tighten that exist between the sexes. Once upon a time he had thought that he could find pieces to a woman but that had turned out to be the worst of all. Strindberg Blue Tower the prison he used to call it he lived here without women and didn’t stop writing about everything stands just as listed now it is amusing on the shelves of the plays. Obsessed with interesting women the beginning and the end the beginning being mother. His first love was his mom. I wanted my love the me he screamed. CD My first wife. Little devil. Them blow a hole in the drawing room a lady in bed I wanted the opposite. Freedom My second wife she attracted me to people I hated her because I loved. My third wife cannibal gave me back my you. Said you want a little child with me you see she didn’t but that is that everything about a woman is a riddle. Everything about women one solution. Pregnant and I must agree with a sometimes strange creatures. Confused. Likely to for. Pointing to a man. We are still out of touch with his word. We are the square pegs in the room. So we are treated with suspicion. Sometimes women have more courage than men. The call to be a woman take great courage. Tell me why do you hate. Women. I’ve never done that. Unfortunately. You know I always thought it was them that give me. A. Woman is a particularly fight I’m intelligent and militias. Once you said that woman was the most perfect thing on a human. To that you had to submission. What professionals do you think a suitable for women white mates. Nurses. Because their children more like. Actress sunset thing at. Queen’s. Of course the female on the specious is more good to see them to me. What are you looking for in life. Love In fact. I’m unhappy. Woman is. Because like nothing. I’m frank and. Show you a bit about a Lonely Planet as I painted it in advance of my time they said like everything else about. Shit green landscape fifty guys and should look for a tree that Sweden or you. Join the even went further I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I maintain that the Swedish nation is a stupid to conceited slavish enemy is an uncouth nation. Something seemed to suggest that we yet there is no region joke that goes there is only one thing wrong with this week. A Swede says Yes look look at a small place we Swedes have made for a look at how do we work and how will we look after each other so beautifully organized so please. Everything is just. In the book where it is middle aged. Why is the rate of suicide. Why has mental illness with. Some green the. Only thing wrong with that to me is that they are. A. Sixteenth century traveler once called stock on a trading village which things which is a city that was true then but now it is a boom town which things it is a big if population has almost tripled in only half a century it is a young city yet very near the heart of the city the old village feeling you’re thinking Oh God. Every part about countries represented here. Every style. Manor house in peasant women. Old in. It is a well known and well loved point stock I’m just called scum. James out knew it well too. He used to come here for ALI MOORE Now trying to free his mind from the demon and the angel that seemed to leave him no peace. But you only moments away into the price that stock one has to pay for the brilliant people Oreo but some of the culmination comes from that very important day for City mid-summer whether singing and dancing all through the night and defecated drinking is was. Now you can read the newspapers midnight without any artificial light. Nobody seemed to know the night is luminous the light has an intensity that has to be seen to be believed even the animals refuse to face. Dance and by the way is a logical God is great for now the animals living relatively open in law to space is not caged in it has been a model to other similar situations and you know what is beautiful but it has. One. Deceived it is cold. Matthew. Godless and create a demolished Saturday night when he was rather tired. I was bald women world there was a mistake to be sure most looked over his own. Soap. Man must command woman must obey all else is computer. Oh yes yes of course it’s only those damn angels I keep on following me about. I’m frightened. I’m frightened. I’m frightened of women will be the death of men. They will never forgive them what they’ve done to them. That think they’re sick women and elephants never forgive women an elephant never forgives. I’m frightened I tell you. I’m frightened of women. Pregnant from the. I’m frightened of the police was going to lock me up sooner or later because of something written law because they think I’m mad. I’m Frank No my success my friend has to say first. I’m frightened you’re here. I’m frightened of myself. I’m frightened of the Dems. Once upon a time there was rather is stupid little man who could think of nothing and. One night he was forced to walk home by. Although the movie for and giving him plenty of light it will still be very frank. When he had done and so he so shadow he thought it was the devil when he dared to go back he saw a little bit of his hair standing on end with fear he thought it was. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him and when he came home he dropped down. We see. I forgot to tell you about another fear much more. The sweetest nation in nineteen hundred and ten the guarding the military build up. I said it’s a dangerous to make weapons in peace time or so if you have such a big Amish surely must use it. I’ve looked at the past and I can see I’m free. Attack. Neutrality has been a key note allow foreign policy it had no war since eight hundred forty our last prime minister had this to say on the subject. Only no believe in evil was once I know it is that it’s on the to believe that he had to have a military defense it is a month in the world believe him and the minister added to recently it is of course impossible to say exactly how strong our defenses must be but they must be strong enough to make her sister’s worthwhile at least to certain types of attack. Hence this large underground Children dot com which was built as a protection against nuclear attack in deeds time it is used as again a. Bond that one of the best to bad come to single payer to be than those two. To. If war comes there are eleven pages at the back of the telephone book that will tell you what to do. Listen for the alarm signals. Put on the radio for the customs find a safe place and take with you some warm clothes a sleeping bag food and drink for two days. Identity cards etc. Funny really when one knows what just one single megaton bomb can do. Striking the center of the city it would create vast of a station and hundreds of thousands of casualties and radiation would create long term genetic defects and can do it with human. People are feeling alienated in this society a feeling of apathy has crept in small ways in a large beat a machine you say no it doesn’t really matter of the thing. Once. Upon a time one man said to another want the rulers of a country supposed to get rid of unhappiness and make happen is possible for everyone. What do you mean by happiness and unhappiness. Said the other one. When men make wars. When the people mistrust their rule is when there is no love I call that an have been. Why do you think that happened is still exist in a time when we have a good you think there is some lack of understanding between people. While And then he said. Now days we are told how to love and worship our own country. That’s called nationalism and that’s why they go to war against other nations a person is taught to love and take care for themselves. That’s why people are still evil. Now how are you going to change the fate of says said the other one. Was you we must start treating other countries like Iran. We must love and neighbors like ourselves. Did you think that people are going to love it you and call you a little bit of an idea and instead the one. I don’t understand it’s all so simple if you love others they love you if you had to get up the abs that hate getting kids and the ones that kids will get punished Don’t you see it’s all a matter of love. Love is Wall fell. You need more coverage to get married then to go to war. Crean Christina you shocked the world by refusing to get married and again when you have to Katie and you wanted to explore the philosophy of the day you brought the most famous of philosophers to catch up to your cool wet I’m afraid he died. Was it from the draft to rule needs in your castle over to string that killed him. Who moves. This exhibition is called aggression. Scenes aggression. Just like marriage. Marriage being a desperate action of a coward. Let it stop the circulation. Is dicta deny your sister the. Marriage is a vicious circle. Donna kill filters in which we can stop. Them. What do you think of marriage. Marriages with the two people. Madam. Marriage is. Responsible. Susan. This is a city that is prepared for practically everything. Keep this if you keep the traffic flowing keep the city clean. Trust no man safety. Again so they say we are better prepared than most cities singular at this are gods the overall control of the. Say the police drunkenness is a problem. Still on aquatics like everyone else. So is traffic and so indeed is boredom with nothing to do. The teenagers from the suburbs coming to town with their minds been to instruction the police are demanding more control into the city getting they emphasize that it is a mix of her. Home and on. Each year nodded I’ve been she once wrote he who put six system of his foes to live afraid of love. We’re one gold medals for our safety the one prices on the continent. Double trouble. The insurance companies and the police seem to prefer our high standards of to anyone. We are certainly a consumer society. Ourselves the stores are in the lead with coupons and premium to you we are being called a gadget society and they have been discussed which kind of society people really want. Shelby continue with this so-called God society and if you know what do we want him to. Show you something very special. That’s the impulse char it’s a very special project. Swedish. What’s impulses that is Dr Schauer can change between home code in special impulses you regulate the impulses here that something like a song you get hot cold cold and for this you feel very nice and you will be refreshed. Pricing The. Calling it is when you. Know you. Want give us run by. For advertising the unnecessary in calling it could. You. Give us was frantic by. The for the advertising the unnecessary and pulling it toward the. U.N. it is. You. Give the up front take your buying and selling for advertising the un necessary and calling it good business. When it is no good for you. Once upon a time there was a man who had only one thought in his head it was to own. One day he walked into a big jeweler’s shop and stuff you found in his pockets. Then he will start to get out of course a pretty found ones and they are still. There are so many people in the shop. How could you possibly think you get away with. A man on said. I didn’t see the people I only just saw the to. Talk on a golden city surrounded by frozen water leading to the Bulls. The city bridge in the city with its true big red. The city with at least one for every one hundred fifteen have been. As recently as in the mid nineteenth century we were one of the poorest and most underdeveloped countries in Europe. Very soon there will be two cars per family unit this. Country for telephones in the world. The city between. A popular most a little and when our modern stock was born the name spoke means logs which were connected with chains and thrown into the water to protect the island against inflation. Was a contemporary word for island though. The only town is the home it’s a jumble of narrow streets cozy with trolls. Small square where there’s usually someone trying to calm this time it is college physics talkin to Butch crunching to provide gazed indoors and the leads will open just in time for these. Stock and was built in the wrong page as city officials it not long ago when the only times the rule is didn’t want to make it comfortable with thinking of military strategy a place difficult to get at them directed certainly is being guarded by a GREAT are cheaper to go. The only town was described by one Monarch a long time ago as a dancer and a godly. This is ghost of a buffer. Who’s supposed to have been the greatest Rula we have ever had he looked upon stuck on as the nation’s greatest. Fortress he was regarded as the founder of the modern Swedish nation and has been called the George Washington of Sweden. Once upon a time there was a woman who had lived most of her life away from my native land. One day when she was there and a phrase she decided that she paid this it to her home town with her friends. They. Are bit so they said we don’t talk to your town don’t you remember. She looked she didn’t remember but she said they moved. And dad is the screen and the hopes that you live for the apparent. The tears welled up in her eyes and look they said that’s why your father and mother were buried. She couldn’t contain a set of any longer and the tears ran down the cheek. Have friends who are little bit embarrassed by this and they said sorry dear only trying to teach you this is just a little village you were born in a very big town which is grown bigger over the years. She was a bit taken aback by their teaching but she didn’t really mind. When. Once they arrived in her hometown and she saw the street and the house which she had lived when with her parents she was very surprised that she wasn’t moved to tears because that’s what she had been and have friends. She looked again. And what did she see. She sought a town like any other town a street like any of the street a house a grey. So. You’re sure to have a warm welcome when you arrived in Stockholm but don’t be surprised that if you’re right in mid-winter to get something lethal common cold the last second a kind of melancholy induced by too much Dr Who. And the upturned face. Ever briefly the sound aside I’m so. So. Would. Hope. Ther. Are you. Acting. You know. Yes. Or. No. The Royal Palace dominates the otoh a large cumbersome please. Christina preferred streets the opening of the study or the theatre. According to ministers she squandered the money of the people on the list game. Thanks to cold. She couldn’t convince them that she thought the theater just as important as bread and that is of course an arguable point. Green Christine one of the strangest and most fascinating creature of God is a made. That’s why I wrote a play about. I have just written some no From our discussion. She had made intelligence. I could have talked to her. Always agree that security is our greatest enemy. That patriotism is a been ition psychotic all of it is. That more weapons bring on board. And that the more powerful the weapon that the nation has the mall in secure it the. That when you have a deep freezer for there might be some lack of spiritual. That marriage is a high. For which no compass was ever invented. That man on the whole like the company of ladies as long as they keep quiet. That men still say. That must something wrong with a woman who is intelligent and one to learn. Then we can all agree. That life is an incurable disease that goes on and on by and that every woman. Every man. In the end is as lonely as a light. A pleasant evening it with friends. Sure. The more daring than careful when you’re willing to cheat. Times when I get so confused that I believe that everything I’ve written is more real than reality itself. It’s all a dream an illusion. Perhaps I’ve been away from stock on too long. I don’t seem to have the same kind of wishes of my complexion. Here a minute. In a group in securing. Love. You say you. A thing you are.

 

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10 of Mai Zetterling’s 18 films
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The War Game (1963)
‘Mai Zetterling’s short film The War Game (1963) offers up an indictment of how young children (especially boys) are indoctrinated into a worldview that accepts and valourizes violence. Two boys rampage through an urban landscape fighting to possess a real gun, consistently ignored and unacknowledged by the few adults they encounter. A substantial success (it won best short at Venice in 1963), the film launched Swedish actor Zetterling’s directorial career.’ — tiff

Watch it here

 

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Loving Couples (1964)
‘The title of Mai Zetterling’s boldly iconoclastic debut feature—adapted from a cycle of seven novels by the provocative feminist writer Agnes von Krusenstjerna—drips with irony. In 1915, three pregnant women from varying social backgrounds (Harriet Andersson, Gunnel Lindblom, and Gio Petré) enter a maternity ward. Cue a swirl of perspective-shifting flashbacks that, with searing psychological insight, illuminate the divergent yet interconnected experiences that brought them there—and that came to a head during one lavish, debauched Midsommar celebration. Wildly subversive in its treatment of sexuality, gender, class, religion, marriage, and motherhood, Loving Couples is as electrifying a first feature as any in cinema history, announcing the arrival of an uncompromising artist in pursuit of raw emotional truth.’ — The Criterion Collection


Trailer
Watch it here


Excerpt

 

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Night Games (1966)
‘One of John Waters’ all-time favorite films, Mai Zetterling’s scandalous sophomore directorial outing was denied a public screening at the 1966 Venice Film Festival. (The jury viewed it privately.) This lightning rod of a movie also prompted former child star Shirley Temple to resign from the board of the San Francisco Film Festival when they refused to pull it from their program. It tells of an unstable man who brings his fiancée to his palatial childhood home. There memories of his Oedipal fixation on his dissolute mother (Ingrid Thulin) begin to undermine his current relationship. “A wickedly sensuous Strindbergian drama, handled with a sharp eye for decadent details.” – Holt Foreign Film Guide.’ — cia.edu


Trailer

Watch the entirety here

 

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Doctor Glas (1968)
‘A doctor is tortured by his love for a patient, by his adulterous desire and his professional scruples. As per Zetterling, it’s about sex and pleasure but also about disgust, and about love and pregnancy but also about infidelity, abortion, euthanasia and murder. The contrast and focus of the monochrome photography are pushed to extremes as the doctor’s mind and self-control disintegrate.’ — Pamela Hutchinson


Excerpt

 

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The Girls (1968)
‘Mai Zetterling’s cinema reached new heights of exuberant experimentation and fierce political engagement with this pointed and playful touchstone of 1960s feminist cinema. As they tour Sweden in a theatrical production of Lysistrata, performing to often uncomprehending audiences, three women (national cinema icons Bibi Andersson, Harriet Andersson, and Gunnel Lindblom) find their own lives and marriages mirrored in the complex, combative gender relations at the heart of Aristophanes’s play. Onstage drama, offstage reality, and a torrent of surrealist fantasies and daydreams collide in The Girls, a slashing, sardonic reflection on the myriad challenges confronting women on their path to liberation, and on the struggles of the female artist fighting to make her voice heard over the patriarchal din.’ — The Criterion Collection


Trailer


the entirety

 

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The Moon Is a Green Cheese (1977)
‘What starts as a naturalistic drama in the archipelago of Stockholm is quickly melting down into a psychedelic, dadaistic pallet of colors and imagination. Mai Zetterling doesn’t hold back on the surrealistic imagery, veering into litteral clownery as the film is drenched in colors and circus as two clowns stuff each other with spaghetti in quite the unsettling way. It’s odd and aesthetically flashy.’ — Xplodera

 

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Stockholm (1978)
‘It’s not a loving picture that mai zetterling paints of stockholm, but i can’t help feeling so warm after watching this. about fifty years has passed since this was made and nothing has changed, which should make me sad, but i feel too much at home!!’ — kasja


the entirety

 

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Scrubbers (1982)
‘“It ain’t fun to rot in prison and have shit thrown on your head,” bemoans a young woman as she is led back to her cell. Such pungent musings are the stuff of Scrubbers, a film by Mai Zetterling, which abruptly displaces some of the hackneyed clichés of the women’s-prison genre. It introduces clarity and wit into this sadly predictable arena of semi-circuitous T and A, which is usually marked by a glowering absence of presence (or vice versa).’ — Barbara Kruger, Artforum


Trailer

 

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Amorosa (1986)
‘The disconnect between myself and Zetterling’s cinema seems to be one born of the division present in her own formal qualities. Her displacement of being through the compromising etiquette of higher powers – be it the spiritual slave state, the hierarchy of family or the classism in wedded nobility, is rendered in such a mentally cavernous esoterica. A real freak flow of psych deterioration that has warped chronology into an indiscernible ruin of time and space, the wants of sexuality written as a bodily pleasure suffered through the depths of conservative hell.

‘But it’s in her turn to the conventional definitions of existentialism that the mouth runs amuck with Bergman-esque literalist monologues. The plainly stated chamber discussion shifts the philosophical away from the deeper forms of consciousness that would otherwise be explored with such surrealist texture (must stress – Zetterling has a phenomenally expressive view for such inserts, stretching all the way back to her debut with Loving Couples), leaving only that which is forthrightly articulated. It’s an appeal that pleads from confines seemingly insurmountable. But when Zetterling opens on the sight of the feminine apocalypse, a procession of bound sensuality thrashing between asylum inquisitors atop the Venice canals, it’s hard to accept the banality of one lost soul asking another whether they believe in god.’ — Jack Russo


Trailer

 

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Betongmormor (1986)
‘Shows projects built by Skanska all over the world. In Germany, Algeria, Indonesia, Greenland, but also Sweden; Stockholm, Åre and Helsingborg.’ — IMDb


Excerpt

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** Dominik, Hi!!! Cool!!! It takes a very unspecial person to bring out my assholishness. Yes, love got me and the buche to the destination safely. This is it, and these are my friends Ange, Zac, Adem, and Alex who were about to eat it with me. It was very yum. Was it RE’s birthday yesterday? So close to the mythical JC’s birthday. That must mean something. Love putting the X in Xmas, G. ** CAUTIVOS, Thank you! Oh, hm, I don’t know of an entire Xmas themed poetry book that isn’t doggrel. I really love James Tate. Maybe I recommend his Selected Poems. ‘Howl’s’ great. I don’t think much else of his poetry is. James Tate’s poems don’t take a long time to take hold, so, yeah, try him? Same for your wishes, sir. ** Tosh Berman, Thanks, T. I tried. Bukowski does get to people. The French love him, for instance. He’s pretty good with punchlines, I’ll say that. Open mindedness is always the goal, no? Except when fascism, etc. is the subject. ** _Black_Acrylic, Happy to have lead you into the time-appropriate spirit. Oh, no, about the course cancellation. That fucking sucks. Is there no alternative? But hey, don’t let that stop you, for goodness sake. ** jade, Hi. Oh, I’ve never communicated with KS ever. We just look at each other’s social media feed and, I guess, read each other’s stuff, but we aren’t personally acquainted in the slightest. I don’t think you need to worry about anything, though. My impression of you is only inflating, trust me. Ah, papers to do. Yeah. My short time at university was good, but I sure don’t miss writing papers. Sure, you can put the poems on your blog, no problem, and that’s a compliment if anything. Nice poems you picked/liked. Me too, I guess obviously. Oh, wow, I’ll try that sneaky route into Z-Lib. Everyone, Psssst … Jade says there’s a roundabout way to access the tragically murdered Z-Lib site. I’m sure going to give it a shot, and you can seemingly sort it out too, if you want, but going here to start. Thanks! I would love to have that site available again. Talking with you is great for me too. A boon, indeed. Your comments are registering, but I guess you can’t tell. That happens sometimes and is one of the blog’s weird behavioral ticks. Love, me. ** Jamie, Hi, J. My, you know, total pleasure. Writing routines are one of life’s secret cures. Or not life’s but … wait, yeah, life’s. What else is there? Placing submissions: yes, thumbs way up. When I’m writing and confused by what I’m writing I tend to assume that’s what they mean about the muse and shit. Movie stuff progresses. There’s so much to do, but I think we’ll be fine. Continual terror that the person responsible for raising the last money we need isn’t going to fulfil his promise, but that’s out of Zac’s and my hands. Cool you saw that short Akerman. The main girl in that was so fantastic. Kit Kats can be a mouth party’s but, at the same time, their abilities are highly overrated, so comfort yourself thusly. You know exactly what I would most like my day today to be like. How did you do that? I hope Tinkerbell flutters around your head all day. “Diss Never (Dig Up We History)” by Tricky love, Dennis. ** l@rst, Thanks, pal. I love the idea of ‘the real poet-deal’, and I think I know what you mean. Can’t wait to dig into your chapbook. It’s on deck. The personal reports and reviews of the ‘White Noise’ movie are so extremely polarised. It does make me warily curious. ** Steve Erickson, I should ask Gaspar, but I really think you’re right. Xmas Day? Zac and I might go see the new Serra film and ride the Xmas themed dark ride at the Paris Xmas fair, but, other than that and enjoying the empty streets, no plans. You? Cool. I’m so interested to see ‘SKINAMARINK’. ** Robert, Hi, Robert. You’re very welcome, glad you liked it/them. Right, the big winter storm. It’s headlines even way over here. Ashbery is my all time favorite American writer so big up on the idea of you reading him. Paris is okay. It looks great at Xmas. It’s not that cold. It’s raining too much. Work on the film is constant, and it’s going pretty well. Oh, so sorry about you having skip out on Chicago if you have to. Grr. When you get to that point in something you’re writing, you just need to put it aside and not even look at it for a while. That’s a pretty common short term problem, at least for me. And taking a breather almost always does the trick. Hope your today is usually and spectacularly wow. ** Meg Gluth, Deserved words are mostly kind to the speaker of them. Which made sense in my head before I typed it, I swear. ** World❤Princess, Hello, World❤Princess. How lovely to be able to make your acquaintance. Thank you so much about ‘I Wished’. That novel means a lot to me, so hearing that means a great deal. You wrote your own ending! Awesome! Oh, gosh, I don’t suppose I can read your real ending? Well, if you ever feel silly or not silly at all and want to comment again, do feel free. It’d be cool to get to know you. Thank you again, take care, and Merry Xmas! ** Right. Do you know the really interesting films of the Swedish director Mai Zetterling? If not, you can start here/today, if you like. See you tomorrow.

dc’s 5th annual xmas poetry scroll: ashbery, britton, green, tate, koestenbaum, denby, christie, berrigan, armantrout, crawford, spicer, padgett, mirov, boyle, creeley, gluck, wieners, killian, partrik, salier, schuyler, koertge, lin, myles, o’hara, madsen, young, berkson, brainard, coolidge, bukowski, gerstler

vintagexmas03-gifc200

 

 

 

Redeemed Area
by John Ashbery

Do you know where you live? Probably.

Abner is getting too old to drive but won’t admit it.

The other day he got in his car to go buy some cough drops

of a kind they don’t make anymore. And the drugstore

has been incorporated into a mall about seven miles away

with only about half the stores rented. There are three

other malls within a four-mile area. All the houses

are owned by the same guy, who’s been renting

them out to college students for years, so they are virtually uninhabitable.

A smell of vitriol and socks pervades the area

like an open sewer in a souk. Anyway the cough drops

(a new brand) tasted pretty good-like catnip

or an orange slice that has lain on a girl’s behind.

That’s the electrician calling now

nobody else would call before 7 A.M. Now we’ll have some

electricity in the place. I’ll start by plugging in

the Christmas tree lights. They were what made the whole thing

go up in sparks the last time. Next, the light

by the dictionary stand, so I can look some words up.

Then probably the toaster. A nice slice

of toast would really hit the spot now. I’m afraid it’s all over

between us, though. Make nice, like you really cared,

I’ll change my chemise, and we can dance around the room

like demented dogs, eager for a handout or they don’t

know what. Gradually, everything will return to normal, I

promise you that. There’ll be things for you to write about

in your diary, a fur coat for me, a lavish shoe tree for that other.

Make that two slices. I can see you only through a vegetal murk

not unlike coral, if it were semi-liquid, or a transparent milkshake.

I have adjusted the lamp;

morning’s at seven,

the tarnish has fallen from the metallic embroidery, the walls have fallen,

the country’s pulse is racing. Parents are weeping,

the schools have closed.

All the fuss has put me in a good mood,

O great sun.

 

Santa
by Donald Britton

Santa is the incomplete
Embodiment of our charity. Poor Santa,
His many bodies minted
Of human waste, his voice the choir
Of his own need. I feel so empty,
By myself, whispering my lists
In Santa’s spiral ear, while he lists
Slightly to one side like skeet
Propelled into the air by a device
No human hand has touched, so obsolete
Is effort when a dime skims ice.
Emit a cry for every useless thing:
Abundant padding so contrived
No one of us shall feel deprived.

 

Ranting
by Megan Green

ranting, pathetic insecurities, overwhelm the Christmas tree, and you promise
me a utopia, a sort of subsequential America,
where we’ll fuck & eat & play the craps, Las
Vegas is the only place it’ll happen, &
yet the nameless, intrude like a swarm of fucking locusts
feasting upon the Satin drape of my finest
face, I believe your chest most of all, that’s where
the dragon begins, & the sigh
spills from my eyes. Dead petals favour the corners. Gathering
like they have plans.

 

Making the Best of the Holidays
by James Tate

Justine called on Christmas day to say she
was thinking of killing herself. I said, “We’re
in the middle of opening presents, Justine. Could
you possibly call back later, that is, if you’re
still alive.” She was furious with me and called
me all sorts of names which I refuse to dignify
by repeating them. I hung up on her and returned
to the joyful task of opening presents. Everyone
seemed delighted with what they got, and that
definitely included me. I placed a few more logs
on the fire, and then the phone rang again. This
time it was Hugh and he had just taken all of his
pills and washed them down with a quart of gin.
“Sleep it off, Hugh,” I said, “I can barely under-
stand you, you’re slurring so badly. Call me
tomorrow, Hugh, and Merry Christmas.” The roast
in the oven smelled delicious. The kids were playing
with their new toys. Loni was giving me a big
Christmas kiss when the phone rang again. It was
Debbie. “I hate you,” she said. “You’re the most
disgusting human being on the planet.” “You’re
absolutely right,” I said, “and I’ve always been
aware of this. Nonetheless, Merry Christmas, Debbie.”
Halfway through dinner the phone rang again, but
this time Loni answered it. When she came back
to the table she looked pale. “Who was it?” I
asked. “It was my mother,” she said. “And what
did she say?” I asked. “She said she wasn’t my
mother,” she said.

 

[older I get]
by Wayne Koestenbaum

older I get, more serious I become
—-about wearing
—-makeup and wig.
caftan, too. always interested in a rub, kind sir:
—-love yr eyebrows.
—-admittedly, my pix
—-disguise age.
mix turquoise, king’s blue, bluish purple: impose mix
—-on passive quinacridone
—-violet’s impersonality.
try to figure out how clearly delineated
—-“subject positions” find
—-angles of mutual
—-pleasurable engagement without
—-destroying each other.

Joan Rivers baking Xmas cookies seen sideways
—-through tunnel window’s
—-mirror lake Simi-
—-lac® simulacrum.
“this administration is the worst thing to happen
—-to orange since
—-Agent Orange,” quips pundit.
every novel I love is fragile. red stars
—-on black duffel bag
—-triangulate with
—-Lynn Redgrave’s in-
—-dependent sources of self-
—-esteem, not harvested from Lear.
wrongly seeking sublimity in barn-roof gutter crevice.

lucent ceiling corrugations a dauphinois
—-potato when his Pompeii
—-gaze claims me, then disappears.
kouros-carved lips, stone lingerie, scandal
—-pudding: congregated
—-shames comprise a menu.
hives on my calves, awaiting Purim-Benadryl’s
—-alleviation: sob-collapse
—-throws ash on coffin
—-lowered: crowded town
—-car back from cemetery
—-to capers, cream cheese.

abstract expressionism is what happened at the hospital:
—-fools disputing climate
—-change, Tiffany
—-blue establishing shot’s
—-concentrated inattention.
“I’m glad you gave up the figure,” she said:
—-but I haven’t
—-stopped pursuing nudes.
to be the dread golem, aloof in Prague, boning
—-up on feuilletonisme,
—-Eton pea-coat toggles
—-unclasping gelt-Jocasta.

 

Sonnet 8
by Edwin Denby

Three old sheepherders so filthy in their ways
Whores wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole
Saw once the Christmas star which in a blaze
Pierced like delight into the secret soul.

They later also stood with their same faces
Around a baby male and there were shown
The heart caressing with millennial graces
A beauty which in love is all its own.

These three were the first according to the story
But unbaptized they never will reach heaven
In an eternal hell tortured and gory
They can recall the joy that they were given,

This savage torture by the law of love
Of Christmas shepherds I like thinking of.

 

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I’ll Be Me and You Be Goethe
by Heather Christie

I want it to be winter and I want to change
the color of this room This room should be
a blue room and it should be freezing
but ventilated and I in my medium snowsuit
irresistible I know because everything I do
I do to get more beautiful so you will want
to love me in the cold and indoor morning

 

What I’d Like For Christmas, 1970
by Ted Berrigan

Black brothers to get happy
The Puerto Ricans to say hello
The old folks to take it easy &
as it comes
The United States to get straight
Power to butt out
Money to fuck off
Business with honor
Religion
& Art
Love
A home
A typewriter
A GUN.

 

Advent
by Rae Armantrout

In front of the craft shop,
a small nativity,
mother, baby, sheep
made of white
and blue balloons.

*

Sky
god
girl.

Pick out the one
that doesn’t belong.

*

Some thing

close to nothing
flat
from which,

fatherless,
everything has come.

 

Look at My Head, It’s a Pumpkin with a Candle in It
by Keegan Crawford

What is on your bed right now?
I laid there for fifteen minutes with my face down into the pillow.
I imagined how I looked from another person’s point of view
and I looked dead, in a humorous way.
What is your favorite holiday?
The tree was fake and everyone was acting like the tree.
If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
The drop was five stories, so I didn’t look down. I just looked forward.
Have you ever been camping?
I don’t know why people are scared of wolves. ‘Blood thirsty killing machine’ is a false phrase. They are not robots and they drink water.
What was the last thing you ate?
I am not a blood thirsty killing machine. I just wanted to clarify that.
Do you have any regrets?
Flowers die 100% percent of the time. I still like flowers, though.

 

Psychoanalysis: An Elegy (Excerpt)
by Jack Spicer

I think that I would like to write a poem that is slow as a summer
As slow getting started
As 4th of July somewhere around the middle of the second stanza
After a lot of unusual rain
California seems long in the summer.
I would like to write a poem as long as California
And as slow as a summer.
Do you get me, Doctor? It would have to be as slow
As the very tip of summer.
As slow as the summer seems
On a hot day drinking beer outside Riverside
Or standing in the middle of a white-hot road
Between Bakersfield and Hell
Waiting for Santa Claus.

 

vintage santa claus merry christmas animation animations animated gif gifs smilie smiley smilies smileys photo: Vintage Santa Claus Merry Christmas animation animations animated gif gifs smilie smiley smilies smileys VintageXmas05.gif

 

Season’s Greetings
by Ron Padgett

The holidays are said
to give one a chance
to get in touch with others
but what held back that chance
the rest of the year?
What it means is
that the holidays are a time
when we should behave
like other people, as if
in junior high school,
jury duty, or the Army,
whereas what Philip Whalen
wanted was to take a holiday
from holidays, and then
he wavered, beautifully.

 

Kage’s First Xmas
by Ben Mirov

I am thinking of him and her having sex. I am thinking of them having really great sex, probably in front of a mirror. I am alone in the house. The TV is on, but everyone is asleep. I am about to turn twenty-one. When I turn twenty-one I am going to put on snowshoes. I am going to put on snowshoes and walk as far as I can into the snow. Once I am out in the snow I am going to sit down. I will probably sit in the snow for a long time. I’ll bring a sandwich and some juice. When I return to the house it will be Xmas morning. I will take off my snowshoes and I will tell my family my new name. I will say, On advent of my twenty-first birthday I have taken a new name. Henceforth I shall be called Kage. Kage with a K and not a C. From now on I will only answer to the name Kage. Thank you very much, and then I will walk out of the room. Then I will probably take a shower because I will be cold from sitting in the snow. I will walk into the bathroom and take off all my clothes and look at my body in the mirror. I will probably flex a little. Kage likes his new body. Then I will take a long shower. I will wash every part of my body, including my asshole and my ears and toes. Every part of my body will be clean. Then I will get out of the shower and go have Xmas. I will open my presents and say, Kage does not want this. Kage has no use for a Playstation. Kage does wear sweaters.

 

untitled
by Megan Boyle

everything i touch is going to be a fossil some day my dad still hasn’t taken down his christmas decorations

i walked to his refrigerator and immediately unwrapped and ate a square of american cheese

if i drop a toothpick i’m pretty sure it will remain where it fell for three days

not sure what happens after that.

 

Xmas Poem: Bolinas
by Robert Creeley

All around
the snow
don’t fall.

Come Christmas
we’ll get high
and go find it.

 

Love Poem
by Louise Glück

There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm
while she married over and over, taking you
along. How could it work,
when all those years she stored her widowed heart
as though the dead come back.
No wonder you are the way you are,
afraid of blood, your women
like one brick wall after another.

 

THE BLIND SEE ONLY THIS WORLD (A Christmas Card)
by John Wieners

Today the Lamb of God arrives in the mail
above the Cross, beside the Handsome Sailor
from Russia
in his turtleneck sweater. Today we make love
in our minds.
And women come to fore, winning the field.

It is Christmas, Hanukkah,–heritages we leave
behind
in israel.

There is a new cross in the wind, and it is our

minds, imagination, will

where the discovery is made

of how to pass the night, how to share the gift

of love, our bodies, which is true
illumination
of the present instant.

There is no other journey to make. We receive all
we need.

Without insight, we remain blind.
Without vision, we see only this world.

 

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All the Lovers
by Kevin Killian

Outside the Disney Concert Hall,
Kylie has summoned a clutch of cold models in white underwear,

They clamber on white boxes pitching for the sky

Somehow she appears in a dream sequence,

Boys and girls kiss and poke and struggle for love

In California, where the major candidates for governor and senator
live the lavish lives of Roman emperors,

Carly Fiorina, like Nero, bought a violin
for everyone on her Christmas list, from Cremona,

her wood golden and thin as hair,

81 per cent of voters don’t care how wealthy a
candidate is

You have to be rich to flourish

What came first, the wifebeater or the social system
that allowed ever and ever more flourish

In the face of a liverish social despair
all the lovers who have gone before

they don’t compare to you

 

i am a big dumbass bear on christmas morning
by partrik

holy shit a house

im gonna look inside the fucking window

who the fuck is this dumbass family in this house

if i wanted to i could bust in there and eat every one of these fuckers

look at this little fucker opening a present

oh look its a fire truck big deal ass monkey

when are these shit hats gonna fucking notice the bear at their window

hey bitch you forgot to look in your stocking

there you go

lol bubba wubba and chocolate give her a fucking toothbrush mom and dad

when are they gonna see me and chase me away

damn thats a lot of wrapping paper

lol that kitten is playing in it what a retard

oh shit they see me

“im not gonna hurt you or eat you”

but it sounds like “roar roar roar” to them cause im a big dumbass fucking bear

dad thats a big ass gun

dont shoot me think of all the fun times

like when watched your lovely family open presents on christmas

oh shit he took a warning shot im gonna run away

there is no presents under any of the trees of the woods of the world for me

why arent i hibernating

 

in a string of christmas lights that is blinking all year long
by Diana Salier

for christmas i get a new magic set and a big plastic stealth bomber that opens up and holds fifty little metal stealth bombers. i wear footie pajamas that zip all the way to my neck. the big plastic stealth bomber has a runway to practice takeoffs and landings. i sit on the carpet in my onesie and make the grey and green stealth bombers crash into each other so that all the pilots inside will die. i can’t finish card tricks or make the red balls disappear so i wear my black felt magician’s hat and walk around pulling rabbits out of things. i drive to my first girlfriend’s house. we drink wine and leave the bottles in the door of her parents’ car. on the way back to my house i text her all i want for christmas is you. at home a string of christmas lights blinks erratically. i fall asleep clearing the rubble off the runway.

 

December
by James Schuyler

The giant Norway spruce from Podunk, its lower branches bound,
this morning was reared into place at Rockefeller Center.
I thought I saw a cold blue dusty light sough in its boughs
the way other years the wind thrashing at the giant ornaments
recalled other years and Christmas trees more homey.
Each December! I always think I hate “the over-commercialized event”
and then bells ring, or tiny light bulbs wink above the entrance
to Bonwit Teller or Katherine going on five wants to look at all
the empty sample gift-wrapped boxes up Fifth Avenue in swank shops
and how can I help falling in love? A calm secret exultation
of the spirit that tastes like Sealtest eggnog, made from milk solids,
Vanillin, artificial rum flavoring; a milky impulse to kiss and be friends
It’s like what George and I were talking about, the East West
Coast divide: Californians need to do a thing to enjoy it.
A smile in the street may be loads! you don’t have to undress everybody.
“You didn’t visit the Alps?”
“No, but I saw from the train they were black
and streaked with snow.”
Having and giving but also catching glimpses
hints that are revelations: to have been so happy is a promise
and if it isn’t kept that doesn’t matter. It may snow
falling softly on lashes of eyes you love and a cold cheek
grow warm next to your own in hushed dark familial December.

 

Molly Is Asked
by Ron Koertge

to be in the Christmas pageant. She tells
me this standing in the door of what we
laughingly call my study.

“But I don’t want to be Mary,” she says.
“I want to be the guy.”

That makes me look up from my bills.
“Joseph?”

“The innkeeper. I want to slam the door
in Joseph’s face.”

She’s eight. I wonder if we’ll look back
on this next year and laugh. Or will she
want to be Herod and we’ll have to take
her little brother and flee.

 

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That night with the green sky
by Tao Lin

It was snowing and you were kind of beautiful
We were in the city and every time I looked up
Someone was leaning out a window, staring at me

I could tell you liked me a lot or maybe even loved me
But you kept walking at this strange speed
You kept going in angles and it was confusing me

I think maybe you were thinking that you’d make me disappear
By walking at strange speeds and in a strange, curvy way
But how would that cause me to vanish from the planet Earth?

And that hurts
Why did you want me gone?
That hurts
Why?
Why?
I don’t know
Some things can’t be explained, I guess
The sky, for example, was green that night

 

“Shhh”
by Eileen Myles

I don’t think
I can’t afford the time to not sit right down &
write a poem about the heavy lidded
white rose I hold in my hand
I think of snow
a winter night in Boston, drunken waitress
stumble on a bus that careens through
Somerville the end of the line
where I was born, an old man
shaking me. He could’ve been my dad
You need a ride? Wait, he said.
This flower is so heavy in my hand.
He drove me home in his old blue
Dodge, a thermos next to me
cigarette packs on the dash
so quiet like Boston is quiet
Boston in the snow. It’s New York
plates are clattering on St. Mark’s
Place. Should I call you?
Can I go home now
& work with this undelivered
message in my fingertips
It’s Summer.
I love you.
I’m surrounded by snow.

 

Music
by Frank O’Hara

If I rest for a moment near The Equestrian
pausing for a liver sausage sandwich in the Mayflower Shoppe,
that angel seems to be leading the horse into Bergdorf’s
and I am naked as a table cloth, my nerves humming.
Close to the fear of war and the stars which have disappeared.
I have in my hands only 35¢, it’s so meaningless to eat!
and gusts of water spray over the basins of leaves
like the hammers of a glass pianoforte. If I seem to you
to have lavender lips under the leaves of the world,
I must tighten my belt.
It’s like a locomotive on the march, the season
of distress and clarity
and my door is open to the evenings of midwinter’s
lightly falling snow over the newspapers.
Clasp me in your handkerchief like a tear, trumpet
of early afternoon! in the foggy autumn.
As they’re putting, up the Christmas trees on Park Avenue
I shall see my daydreams walking by with dogs in blankets,
put to some use before all those coloured lights come on!
But no more fountains and no more rain,
and the stores stay open terribly late.

 

on sunday we took the train to the city and we each went home for one night and i saw my parents and my bedroom and my cat and you saw your ex boyfriend and his parents and his bedroom and his dog and when i called you i heard you ask me to go back to sleep and i said is everything okay and you told me to please go back to sleep
by Spencer Madsen

not sure if you
ever told me how
you felt about
christmas lights

i said i’d wrap them around our room
and put popcorn in your mouth

a few weeks ago i
walked onto a street
and sat prepared

lets
sleep like two hands
caught
in each other’s fingers

lets be demonstrative
of that image
in an earnest way
lets forget i wrote it down
or else it won’t feel genuine

yesterday i googled:
homemade fleshlight

 

vintage santa claus merry christmas animation animations animated gif gifs smilie smiley smilies smileys photo: Vintage Santa Claus Merry Christmas animation animations animated gif gifs smilie smiley smilies smileys VintageXmas04.gif

 

Is This a Poem For the Year 2219?
by Mike Young

Yes, this is a poem for the year 2219
about the fact my bathroom is above
my neighbors’ bedroom, and I sing
Roy Orbison songs at immaculate volumes
during my routines, which is partly my love
of song and partly my obsession with the idea
of audience. Dear 2219, a bathroom is a private
chlorinated water repository filled with hair gel
and other methods of impression insurance,
like sleeping pills. Neighbors are people who
lock the downstairs door just because some
random bro started fingerpainting their door-
bell Sunday night. Oops, he said. You’re not my
parents. Neighbors leave notes asking you to park
considerately and curbside boxes of giveaway bins
to judge them by. In bedrooms, 2219, what you do is
sniff a cowboy shirt you’ve plucked off the floor to see
if it’s okay to wear for teaching the kids I guess you call
First Moroccan Restauranteer in Space and Single Season
Small Needle Home Run Record Holder. You leave the mandarin
peels on your bed after having awesome sex with your girlfriend
but throw them away when she leaves for work. In 2219, you may
instead want to rub the peels all over your chest. If so, history
repeats itself. Golly. Singing is a method of generating inside
you a logging road, dawn-ish, swards of sugar beets, after driving
all night, knowing it’s about to rain but it’s not raining yet, thanks
sky! Singing may also be catalogued as Christmas underwater
and hiking slowly along the railroad ties with the best candy bar
but no home. For the sub-category of song known as Roy Orbison,
ditch your footnotes, 2219! 1936-1988, popular for soaring R&B;
and indoor sunglasses: that’s not Roy Orbison! Roy Orbison is a
naked knee so lovely you’d cry if you weren’t afraid of the knee
getting wet. Other things you need to know, 2219: I am afraid of
everything. We would rake the stars into piles to say what’s after
us. Happiness without certain phone calls is impossible. Your father
will die. Last Christmas, I ran into my friend Reggie at the cineplex.
His kid was cute. Me and my other friend were making fun of the movie
Reggie wanted to see. Reggie and I cussed together for the first time I can
remember, but I think we’re made of different smoke. 2219, I might be
above you or something. But I’m probably just below you. I take so many
multivitamins. Sometimes I try to make sure the best songs in my iTunes
have the most plays, but I don’t know why. Carolyn’s a better singer than
I am, and Dorothy told me that when I sing Bridge Over Troubled Water
it sounds like I’m falling apart. Is that a good thing? Wouldn’t it be more
considerate to just spend my time recycling cartons of apple cider for
you, 2219? Instead I carry a pillowcase full of laundry to the laundromat
and try to memorize my life enough to remember my life. I walk streets
named after people too dead to meet and try to sing loud enough to get
stuck in strangers’ heads. Carolyn and I go down on each other to hear the
other make their sounds. One time I saw my downstairs neighbor in a
line, and she smiled, waved at me. I couldn’t remember who she was.
She left her place to come talk. Then I remembered. 2219, they just
found water on the moon. Your love will only count before it’s gone.

 

Christmas Eve
by Bill Berkson

for Vincent Warren

Behind the black water tower

under the grey
of the sky that feeds it
smoke speeds to where a pigeon
spreads its wings

This is no great feat
Cold pushes out its lust
We walk we drink we cast
our giggling insults

Would you please
leave the $2.50 you owe me
I would rather not talk about it
just now           Money bores me I would like
to visit someone who will stay
in bed all day           A forest is rising
imperceptibly in my head
not a civilized park

I think it would be nice this “new
moral odor” no it would not mean
“everything marching to its tomb”
The water tower
watches over us           Is there someone
you would like to invite           no one.

 

from I Remember
by Joe Brainard

I remember Christmas tree lights reflected on the ceiling.

I remember Christmas cards arriving from people my parents forgot to send cards to.

I remember mistletoe.

I remember Christmas carols. And car lots.

I remember Aunt Cleora who lived in Hollywood. Every year for Christmas she sent my brother and me a joint present of one book.

 

Connie’s Scared
by Clark Coolidge

The wind came up, the radishes died and
the peelings continued. No one could be
more hostile than a species enclosed in
a chimney for a century or so they told me.
The lighter fluid on the other hand might warm
your nails. We deserve overtime
for dealing daily with these mistreated burdens.
The milkweed pods for no reason in the world
we could see ignited and the frog is loose.
The mail at last arrived but you had better
proceed to lick your envelopes more heartily
as they all came empty. No one exactly states
but everybody thinks the whole world level
has been lowered and continues. If the flame
goes out the food will spoil, remember?

Then there is the problem of the stray moose
to be seen from the road or better not, bring
apples, take pictures, but the village idiot
had his son throw rocks. The later thunder
around the sleeping household was a mere
five minutes herd of cows. And Rip Rowan thought that
thunder was produced by two crickets banging
garbage cans together. Tomorrow the snow will
be higher and the school fail to attract. I pay
for entrance to this life by my exit, can’t wait
each morning to treat of impossible questions and
have never been depressed. Makes you wonder,
all these seacows spitting on their tails,
flashing lights on the spaceride and even in my dreams.
Claimed I awoke from the fight I couldn’t win.
Chained my warts to a snowcone.

Across the street are many stray dogs but whose
fault are the cats. Something terrible’s going on
in the woods the rabbit is screaming, the cat
distinctly calling your name, nothing that can’t
be solved with golf club and pistol empty. Lock
your house when you leave for the auto. The company
that brought you pasteboard frowns on too many
fallen trees. Check your son’s teeth when he eats
or he’ll end a blimp. A crib death when a baby’s
network lapses mid-breath. The television not collapse
but slowly burn out. And that cooking by radar might cost
you a few meals. There goes another roast beast.

The adult book human gunned down as he left. Seems
the nature of crime to go unsolved, covered up,
never caught. Sal Mineo, for one. If so, wouldn’t
you want your kids to stop it. A gay couple hated
for their foul language not their sex. But the fat weather
woman terminated as a lesbian. Stamp out discomfort
and lift a heel for bliss. Heaven more attractive
now that harps are out of style. One arm in a sling
and the other in a bear. At the loss of life and
limb remain cool. Their son last seen chewed by
croc in pool of steam.

There is no longer any Florida and Christmas nowhere.
The men removed our home sometime lastnite while
we shook. Asked me how I felt and what he could do
with his mike. All my girlfriends have been raped,
some in basements, some by families. Even in the movies
they don’t know they can complain. Reels mixed, eyesight
tearing. Heard they’ve even left the lights on in space.
The dawning hastes and subsequent vagueries.
Never a morning wake but I congeal.

 

Some kind of nut
by Charles Bukowski

the best Christmas I can remember
I was in a tiny room in
Philadelphia
and I pulled down all the
shades
and went to bed
and pulled up the
covers.

there was no telephone.
there were no Christmas cards.
there was no family.
there were no gifts

and I believe that I felt better
than anybody in that
city
and almost anybody
in any of the
cities.

and I celebrated New Year’s
Eve in the same
manner.

 

A Severe Lack of Holiday Spirit
by Amy Gerstler

I dread the icy white concussion
of winter. Each snowfall demands
panic, like a kidnapper’s hand
clapped over my chapped mouth.
Ice noms everywhere, a plague
of glass. Christmas ornaments’
sickly tinkle makes my molars ache.
One pities the anemic sun
come January. Trees go skeletal.
Children born in the chilly months
are apt to stammer. People hit
the sauce in a big way all winter.
Amidst blizzards they wrestle
unsuccessfully with the dark comedy
of their lives, laughter trapped
in their frigid gizzards. Meanwhile,
the mercury just plummets,
like a migrating duck blasted
out of the sky by some hunter
in a cap with fur earflaps.

 

On his reluctance to take down the Christmas ornaments
by John Ashbery

A nice, normal morning:
feet setting out as though in a trance,
doubling the yesterdays, a doubled man
under the stairs, and strange surrealist fish
from so much disappearance, damaged in the mail.

Or the spry cutting edge of another day.
Here, we have these in
sizes and colors —
day goes fluttering by.

Like ivy behind a chimney
it grows and grows in ropes.
Mouse teams unsay it,
yeoman can’t hear yet.

A shadow purling,
up into the sky.
Silence in the vandalised vomitorium.

It’s great that you can be here too.
Passivity rests its case.

 

giphy

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** Dominik, Hi!!! I’ll share my Chucky mask with you if you like. I think you’re right that people just take advantage of politeness, or mine, at least. But I’m sadly very unskilled at being an asshole. Sigh. Tell love I’m going back to bed as soon as I finish the p.s. Love keeping the buche I’m picking up at 1 pm remain in one impeccable piece as I transport it across Paris to the buche eating location, G. ** Misanthrope, We’re coming out of a super cold spell. Now it’s ‘warmer’ but constantly raining. You can’t win. Nice. As you know, I have to wear organic clothes, so my wardrobe is dull as dishwater. A bit unfair to lovely dishwater, that saying. Xmas break! Max it out maximally! ** Ted Rees, Hi, Ted! Happiest holidays, man! You, a perv? Perish the thought! Well, naturally your book was in my list, I’m not crazy. Yes, I met Joseph and finally went PSB on my last LA jaunt. Zac and I are going to be shuttling back and forth between Paris and LA a ton until we finish shooting our new film there in April, and I’ll probably use that as an excuse to go through NYC at some point. I’ll let you know. It’d be so awesome to see you. And come to Paris! Love, me. ** Nick Hudson, Whoa, Nick! Long, long time no speak! How cool! I heard through the grapevine that you’re residing in Georgia. That’s amazing and fascinating, obviously. How’s that affecting your work, if at all? I’m good. No, I do Xmas here, but Zac and I will head to LA soon thereafter. We’re shooting our new film there. Xmas of Xmases to you! Love from the supposed city of love. ** CAUTIVOS, I think you will find ‘EEE’ well worth your time. Other than eating a Buche de Noel this afternoon, my Xmas will be basically like any other day, just with closed stores. I guess eating a Buche is abusing food. Otherwise, nah. I’m vegan/vegetarian so it’s hard to go to food crazy. It used to snow here, but nowadays it doesn’t, or maybe it snows pitifully for an hour once all winter if we’re lucky. It’s sad. Hugs to you. ** Charalampos Tzanakis, My pleasure, sir. I need a phrase of the day. I’ll try to think one up. ** Jack Skelley, Whoop, whoop, and another whoop! You simply must read ‘EEE’. It seems imperative or something. I know (of) a writer named Nersessian, but he’s not a Keats scholar. Two writers with that name. Who’d have thunk. I have not only heard of Last Estate blog, I have actually read it on occasion! It’s good! Congrats (to them)! I like rain, but enough is enough, so those Teletubbies are welcome with wide open arms. Love without an earthquake attached, me. ** _Black_Acrylic, Only you can decide if your submissiveness can be triggered by Mr. Guyotat’s scandalous tome. ** Steve Erickson, Everyone, Mr. Erickson has reviewed Paul Gorman’s book TOTALLY WIRED: THE RISE AND FALL OF THE MUSIC PRESS for Trouser Press here. We were down in those temperatures for a week. Bundle up, you’ll be fine. That’s a long time to be hospitalised. That’s rough, so sorry. ** Jamie, Hey, J-man! I’m good enough. You? Yes, I mourn the murder of Z-Library continually, both for my own personal loss and because of how very helpful it was to making blog posts. Yeah, it’s film film all the time, but we’re progressing. I would say if your writing project is freaking you out that is quite possibly the best sign any writer could ever receive. Based on me and mine. So … congrats! If you want to see an amazing Akerman film with tons of period Brussels depicted, try to see her short (hour long) TV movie ‘Portrait d’une jeune fille de la fin des années 60 à Bruxelles’ (1994). It’s really, really great! I hope your Thursday is like an explosive device disguised as a Kit Kat bar. Duck and cover love, Dennis. ** l@rst, Chapbook reality! Yay! Everyone. Here’s the amazing l@rst with an amazing Xmas gift for y’all, so harken: ‘I wanted to share my latest chapbook, print copies are available in limited edition if anyone is interested, they can send a message to larstonovich @ gmail dot com !’ Happy happy to you! ** Jeff J, Hi. Someone asked Hedi, and I believe he said there is in fact some big rights issue with ‘EEE’ that’s preventing its reprinting. Obnoxious. I liked the Tricky/Hall thing quite a bit. I didn’t get into Colourfield so much at the time, but I want to retry them. See you soon! ** Meg Gluth, Hi, M! I really like your and Steven’s album. It filled my head with all kinds of unforeseen things. I don’t think it’s that easy to pull off the speak/sound crosshatch interestingly, and you guys really did. Big kudos! Oh, wow, I’ll go back and listen to the first track again knowing it’s a novel hint. Oooh. ** David, Hi! I do remember Bad Manners, yes. Ha ha, there is definitely some shit that’s been stolen from me that I would love to restock in my abode, thank you. Greatly enjoy the family shebang and whatever today hands you. ** Okay. This is the annual day when my blog makes its biggest concession to the spirit of Xmas. See you tomorrow.

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