Movember: Day 28 Update

Nicolas 'The Horseshoe'  Pillai - Film Editor

James 'Chevron' Harringman - Editor

Nearing the end of our Mo days now. We have raised a fantastic £185 so far, which I think is pretty good work. Although it's not over yet, so please chip in a few quid here.

The Voyage: Edited by Chandani Lokuge & David Morley

 DOWNLOAD HERE

Welcome to The Voyage, an innovative new anthology of writing by staff and postgraduates from both Monash in Australia and Warwick in England. We believe all writing, at its best, is creative writing. To that end we have drawn our distinguished contributors not only from English and Creative Writing but also from other departments in Humanities, from our Faculties of Science and Social Science, and from our Administration. What's more, we invited writers and scholars who have some practical connection with Warwick and Monash from both within and outside the academy.
We were open to all forms and genres: poetry, fiction, creative non-fiction including scholarship and biography, drama and most other forms of creativity you might imagine. We were happy for our contributors to write on any theme but we think that the core of the book is what it means to journey. These might be imagined or remembered journeys, physical or metaphorical journeys, or journeys into knowledge or across time.

See a video introduction of the book by editors David Morley and Chandani Lokuge here. Further, find below a series of readings by selected authors reading their contributions to this wonderful anthology.

Sitcom | Chapbook | Vol LII, Keyways: Unlocking Owen Sheers' Skirrid Hill by Phil Brown

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Vol LII, Keyways: Unlocking Owen Sheers' Skirrid Hill

Phil Brown (18.5.11)

A commentary on every poem in Owen Sheers’ Skirrid Hill written with revision for A-Level exams in mind and geared towards students of A-Level English Literature. This commentary is meant to enhance the reader’s understanding of some of the ideas in Sheers’ poetry. It is also entirely free.



APPENDICES TO THE COMMENTARY


Appendix I - Lyrics to Susan’s House by Eels

Going over to Susan's House, wandering south down Baxter Street
Nothing hiding behind this picket fence
There's a crazy old woman smashing bottles on the sidewalk where her house burned down two years ago
People say that back then, she really wasn't that crazy

Going over to Susan's House
Going over to Susan's House, I can't be alone tonight

Down by the Doughnut Prince, a 15-year-old boy lies on the sidewalk with a bullet in his forehead
In a final act of indignity, the paramedics take off all his clothes for the whole world to see while they put him in the bag
Meanwhile, an old couple argues inside the 'Queen Bee', the sick fluorescent light shimmering on their skin

Going over to Susan's House
Going over to Susan's House, she's gonna make it right

Take a left down Echo Park
A kid asks do I want some crack
TV sets are spewing Baywatch
Through the windows into black

Here comes a girl with long brown hair, who can't be more than seventeen
She sucks on a red popsicle as she pushes a baby girl in a pink carriage
And I'm thinking, 'That must be her sister. That must be her sister, right?'
They go into the seven-eleven and I keep walking, and I keep walking

Going over to Susan's House
Going over to Susan's House, I can't be alone tonight
Going over to Susan's House

Appendix II – To Speak of Woe That is Marriage by Robert Lowell

"It is the future generation that presses into being by means of
these exuberant feelings and supersensible soap bubbles of ours."

—Schopenhauer

"The hot night makes us keep our bedroom windows open.

Our magnolia blossoms.  Life begins to happen.

My hopped up husband drops his home disputes,

and hits the streets to cruise for prostitutes,

free-lancing out along the razor's edge.

This screwball might kill his wife, then take the pledge.

Oh the monotonous meanness of his lust. . .

It's the injustice . . . he is so unjust—

whiskey-blind, swaggering home at five.

My only thought is how to keep alive.

What makes him tick?  Each night now I tie

ten dollars and his car key to my thigh. . . .

Gored by the climacteric of his want,

he stalls above me like an elephant."

Appendix III - Some Notes from AQA

Skirrid Hill by Owen Sheers

Skirrid Hill continues to attract an enthusiastic if still surprisingly small following with Sheers vigorous style clearly able to engage and challenge. His anthology presents a reflective, careful reader with many themes that align with the struggle for identity in ways that can be visceral as well as delicate, broad as well as extremely personal. It is important to a successful study of the anthology that centre’s do not pigeon-hole Sheers as simply a nationalistic poet who looks inwards to issues of Welsh identity but one is looking outwards too, taking in those moments in life which can seem paradoxical and bizarre, addressing moments where there is a complex interfacing of life, death and relationships.

Despite his growing published work across all the genres, Sheers remains a relatively enigmatic, restless poet clearly embarked upon a journey of discovery and about whom, significantly fewer biographical studies have yet been made. This works to candidates’ advantage because their focus more clearly rests on the language, form and structure of his verse rather than on the man himself. That said, candidates this time were keener to explore the question that invited a measured, argued response to a general theme rather than the one that began with a focus on a specific poem and invited validation and repudiation of its centrality. A little disappointingly, in response to either poem, some candidates offered little by the way of balanced debate and saw the question as a way of simply explaining the content of two or three poems, broadly linked to a theme.

Question 6

This was by far the more popular of the questions on Scarred Hill, offering candidates the opportunity to explore their own choice of poems from this broadly diverse collection. Whilst there were many strong responses, one examiner wrote that some candidates who had been offered ‘a gift of a question’ then ‘proceeded with ingratitude and uncertainty, attempting to explore different themes in a perfunctory, generalised counter-argument’ or they ‘wallowed in a morass of loss’ without ever really explaining what had been lost and with what consequences.

Perhaps these candidates were truly ‘spoilt for choice’ and could not arrive at satisfactory evaluative comments because of this. The poems that lent themselves most readily to the argument were Border Country, Mametz Wood, Y Gaer, The Hill Fort, Marking Time and Amazon although the poem that received most attention from candidates, interestingly, was Keyways. Counter-arguments usually cited examples of more celebratory poems such as The Equation, inheritance or Stitch in Time with better responses developing insightful comment or challenging the idea of loss at all.

Certain confident candidates were able to convince that Sheers depiction of loss really to revealed what was gained in terms of experience, understanding of self, others and the world. There was evidence that some candidates were trying to shape responses to past papers to fit the requirements of this year’s question with inevitable loss of focus. To this effect some candidates offered plenty of examples of Sheers’ treatment of separations suggesting either directly or by inference that separation equated to loss. Those who were able to suggest in their extension or counter-arguments that Sheers also dealt with moments of elision, repair and coming-together, were to be commended, especially where these moments were expertly pinpointed, analyzed and evaluated.

Successful candidates:

•         Chose highly appropriate poems for the exploration of Sheers’ treatment of loss and its effects or chose equally appropriate poems to validate their counter-argument

•         Analysed Sheers’ choices of form, structure and language

•         Explored a wealth of Sheers’ poetic techniques and articulated his intent in order to create interesting lines of argument and counter-argument

Less successful candidates:

•         Simply offered broad agreement with the statement and struggled to even illustrate loss effectively

•         Ignored the question’s key words

•         Made broad generalisations about the effects produced by Sheers’ choice of form, structure and language often asserting rather than illustrating their points

Question 7

This question had relatively few takers despite the comparatively comforting prospect of exploring a superficially straightforward poem. Interestingly too, there were some responses that neglected the punning title, missing an obvious way into Sheers’ musings on relationships between father and son and their relationship with their environment. Most problematic, however, was the interpretation of the phrase ‘key to this collection’.

The metaphor of the key should suggest an unlocking of something or a focus on some feature so fundamental as to be indispensible to a clear understanding of the anthology. Few such insightful readings were apparent with candidates, instead, suggesting typicality of theme, technique, intent or features. In some respects the named poem is a testament to the permanence of life despite its frailty and smallness, set against a backdrop of the awesome grandeur of natural world.

To validate the idea of ‘key’, links needed to be made to the rest of the collection and here it was obvious that some candidates had a very hazy knowledge of the structure and content of the collection as a whole. The named poems’ central themes of identity, contrasts, endurance, loss and the natural world should have been fundamental to a balanced argument and counter-argument, where the choice of at least one suitable substitute ‘key’ poem should have been possible.

Successful candidates:

•         Produced a balanced debate which considered, developed and agreed or refuted the idea that the named poem is the key to this collection in a thoughtful, engaged, incisive manner

•         Linked Farther to a range of other relevant poems and/or made an arresting case for another poem being the key

•         Explored Sheers’ form, structure and language choice with confidence always citing examples relevantly and with analytical significance.

Less successful candidates:

•         Simply dismissed the idea that Farther could be the key to the collection

•         Wrote basic accounts of the poem and/or others in the collection, with little relevant or developed reference to form, structure and language choice

•         Were unable to move beyond generalisations and assertions.

Appendix IV - Past Questions

Themes:

Separation between men and women

Striking and unusual imagery

Loss

Difficult Issues

Key Poems:

Y Gaer and The Hill

Border Country

Farther

Skirrid Fawr (fitting conclusion)

Appendix V - Possible Themes and Patterns:

Man against nature -Domestication

Masculinity

Death

Generation gaps

Modernisation and Americanisation

Playing roles (psychology?)

Spines?

Relationships

Everything is like writing

Magic

The use of titles to challenge or refute the content - sometimes as part of the poem

Titles often include puns; the duality of meaning at the heart of the ideas

Tercets - not sure really why. Long enough to develop a thread of thought without over-inflating it!

The rhythms of natural speech

Use of real people, places and his family

Natural imagery 

Enjambed lines that create a conversational and fluid movement. Ideas organically develop and weave together to form larger patterns.

Contrasts between beauty and cruelty - a necessary balance and stability, particularly in rural life

Demonstratives to guide the reader to see

Metaphors of theatricality

Images that have surfaces and depths - the darker elements of human life can not always be seen

Incise, probing language

Use of epigraphs or introductory notes

Archetypal characters and rural cast

Gentle rhyme and alliteration to add weight to ideas, moods and feelings

Imagery of cuts and breaks

Poems that begin en media res 

The repeated metaphor of marks to pinpoint moments of transition, growth or change

Poems in clusters or at periodic moments to develop an overarching idea

Use of the first person, though not always the poet speaking

Reclaiming of symbols for use in a different context e.g. the flags

Poetry in dialogue with other art forms e.g. sculpture, photography, song

 

China | Introduction | 蠶油墨

It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.
Confucius

This week will be discussing China, and as one of the world's oldest civilizations with over 4000 years of continuous cultural history to draw upon, we shouldn't be stuck for ideas.

享受

Enter Theatre Editor - Rowan Rutter

I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being.

Oscar 'Quotesmith' Wilde

Dear Readers,

Silkworms Ink will now be treading the boards and pulling back the curtain so that all you theatre fans can have a regular dose of the Greeks' favourite performing art. Take a bow Rowan Rutter, our brand new Theatre Editor.

Applause.

Radio | Introduction | 104.7 Silkworms FM

Radio tried everything, and it all worked. It invented a new kind of singer whose voice wasn't even loud enough to carry across a hotel bedroom, and Americans, as it turned out, would rather hear these "crooners" than any big-bellied tenor who ever shook an opera house chandelier. 

Sam Moore

The mediums of media are forever in flux, each generation heralded as bringing a bright new future and destroying a new part of our brains. Here we are, broadcasting from a blog, and we will spend this week looking back at the old wireless - not the wi-fi kind.

Wider Reading | A Personal Letter From David Cameron To Silkworms Ink

Editors' note:

This morning we were all rather surprised by the arrival of six SAS men and their MI6 handlers, unannounced, landing in a helicopter on the roof of the Silkworms offices. Once we'd disarmed them and taken them prisoner, they soon explained to us that they'd actually intended to make contact with us in order to deliver a personal letter from the Prime Minister himself, Mr. David William Donald Cameron. Whether or not the author of said letter was really Mr. Cameron remains to be seen, especially as the SAS men turned out not to be SAS men at all but civil servants from the Ministry of Sound wearing camouflage and fluorescent headbands. Regardless, we felt it was our duty to print it as another exciting and traffic-encouraging chapter in Silkworms' history. Letter follows below.

Dear Editors,

I just wanted to express my delight at your ongoing series of musical mixtapes - and your site as a whole, by the way. Five young people going out there and blogging for themselves really is a symbol of what I mean to do with the Big Society - after all, people can't expect the government to go around blogging for them all the time. But let me make one thing quite clear.

I was delighted to see that the latest album from experimental artist PJ Harvey has been so thoroughly critically acclaimed and done so well in the charts - I have always been a fan of hers, I have always enjoyed her music, and I admire her as a Briton. I have listened to many of her songs over the years, and I particularly enjoy (just put in any of them APART FROM THE ONE ABOUT THE ABORTION IN THE WATER). In fact, I should like to point out that Let England Shake is itself a love letter to modern Conservatism. But let me make one thing quite clear.


The jaunty 'The Last Living Rose' stands out immediately as a fine example of Tory policy - the first lines, '"Goddamn Europeans!" representing our traditional Eurosceptism and our determination that Britain, modern Britain, must remain its own entity. We also see the paradox of Broken Britain and Britain the World Leader in those conflicting lines about "beautiful England" and "the filthiness of ages". We see concern for crime and alcoholism, so neatly encapsulated by "drunken beatings", and, most importantly, we see a rebuke towards the previous administration's valuation of our nation's gold reserves with those memorable lines, "gold hastily sold/for nothing". (Eagle-eared listeners may also spot a reference to Mr Brown's extended, unelected stay as PM in 'England', as she croons, 'people, they stagnate with time, like air'.) But let me make one thing quite clear.


Then, of course, the jangling title track, 'Let England Shake', refers to "Bobby" coming home to tell the narrator that indifference won. I see through Ms. Harvey's sense of truly British irony - she is in fact referencing the splendid victory of Conservative MP Robert Wilson in 2005 for the seat of Reading East - a by-election in which indifference most certainly did not win, in which it could never have won, because we live in a country like Britain that has belief in its politicians. But let me make one thing quite clear.


And then there's the running theme of 'war' throughout the album; a tone that all at once evokes dismay at the continued ill-treatment of our soldiers overseas, criticises the government that sent them into a war without ever doing so explicitly or without coming out and calling it 'illegal', as well as showing respect and honour to these brave men and women. It is not a confused response from the point of view of a singer-songwriter. And, obviously, neither is it a confused response from a nation's Conservative government. But let me make one thing quite clear.

This is not some shallow attempt to grab attention for oneself by invoking a subject which is currently very popular (neither, obviously, is this letter). Any on-the-nose qualities that might go with the territory of being a concept album that 'deals with' Modern Britain - particularly, I feel, that mention of "drunken beatings" and the entirety of 'The Words That Maketh Murder', apart from its killing final line - are cancelled out by the still, quiet simplicity of the heavily Eliot-influenced pronouncements and natural observations that conclude many of the tracks (and which sometimes make up the whole song - see 'In The Dark Places'). As Ms. Harvey intones on 'On Battleship Hill',


"Cruel nature has won again."


I do hope you see fit to publish this small article - and I hope many of your patriotic readers and audience overseas will come to see the essential, modern, engaged Conservatism of PJ Harvey's Let England Shake. I shall also be sending in a mixtape of the greatest songs by Nas (none of that Distant Relatives horseshit) and a collection of my own poetry, entitled 'Dave Speaks Out'. But let me make one thing quite clear.


Yours,


David William Donald Cameron,
Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland

A Warm Silkworms Welcome to Nicolas Pillai - Film Editor

Silkworms is no stranger to film. The cinematic, with its heroes, villains and twists, kept creeping into our poetry, prose and music - often. Something needed to be done; it was time to embrace the silverscreen wholehearted, as a category of its own. We decided that we needed a Film Editor to orchestrate such proceedings, and provide ever-insightful articles on the subject. We didn't have to ponder long for a likely candidate, as we had our man off the bat - the verified film-geek, moviemeister and celluloid showdog Nicolas Pillai. As our regular readers will surely remember, he was the chap behind the Magic Lanterns series of mini-essays - they are fantastic and we were sold.

So, allow us to introduce our new Film Editor, Nicolas Pillai. Stay tuned movie fans, things are going to get awesome. His latest Superman article already is. I'd wager even die-hard Superman fans will learn at least one thing. I read it, learnt about twenty.

You can find more regular installments from the brilliant brain of Nicolas over at Squeezegut Alley, his very own blogplace where he discusses film, crime fiction and comic books over a jazz soundtrack.

The End.
Roll Credits.

Wider Reading | Daily Mail Courts Further Controversy As It Features Under-Age Lingerie Photoshoot

You might expect that the Daily Mail would have had enough controversy. Also that it'd know how to structure a sentence elegantly.


First the newspaper called the Brass Eye satire on paedophilia 'unspeakably sick' while featuring two pre-pubescent members of our royal family in swimsuits on the very next page.


But now the blackshirt piece of shit broadsheet newspaper is courting more drama by featuring a lengthy article - about how MTV's show Skins is courting more drama by having its under-age stars pose in lingerie - in which the under-age stars of MTV's show Skins pose in lingerie.


Six members of the show's regular cast posed in just underwear, or provocative clothing for the Elle Magazine shoot featured in the April issue.


Of the six cast members, half of them are considered under the age of consent in the US.


Eleanor Zichy, pictured in a just a floral bra and shorts, is just 15 years-old.


'We have some concerns about it,' Helissa Menson, the Director of Communications and Public Education for the Television Parents Council, told Entertainment Weekly.


'We had concerns about the GQ photo shoot of Glee, even though [that cast] was over the age of 19, because they were presenting themselves as high schoolers.'


'With this Daily Mail article, even though the poses are less provocative, the fact that they have these underage girls wearing lingerie is troubling, as is the fact that the reporter attempts to implicitly criticise the Elle Magazine photoshoot while featuring exactly that same fucking pageful of underage girls wearing lingerie. It's almost as if they're a bunch of foul, sermonising hypocrites or something.'


We'd feature these same pictures on Silkworms Ink, of course, in order to titillate our readers with the allure of the nymphette even as they shake their weary heads in disgust, but we're just too classy. Also, we don't have the copyright.

Cash | Fiction | Hi! u want to Maek Big $$$$! Dont be A sucker! Learn The secret of MacSweenies, Within, for Only Sense!!! $$$$!!!

He's...he's counting your money! THAT'S WHAT HE'S COUNTING! BLOODSUCKER! EAT HIM! EAAAAAT HIM!

Harker evidently meant to try the matter, for he had ready his great Kukri knife and made a fierce and sudden cut at him. The blow was a powerful one. Only the diabolical quickness of the Count's leap back saved him. A second less and the trenchant blade had shorn through his coat, making a wide gap whence a bundle of bank notes and a stream of gold fell out.


Dracula, as we all know, bleeds cash. Or he sort of does, anyway. More likely, he just happens to have a lot of cash stored away in his coat, and the "stream" of gold is just a poorly chosen word. But it's enough to have caused some academic discussion about the Count's true symbolic nature, perhaps because it seems a little strange that a murderous hypnotic beast with the power to wipe out entire ships and control lesser mortals should carry his money around on him. That under-recognised scene fascinates me, because the idea that the Count is a capitalist metaphor really muddles the idea that he's an STD metaphor - so, uh, Dracula drinks the blood of young women in order to get to the men, and then converts the blood into money through a system of uh, digestion...anyway, it's all a little illogical.


But it also reminds us of the fact that literature has almost never been in love with capitalism. In one corner, we have figures as diverse as Barabbas to Herbert Pocket, with his vague philosophy of the free market economy as one in which you "look about you...you see your opening. And you go in, and you swoop upon it, and you make your capital, and there you are!" Less comical are the 'cannibals' in Lu Xun's early 20th century short story, 'A Diary of A Madman', in which the titular narrator believes wrongly (and rightly) that cannibalism is an accepted part of society that every single human being participates in. More recently we've had the unpleasant Masters of the Universe and Patrick Bateman, that latter-day materialistic demon. And after the fumbling wannabes and the fiendish figureheads come the merely greedy and selfish, who are legion. Gone are the days of the hero acquiring a great treasure as part of his happy ending. And who do we have on the other side? Ayn Rand.


It's a curious situation, because much as we'd all like to deny it, latter-day literary publishing is as capitalist as it gets; the selling of the unreal as something important. Writing, which truly believes in its own importance but also in the importance of its being spread freely, dislikes the taste of being sold. (Obviously I'm not talking about the book that's written with a 'target market' in mind, as well as sold with one. This is an appalling book, and that woman who wrote the novel about teenage angels romancing each other should be ashamed of yourself) I will always remember reading, many, many moons ago when I was back in school, romantic novelist Michael Legat's The Nuts and Bolts of Writing, in which he hit upon the love-hate relationship an author has with libraries. As lovers of literature, we adore books. As thoughtful and fair-minded people, as well as readers who'd always like to get something for nothing, we adore the idea of a vault of free books. But as business-people - or business-property, perhaps - every book of ours that's in a library is another one that makes us almost nothing. Not a big deal to one of the titans (they can just shrug), but to a struggling author trying to shift a few hundred copies...it's a bit of a blow.


This is, of course, not to say anything against libraries. It's an issue with writers, and how we have to deal with the paradox of our own place in a capitalist society. The truly big-shots can get away with handing out free stories or even free e-books as a sort of meaninglessly charitable gesture towards their fans who've already bought their unreal texts for 'real' currency. It's very nice, in the sense that they don't have to do that. In the sense that, sure, Bill Gates and his wife don't have to give away their money. But they can afford to. And, at the same time, putting your work out there for free as a first-time novelist can (sadly) imply that you're desperate and not very good rather than an artistic rebel who refuses to play by the system's dictats. Because there is (again, sadly) too much writing out there, and too little of it has unreal worth.


And, I guess, you could always set up a site where you try to publish e-chapbooks from awesome writers and add enough daily blatherings of your own that weary Internet travellers might actually head in your direction. But there's a corollary to Nietszche's statement that "where three men gather, a fourth must die," and it goes - "where three men gather, they'll form a corporation, dominate the market, and the fourth will go unemployed." Let's gaze down our spectacles at McSweeney's here, and the statement Dave Egger's now best-selling, industry-award-winning, 'Oh, look, aren't we outsiders'-insiders publishing house makes about itself,


McSweeney’s began in 1998 as a literary journal, edited by Dave Eggers, that published only works rejected by other magazines. But after the first issue, the journal began to publish pieces primarily written with McSweeney’s in mind. Since then, McSweeney’s has attracted works from some of the finest writers in the country, including blah big impressive names...


That is perhaps the strangest example of a company admitting very proudly to having abandoned their original vision and gone full commercial-savvy that I've ever read. But let me allay your fears - here at Silkworms, we're entirely immune to the paradoxical tug of capitalism; we can remain outsiders as publishers, as well as writers. For one thing, we're not big or well-known or important or swimming in yes-men/cocaine/groupies enough to truly sell out. What we do need to do for the future of this site is figure out a way to survive...without profiting too much.


Jon Ware


Fiction Editor, Ponderer Of Life's Great Dark Whispering Mysteries
And You Can Find Out These Mysteries Yourself For Less $$$$!!!! Simply Email fiction@silkwormsink.com To Discover The Secrets Those Fat Cats Don't Want You To Know!!!


P.S. It occurred to me while writing this article that the only thing the vast majority of the Coen Brothers' films, so apparently, self-consciously disparate, have in common, is the following: a theft or attempted theft which becomes irrelevant or forgotten by the end of the movie - usually because the characters' greed has led them to their own destruction. They're anti-materialist fables.  True Grit made $110 million at the box office.

P.P.S. I believe it was on the pilot episode of poetry editor Phil Brown's favourite new show, 10 O'Clock Live, that comedian Jimmy Carr made an interesting slip - as the other hosts took lazy swipes at bankers, he said that 'all they (the wide variety of organisations whose unwise decisions and personal greed led, in a large part, to the financial crisis of recent years) were doing was what everyone does - trying to make as much money as possible.' I don't think that's quite true, or fair on 'everyone'. But do we live in a society that has encouraged this attitude in all of us extremely heavily for a long time now, and which even now has only turned against that vague group known as 'bankers'? Do we need to make a stand against greed as a whole, rather than just against greed that specifically makes us poorer? Yup, sure, certainly, oui, Premiership footballers, of course.

Advert | Chapbook | Vol XLIII, 'Holograms of Rotten Roses' by Bobby Parker

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Vol XLIII, Holograms of Rotten Roses

Bobby Parker (28.1.11)

'for the drug dealers who never gave me a chance' and now for all of you who happen to click. 

Wider Reading | Editorial For The New Year | You Sick, Sick Puppies

It really has been one of the most fascinating experiences of my life, coming onboard Silkworms Ink and watching the site flourish and grow. We've had some wonderful, truly talented writers publish their work with us (and we plan for a whole lot more in the future), and we've published quite a lot of vaguely-arts-based, frequently surreal eclectica which should hopefully really freak out Internet scholars three hundred years ago. I should also probably thank our real founder, the mysterious Mr. Silk, who continues to fund us from behind the scenes. I don't care what they say about the eroto-necromantic rituals that go on in that secret 53rd floor of your company skyscraper, Mr. Silk; your money's good enough for us.

Indeed, one of the most interesting things about Silkworms is that we write about a whole lotta nonsense. And, equally, we swear quite a bit. To be more specific, we say 'fucking' a lot. Which means we get a lot of slightly odd visitor traffic coming our way. And it breaks my heart - honestly, it does - to see people Googling a particular phrase and stumbling onto a UK arts-blog and e-publisher of poetry chapbooks instead, probably causing intense disappointment and a certain amount of droopage.

So to the individual who, six months ago now, was specifically looking for 'anal fucking with midgets', I am genuinely sorry that you didn't find what you wanted here at Silkworms Ink (I mean...presumably). I almost want to Google the same thing just to check whether or not you've found the very niche sexual satisfaction you so obviously crave. And to the individual or individuals who Googled 'Harry fucking Hermione'...errr...

...oh, you sick, sick puppies.

And a big, big hug to the 300-odd readers who checked our site on Christmas Day. If you were lonely, we're here for you. If you were a spambot, we will in future try and arrange some on-site dating service where you can meet other spambots looking for kindred souls and lasting commitment.

Sante.

Biography | Chapbook | Vol XLII, 'In Memoriam to a Marionette' by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

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Vol XLII, In Memoriam to a Marionette

 Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé 

To make up for missing last week's chapbook we have got something very special indeed. If you know him, he needs no introduction - Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé. A chapbook of vignettes that together form a caudate sonnet of 24 pieces of postcard fiction.

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé has edited more than ten books and co-produced three audio books, two of which were anthologies. The other titles span the genres of ethnography, journalism and creative nonfiction, some edited pro bono for non-profit organizations including Sok Sabay Cambodia, Riding for the Disabled Association, and the National Volunteer & Philanthropy Centre. A former entertainment journalist, Desmond has traveled to Australia, France, Hong Kong and Spain for his stories, which have included features on Madonna, Björk and Morgan Freeman, culminating in the authorship of the limited edition Top Ten TCS Stars for Caldecott Publishing. Trained in book publishing at Stanford University, Desmond studied sociology and mass communication at the National University of Singapore, and later received his theology masters (world religions) from Harvard University and fine arts masters (creative writing) from the University of Notre Dame. His poetry and prose have appeared in more than a hundred literary journals. An interdisciplinary artist, Desmond also works in clay. He has designed and sculpted ceramic works to commemorate Albert Camus’ 50th Anniversary, the Dalai Lama’s 50th Year of Exile, Gerard Manley Hopkins’ 120th Anniversary, Edgar Allan Poe’s Bicentennial, and Grolier Poetry Bookshop’s 80 Years of Service as the Oldest Continuous Poetry Bookstore in the US, among other commemorative pieces. His ceramic works are housed in museums and private collections in India, the Netherlands, the UK and the US.

Biography | Introduction | The Life And Times of Legacy Writing

'A lot of people seem to have the wrong idea about me. In fact, pretty much everything I read about myself is totally ridiculous. Newspapers and magazines write that I'm spoiled and privileged, and that all I do is dance on tabletops and party with my friends. They think I instantly became famous because I was born into a rich, well-known family, and everything has come so easily to me. They like to think everything they read about me in the tabloids is true. Well, you can't always believe what you read, right? So I've finally decided to give you a sneak peek into my very hyped life - so you can know the real me.'
  
Confessions of an Heiress: A Tongue-in-Chic Peek Behind the Pose, by Paris Hilton (paragraph one).

'Near the park which my bedroom overlooks there came to stay a family which owned a pack of pugs, five or six of them, active little dogs, none of them overweight as pugs so often are. I saw them recently on their morning walk, and they caused me a pang. I have always wanted a pug and now I can't have one, because buying a puppy when you are too old to take it for walks is unfair. There are dog-walkers, of course; but the best part of owning a dog is walking with it, enjoying its delight when it detects the signs that a walk is imminent, and its glee when its lead is unsnapped and it can bound off over the grass, casting cheerful looks back at you from time to time to make sure that you are still in touch. Our own dog is as old in dog years as I am in human ones (mine amount to eighty-nine), and wants no more than the little potter I can still provide, but I enjoy watching other people's animals busy about their pleasures.'

Somewhere Towards The End, by Diana Athill (paragraph one).

Fresh Starts | Introduction | Happy New Year

 

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. C.D.

Firstly, happy new year! The festive season is at an end, turkeys have returned to reasonable prices, the snow has gone and I have a new hat. So it's time for a fresh start: open the curtains and breathe in the cold air of January. Give up smoking, join a gym, get a pilot's license - whatever you gotta do, I suppose it's time to do it.  This week will be discussing all things relating to 'Fresh Starts'.

J.H.

Snow | Chapbook | Vol XLI, The Gingerbread Gang by Michael Frissore

CLICK HERE TO READ

 

Vol XLI, The Gingerbread Gang

Michael Frissore (24.12.10)

 

Merry Christmas! To celebrate here is 'The Gingerbread Gang'. A festive chapbook...well kind of, it features gingerbread. Go on, nibble.

Wider Reading | Yet Another Good Reason To Read Silkworms Daily

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-84202/How-silkworms-end-pain.html

Because if the Daily Mail says it, it must be true.

Ed. just want to point out that the obvious typo in that caption is the Daily Mail's, not Silkworms'.

Not-So-Mini Essay | Magic Lanterns, by Nicolas Pillai | Part 3: The Automobile

In his later films, Hitchcock shot car interiors in front of such alarmingly fake rear projection that it seemed to be his new cinematic signature.
John Waters.

You’re driving through the night. Through the blur of your windshield, the headlights pick out signs for long-forgotten towns. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know what you’re leaving behind.

What’s that up ahead? Palookaville, 5 miles.

Rear projection is one of Hollywood’s most familiar special effects, and one of its most ignored. Confronted with a back projected shot in an old movie, modern audiences usually react in two ways. Some will ignore it, passing it off as a technical limitation of the time. Others will laugh at it, their chuckles hovering somewhere between affection and derision.

Filming car scenes in the studio was largely down to camera size. The bulky equipment needed to film on location was complicated immeasurably in driving scenes. You just couldn’t fit a camera on the front of a moving car. Very occasionally set-ups were used that filmed from trailer platforms, but this was an expensive and time-consuming process. Far better to have the scene shot in the studio, where you could remove variables like weather, wind and the dubious driving ability of your hungover leading man.

What’s rarely mentioned with regard to rear projection is the level of meaning it can bring to a scene. In County Hospital, Stan Laurel is driving Oliver Hardy home in an open-topped car. Through a series of misadventures too complicated to detail, Stan is feeling the effects of a tranquilizer and Ollie’s leg is in plaster. As the sleepy Stan veers their car from lane to lane and Ollie flails around in the back seat, we see the oncoming traffic as back (and front) projection. What’s interesting here is the problem of scale – the surrounding traffic is much larger than in life, dwarfing the hapless twosome. The grotesquely enhanced surroundings make the scene more terrifying than funny. The sequence takes on the imagery of nightmare.

A less dramatic, but equally disconcerting, effect is felt in Vertigo. As James Stewart tracks Kim Novak through San Francisco, his delusional state seems to be reflected by the hazy scenery passing by. Later, in one of Hitchcock’s most celebrated shots, Stewart seems to know this when he kisses Novak, as the camera circles them, transporting him back to the stables of the Mission San Juan Bautista.

For drive-in audiences, back projected scenes must have offered an eerie mirror image. Sitting stationary in their cars, slurping at their shakes, looking up at Hollywood faces clutching steering wheels as they moved through virtual scenery.

Drive careful, now.

Not-So-Mini Essay | Magic Lanterns, by Nicolas Pillai | Introduction

 

Introduction

Part 1: The Frontier

Part 2: The City

Part 3: The Automobile

Part 4: The Bedroom

Written by Nicolas Pillai, Illustrations by JH

  

The twentieth century is on film. You have to ask yourself if there’s anything about us more important than the fact that we’re constantly on film, constantly watching ourselves.
Don DeLillo

You’re sitting in the dark, surrounded by strangers.  For two hours, you and your companions are subjected to a series of stimuli designed to induce common responses.  Your bodies tense as you feel fear; they relax as you laugh. You are aroused, elated, involved.

Then the lights come up and you find you’ve got a lap full of popcorn.

Going to the cinema has always seemed a perverse occupation to me. Perhaps it’s because I never went as a child. Or perhaps it’s because when I was a child I was taught never to stare. Never mind that they’re fictional, there’s something weird about obsessively ogling people who can’t look back at you. And yet I’ve spent a good proportion of my adult life watching and rewatching films. Our reality is enriched, and significantly affected, by the worlds we observe onscreen.

When moving pictures were first exhibited, the public’s excitement over the new technology drew the concern of moralists. This was an art form that reframed reality, not posed but captured. A commonly repeated, and possibly apocryphal, story is that the first cinema-goers panicked when shown a train approaching the screen. True or not, it speaks to that thrill engendered by cinema: that it can extend beyond its frame, enveloping us in its fictional space.

In Panorama du Gran Canal vu d’un Bateau (1896), we see the moving camera being invented. Shot for the Lumiere Brothers by Alexandre Promio, the film consists of just one simple forty-second shot of movement down a Venetian canal. By placing his tripod in a gondola, Promio redefined movement in film. The camera was no longer static – now when the train rushed toward the screen, the camera hopped aboard.

Promio’s camera moves from left to right, taking in the facades of houses on the canal. Another gondola comes into frame from the right, crossing the field of vision and giving a sense of contrasting movement. We are assured of a world going on beyond the parameters of the image. Unlike its contemporaries, the film is less about pointing the camera at a subject and more about articulating that subject’s relation to the surrounding world.

We fall under a spell when we’re at the pictures. Entranced by the dance of light and shadow, our bodies confined, we open our minds to virtual worlds. In this series of short essays, I want to think about how we interact with the spaces created by film. So please turn off your mobiles. The lights are going down.

As Tony Curtis used to say, I’ll see you after the main feature.