The move is all but complete, and we’re fairly close to being back to normal. The main thing needed right now is for our many fine contributors to let us know if there are formatting issues with their works. We did our best to keep the originals intact, but for some of them, especially the poems, the ride was far too bumpy and jostled them out of position, here and there. Please contact us to let us know of any typographical errors, and we’ll fix them ASAP.
Tis a strange month, March. Both Winter and Spring, cold and temperate, it transitions us from Death to Life, fallow to green. Depending upon the region, depending upon one’s position on this earth, by design or chance, this month will bring us all great changes.
For Spinozablue, March brings us poetry by Virginie Colline, and fiction by Donal Mahoney. For this editor, March takes me closer to the lighthouse, and another rereading of the masterful, brilliant goddess of prose, Virginia Woolf. She brought us closer to lighthouses — metaphorical, fictional and in real time — because she brought us closer to the mind in search of.… |To be Continued “March: On the Cusp”
My interview with Jim Harrington is up over at his Six Questions blogspot. It’s a good series for writers (artists, musicians, filmmakers, etc) to delve into, giving them an idea of what editors might be looking for. Of course, my particular interview won’t do that. It will just muddy the already foggy, murky, swirling waters. Hopefully, your great and untapped strength will overcome the confusion.
Spinozablue welcomes the poetry of Virginie Colline, Hilary Sideris, Changming Yuan, Kenneth Pobo, Joan McNerney, and the fiction of Shanna Perplies.
* * * * *
A tip of the hat goes to nnyhav for the link to Tim Parks’ excellent article in the New York Review of Books, The Chattering Mind. While most of the article is about modern literature, there is a section on the Buddhist quest to still the mind which I found brilliantly concise and relevant to past and future discussions here. The entire article being relevant, of course . . . .
Sitting for ten days on a cushion, eyes closed, cross-legged, seeking to empty your mind of words, it’s all too evident how obsessively the mind seeks to construct self-narrative, how ready it is to take interest in its own pain, to congratulate itself on the fertility of its reflection.
Little Rebel in denim shorts, a Tee-shirt that reads Potter Got Punk’d. Her room. I’m stranded on some outpost of love, hoping it doesn’t get nuked by mutant minds. Her face is all about innocent sex pot vengeance, her eyes of some dark artificial intelligence. On the radio, a techno beat, then gothic metal w/ screech & growl. Little Rebel flipping through the pages of Egg magazine. I’m not exactly a fan of Ganguro. “The world is ending,” she says, chewing gum, her eyes, flashes of intensity, as if scanning secret codes from page to page.… |To be Continued “The Mystery of the Manga Girls”