Fogged Clarity » NYC http://foggedclarity.com An Arts Review Tue, 22 May 2012 21:08:31 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=Arts Review Fogged Clarity's interviews with authors, musicians and poets, exclusive acoustic music sessions and poetry readings from some of the world's most gifted and interesting contemporary creators. TC Boyle, Benjamin Percy, Samantha Farrell, Strand of Oaks, Will Oldham, Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, Bruce Smith, Joe Meno and many more. Hosted by Benjamin Evans, Executive Editor of Fogged Clarity. Fogged Clarity no Fogged Clarity ryandaly@foggedclarity.com ryandaly@foggedclarity.com (Fogged Clarity) Fogged Clarity Interviews, Readings and sessions with authors, musicians and poets Fogged Clarity, Art, Music, Literature, Fiction, Authors, Interviews, Visual, Poetry, Acoustic, Sessions Fogged Clarity » NYC http://foggedclarity.com/images/logoSM.pnghttp://foggedclarity.com The Zeppelin Field at Nurnberghttp://foggedclarity.com/2012/01/the-zeppelin-field-at-nurnberg/ http://foggedclarity.com/2012/01/the-zeppelin-field-at-nurnberg/#comments Wed, 01 Feb 2012 00:07:14 +0000 Benjamin Evans http://foggedclarity.com/?p=16405 Scott Hightower

Rollerbladers cocooned
in earphones occupy the site.

A photographer busily shoots
a lanky, posing model

sporting a clear and extravagant
tattoo. I shoot them

from overhead; from the platform
where the Führer

and his industrious cronies stood
and spoke, were photographed.

A creative break from my own
taking in of the expansive scale.

Like miniature, the imagination
creates vastness. Millions

snapped their crisp salutes
like guillotines. The result

of the romantic
madness still hangs

profound and murderous
in the air: train cars, camps,

sequentialling tattoos, gas,
and reels of propaganda.

Swans glide and dip between
the dark silhouettes of trunks;

the sky and pond are
opalescent. Hardly concealed

systemic cruelty contains
the urban Turkish neighborhoods

not far away. Let the concrete edges
of this field continue to crumble.

We’re thirsty. Time to drive back
to the power station building—

Source of light, to make
transparent part of what it was

that was being ambitiously
designed, stoked, and rallied.

I will cajole someone to take
a series of photographs of me

posing outside the converted
plant. Me: sated, victorious

and mocking; a ridiculous,
cheesy pin-up model—

the latest to strut and plug
for the kingdom of fast food.

Scott Hightower is the author of three books. This fall, Self-Evident, his fourth collection stateside, is forthcoming from Barrow Street Press. Early next year, Oases/Hontanares, a bi-lingual book, is forthcoming from Devenir, Madrid. Hightower teaches as adjunct faculty at NYU and Drew University. A native of central Texas, he lives in Manhattan and sojourns in Spain.

]]> http://foggedclarity.com/2012/01/the-zeppelin-field-at-nurnberg/feed/ 0 fogged clarity,Hayden Carruth,Madrid,NYC,part of the bargain,poem,poems,poet,Poetry,poets,Scott Hightower Scott Hightower Rollerbladers cocooned in earphones occupy the site. - A photographer busily shoots a lanky, posing model - sporting a clear and extravagant tattoo. I shoot them - from overhead; from the platform Scott Hightower Rollerbladers cocooned in earphones occupy the site. A photographer busily shoots a lanky, posing model sporting a clear and extravagant tattoo. I shoot them from overhead; from the platform where the Führer and his industrious cronies stood and spoke, were photographed. A creative break from my own taking in of the expansive scale. Like miniature, the imagination creates vastness. Millions snapped their crisp salutes like guillotines. The result of the romantic madness still hangs profound and murderous in the air: train cars, camps, sequentialling tattoos, gas, and reels of propaganda. Swans glide and dip between the dark silhouettes of trunks; the sky and pond are opalescent. Hardly concealed systemic cruelty contains the urban Turkish neighborhoods not far away. Let the concrete edges of this field continue to crumble. We’re thirsty. Time to drive back to the power station building— Source of light, to make transparent part of what it was that was being ambitiously designed, stoked, and rallied. I will cajole someone to take a series of photographs of me posing outside the converted plant. Me: sated, victorious and mocking; a ridiculous, cheesy pin-up model— the latest to strut and plug for the kingdom of fast food. Scott Hightower is the author of three books. This fall, Self-Evident, his fourth collection stateside, is forthcoming from Barrow Street Press. Early next year, Oases/Hontanares, a bi-lingual book, is forthcoming from Devenir, Madrid. Hightower teaches as adjunct faculty at NYU and Drew University. A native of central Texas, he lives in Manhattan and sojourns in Spain. Fogged Clarity no 2:17 Writer’s Brock – “…just jerking off…”http://foggedclarity.com/2011/04/writers-brock-just-jerking-off/ http://foggedclarity.com/2011/04/writers-brock-just-jerking-off/#comments Fri, 22 Apr 2011 18:49:09 +0000 Dylan Brock http://foggedclarity.com/?p=13248 When living in New York City, I met many writers. Some came into my MFA program, some I already knew, and some I just happened to meet. Advice of theirs sticks to me, all of it, but there are certain bits that haunt me. Two of these persistent thoughts came when I did not expect them. Through friends and friends of friends, I ended up going out to breakfast with a screenwriter. He looked young, was no more than thirty, but seemed to be plagued with none of my poverty. There was money in his wallet. His manner was that of someone who had accomplished life goals. There was easy assurance about his speech. Somehow this young man was far ahead of where I was. That did not bother me so much as make me want to know what secrets he had. His way was to come off as one who just knows that answer. I wanted that answer. So as I sipped a shot glass sized serving of fresh squeezed orange juice, I talked to him about my process and got the first bit of commentary. “Phony writers talk about page counts.” This struck me right away as I frequently did just that. To friends I said things like, “I wrote thirty pages yesterday” or “that was the longest novel I’ve written” and I thought nothing of these statements. I think the screenwriter’s point is that it doesn’t matter how much I’m writing as it does what I am writing, what I am completing, and to what end I am using it. If I am just writing piles of material with no real point to the writing it can be considered therapeutic but it cannot be considered professional. The screenwriter said this with the assurance of someone who had gotten the same advice from someone else a long time before, and that that advice had served him well. I hadn’t ordered as expensive breakfast as he had. I was getting an egg on a roll. I watched him eat less from more of what I wanted, Eggs Florentine, and wanted to be him more than ever. He lived in my neighborhood at the time, Little Italy, one that was the most expensive of any neighborhood in New York City. Unlike me, his parents weren’t paying his rent. Writing was. After we walked down and around from a diner in the East Village, I never saw this friend of a friend again, close as I lived to him. The density hid him from me even as he was proximate. The last words he said before goodbye stay with me as well. I had been talking to him about all the ideas I was putting in my thesis, a novel called “Dry World”, and he stopped me short to tell me he had to go west down Prince Street where I had to turn downtown on Elizabeth.  So, parting, he shot: “Tell stories. Any other writing is just jerking off.” It was a filmic bit to say. His job as a screenwriter was to tell stories, and in that, my job was like his. I had always been told to think of my work as scenes in a film. A series of them. Even life can feel like a movie. As I watched him walk away from the still rising sun, down the valley of a long city street, I thought about all that I had yet to write.

]]> http://foggedclarity.com/2011/04/writers-brock-just-jerking-off/feed/ 4 The Clarity at the Living Roomhttp://foggedclarity.com/2009/07/the-living-room/ http://foggedclarity.com/2009/07/the-living-room/#comments Sat, 01 Aug 2009 03:30:36 +0000 Ryan Daly http://foggedclarity.com/?p=3381
The beauty manifests itself live:

Sunday, September 13th 2009
The Living Room
154 Ludlow St.
New York, New York 10002

9pm

Five sets of music and two readings from some of the best.
Click here for lineup and links to performers work.

Click here for directions.

]]> http://foggedclarity.com/2009/07/the-living-room/feed/ 0 The Clarity comes to NYC an An Afternoon Panic Attackhttp://foggedclarity.com/2009/07/the-clarity-comes-to-nyc-an-an-afternoon-panic-attack/ http://foggedclarity.com/2009/07/the-clarity-comes-to-nyc-an-an-afternoon-panic-attack/#comments Thu, 09 Jul 2009 02:18:35 +0000 Benjamin Evans http://foggedclarity.com/?p=3224 We are bringing an incredible lineup into NYC for two Evenings with the Clarity. September 11th in Manhattan (we are shopping), September 12th in Brooklyn at the Williamsburg Music Center.

Its almost funny how good the lineup is for these shows:

Strand of Oaks also known as Timothy Showalter, who is in my opinion the one of the top 5 contemporary songwriters will be playing both shows and headlining our Manhattan show. You can listen to Timmy’s beauty here.
Samantha Farrell, a fine musician with an unbelievable and ethereal voice will be playing both shows. Her forthcoming album Luminous was the first and only ever produced by late DMB horn player Leroi Moore. You can listen to Sammy here.
Karisa Wilson a brilliant singer/songwriter from Michigan will also be playing both shows. She absolutely killed it at our June 20th event. You can listen to her here.
Michael Tyrell former poetry editor of The New Yorker will be reading. Michael is a truly gifted writer whose work moves me deeply.
Amy King another amazing poet who has published five collections will be reading.
Chris Hosea The Harvard grad will be reading his beauty as well.

These will be two very very special nights.

In other news, here is a poem I wrote while overcoming an afternoon panic attack today.

I died drinking in the afternoon and called it a victory
Before, I walked up to eat at a restaurant alone,
smoking cigarettes by citronella candles
Where were the bugs in the mid-day?
Michael Jackson died, and a sports idol
I wasn’t hungry, but I started bleeding at the table
The liquid slipped through the black wire mesh diamonds
and fell in no apparent pattern
I wished I could get away with loneliness
I couldn’t. Got caught red-handed three hours later
Cessation…..curled up next to a half gallon of the Russian
Zoloft, Risperdal, and Welbutrin in my stomach like skittles
Taste the rainbow

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