"In this perspective, the critical and interpretive question is not “what does the poem mean?” but “how do we release or expose the poem’s possibilities of meaning?"

Lisa Samuels and Jerome McGann, “Deformance and Interpretation.” New Literary History, Vol. 30, No. 1, Poetry & Politics (Winter, 1999), pp. 25-56. The Johns Hopkins University Press.

"Progressivism versus conservatism is a culture war. People who win or lose a culture war don’t merely act as it they won or lost a culture war; they genuinely win it or lose it. It’s always war—and if it’s not magnificent, then designers are losing."

Shaping Things by Bruce Sterling, page 67.

If you like your media theory readable, well-designed, funny, philosophical, exhilarating, and existential-crisis-inducing/soothing, this is the book for you.

"Professor: Can you think of a single thing that doesn’t qualify as a text?"

Someone is wrong on the Internet.

This is what Whitman actually wrote:

“Leaves of Grass” (1900)

26.

ONCE I pass’d through a populous city, imprinting my brain, for future use, with its shows, architecture, customs, and traditions;

Yet now, of all that city, I remember only a woman I casually met there, who detain’d me for love of me;

Day by day and night by night we were together,—All else has long been forgotten by me;

I remember, I say, only that woman who passionately clung to me;

Again we wander—we love—we separate again;

Again she holds me by the hand—I must not go!

I see her close beside me, with silent lips, sad and tremulous.

It’s nowhere near as simple as “We were together. I forget the rest.” He visited the city in order to “imprint it” in his mind for future reference—and yet an unexpected fling derailed his plains so that his impression of an entire city is overshadowed by the memory of their brief time together. Crucially, though, the brevity of their connection doesn’t void it. We human beings “wander—-we love—we separate again,” and we’re all better off for it. He’s haunted by the memories of transient connections, as we all are, to the extent that they grow to define places he visited for the sole purpose of memorizing for poetic fodder. No matter how much we try to guard against the hurt when they’re gone, relationships of all kinds matter more to us than most anything else.

I’m just saying: source your shit, Internet! The original is probably better than you expect!

(via hermionejg)

zeldafitzgryffindor:

fyeahzeldafitzgerald:

eyesofdoctoreckleburg:

please tell me someone’s made a comic of the scene from “a moveable feast” where fitzgerald and hemingway are hanging out and scott’s all like “man, zelda told me my penis was small” and then hemingway checks it out and is like “nah, bro you’re fine” and then takes him to look at statues junk at the louvre.

I forgot that happened. They were the ultimate bros.

this is a thing that happened

During a spontaneous road trip to the south of France, they drove through the rain drinking wine, stayed up all night talking about their insecurities, had dissatisfying brunches, and ended one night in a posh hotel where Hemingway undressed Fitz and tucked him into bed.

(via celeryandhummus)

Texts from the cute boy I like, 002.

002. “Is there anything more satisfying than reading an effective essay?”

nypl:

Walt Whitman manuscript, “Go, said his soul to a poet.”

The manuscript is comprised of two unequal-sized sheets of paper pasted together. Note in ink in Whitman’s hand running along upper left says: “Scrap of Rough Draft / W Whitman.” Additional note in Whitman’s hand written in red ink along seam where the two sheets are joined: “inscription on title page last edition Leaves of Grass.”

From the Berg Collection of English and American Literature.

Like, what if I took someone on a date to the Berg Collection? Or the Library of Congress? Or the NYPL’s Cullman Center? What if I dated someone who was like, “Oh my god, tell me all about your research! What did it feel like to see those manuscripts? Did you smell them? Please tell me you smelled them.”