Issue 2!

Ripping or riffing off the idea of Issue 1 (are the editors of Issue 1 going to sue?), Erika Staiti (not that Erika) has put together Issue 2, a log of all the blog and listserv comments that came right after Issue 1.

This means:

1. I am racking up publication credits this year without doing shit!

2. It’ll be easier for all of us who are going to take full advantage of Issue 1 to write a paper on appropriation in contemporary poetry for our academic courses, because all the commentary is in one place!

Score! Now if one of Kenny G‘s students would just write a program that would write that academic paper for me, perhaps something like this. (refresh. refresh.) (Oh, and if they could rehab the structure of modern academia that would be cool too. Like, so we would be allowed to write papers about such things in the first place.)


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25 Responses to Issue 2!

  1. Paul Squires says:

    Never before has so much attention been directed to so much poetry that noone has ever read. And on it goes. It’s almost theatre of the absurd, which is fair enough since it comes after the mechanised dada of Flarf.

  2. Susana says:

    “dada of flarf!!!’ love it!!!!!!!!!!!!

  3. I think “mechanized Dada” sounds a lot cooler than what Flarf is. Even in dismissing Flarf you’re giving it too much credit, Paul.

    The more the so-called “Flarf poets” distance themselves from “Flarf,” the better their poetry seems to get; this is also true retroactively, in that many Flarf poets wrote much better poems before “Flarf” became a “movement.” Such is the fate of all poetry movements/mechanisms– once they gain enough momentum to run on their own fuel, they have outlived their interest/novelty. Which is perhaps why Tzara always wanted to disavow/destroy Dada.

    That said (and the following is not directed at Paul), I think it’s dangerous/underinformed to align Issue 1 with Flarf just because it’s a hoax and chance-determined. First of all, there is of course a long history of chance-determined poetry before Flarf, which by no means has a patent on rolling the dice. Those who say “Flarf” whenever they see Oulipo/Dada/Surrealist/Fluxus/chance methods in action are merely operating by gag reflex, a rather primary system of human response. Second, Flarf is (unfortunately) not a hoax; it was much funnier when it was a hoax, when its practitioners and their coat-tail followers didn’t take it so seriously. Now that it is serious (Flarf has its strange attack-dog system of defending itself when anyone attempts to joke about it), it is not nearly as interesting. Issue 1 is still a joke, thank god, although perhaps when we start writing academic papers about it, it will become more Flarf-like.

    An interesting thing to look at here is the role of the Academy in American Poetry and how it has caused what might have been an interesting poetry movement to stagnate; indeed, in Academia one must stagnate to survive. Academia pins the butterflies of language. Moreover, interesting to look at Academia’s antipathy towards comedy: if Flarf were still considered a joke/hoax, or even regarded with more than the low-registered poetry “chuckle” during a performance/reading, its practitioners surely would not survive tenure review (as it is, they teeter on the edge of acceptability by one of the few corporations in America in which it is possible to have a job and still find time to write/perform– that is, Academia).

  4. … (As long as I’m talking about this) … “Language poetry” has had many of the same problems that Flarf has… Everything “experimental” (that is, poetry that doesn’t rhyme) being squished into the same category (Langpo/Post-Langpo) by people who don’t understand all the subtleties of the history of poetry/movements. And although we still call, say, Charles Bernstein a Language Poet, his work has shifted quite a lot in the past two decades, and his performance/musical work for example requires different analytical devices than early Langpo, such that it does his later work a disservice to analyze it with the same tools that one uses for his early work. I don’t feel that this is true for all the Language Poets, and some of them are more resistant to being associated with that old zine (L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E) than others; it may be a slight overstatement to say that those who more readily embrace the label are the same as those whose work has stagnated. Movements can be interesting for a little while, especially when one is trying to make a mark in a large field of literature, but ultimately they must move (have fluidity, flexibility, development) for any individual author to remain interesting and continue to produce interesting/successful work. Of the Flarf poets, I think Rod Smith and Anne Boyer are two who seem to know these truths: Rod used to be slammed in with the “post-Language” poets but found a new home in Flarf, a home that supported him and allowed him to work/think differently, and he will likely find more new homes as time goes by, as his work is primarily his own. The same can be said of Anne’s work. I do not single these two out in contrast to others (there may be others) but only because they’re the first that come to mind as poets whose work should be considered on its own terms.

  5. Matt says:

    I like some Flarf better than other Flarf, but the Flarf I like I like because it makes me laugh, often in a way poetry has never made me laugh. I think there’s a certain unique type of humor you can only get through collage-type stuff that you couldn’t really replicate if you just tried to compose something flarf-like out of thin air. It might be an acquired taste type of humor, like British sketch comedy, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with people who don’t like it. There’s lots of stuff that people like that I don’t like, and it’s no big deal. I still like the people. (Unless I don’t like them for some other, non-poetry-related reason.)

    And I do get a little disappointed when Flarf folks start to write serious defenses of Flarf, like they’re playing the same old game–the academia thing you mentioned, I guess is what I mean. It seems to me the best way to defend it would be not to defend it at all. (There’s the other issue of people getting criticized for supposedly being offensive–the “Race” part of saidwhatwesaid reminded me of when Monty Python was criticized for supposedly making fun of Jesus–they had to go on TV and basically explain that Brian and Jesus were not the same person (duh).)

  6. Paul Squires says:

    Holey Mackeral, Jessica, you are smart. I have been looking and trying to understand this whole Flarf thing in some kind of sensible context and your comment is the most intelligible and intelligent thing I’ve read on the subject. Perhaps you should post it as a post. Thankyou, what a relief it is to find someone who makes sense.

  7. Hi Jessica —

    I completely agree with you about the tendency to want to squish everything into the same category, and how that tendency is not at all helpful in understanding any of the categories that are squished.

    But I am so surprised by your strong aversion to Flarf. I guess I wouldn’t expect you to love it, but you seem to strongly dislike it. I’m a little puzzled about that.

    I think equating Flarf with Dada is off–if anything, I think Flarf is more old Fluxusish/Happeningsesque— because of the strong performance component. I think the stuff on FluxIShare is more Dadaesque because of its strong visual component (which is where some of your more visual work would fit in, right?) Anybody I’ve ever mentioned this to disagrees. And actually it’s neither here nor there, and maybe I’m squishing in thinking of it in that way as well, so.

    Have you seen this, below? It’s four of the Flarfers at the Walker Arts Ctr. You can get a sense of just how alive & charged this group is from watching it, I think. (I’ve also heard the same palpable excitement was felt in at least one of their Flarf Festivals, which I didn’t attend). And also I think that in this video you can see just how important it is to see this work performed, rather than just read it on a screen or page. Maybe ignore the social politics of it all and give it another chance? Seriously, I’d be interested in knowing what you think of this thing at Walker Art Ctr.

    p.s. I consider A Boyer in a category of her own as well — but again, the visual component is so amazing & strong in her work. It’s not, for example, in the work of Sharon Mesmer or Nada Gordon, both of whose works is more sound & performance based (…or at least influenced), I think.

    Take care.

  8. Hi Lynn,
    I agree with you that Flarf is more like Fluxus than Dada (does the name in fact refer to Fluxus? Fluxus + Barf?) … I haven’t seen the video you refer to and I don’t have time to watch it now, although I might one day. I have seen Flarf performances in real life and not been impressed. But this is partly because I was raised in a community (Buffalo) where good poetry performances aren’t rare. If I’d never seen anything like Flarf before I might be more impressed.

    There are many things that disturb me about Flarf that I don’t feel can be adequately addressed on a blog, much less in a comment box, but to summarize/hint, they are:

    – The easy use of “flarf” as a label by people who don’t know what they’re talking about, to label any/everything performative/visual/chance-operated (the same sickness i described as plaguing the langpoets). This is especially obnoxious when it originates in critics who should know better.
    – Flarf inbreeding, that is, the tendency of flarf poets to talk about each other in their poems, which is obnoxious and alienating. This is a common problem in many post-NYS poetics. Inbreeding in poetry circles happens, but there are more and less obnoxious ways of handling it.
    – Academia and the stagnation of Flarf as a movement that moves, which is not Flarf’s fault, but which they might work against.
    – The name. I hate the name. But then, names of movements are often lame.
    – The tendency of Flarf poets to attack anyone who doesn’t like Flarf (although I seem to escape such attacks, knock on wood) (also, when the people who attack Flarf are totally unreasonable, it seems fair for Flarf to defend itself as the attack requires).
    – The hanging-on and other kissing-up that happens as people attempt to penetrate the Flarf circle, which is sort of like trying to sit with the cool kids at lunch– and which is again, not really Flarf’s fault.
    – The inadequacy of much of the work. I’d like to take a big red pen to a lot of the stuff I’ve seen/read coming from Flarf poets. One of the problems with having a recognized movement is that momentum can lead to laziness with regard to self-criticism. This was/is also true of LangPo. There are entire books by Language poets that I would like to strike out with a red pen.

    I am picking on Flarf and LangPo here partly because they are in a world of avant-garde poetry that I already know very well and like. I’m not even bothering to pick on people who write in metered verse, for example, or who win major prizes or are published by major presses. So if you are reading this post and you know nothing about Flarf/LangPo, but just want to attack them, please go educate yourself more thoroughly before you pipe up. (I can pick on my little brother, but you can’t.)

    Things I like about Flarf:
    – Their performances, though often boring/sloppy compared to other performances I’ve seen, are much more interesting than 90% of poetry readings. This is certainly not true of all Flarf readers or performances, but in situations where Flarfists focus on performance it is more interesting than sitting through yet another (dull, “poetry voiced”) Authorial Presence.
    – The women of Flarf. I generally (tho not always) like the work of Nada Gordon and Anne Boyer. This is not to say I don’t like the work of male Flarfist, which I do (sometimes). I am still biased toward poets who seem to have “something to say,” and that seems to very often run parallel with being a social Other (in this case, being a woman). I feel the same way about LangPo production… I read Hejinian, Scalapino, Howe with pleasure, not just because they’re assigned to me.
    – They are generally friendly people (I’m not sure how this plays in exactly, although i do think that “not being an ass” is important, and I have sworn never to write about certain poets who are assholes, because being a reasonable person should be more important than being a “good” artist).

    I did like this all much better when we didn’t have to take it so damn seriously. I’m not sure why disliking Flarf seems to imply that I’ve instigated a war on Flarf, which is not the case at all. I should certainly be allowed to dislike some poetry. Note too, that these are generalized comments based on a generalized field: squinting at Flarf, I’m not impressed with the resulting blur.

    The idea that one cannot actively express dislike for poetry/a poet/a poetry community/a poetry movement strikes me as really strange. I’ve received bad reviews. There are plenty of people who hate me (are crazy with hate for me). Although such passionate feelings often seem odd/misplaced, I think they are almost a natural offspring from a community that doesn’t allow dissension/critique. If you’re not allowed to say that you dislike something, then of course you will either shut up, or you will say that you hate it just to get your voice into the world. I once described a poem as “mediocre” only to be receive a violently passive-aggressive email from someone about how I had no right to call a poem “mediocre.” I’m not sure where I lost this right. Not only do I have the right to say what I want, but I have a massive education about poetry and I’ve spent what probably amounts to months of time at poetry readings, so I have the experience that would lead me to be able to judge a poem. The question seems to be whether any of us have the right to judge a poem, but I would argue that in order to judge a poem positively we must have the concomitant right to judge it negatively. I’m all for a supportive poetry community, but I don’t think that saying “good job!” all the time is necessarily the way to be supportive. Sometimes people need to be edited/called out/put on the defensive. I feel that I’m on the defensive quite often and indeed, this forces me to put out a lot less work than many other poets. Negativity can make poems, poets, and groups of poets stronger, especially when it comes from a generally supportive, educated source that ultimately wants them to succeed.

  9. Matt says:

    I believe the term Flarf comes from a google search–it’s slang for marijuana, I think. I learned that on the Poetry Foundation podcast.

  10. Matt says:

    Kind of like how Dada was a word pulled out of the dictionary.

  11. @Matt, you learned that on the Poetry Foundation podcast I linked to? Whoa, I guess I didn’t listen closely. And apparently I don’t know much about marijuana. Oh well.

  12. Lynn Behrendt says:

    Jessica — just to be clear —not sure you were talking to me on this — I don’t think that you shouldn’t express your dislike of Flarf. (I totally see the potential benefit of concise negative criticsm). I was just surprised that you so strongly disliked it (I had never read anything you’d written about Flarf until this post)—-also surprised because I do see the “little brother” or big sister (depending on yr point of view I guess) aspect to it, that you pointed out.

  13. @Lynn, I usually don’t write about Flarf and would prefer not to write about it, generally speaking, although I do have a lot of thoughts on the subject. My policy is: they don’t hurt me, and I don’t want to cause any unnecessary harm to them (by seeming to be dismissive or critical of them in a public forum where my intentions might be misconstrued by those who don’t know much about contemporary poetry or its history). The only reason I’d ever want to talk about it is to ensure that other poetry doesn’t get sucked up into the Flarf category when it is not Flarf, because I think that does a disservice to contemporary poetry in general, by mushing all of it up together into something that people can dismiss or choose not to understand (or simply not understand). There are so many different kinds of poetry– every writer writes a different kind of poetry– every writer writes a different kind of poetry every time s/he sits down to write! So names/movements have limited value for understanding any particular poem.

  14. Matt says:

    Oh, I didn’t know you’d linked to a podcast, maybe it was a different one…

  15. Matt says:

    Here’s a definition, my new favorite, of Flarf, from urbandictionary:

    Flarf: A gerbil’s natural habitat. Flarfs are commonly created by multiple leftover natches in David Hasslehoff’s fridge.

    “Shane likes to smear flarf over his chest and head over for his job interview.”

  16. Lynn Behrendt says:

    Yup, I agree Jessica. Mushing is bad. And I think the flarfers themselves decided that Issue 1 was decidedly not flarf. The K. Silem polls agreed.

  17. Gary says:

    Hi Jessica,

    I hope it’s okay to respond to this a bit with a few of my own thoughts, simple as they may be. Some of this may surprise you, some of it obviously won’t. It’s not an attack! I swear! Though there are definite points of disagreement.

    I agree that “flarf” is a terrible name for—well, for anything. One of the funny things in that podcast you linked to is the idea one speaker had that a poetry movement ought to have at least a quasi-scientific sounding name: The Objectivists. Obviously, “flarf,” is 180 degrees from that. That was haphazard on our part, not thinking about starting anything at the time, but it took on a life of its own because it does seem to be the right-sounding (at least in English; Finnish or Icelandic, not so much) word to refer to “the flarfy.”

    I completely agree with Matt about the whole “Their Guys” discussion: silence would have been better. It is very hard, though, to watch others accuse someone you know, and especially someone who has published a book dealing explicitly about race and language, of racism. But, tongue-biting might have been better.

    I don’t agree with Matt that poets shouldn’t defend their work, no matter what the nature of that work is. In situations like this involving other poets or schools of poetry, I’ve always been far less interested in what the critics have had to say (who cares why someone doesn’t like language writing?) and usually very grateful for how poets—individual or in groups—have talked about what they do in light of this or that criticism. I’ve been in situations one too many times where some earnest, usually angry, poet has decided they had to go on at length about language writing to me, and I’ve never experienced that as anything short of repellant.

    I love the scene in whatever Woody Allen movie that was when there are these people on line to see a movie, and someone is going on & on about some director. Allen grows increasingly agitated, then grabs that very director by the arm, and ushers him over to the talker: “You know, I couldn’t help hearing what you had to say about X, and I actually happen to have X right here …” I’m waiting for the day when I can replicate that in real life.

    I’m surprised by your dislike of “the tendency of flarf poets to talk about each other in their poems, which is obnoxious and alienating.” This has been a part of American poetry going back at least to the New Americans. It’s in the Beats, the New York School, the Black Mountain poets, on and on. So much of O’Hara involves name-checking or anecdotes about his friends that you’d hardly have anything left if you edited it out—and maybe you disagree with me, but I think he’s one of the finest poets this country has ever produced. The world includes our friends, and we write about the world … no?

    “The hanging-on and other kissing-up that happens as people attempt to penetrate the Flarf circle …” Wow, really? I think I’d be aware of that. Rather, I’m aware of a lot of people liking to tell me how much they hate what we do & stand for. Why would people liking what we do be hanging-on or kissing-up, anyway?

    “The more the so-called ‘Flarf poets’ distance themselves from ‘Flarf,’ the better their poetry seems to get; this is also true retroactively, in that many Flarf poets wrote much better poems before ‘Flarf’ became a ‘movement.’ Such is the fate of all poetry movements/mechanisms …”

    Nothing could be further from the truth—no matter whether we’re talking about the Dadaists, Surrealists, Black Mountain, Langpo, or Flarf. Hejinian, Scalapino, and Grenier all have books that pre-date the solidification of langpo, and the work they did after those first efforts are head and shoulders above.

    Even in the example that you draw out, Charles Bernstein, his work was always fairly performative and polyvocal. I wrote about The Sophist, which was published in 1987, recently on my blog—it’s still I think one of the great books of American poetry of the 20th century.

    With respect to flarf, I can’t think of a poet involved whose published work after being involved with the group isn’t at least a cut above what they had done prior. Part of this has nothing to do with flarf, and is just a general learning curve of poetry, maybe. But part of it does. It’s easy to compare these books, because there aren’t that many of them.

    So, for instance, Kasey’s Hovercraft and A Thousand Devils are really good books of poetry, but Deer Head Nation and Breathalyzer are great books. The leap he makes is palpable.

    This is true too of Drew Gardner, whose Sugar Pill was a fine book, but Petroleum Hat is I think measurably better, more focused, more urgent, even as he retains his lyricism.

    Michael Magee’s My Angie Dickinson is a fantastic book, much more realized than either MS or Morning Constitutional, although both of those books are not slouching.

    Nada’s Folly is by far the best thing I’ve ever read of hers, and I’ve been a fan of her writing going back to the early 80s when I picked up a copy of her chapbook rodomontade in 1986. Her engagement with Erasmus’ The Praise of Folly is very focused, and the work in that book utterly amazing. Better, I think, than Foreignn Bodie or Are Not Our Lowing Heifers Sleeker than Night-Swollen Mushrooms, even though I published the former book.

    Katie Degentesh doesn’t have a book prior to The Anger Scale, so it’s not easy to compare her earlier work with that.

    My own PPL in a Depot is far more focused, well-realized than How to Proceed in the Arts, as unreliable a witness on that one as I might be.
    Mitch Highfill has been writing great poetry for three decades, but his recent Moth Light is every bit as good as Turn, better than The Blue Dahlia (which I published) and even, I would argue, Liquid Affairs, his collection of work from the 80s-90s.

    Only Rodney Koeneke has a book prior to flarf that is to my mind as well-realized as his flarf book: but, then, Rouge State is probably one of my all-time favorite first books by anyone.

    Maybe Sharon? She has a lot of pre-flarf books, and they’re pretty great. I do think that in Annoying Diabetic Bitch she takes what was already very strong in those earlier books and runs with it, while abandoning some of the more overtly “poetic” aspects. Some readers might not like that, of course, but I think it makes what she does stronger.

    I hope you don’t see this as an attack. I do disagree with what you say, generally about movements or groups or even cliques and their effects on authors, mainly because I can’t think of movement or group or clique that any poet involved didn’t benefit artistically from. There’s nothing more generative than the energy that others bring out in one. And I honestly think you can see that, going back to dada, surrealism, the Beats, the New York School, langpo, etc. I think any poet who has the opportunity ought to involve themselves with other artists as much as possible. I’d been involved with cliques before flarf, but when you’re really responding to others’ work aesthetically as well as responding to them as social beings, it can really be energizing. I don’t see any reason to knock it or be suspicious of it.

    Anyway, my 1,285 cents.


  18. Gary, I think you have every right to respond to the argument at hand, and I don’t feel attacked. I just wanted to respond to a couple of things here.

    First, when I say “movements’ I should be sure to clarify that I don’t mean “groups” (or cliques). It is true that poets often work better when they work within groups (although, with a few exceptions, I think they often work worse in collaboration). I think that “movements” are outdated, and even smack of politics one doesn’t want to reproduce. This doesn’t mean that “social writing” is outdated–it could never be. I want to draw a distinction there.

    Second, I want to qualify a couple of things about Frank O’Hara and the New York School(s). I think most of us will agree that Frank O’Hara is a great poet, although he is certainly not my favorite or even, to my mind, one of the top 10 or even 20 American poets this century. Experimental and quasi-experimental New York poets seem to tend to idolize O’Hara on a scale that people in other regions of the country/world do not. But, let’s say that we agree that Frank O’Hara is incredibly special. Even so, I think his technique of mentioning friends in his poems is a response to Modernism’s tendency to name obscure people and send readers who were not educated in a certain tradition running for their dictionaries. Given that this naming technique was, to some degree, a response to that, then I think that first of all, the technique is outdated (we no longer need to respond to that particular Modernist snobbery), and second of all, that when it succeeds it succeeds for the same reason that similar Modernist techniques succeeded, that is, by alienating readers (alienation is, of course, a technique– and like sound or layout, one that has multiple forms/functions/degrees and one that a poet must give due consideration). There are other ways to “write about the world” than “naming,” or perhaps for a better term “roll-calling,” and there are even ways to write about one’s friends and their importance to one without studding one’s poems with their names. Names, finally, are like brands– uninteresting, uncommunicative, and closed. Like a calligram whose magic snaps shut in the moment of recognition, a name is a closed box. If you happen to know and love the person named, then what is in the box is special to you and the poem can be special. But if the name is unknown or the person who it refers to is not special to you, then a name is a very uninteresting word. So even beyond the poetry politics/history of naming, there is a critique waiting to happen about the proper name itself and whether intoning it is an interesting thing to do in poetry. History on its own is not a reason to write (anything).


  19. Gary says:

    Thanks, Jessica. I still have a couple of questions, though, if that’s okay.

    Why do movements smack of politics that one might not want to reproduce? To me, they smack of everything that is actually needed to get anywhere, at least socially-politically.

    The health organization that I work for started, about three years ago, to talk about the end XX disease movement or movement to end XX disease. We’ve seen it actually work to energize a lot of people who weren’t previously connected with what we were doing. That’s resulted in a lot of health care policy vicotories on Capitol Hill that wouldn’t have been possible had we not gotten these people energized–three years ago, these victories would have been unimaginable.

    What about the Civil Rights movment? The Women’s Liberation movement? The Ecology movement? The Anti-War movement? The Anti-Globalization movement?

    I’m at a loss to understand why these are bad moves.

    As for naming, I like what you say about O’Hara’s use of them, and why he might have done that.

    More generally, though, names are nouns, and are experienced much the same as other nouns in texts. I don’t see any particular problem with them. I can see maybe some problem in the case of someone investing a particular name with huge amounts of sentiment in a poem that isn’t going to get across to most readers–but that’s not something I see Kasey, Nada, Sharon, et al. doing. (I don’t think I personally use other flarfer’s names in poems, except in occasional dedications.) Do you have an example of this maybe–that’d help maybe understanding the root of your alienation from the work’s naming.

    “History on its own is not a reason to write (anything).”

    I completely agree with this. None of the movements discussed here exist with the sole or primary purpose of recapitulating poetries of the past, though all build on them to greater or lesser degree.

  20. As you know, Gary, we are discussing *poetry* movements. Let’s not compare Flarf to the Women’s Rights Movement or Civil Rights Movement.

    Thanks for sharing your thoughts.

  21. Gary says:

    Whoa, now come on.

    You said movements smack of politics that we don’t want to reproduce.

    Movements–poetic or political–are organized around an idea or ideas, which help to focus those who get involved. Focus can generate a lot of activity. That was my point. What’s wrong with my thinking that?

    Maybe your definition of “poetry movement” is something else?

    Let me know!

  22. Gary says:

    Maybe it would help if you could explain what bad politics poetic movements enact or reproduce?

    I think that would help make it clearer for me. Sorry for being so dense.

  23. Hm. You’re actually kind of performing the politics of poetry movements of which I disapprove right now, Gary.

    For “poetry movements” like Surrealism, Objectivism, Futurism are male, contentious, loud, insular, aggressively defensive, etc.

    More interesting to me are the way groups form rhizomatically, tenderly, fluidly, quietly– allowing everyone to do the work they need to do. They come together and fall apart unnamed, unbound by anything other than what some might call Love.

    I could point to certain of these strands throughout the 2Oth century, but I don’t think it’s necessary.

  24. Gary says:

    Okay, I understand.

    My experience of those rhizomatic groups is that they can be contentious, loud, insular and aggressively defensive–group dynamics are never utopic. Oh, well.

    I apologize if I’ve behaved here in a way that you don’t approve.

  25. This is really not the forum where I would like to dicuss such things, Gary. Flarf, like The Blob, has a way of taking over everything else, which is why I don’t talk about Flarf on my blog. I don’t feel that I have the space and time to develop my full argument about Flarf in this space, nor do I want to expend the time and energy to talk about it (here or elsewhere). You guys keep doing whatever pleases you, and I will keep doing what pleases me, and it seems like there are plenty of readers for all of us, without either of us needing to convince the other of anything.

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