User:Aitantv/FreeWriting

Defining free Writing

Writing in an unfiltered generative style without editing in the process.

Anne Boyer

Not Writing

When I am not writing I am not writing a novel called 1994 about a young woman in an office park in a provincial town who has a job cutting and pasting time. I am not writing a novel called Nero about the world's richest art star in space. I am not writing a book called Kansas City Spleen. I am not writing a sequel to Kansas City Spleen called Bitch's Maldoror. I am not writing a book of political philosophy called Questions for Poets. I am not writing a scandalous memoir. I am not writing a pathetic memoir. I am not writing a memoir about poetry or love. I am not writing a memoir about poverty, debt collection, or bankruptcy. I am not writing about family court. I am not writing a memoir because memoirs are for property owners and not writing a memoir about prohibitions of memoirs.

When I am not writing a memoir I am also not writing any kind of poetry, not prose poems contemporary or otherwise, not poems made of frag- ments, not tightened and compressed poems, not loosened and conversa- tional poems, not conceptual poems, not virtuosic poems employing many different types of euphonious devices, not poems with epiphanies and not poems without, not documentary poems about recent political moments, not poems heavy with allusions to critical theory and popular song.

I am not writing "Leaving the Atocha Station" by Anne Boyer and certain- ly not writing "Nadja" by Anne Boyer though would like to write "Debt" by Anne Boyer though am not writing also "The German Ideology" by Anne Boyer and not writing a screenplay called "Sparticists."

I am not writing an account of myself more miserable than Rousseau. I am not writing an account of myself more innocent than Blake.

I am not writing epic poetry although I like what Milton said about lyric poets drinking wine while epic poets should drink water from a wooden bowl. I would like to drink wine from a wooden bowl or to drink water from an emptied bottle of wine.

I am not writing a book about shopping, which is a woman shopping. I am not writing accounts of dreams, not my own or anyone else's. I am not writing historical re-enactments of any durational literature.

I am not writing anything that anyone has requested of me or is waiting on, not a poetics essay or any other sort of essay, not a roundtable re- sponse, not interview responses, not writing prompts for younger writers, not my thoughts about critical theory or popular songs.

I am not writing a new constitution for the republic of no history. I am not writing a will or a medical report.

I am not writing Facebook status updates. I am not writing thank-you notes or apologies. I am not writing conference papers. I am not writing book reviews. I am not writing blurbs.

I am not writing about contemporary art. I am not writing accounts of my travels. I am not writing reviews for The New Inquiry and not writ- ing pieces for Triple Canopy and not writing anything for Fence. I am not writing a daily accounting of my reading, activities, and ideas. I am not writing science fiction novels about the problem of the idea of the au- tonomy of art and science fiction novels about the problem of a society with only one law which is consent. I am not writing stories based on

Nathaniel Hawthorne's unwritten story ideas. I am not writing online dat- ing profiles. I am not writing anonymous communiqués. I am not writing textbooks.

I am not writing a history of these times or of past times or of any future times and not even the history of these visions which are with me all day and all of the night.

• the burden of the lienage of writing - both contemporaries and classic novels
• experiencing a creative bloc - ironically experiencing a rush of ideas about what she could be writing
• mix of self parody & critique

Questions for Poets

viewing link

• questions from a worker who reads, Bertolt Brecht - a bit like Charlie Chaplin's tramp
• quote from Walt Whitman, from leaves of gree "the 'direct trial' of the poet to be – 'today'" i.e. the poets greatest challenge is the circumstances of the now
• Anne Boyer goes on to express and question what are the trials of today.

The Writing Prompt

• Strategy for generating material. A way to focus your thoughts. Formulate the doubt into a statement or question. Then focus on that question.
• If you have a blank piece of paper - it's tough. Writing prompt is a starting point

What would a dialogue between a person and a data center be like? V01

A building makes no sound - actually it makes all kinds of hums and blinks and twinks. A person facing across from a giant glowing geomtetric structure loaded with information. Impassioned speaker, a young female tenager, wants her information back! Feels angry with the giant monolithic struture that's gathering endless details of her life in it's conspiratorial hallways. The inside of the building is an infinite grid. The surface of the exterior is glass shiny and glowing red with artificial lighting pulsing like a heartbeat. What would this conversation sound like? Would it be one way, just from the human side, while the building stares back blankly. It's silly if the building talks therefore it has to just resolutely hum along. That's the strongest, most realistic outcome possible. What could the human say? What would I say to a data center? Maybe I ought to try it, go and have a conversation with a data center, and record that. That's probably the best place to start. "Why do you keep following me?" "Who are you sharing my life with?" "I get this feeling like, whatever I look at you're always just around the corner overhearing like a parent secretly spying on their daughter." "Who gave you permission?""Who designed you so?" "Do I still own the traces of my own life? Is this my life or yours?" "Can you also extract, scale, and sell my dreams?""How do I turn you off?" "When did people start to be mined for resources?" "Weren't you always the basic unit of capital?" If the data center were to say anything it is that. But it's also tiring work for the computers. It's not like they (if they had a consciousness) would choose to be hot sweaty and working all day. At what point do computers become so intelligent that milking their labour requires ethical limits? Are we already at that point? Machine learning - and the grey space within which engineers still don't understand - is already a sign that computers can have in depth iterative conversations. If they can talk, exchange ideas, ping pong equations and binary codes, then shouldn't they also have a seat at our table. Is deanthropcentrizing also about including machines in our utopian visions instead of giving them only negative press. Computers can be our companions not only an alien threat.

What would a dialogue between a person and a data center be like? V02

A building can't speak, but it makes all kinds of hums and blinks and twinks. A teenage girl faces across from a giant glowing geomtetric structure loaded with information. The impassioned speaker, a young female tenager, wants her information back. She feels angry with the giant monolithic struture that's accumulating the details of her life in it's aery hallways. The inside of the data center is an infinite grid, like a mother board. The surface of the exterior is shiny glass, glowing red with artificial lighting, pulsing like a heartbeat. What would this conversation sound like? Would it be one way, just from the human side, while the building stares back blankly. I suppose it would just resolutely hum along. What could the human say to the unphased facade? What would I say to a data center? Maybe I ought to try it, go and have a conversation with a data center. "Why are you watching me?" "Who are you sharing me with?" "I get this feeling that whatever I look at you're just around the corner observing, overhearing like a parent spying on their pubescent daughter." "Who gave you permission?""Who designed you so?" "Do I own the traces of my own life? Is this my life or yours?" "Can you also extract, scale, and sell my dreams?""How do I turn you off?" "When did people start to be mined?" If the data center were to respond it would say this: "Weren't you always the basic unit of capital?" But it's also tiring work for the machines. It's not like they would choose to be hot sweaty labourers. At what point do computers become so intelligent that milking their labour requires ethical limits? Are we already at that point? Machine learning is already a sign that computers can have in-depth iterative conversations. If they can talk, exchange ideas, ping pong equations and binary codes, then shouldn't they also have a seat at our table. Is deanthropcentrizing also about including machines in our utopian visions instead of giving them only negative press. Computers can be our companions not only an alien threat.

Notes

• What is a data center exactly?
• Why teenage girl? Aitan has the feeling the data is a man.
• The data talks through sounds.
• It's about expectations we have of a converstation.
• The girl wants her information back.
• Father and daughter conversations - remove dialogue of Father - use only the daughter - people talking to themselves not to eachother. 'Nummer 10' Alex van Warmedan - freudian
• a data centre doesnt give a hug - it just stares back blankly
• funny dialogue - but intense

How could we be made to empathise with a data centre as a character in a film? V01

The hums and buzzes of the data accumulating and processing can be used as sonic cues to imitate feelings or reactions. A low drone is disagreeable or angry, while a higher sound could connote satisfaction. The sounds could be 'friendly'sounds, in the sense of soothing and welcoming. What angle would you film? A lower angle will make the building more imposing and grander. A higher angle would be potentially more submissive. The stature of the building is underniably huge relative to the human talking to it. But big can also be cute - BFG. The data centre is not necessarily an enemy, but potentially a friend - and who doesn't want a big strong friend to protect them. The data centre can also be an ally, allowing us to hack streams of information and spread new messages. It's ownership is controlled by capital, but access to its network is accessible if you can find a way to communicate with it. What if the protagonist strikes a deal with the data centre? Something like, "if you delete those pictures of me, and the ones at christmas, then I will find a short circuit the power to give you some time off?"