Poetry originates from a virus given to us by god

I'm going to make a little collaboration between authors.

William S. Burroughs famously said: Language is a virus from outer space.

The bible starts:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

Let's nail these two ideas together.
If god is the word, and we all have the word in us, then we are all gods. The word became the first advanced component of human communication, allowing humans to mutually understand one another's internal thoughts. Language then, has provided the evolutionary fuel of human progress, culturally and technologically. If Dear Father Burroughs is correct in language as a virus, then it has materialized civilization's severance with a natural utopia of primal ignorance.

If language is a virus, then god is a virus. Our ability to comprehend language gives each of us an internal belief that we are gods; above, and able to control and manipulate the natural world. In fact, if our genetics go far enough we will be playing the God role.
I always think of language as an addiction of utility. You can't go a day without it, you use it with everyone you know, you always needs more to 'understand', it is every where and forced within culture.

So language is both an addiction and virus that allows us to believe ourselves to be gods and comes to us from god, possibly somewhere in outer space, above us.

Now to erect the theory, and make one poetic addition: Vicente Huidobro's Creationism.
Huidobro quickly disagrees with surrealist automatism and unconscious explorations. He believes that the poet enters a heightened state of intention where they funnel an enormity of creative energy into potential art. He says that poet's enter a delirium when writing. This delirium is contingent to good poetry.

What if... these deliriums are an effect of the virus. Certain people are plagued worse by this virus than others, poets and authors of course suffering most.

So, Language is a virus which infects humans with a god-complex, by expanding the symbolic detail of our world understandings, and infects certain people with states of delirium in which they are forced to use words in new ways.

A lot of 'if' statements.
Comment if you think that makes sense or not.

Books as gifts

This season's list of books to be given as gifts:

1. The Elementary Particles - Houellebeq
2. Notable American Women - Ben Marcus
3. Birding at Point Pelee - Henrietta T. O'Niel
4. Tarantula - Bob Dylan
5. Cannery Row - Steinbeck
6. The Areas of My Expertise - JKH
7. The Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil - George Saunders
8. Pastoralia - George Saunders
9. The Braindead Megaphone - George Saunders
10. The Bear Went over the mountain- William Kotzwinkle
11. You Shall Know our Velocity - Dave Eggers
12. 60 Stories - Donald Barthelme
13. The Talking Book - Montreal's Kulmunity
14. The Cloudwatcher's Guide - Gavin Prettor-Penney

And I got a copy of 'After Yesterday's Crash' - Avant Pop Anthology - Which looks really impressive in its collection of great authors and a spot-on introduction with much hope for a future of fiction that excitedly reflects the present. Mcaffery compares 1995 america to 1918 Berlin Dadaists. I won't be giving that away, but for now I've got my eyes out for another copy, or two.

Looks like Saunders is the prescription for seasonal reading.

Tortoise Stampede

And why might this blog be titled as it is?

I'm working on a novel entitled... Tortoise Stampede. It's been in the works, on paper, for about two years, but in my head a little longer.

I'll talk more about it as I go along.

In the begining

I've been wanting to do this for a long time. I'm snowed into a tiny rickety cabin that's pretty shabbily build, but it's warm. A snow storm hit and snowed us in. The cabin also happens to have wireless access. What convenience.

I'm on a break from school in Montreal, where I study Creative Writing and Fine Arts at Concordia. I'll be in Toronto for the next week or so, down to Ohio to visit family. But currently I am near Hope Bay on the Bruce Peninsula, snowed in, stuck for the day, what a better time to start a blog.

So, to set forth a mandate I intend to break, but add in because it will eventually remind me, I will write about: writing, books, authors, my own writing, art, book design, typography, technology, and I guess whatever else is tickling my fingers when I feel so inclined to add to this digital diary.

I hope you enjoy.
Bear with me on this.
Please post me a comment if you feel like it and I'll respond. And then we can talk, and maybe be friends, and then negotiate massages, and exchange care packages in the mail, and I'll draw portraits of you.