<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:22:45.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mexperimental </title><subtitle type='html'>heribertoyepez@yahoo.com</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-111135773557447019</id><published>2005-03-20T14:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-20T14:28:55.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>IMPERIALISM AND HERMENEUTICS"Take for example, hermeneutics, the science or art of interpretation. It is generally agreed that the founding father of hermeneutics was the German philosopher Friedrich Schleiermacher. What is not so widely know is that Schleiermacher's interest in the art of interpretation was provoked when he was invited to translate a book entitled An account of the English </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/111135773557447019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/111135773557447019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111135773557447019' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-111086775453203737</id><published>2005-03-14T22:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-14T22:22:34.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HYBRIDPostmodernism’s key notion, maybe the notion that sustains most postmodernism’s quackery. Through the illusion of hybridism contradiction is obscured, turn commodity. Not able to recognize and accept the other in its complete otherness, we turn it into hybrid, i.e., half me, similar to Us. (Not Other). Not Either/Or but always proper. That is, property. Not completely stranger. ‘Mixed’. In </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/111086775453203737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/111086775453203737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111086775453203737' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-110003906306329017</id><published>2004-11-09T14:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-09T14:26:09.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I think Piombino is pointing at one of the next moves related to the building of a meaningful community of language workers:"The question that must be asked now is: how can cultural mental illness be treated? How can an entire sector of the population be freed from a cult infected with paranoia?... If lecturing, exhorting, explaining, won't work, what will? How should a large, maybe a majority </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/110003906306329017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/110003906306329017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#110003906306329017' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-109994101833012775</id><published>2004-11-08T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-08T11:10:18.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"In order to rationalize our industrial-military complex, we have to destroy our capacity to see clearly any more what is in front of, and to imagine what is beyond our noses"R. D. Laing, The Politics of Experience*1. The news today is that American forces conduct surveillance activities on oil installations in Mexico. This was completely unheard. It seems these operations inside are part </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/109994101833012775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/109994101833012775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#109994101833012775' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-109950566732827173</id><published>2004-11-03T10:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-03T10:14:27.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>To my American friends:We have reached the Bush degree. This is actually good news. The United States has reached its lowest point. A majority of the American society validates the atrocities of the Bush regime. Not only outside the U.S. but equally inside. As you know, civil liberties are going to diminish. It is not impossible the U.S. can become a totalitarian State or a society-government</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/109950566732827173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/109950566732827173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#109950566732827173' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-108275422545170124</id><published>2004-04-23T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-26T15:57:59.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>POETRY IN A TIME OF CRISISa talk with a few comments First I would like to say two things:         One, I believe poetry exclusively occurs when it is discussed.  [i.e. “Poetry” as a privileged structure is an anachronistic notion. I can only stand poetry in the context of prose].         Two, Americans should leave Afghanistan and Iraq so writers and clerks can move to more boring topics.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108275422545170124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108275422545170124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108275422545170124' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-108275095200152277</id><published>2004-04-23T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-23T13:12:12.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>TIJUANA / SAN DIEGO"Tijuana and San Diego are not in the same historical time zone. Tijuana is poised at the beggining of an industrial age, a Dickensian city with palm trees. San Diego is a postindustrial city of high impact plastic and despair diets. And palm trees. San Diego faces west, looks resolutely out to sea. Tijuana stares north, as toward the future. San Diego is the future—secular, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108275095200152277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108275095200152277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108275095200152277' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-108258763262061158</id><published>2004-04-21T15:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-21T16:16:19.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SANTA CRUZ 1 &amp; 2Santa Cruz. The Arcade. Santa Cruz Arcade has a section on the Classics. Pac Man. Donkey Kong. Space Invaders. Nobody there. But the presence of that Corner is important. The Arcade is the representation of videogame’s History. From Kung Fu fighter to [    ]. They haven’t changed that much. The other sections: take your turn at the bat (virtual baseball), machines wars (really </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108258763262061158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108258763262061158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108258763262061158' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-108240809003908552</id><published>2004-04-19T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-19T14:22:03.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Democracy. A buzz word. Democracy always takes place. D means power-by-the-people. Societies always rule. Every government represents its society. Cada pueblo tiene el gobierno que se merece. ["Every....has...the......it deserves"]. I call this regime. In fact, a dictatorship reflects even better the power relationships that are taking place of that culture, the stage in which a culture is, what </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108240809003908552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108240809003908552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108240809003908552' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-108181490705076123</id><published>2004-04-12T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-12T17:15:05.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The worst is not that Iraq is turning into Vietnam, the worst is that Vietnam became Iraq.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108181490705076123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108181490705076123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108181490705076123' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-108145443779711750</id><published>2004-04-08T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-08T13:03:23.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Some time ago I wrote this essay on María Sabina and Mexican culture:CLOCK WOMAN IN THE LAND OF MIXED FEELINGS: THE PLACE OF MARIA SABINA IN MEXICAN CULTURE</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108145443779711750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108145443779711750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108145443779711750' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-108130080975294588</id><published>2004-04-06T18:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-06T18:41:38.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Karoake.  Karoake represents us as foreigners just learning to acquire the most simple legacy. Karoake means having fun —afterwork fun— repeating the roles, moods and voices that make up our emotional culture, our culture on emotions. We not only sing those lyrics (turn the text into song) but we do it as foreigners. Beginers. The beginer does karoake. The beginner feels she or he arrives to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108130080975294588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108130080975294588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108130080975294588' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-108122066518539826</id><published>2004-04-05T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-05T20:13:58.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Looking for masks. Looking for them. Not remembering the most important mask is not visible. This mask is a sound.         Voice, main mask that is not seen.*I haven’t written in English for some months. But last night I dreamt of my mother dying. I was in an airport. My mother hasn’t taken a flight in years. She’s too old. Has no one to visit in the South. Every member of his family is now</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108122066518539826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/108122066518539826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108122066518539826' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106869050427908727</id><published>2003-11-12T18:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-12T18:28:21.450-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>imaginingdoors.&amp;wallsthat don’t have any.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106869050427908727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106869050427908727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106869050427908727' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106843173331446352</id><published>2003-11-09T18:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-09T18:35:30.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>afternoon noteswriting in spanish for me is getting into my mother. obscurity happens too much there. as i am sure happens too for natural born english users. i call ‘mother’ the state in which thought and language are one. this is not what happens to me when i write in english. when i write in english mother disappears. first, i think, then i stop. language in this case is not what comes </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106843173331446352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106843173331446352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106843173331446352' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106841718821155707</id><published>2003-11-09T14:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-09T14:42:28.846-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>notes*it appears you are not going to find the way out soon. not until you let go your sick desire of total control.what follows is confusion or entertainment. what follows is shadows.*the only way i had of loving her was to be totally drunk. i was in denial of another love. so i was drunk all the time. “i was in love”.*it is impossible to be autobiographical in writing. “i” can </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106841718821155707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106841718821155707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106841718821155707' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106583736772214832</id><published>2003-10-10T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-10T18:58:17.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MERE A. S.“He said it”. I hide myself there. Knowledge builds phrases. Phrases convince the receiver  “is” takes her or him closer to the essence of something. “Is” feels: now-we-know. Every week other people’s words help us in that way: we delude ourselves with Truths. That which you think you now know is mere Applied Syntax. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106583736772214832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106583736772214832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106583736772214832' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106580122549576635</id><published>2003-10-10T08:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-10T09:12:28.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MEXICO ILLUMINATEDLast September 12, "Mexico illuminated," an art exhibition opened in Reading, Pennsylvania. One of the participants was Marcos "Erre" Ramirez, who chose to place a public art piece on a billboard next to the Bingaman Street Bridge. He decided to display (as in Highway signs) 8 cities bombarded by the U.S, and to record on the billboard the dates of those attacks and their </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106580122549576635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106580122549576635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106580122549576635' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106497669171191575</id><published>2003-09-30T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-30T20:00:00.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>WRITING ISI write too much. I can write forever. To me the mistery is why sometimes I don't write or I can't. A mistery why haven't been writing at least a sentence or two (like these) in English. Not a mistery, a question: why not write?Writing waits. Writing spies. I learned a second language, a second way to make mistakes, so I could write more. Why stop? Writing knows. I just know a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106497669171191575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106497669171191575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106497669171191575' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106375264689341984</id><published>2003-09-16T15:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-16T15:58:07.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ON THE JOAN HOULIHAN THING1. A very intelligent idiot.2. The past all of us once had—before learning to read.3. Prose is not what she thinks it is.4. Read your national poetry as if you were a foreigner.5. Maybe not a 'music' anymore.6. She doesn't get it. She doesn't have to.7. E = N = V = Y8. Dear, primitive means Complex. Try again.9. She is plain nasty // She defends nice </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106375264689341984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106375264689341984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106375264689341984' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106358679447843220</id><published>2003-09-14T17:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-14T17:46:34.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIVA ZAPATAI told you. Somebody got into this page looking for "Mexican Women, Sexy from Chiapas".</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106358679447843220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106358679447843220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106358679447843220' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-10626431973440778</id><published>2003-09-03T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-03T19:39:57.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PSWould I take books to the island or magazine suscriptions?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/10626431973440778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/10626431973440778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#10626431973440778' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106253966880662734</id><published>2003-09-02T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-02T15:12:31.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MY SPANISH TOP TEN LIST1. Poesía, by José Juan Tablada. The Mexican avant-agard pioneer, using calligraphy, and other visual devices simultaneously to Apollinaire. And appropriating haiku, ethnopoetic practices, sound poetry very early in the 20th Century.2. Ficciones by J. L. Borges (Argentina). I am under the impression Borges gets misread in the U.S., and some times in Latin America. What </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106253966880662734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106253966880662734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106253966880662734' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106253645688261088</id><published>2003-09-02T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-02T15:11:23.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MY (AMERICAN) DESERT ISLAND TOP TEN LIST 1. Not Tender Buttons but my very red edition of What are Masterpieces?, which includes Gertrude Stein’s “Composition as Explanation”, “What are Masters-Pieces and Why Are there so few of them”, “Identity A Poem” and other key pieces.2. Hannibal Lecter, My Father. Kathy Acker’s early writings. 3. A Poetics, by Charles Bernstein. I would not only </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106253645688261088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106253645688261088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106253645688261088' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106238691036382898</id><published>2003-08-31T20:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-31T20:28:30.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MADONNA’S KISSOn the 20th MTV Award a celebration of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” took place. In those same days America celebrated the anniversary of Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech (1963). In the event, by the way, somebody said the dream had become reality. Blacks and white both had cable TV, and could vote for their favorite artist.Of course, the highlight of the night was </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106238691036382898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106238691036382898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106238691036382898' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106221709185490767</id><published>2003-08-29T21:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-29T22:21:43.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>THE TRUE LENGTH OF NEW EMOTIONALISM(A SHORT-STORY)Right now I’m studying a master’s degree in psychotherapy. The first book I reread before getting into that was The Myth of Psychotheraphy by Thomas Szasz, so I won’t say I believe in what I’m doing. But who cares. I don’t believe in writing either, and look what I’m doing right now. Writing, I suppose. I pursue both activities anyway—without </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106221709185490767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106221709185490767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106221709185490767' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106205254648920005</id><published>2003-08-27T23:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-27T23:38:00.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ON SCHWARZENEGGER IISome post ago I did a note on the meaning of Schwarzenegger. The longer version in Spanish was published last Sunday in a Mexico City newspaper, in case anybody reads Spanish: read here.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106205254648920005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106205254648920005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106205254648920005' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106195150040923985</id><published>2003-08-26T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T19:31:40.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>RE-READING MARÍA SABINA1The UC Press just released María Sabina: Selections, edited by Jerome Rothenberg. I have been a reader of the Sabina world for some time now, but after getting to know this new volume —the best single compilation on her world that I know of— I immediately wonder what other interpretations of her work could appear in Mexico or the U.S. This volume is a gathering of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106195150040923985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106195150040923985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106195150040923985' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106159705773433234</id><published>2003-08-22T17:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-22T17:18:41.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DISINTEGRATION IS THE SOLUTIONI think the solution for the United States is disintegration. Is pretty evident you can’t stand each other. People stand each other on the Internet because they lie about themselves, from the color of their skin to the sex they are or pretend. A disintegrated United States would be a whole lot more happier entity. That way the Christian right would run only a part </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106159705773433234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106159705773433234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106159705773433234' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106150952266976586</id><published>2003-08-21T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-21T16:45:22.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>NIHILISMNihilism preaches everything has lost its value, and thus nothing more can go wrong. 'From now on just same all sameness'. That's what E. M. Cioran, for example, represented for Europe after the wars: everything had happened, nothing more would come. The nihilist man is afraid—wants to prevent and believe that which could come, is not going to be. The-Extra has been cancelled! (The </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106150952266976586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106150952266976586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106150952266976586' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106144031249451146</id><published>2003-08-20T21:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-20T21:31:52.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SEX WITH LUCIAHaving sex becomes social power thanks to speech. If we didn't gossip about who are we fucking and who is fucking us, sex would be socially useless. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106144031249451146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106144031249451146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106144031249451146' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106143975546085564</id><published>2003-08-20T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-20T21:24:51.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PRIMITIVE MEANS USIn the long run, Schwerner is going to be considered summerican. Writing only has 6 000 years here. And "literature" half of that. We cannot speak of primitive writing practices, not only because that concept is a prejudice, but because primitive writing is what we still are. Primitive means us—now. We're so fucking arrogant we feel writing is now so much different than the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106143975546085564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106143975546085564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106143975546085564' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106135282223969794</id><published>2003-08-19T21:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-19T21:21:35.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ANARCHISM AND WRITINGWriters don't always accept they are anarchists, but they are. Stirner wrote that anything we need to survive becomes our property. And writers need language to survive, and they sure take it as theirs. But not only writers. Everyone. In terms of language we are all desperate anarchists. We take the whole of language as ours. No private property, only survival.We are </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106135282223969794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106135282223969794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106135282223969794' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106115694834817019</id><published>2003-08-17T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-17T15:04:12.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ON SCHWARZENEGGER: MASCULINE MOMFrom this side of the fence Arnold Schwarzenegger looks to be a figure who represents a lot of things for the American and global minds.It first represents the transition toward the post-human. I don't have to mention the titles of his movies to make this obsvious point plausible. These same movies present technology as something which scares us but at the same</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106115694834817019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106115694834817019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106115694834817019' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5692888.post-106115371709179712</id><published>2003-08-17T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-17T14:19:34.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>THE RETURN OF THE TIJUANA BIBLEDuring and after the invasion of Iraq I left writing in English for a while. America went into the lowest point I have ever seen this country in. And writing in English became problematic to me. Existencially. Even my spoken English became erratic, due to my complete misunderstanding of what has happening with American language and culture in general. I was </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106115371709179712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5692888/posts/default/106115371709179712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mexperimental.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106115371709179712' title=''/><author><name>H.Y.</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
