Since time immemorial, philosophers have been asking about the meaning of life, but I know…


People are not afraid of Thursday the thirteenth, because Thursday the thirteenth has no ring of superstition about it. People are not afraid of superstitions on any other Thursdays either, be they the twelfth of the twenty eighth. There is little point in fearing superstitions, because they can’t do shit, no harm will come of them. On the other hand, things are not quite so simple, because on the other hand…

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Thursday 4 March, 6-9pm
Ben Pimlot Lecture Theatre
Goldsmiths, University of London
Lewisham Way, New Cross,
London SE14 6NW


The book Bombing of Poems over Warsaw documents a public intervention during which 80 poems by contemporary Polish and Chilean poets were dropped from a helicopter over the Castle Square and The Old Town.

Warsaw is the fourth city after Santiago de Chile, Dubrovnik and Guernica where The Bombing of Poems has taken place. Professor John Hutnyk and Cristóbal Bianchi on behalf of Casagrande will introduce the book.  The event will also feature the screening of a film documenting the intervention in Warsaw.

Drinks will be served.




And so, what you really want to tell me
is that I am now the old times. Yes,
the present does not correspond to the past,
or, what’s worse, does not let itself be invited
for coffee and cultured conversation.
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Last Thursday of the Month by Deconstruction Project presents

“Made in Polska” music session

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@BEDROOM BAR, RIVINGTON STREET

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Thursday, 25 February 2010
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Time: 20:00 – 23:00
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OFF_ will be there…



I would blow


a whole hundred on you at the milk bar.
We would eat through a sea of tomato soup
and leave the dinner ladies 99zl in tips.

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Interview with Piotr Czerwinski – Justyna Daniluk



They say you are the voice of the most recent wave of Polish migration…


That voice means over two million desperados, if I correctly recall the latest statistics. They speak for themselves, with their own voices. In fact it’s more than speech, they shout, though no one seems to want to listen or is pretending not to. I only speak for some, perhaps unwittingly for others, but certainly not in the name of them all. In fact, I’m pretty sure I only speak for myself! But thank you for the compliment. Without reverting to metaphor, I think it’s quite a responsibility, to speak on behalf of others, especially in the name of a vast group of others. Also, belonging to such a group is a challenge. All my life I’ve avoided being “part” of anything like the plague. I’ve never identified with anyone and anything else, refused to make declarations, display emblems, wear ideals on my sleeve. I was afraid my independence would be lost, which is after all not to be surrendered. But it’s only since I emigrated that I finally realised that I do identify with some kind of “crowd”, that I belong to it, and that I’m actually proud of the fact, that it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happened when I was watching the news on British television and heard a newsreader say something about Poles, maybe even “the Polish problem” in this part of the world, as it seems a few people are fans of this phrase. And then I understood that I am one of these Poles. One of them, one of US. This was hard, trust me, it cut me in half. Being cut in half is another thing which I’ve avoided like the plague, for as long as a I could.

In “Przebiegum Życiae” I pose the question: “Are we different? No, hell, not  at all. Only our surnames are spelt different, but this means nothing, no one can pronounce them anyway, no one apart from us. We are the union of many in one, one person who’s received a collective kick up the arse…”

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I took the face out, carefully, trying not to damage the reflection, a little fragile and warm still. The plaster mask cooled slowly in my hands, as I looked at its interior. I could see the imprint of the eye brows and nose, forehead and lips. I could see myself from within.


I was overwhelmed by a strange feeling. Probably not because I had made the first ever plaster cast of my own face and could see something I had never looked upon before (no mirror could offer such a perspective), but also because I had read Paz’s poems about the process of permeation. His words speak of touch, and the aftermath of touch, the kind I was experiencing having removed the mask in the cool, empty room which served as my workspace that night.

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Getting busy today putting the book together, if you have any feedback on which design you prefer, feedback to us!


marek OFF_


From today’s Guardian:


“Get an accountant, abstain from sex and similes, cut, rewrite, then cut and rewrite again – if all else fails, pray. Inspired by Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing, we asked authors for their personal dos and don’ts…”


to read on, click on Andrzej Krauze’s illustration…



Motto:
“Don’t hold it against me, for I must tell the truth about the dead even,
to make the living fall in love with the real dead…”
Juliusz Slowacki, Letter to mother, Paris 1845



1


I don’t know who told him to stand
and wait, holding a swath of red and a brush of rabbit fur
[rabbi forgive, I will wipe your face clean].


certainly not he, who was here before me and dug in the rain.

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Well, not really new… those familiar to OFF_ will have seen this short, strange vid of an eviction party from London last year before…


But we’re still learning the ropes of embedding and htmling and all that web jazz, so bear with us…


And check out Pawel Gawronski’s song, midway through, even if you have heard it before!


marek@off-press.org



we spent all day traipsing round town
biting our lips
towers of smoke rising over the gas works
and sleet falling


I could have cut your head off any time I liked
and tossed it into the frozen river

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Based on the following principles;


- cover will be glossy, therefore must be light (wears better)

- must display an image which speaks for all the pieces inside

- must be contemporary

- must take into account readers’ tastes

- should lead the way for future OFF_ covers



Look forward to your ideas and feedback!


marek@off-press.org


Slava Mogutin fled Russia for New York in 1995. His outspoken writing on gay issues had sparked anonymous death threats, made him the conservative media’s favourite whipping boy and triggered a criminal case that could have resulted in a seven-year prison sentence. He had grown up on a diet of Georges Bataille and Jean Genet, and was the first to translate the work of Dennis Cooper and William Burroughs into Russian. Upon his arrival in New York he jumped the language barrier by shifting his focus to photography.


Read the interview with this tongue, genre, sex and political pioneer in 3:AM Magazine by clicking the photo…




you said: “the winter is drawing in, give me your coat, it can be
the leather one, i’ll return it someday, when the thaws come. now give
me your hand and i will lead you to the land of the graves. all covered
in autumn leaves although each is saying something, listen to this” – and i listen Read the rest of this entry »



along the Barbican as if knight-errants
we seek glimpses of bygone
men in bowler hats


ladies with umbrellas telling of trends
in the fashion house on Freta

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Polish Writing’s stimulating interview with Soren Gauger, Krakow-based Canadian translator.

Click on image to read…

Bio below… for Polish readers, more of same po polsku na indepenedent.pl


Soren A. Gauger grew up and was educated in Vancouver Canada. He moved to Krakow, Poland in 1998 to study Polish language and literature. Having taught literature at Jagiellonian University, he is now a freelance writer and translator, regularly contributing articles on culture to The Krakow Post and Month in Krakow. His fiction has appeared in journals internationally, including Capilano Review, Chicago Review, Jacob’s Ladder, and Prague Literary Review, as well as a chapbook of short stories, Quatre Regards sur L’Enfant Jesus (Ravenna Press, 2004). His translations include Waiting for the Dog to Sleep by Jerzy Ficowski and Wojciech Jagielski’s Towers of Stone (Seven Stories Press), and he is currently translating Bruno Jasienski’s novel I Burn Paris, to be published by Twisted Spoon Press.



“You have endless ways you can commit suicide without ‘dying’ dying.”


Chuck Palahniuk, Diary


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being launched 01/03/10 in London, reviews for your pleasure below


Dalager’s empathy with his subject is fervent and he is a skilled writer , having accrued a distinguished reputation in Europe with five novels and a number of plays. 
Michael Faber, The Guardian


How was it possible for Stig Dalager to write about the last years of the story of David in such a shocking and convincing way that one should think that this was written by Isaac B. Singer or one of the other Polish-Jewish geniuses?
Jewish Information Magazine


Dalager has written a shockingly relevant historical novel, a tautstory of international standing and appeal. A monument to our ownshame, at that time and now
Politiken Newspaper, DenmarkReviews


click on image to read more at the Polish Cultural Institute website



Written in a Brit-Pol jargon, this is a novel about two very different Poles who have gone to seek their fortunes in the Emerald Eire. Working in a Dublin factory, their days are filled with mind-warping monotony. To counter its effects, they escape into a surreal world of cartoons, music and daydreams about the return of the Little Prince.

Involving, original and wildly relevant, this is the kind of fairytale no one expected…

Already published to serious acclaim in Poland, OFF_ gives you a teaster taste of its translation;


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