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.
Read the rest of this entry »
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…
For P.O.
It’s salty and bitter, everything sticky
like Post-its of the subconscious, I was here,
my club is to score 4 x one more
goal. It is reached from within, softening
the essence. The final whistle, then trams
besieged with hands, no scheduled stops,
this is no Way of the Cross, no one here will put a finger
inside your wound.
And as the drama begins, who will cover
the rest? No small change, only big
fish, this is post-
modernism after all – technologies and theories, requiring
zero thought? Are you not satisfied with
the route from the stadium home,
back to where you live? Your preferences are for stripped
staircases, dungeons, your sense of balance disturbed yet again?
Samuel Johnson remarked that “a translator is to be like his author, it is not
his business to excel him” — and there is something in this.
To convey the writings of other languages is a noble and necessary art -
an article in recent Times…
