December 26, 2006
the provenances of federmania
BLOGMASTER'S NOTE: Raymond Federman and Mike Daily (Federman's Blogmaster) at Beyond Baroque in Venice, Calif., February 2004, for the 30th Anniversary of Fiction Collective publishing. Photo (Polaroid) by a member of Ray's family.
Today, Tuesday, December 26, 2006, at 8:20 AM, Ray emailed me something for the blog--30 ANAGRAMS FOR RAYMOND FEDERMAN--adding that he forgot who sent him that [in 2005]...
fed, I wrote back, I compiled those! you madman playgiarizer!
__________________________________
30 ANAGRAMS FOR 'RAYMOND FEDERMAN'
IN THE FORM OF A COUNTDOWN
by MIKE DAILY
__________________________________
30. RON FED MADMAN RYE
29. MADE DAMN RENO FRY
28. DENNY FROM A DREAM
27. A FANNED DR MEMORY
26. RED MEN FRY A NOMAD
25. FRY ON EDEN MR ADAM
24. MY NON DADA MR REEF
23. MY NON REEF MR DADA
22. DENY A DAMN REFORM
21. MY FREE MR NON DADA
20. ADORN MY MADE FERN
19. MY ANDROMEDA FERN
18. MR NON DAYMARE FED
17. RANDY FED MEN ROAM
16. A YARN MENDED FORM
15. A YARN FORMED MEND
14. DEFORMED YARN MAN
13. A MANY FORMED NERD
12. MEN END A FORD ARMY
11. FOR A DAMN DR ENEMY
10. MADAM END ON FERRY
09. MADE DON FAN MERRY
08. A MANNED MOD FERRY
07. MERMEN FOR A DANDY
06. A DAMN DEMON FERRY
05. MEN REFORM A DANDY
04. ORNERY FED MADMAN
03. DENY RON MADE FARM
02. MY MANNERED DR OAF
01. END FARMYARD OMEN
00. RAYMOND FEDERMAN
--M D
End Notes:
RON = Ronald Sukenick
DON = Double or Nothing
FARM = The farm
__________________________________
BLOGMASTER'S NOTE (CONTINUED): I just finished reading Return to Manure, I wrote to Federman this morning. What a very fine read--totally epic--so many funny bits amidst the travails--laugh-out-loud funny bits--really well put together. Seamless in fact for a craft of such frequent digressions. Thank you for the signed copy.
Now please remember the provences of federmania.
__________________________________
From : Raymond Federman
Sent : Tuesday, December 26, 2006 10:44 AM
To : Mike Daily
Subject : Re: 30 anagrams
oh you were the guy who did the anagrams
I must be cultivating senilities
yes put it up on the blog with the proper credit
thanks for the good words about Manure
it was not an easy book to write
more soon
happy new year
__________________________________
BLOGMASTER'S NOTE (CONTINUED): Return to Manure is a major work, I responded. A major Federmanic work. Novel. I like the Table of Contents at the end. You have matured. You should be very proud of the work. Thanks again for sending it. People need to know this is one of your best books.
Do you have any of those pictures described in the book? You should scan some and send to me. I'll post them on your blog. If you scan them, scan at 100 dpi. That's plenty for the web. Go to Resolution when you scan and select 100. It will probably want to scan at 300 dpi (dots per inch) but you want 100 dpi.
And being a wealthy man of the world you must have a digital camera.
Send me some new pics of The Pen Man.
__________________________________
From : Raymond Federman
Sent : Tuesday, December 26, 2006 11:23 AM
To : Mike Daily
Subject : Re: 30 anagrams
yes you are right mike
return to manure is an important part of the great book that federman has been writing for more than 40 years
and yet Manure came out in September and so far only one little review in Publishers Weekly [did you see it]
From Publishers Weekly:
Wry, cantankerous and darkly hilarious aren't the adjectives one expects to use in describing the story of a young boy orphaned by the Holocaust, but veteran experimental writer Federman (Aunt Rachel's Fur), who lost his own family to the Nazis, eschews overt horror and sadness in favor of a lively exploration of the way memory both stimulates and frustrates the storytelling urge. The novel recounts the attempts of the narrator--whose name, biography and bibliography are nearly identical to Federman's--to locate the French farm where he hid from authorities during World War II. It becomes clear early on that the reader is being led on a "double journey...a journey in search of the farm...And the journey in search of the book." As in the best experimental fiction, form and content compliment one another, and the narrator's fragmented memories unfold in a series of engaging anecdotes involving a misanthropic old farmer, a lonely farm wife, a soon-to-be castrated bull and a mysterious woman in a nearby castle. As the title suggests, there are plenty of mordant musings, à la Beckett, on the nature of life, death and excrement. There's also plenty of pathos: the narrator's memories of his father, "the dreamer, l'artiste manqué, the tubercular romantic," are both merciless and deeply moving. A self-conscious and soulful novel, Federman's latest will be relished by his fans and new readers alike.
tell all your friends to review Manure
I don't have a scanner so I cannot scan photos -
maybe what I could do is send you a couple of the photos we took when Erica and I went to see the farm
I'll make copies at kinko and send them to you
how does that sound
__________________________________
BLOGMASTER'S NOTE (CONTINUED): GREAT.
__________________________________
From : Raymond Federman
Sent : Tuesday, December 26, 2006 11:36 AM
To : Mike Daily
Subject : Re: 30 anagrams
maybe I should just send you the photos and you scan them and send them back to me
__________________________________
BLOGMASTER'S NOTE (CONTINUED): GREAT.
Eureka! I just found something while fishing around in my archives. Eureka.
Have a look at this incredible retold story (circa 2005) by my man Moscovich:
__________________________________
HOWLOOSEANATION OF THE HAND
by DAVID MOSCOVICH
__________________________________
It took my retelling this story to several people before it clicked in my mind - still the words do not describe what had been prescribed.
How do I begin?
I was sitting in my reading chair. I had the corner lit with candles, and I was preparing myself for the short-acting ten minute psychedelic experience. Let's just say this drug is called howlooseanation. I loaded the pipe. Focus. I burned. I took it in. I set the pipe on the window sill. I was staring at the candles, when they shattered into a billion puzzle pieces, and I disappeared. The next thing that happened was this giant HAND. The HAND was composed of thousands of people, but at the same time I was the HAND as a whole. The HAND had five fingers, just like most HANDS. The people inside the HAND were trying to get out. Some entity had just left us here like this. As one large HAND. The entity left it to us to figure out who's who. Nobody knows. We're having a hard time separating out the individuals. Everyone is vibrating, feet are moving, people are slowly evacuating, scattering away from the hand. If only I knew which finger I was hiding inside. Then I could at least narrow it down a bit. What finger am I? Let's try to wiggle the finger. As I try to move it, more and more individuals break away. So many people are breaking away, away from what? The crash site. This was an accident. Interplanetary. Suddenly a HAND is born and here we are. Evacuating the HAND. As I focus on the finger, it seems to be slipping away from me. I can't focus. Which finger is it? More and more people slip away, claiming their individuality. Claiming themselves. When I come to, I grab the book on the window sill. The Two Fold Vibration, by Raymond Federman. Someone says, Oh, so that's whose book it is. Federman, eh? And the pipe, too. That's yours as well? I look over to the window sill. On impulse, I run into the CLOSET directly in front of me, open a dresser drawer and shove the pipe inside, closing the drawer and breathless I lean up against the CLOSET and open the book. I begin reading aloud, hoping that my voice will bring me back, this very passage:
wrinkled old body undying sitting in the final closet, the waiting room, the transitory space of his potential future among the stars, and like many others, men, women, children of all races, also waiting each in their own antechamber of departure, thousands of them, the new year's eve 1999 contingent, already dressed in the traditional white tunic of those marked for the colonies...
When I told a friend [Daily] about it, he mentioned a play by Raymond Federman about a HAND which plays out all the main roles. And also the significance of the CLOSET - Federman actually wrote a short story titled "The Voice in the Closet". He was hidden in the closet as a child during the nazi Holocaust escaping persecution. This explains my fear and the sense of hiding the pipe, the need to get away.
Society for Claims of the Paranormal, anyone?
--DM
__________________________________
FINDING FEDERMAN ON THE WEB
www.federman.com
www.raymondfederman.blogspot.com
www.myspace.com/raymondfederman
Today, Tuesday, December 26, 2006, at 8:20 AM, Ray emailed me something for the blog--30 ANAGRAMS FOR RAYMOND FEDERMAN--adding that he forgot who sent him that [in 2005]...
fed, I wrote back, I compiled those! you madman playgiarizer!
__________________________________
30 ANAGRAMS FOR 'RAYMOND FEDERMAN'
IN THE FORM OF A COUNTDOWN
by MIKE DAILY
__________________________________
30. RON FED MADMAN RYE
29. MADE DAMN RENO FRY
28. DENNY FROM A DREAM
27. A FANNED DR MEMORY
26. RED MEN FRY A NOMAD
25. FRY ON EDEN MR ADAM
24. MY NON DADA MR REEF
23. MY NON REEF MR DADA
22. DENY A DAMN REFORM
21. MY FREE MR NON DADA
20. ADORN MY MADE FERN
19. MY ANDROMEDA FERN
18. MR NON DAYMARE FED
17. RANDY FED MEN ROAM
16. A YARN MENDED FORM
15. A YARN FORMED MEND
14. DEFORMED YARN MAN
13. A MANY FORMED NERD
12. MEN END A FORD ARMY
11. FOR A DAMN DR ENEMY
10. MADAM END ON FERRY
09. MADE DON FAN MERRY
08. A MANNED MOD FERRY
07. MERMEN FOR A DANDY
06. A DAMN DEMON FERRY
05. MEN REFORM A DANDY
04. ORNERY FED MADMAN
03. DENY RON MADE FARM
02. MY MANNERED DR OAF
01. END FARMYARD OMEN
00. RAYMOND FEDERMAN
--M D
End Notes:
RON = Ronald Sukenick
DON = Double or Nothing
FARM = The farm
__________________________________
BLOGMASTER'S NOTE (CONTINUED): I just finished reading Return to Manure, I wrote to Federman this morning. What a very fine read--totally epic--so many funny bits amidst the travails--laugh-out-loud funny bits--really well put together. Seamless in fact for a craft of such frequent digressions. Thank you for the signed copy.
Now please remember the provences of federmania.
__________________________________
From : Raymond Federman
Sent : Tuesday, December 26, 2006 10:44 AM
To : Mike Daily
Subject : Re: 30 anagrams
oh you were the guy who did the anagrams
I must be cultivating senilities
yes put it up on the blog with the proper credit
thanks for the good words about Manure
it was not an easy book to write
more soon
happy new year
__________________________________
BLOGMASTER'S NOTE (CONTINUED): Return to Manure is a major work, I responded. A major Federmanic work. Novel. I like the Table of Contents at the end. You have matured. You should be very proud of the work. Thanks again for sending it. People need to know this is one of your best books.
Do you have any of those pictures described in the book? You should scan some and send to me. I'll post them on your blog. If you scan them, scan at 100 dpi. That's plenty for the web. Go to Resolution when you scan and select 100. It will probably want to scan at 300 dpi (dots per inch) but you want 100 dpi.
And being a wealthy man of the world you must have a digital camera.
Send me some new pics of The Pen Man.
__________________________________
From : Raymond Federman
Sent : Tuesday, December 26, 2006 11:23 AM
To : Mike Daily
Subject : Re: 30 anagrams
yes you are right mike
return to manure is an important part of the great book that federman has been writing for more than 40 years
and yet Manure came out in September and so far only one little review in Publishers Weekly [did you see it]
From Publishers Weekly:
Wry, cantankerous and darkly hilarious aren't the adjectives one expects to use in describing the story of a young boy orphaned by the Holocaust, but veteran experimental writer Federman (Aunt Rachel's Fur), who lost his own family to the Nazis, eschews overt horror and sadness in favor of a lively exploration of the way memory both stimulates and frustrates the storytelling urge. The novel recounts the attempts of the narrator--whose name, biography and bibliography are nearly identical to Federman's--to locate the French farm where he hid from authorities during World War II. It becomes clear early on that the reader is being led on a "double journey...a journey in search of the farm...And the journey in search of the book." As in the best experimental fiction, form and content compliment one another, and the narrator's fragmented memories unfold in a series of engaging anecdotes involving a misanthropic old farmer, a lonely farm wife, a soon-to-be castrated bull and a mysterious woman in a nearby castle. As the title suggests, there are plenty of mordant musings, à la Beckett, on the nature of life, death and excrement. There's also plenty of pathos: the narrator's memories of his father, "the dreamer, l'artiste manqué, the tubercular romantic," are both merciless and deeply moving. A self-conscious and soulful novel, Federman's latest will be relished by his fans and new readers alike.
tell all your friends to review Manure
I don't have a scanner so I cannot scan photos -
maybe what I could do is send you a couple of the photos we took when Erica and I went to see the farm
I'll make copies at kinko and send them to you
how does that sound
__________________________________
BLOGMASTER'S NOTE (CONTINUED): GREAT.
__________________________________
From : Raymond Federman
Sent : Tuesday, December 26, 2006 11:36 AM
To : Mike Daily
Subject : Re: 30 anagrams
maybe I should just send you the photos and you scan them and send them back to me
__________________________________
BLOGMASTER'S NOTE (CONTINUED): GREAT.
Eureka! I just found something while fishing around in my archives. Eureka.
Have a look at this incredible retold story (circa 2005) by my man Moscovich:
__________________________________
HOWLOOSEANATION OF THE HAND
by DAVID MOSCOVICH
__________________________________
It took my retelling this story to several people before it clicked in my mind - still the words do not describe what had been prescribed.
How do I begin?
I was sitting in my reading chair. I had the corner lit with candles, and I was preparing myself for the short-acting ten minute psychedelic experience. Let's just say this drug is called howlooseanation. I loaded the pipe. Focus. I burned. I took it in. I set the pipe on the window sill. I was staring at the candles, when they shattered into a billion puzzle pieces, and I disappeared. The next thing that happened was this giant HAND. The HAND was composed of thousands of people, but at the same time I was the HAND as a whole. The HAND had five fingers, just like most HANDS. The people inside the HAND were trying to get out. Some entity had just left us here like this. As one large HAND. The entity left it to us to figure out who's who. Nobody knows. We're having a hard time separating out the individuals. Everyone is vibrating, feet are moving, people are slowly evacuating, scattering away from the hand. If only I knew which finger I was hiding inside. Then I could at least narrow it down a bit. What finger am I? Let's try to wiggle the finger. As I try to move it, more and more individuals break away. So many people are breaking away, away from what? The crash site. This was an accident. Interplanetary. Suddenly a HAND is born and here we are. Evacuating the HAND. As I focus on the finger, it seems to be slipping away from me. I can't focus. Which finger is it? More and more people slip away, claiming their individuality. Claiming themselves. When I come to, I grab the book on the window sill. The Two Fold Vibration, by Raymond Federman. Someone says, Oh, so that's whose book it is. Federman, eh? And the pipe, too. That's yours as well? I look over to the window sill. On impulse, I run into the CLOSET directly in front of me, open a dresser drawer and shove the pipe inside, closing the drawer and breathless I lean up against the CLOSET and open the book. I begin reading aloud, hoping that my voice will bring me back, this very passage:
wrinkled old body undying sitting in the final closet, the waiting room, the transitory space of his potential future among the stars, and like many others, men, women, children of all races, also waiting each in their own antechamber of departure, thousands of them, the new year's eve 1999 contingent, already dressed in the traditional white tunic of those marked for the colonies...
When I told a friend [Daily] about it, he mentioned a play by Raymond Federman about a HAND which plays out all the main roles. And also the significance of the CLOSET - Federman actually wrote a short story titled "The Voice in the Closet". He was hidden in the closet as a child during the nazi Holocaust escaping persecution. This explains my fear and the sense of hiding the pipe, the need to get away.
Society for Claims of the Paranormal, anyone?
--DM
__________________________________
FINDING FEDERMAN ON THE WEB
www.federman.com
www.raymondfederman.blogspot.com
www.myspace.com/raymondfederman
__________________________________