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MTK The Writist

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MTK The Writist

Category Archives: S.F.

a riddle

22 Wednesday Nov 1995

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

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1995, Karthik, m.t., mtk, poem, riddle, sf

A riddle: what am I type

I wrote this before you
ever got to know me. before.
before.  I am writing it now.

mtk, SF 1995

Rigo 95: More Marlboro Men Than Maos in China …, *surface,1995

15 Wednesday Nov 1995

Posted by mtk in clips, conceptual art, journalism, press clips, reviews, S.F.

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

*surface, 1995, 95, architecture, art, fashion, Francisco, Karthik, m.t., magazine, mtk, mural, paint, Rigo, Rigo 95, San, thyagarajan, thyagarajian

This was a very disappointing edit and when it appeared, I was enraged. My name was spelled wrong – and it’s the third typo on the page!

The first is in the image where the images of his work are labelled, “(Rigo)” – which isn’t his name, and shows the overactive hand of the newly minted fashion magazine’s editors –

whose next immediate typo is in the HEADLINE – an extra apostrophe where it should be “Maos”. The piece is also edited considerably from what I submitted and the editors took liberties adding and removing text that changed the meaning of full paragraphs. But anyway here is how it ran:

I began a friendship and apprenticeship with Rigo after this November interview, in the year 1996, which lasted ten years.

Memorandum

31 Tuesday Oct 1995

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

1995, Karthik, Memorandum, mtk, poem

To: William P. Martin

From: M.T. Karthik

re: poetry

I don’t need an agent so much as an organizer.

geoffrey goldman, goldberg, goldstein, goldy gold …

The poems should be organized into categories. All the love poems together. The war poems and death  poems may be trysted with the questions that tether life and death to infinity but they must remain separate from the personal reflections to friends (save elegies of course which may be included for their gravity)

Poems on the nature of fruits, plums and vegetables (not fruits) must not fall under their own category.

Poems about places which include foreign locales (places that aren’t home) should go together but ought to be subcategorized between personal home poems and foreign locale poems in order to separate identity from geography.

These too (2) should be together and all of the groupings should have titles although individual works may be left untitled. Parenthetically, only one kind of poem may stand alone (although it may serve to introduce or conclude)

cold, alone, aloof and barren of the sensation of taste

or of beauty

alone

shall stand the poems about poems

themselves

la vida es un baile

10 Sunday Sep 1995

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

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1995, baile, es, Karthik, LA, mtk, poem, UN, vida

And in the only manoeuvre known to us

the steps seem limp and lifeless

for some they are full of purpose

but for most they are darkly lit

footprints

cut from cardboard and numbered

to guide the unwilling feet

lonely in their pursuit of peace

to have the choice

to elect

to not have to lead at all

simply to have the peace of mind to

be able to follow or

even just to stand still

and quiet momentarily

and listen to the music

the beautiful music

palindrome, a poem

08 Friday Sep 1995

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

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1995, Karthik, mtk, palindrome, poem

life is acheworthy

burning sometimes

and sugary

is time

noverything

feels

noverything

time is

sugary and

sometimes burning

acheworthy is life

 

 

 

 

shedding, 1995

25 Friday Aug 1995

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

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1995, Karthik, mtk, poem, shedding

we are born with millions of tiny hooks

cilia

they reach out from our skin

grasping and grapnelling

to anyone and anything

for influence

learning (in order):

mimic

critic

synthetic

at last we learn to comb our skins

clean

of hooks and hairs

so we might proceed naked

each day with our job

the happy business

of dying

Answering Machine Message

25 Thursday May 1995

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

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1995, answering, Francisco, Karthik, M.T.san, machine, message, mtk, poem, time

 

(beep)
I had a question for you about truth
But the problem with questions about truth is that they are always linked to their

Time …

so now I will go sit and listen to the clock tick.

<click>

 

mtk, SF, 1995

God Soup

13 Saturday May 1995

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

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1995, god's, Karthik, m.t., poem, soup

we are all swimming in God’s soup
sometimes we like to splash the others
sometimes to dunk them
even though we know the spoon is coming

Sometimes we lay on our backs in God’s soup,
floating.
(on occasion we can catch His eye)

Sometimes we flag our arms at Him
hoping to be seen
and sometimes, in so doing, we sink

(untitled), January 1995

17 Tuesday Jan 1995

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

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1995, coinage, gibberish, Karthik, mtk, poem, portmanteau, san francisco, sf, untitled

would you be the one who holds my crundle of bastioning stoppards

when I am unable to go further into the gleamingly simple predicated suffixes

and hardened arteriole cavities of me

never

umpteen aged wrestling teacherdly cunts withered armlessly in time-tentacled illusiveates

cramming into stuffard-sized cratchets of nistik, mungley bramstoked prits

my own bringle of stolping camelized simmersoups was never englingly rude enoughage

sinjo slaythed the jargon

me at 27, Ocean Beach, SF, 1994

08 Saturday Oct 1994

Posted by mtk in Coastal Cali, S.F.

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

1994, beach, Karthik, kenny, m.t., mtk, ocean, trice

Tuesday Nights Charlie Hunter Trio at the Elbo

18 Sunday Sep 1994

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

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charlie, elbo, Francisco, hunter, jazz, poem, room, San, sf, trio

we are not afraid to die
and we have not yet decided why to live
and that is how we come here
and drink beer

and light
cigaret after cigaret
at chiaroscuro tables
watching each other
get older

These years will wash past us
and we’ll find ourselves buying cd’s of this stuff
so we can remember

our youth and firmer flesh
as we drink special shakes and cut out salts
and go for walks

of firmer flesh:
I want to lick her tummy
the waitress I mean

Delilah
with the sweet, soft curves and the flat skin

It’d be nice
to spell my name
in honey
on her tummy
with my tongue

I must remember to ask

soon
I’ll decide why to live

and with that decision
improvisation gives over to order
spontaneity to analysis
and jazz,
jazz gives over to orchestra

with only opera to keep my heart
in the action at all

opera and sex

Notes on Psychoses and Love

24 Wednesday Aug 1994

Posted by mtk in essay, journal entries, S.F.

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aloneness, Karthik, loneliness, lonesomeness, love, mtk, notes, psychoses, psychosis, tought

Ultimately the responsibility for psychoses lies with oneself.

They cannot be blamed on society, televison or poor parenting, because they are an evolutionary part of our existence.  We evolve in and out of psychotic behavior on a yearly, weekly and even daily basis.  This evolution is more violent and extreme among those for whom a secure foundation of love and trust is not omnipresent.

Society and television and such do not provide such omnipresent love.

The feeling of ‘aloneness’ attributable to such psychoses is a product of the constant reminders and cues around the individual without such omnipresent love, that we are all ultimately alone.

Religious treatises that extoll the virtue of universal love may therefore be considered to be reassurances that we are all at least not alone in our aloneness. That it is an equal burden shared by the living.

Societies built on such premises will thrive.  Societies built on anything else will serve to isolate the Individual further and will ultimately destroy the society from the inside-out…one individual at a time.

At any given point in the evolution of a society, its members exist at many different points on the continuum of aloneness.  Individuals in such societies that are particularly aware of aloneness may be psychotic.  Individuals who are particularly aware of the need for love of others in the face of aloneness may be successful members of such societies.  They may be considered wise, generous, loving and caring, for their ability to love.  And faith in their ability to love may become a barometer of the “joy” of the society.

It is a matter of faith versus knowledge.  Either one has faith or one has loneliness.  To rationalize faith is impossible.  Such rationalizations will collapse under the weight of their own falseness.  Faith is a function of something altogether different.  And something usually unnameable.

So far the only significant predictor of faith is the experience of pain.

Thus, love – named and unnamed  – is the greatest emotion in the world.  Its power is all-encompassing and universal.

a loveless life is the passage of time

a life without genuine love is a meaningless exercise in the passage of time.

a life lived in false love is an even more meaningless exercise in the passage of rationalizations within time.

The fear of a false love in this world is a sensitive spot in all sentient creatures.  There will always be a market for prophets who prey upon the fear that one’s own rationalizations are not genuine.  There will always be a market for preying on self-doubt.  Which is why doubt by others of self is the ultimate disrespecting stance, the push toward psychosis.  It is denial of an existence.

Love is therefore – more than physical love, or words – the promotion of ones rationale for existence.  Love is support for life.  Self-doubt is a psychosis.  How does one treat psychosis?  Through self-love.

para mi desde …

18 Wednesday May 1994

Posted by mtk in poetry, S.F.

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desde, mi, para, poem, sf

… it’s gone
but not forgotten.

there

a souvenir
issues forth

it’s gone
and before
until
just a moment
before
or until

I will stop
and ache
to drink

you’re in

sides
slowly
tongue slips
(slip o’ the tongue)
on wet teeth.

saliva
like your
sweet juices
(come calling to my tongue)
remind me
in my thirst
that it’s gone

with my slow finger
I trace
the smooth brown
slowly
in circles now
in
sis (terly)
tent circles
(encampments)
I gently raise my finger
to order another bourbon

’cause this one’s gone.

Newer posts →

M.T. Karthik

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This blog archives early work of M.T. Karthik, who took every photograph and shot all the video here unless otherwise credited.

Performances and installations are posted by date of execution.

Writing appears in whatever form it was originally or, as in the case of poems or journal entries, retyped faithfully from print.

all of it is © M.T. Karthik

a minute of rain

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYLHNRS8ik4

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