Cut it up!!!1

[ChristopherSea]

I may experiment with your machine. I can appreciate Dadaism as a movement that deeply influenced visual artists. It brought us the collage, surrealism, the avant-garde and as you point out 'the beat' Burroughs brought it to literature in the cut-up. However, I did not care for his work that made use of them. Very exhausting to read for me! Cutting up an entire piece or a shuffle cut-up of two is usually a bit of nonsense. On the other hand, a judicious use of it could produce some interesting effects, e.g., an acid trip , a stream of unconsciousness, ha ha, disorientation, etc. At worst, a great phrase or two, perhaps. Fold in poems and found poems are very interesting to me. I will try it and post anything that I find interesting. Thank you in advance, for the intriguing opportunity to scramble a piece in your dice-o-matic!

[rowens]

I used to turn on the speech-to-text function on my old computer, and it would pick up voices when no one was around. I never cut them up, but I think I might.

I tried earlier to pick up voices on my new computer, but it didn't work. But once I find a better environment for picking stuff up, I'll do it for a few hours, and run some of it through your cut-up site.

[ChristopherSea]

Dead Prattle

Udderly cluttering
internet byways,
bad poetry strewn
ad infinitum.
Forced into rhyme lanes
neglecting enjambment,
dashed upon less
eloquent embankments.

Mangled remains
of dyslexic lexicon,
mowed down by novice
who can’t steer a quill.
Tipped bovine parchment
deemed keen for landfill,
wack verses drop pallid,
uninspiring as well.

No rumination required,
it’s cud’s bitter pill,
slumped amidst
more common road kill.
Whether prodded with stick
or scavenger devoured,
carrion just the same,
which carries on
regardless.

---------------------------------

Dead and Cut-up Prattle

byways,
bad poetry strewn rumination required,
it’s cud’s landfill,
wack verses drop kill.
Whether prodded with stick
or scavenger devoured,
carrion Udderly cluttering
internet
which carries on just the same, bitter pill,
slumped amidst novice
who can’t steer enjambment,
dashed upon less
eloquent a quill.
Tipped bovine pallid,
uninspiring as well.

No lexicon,
mowed down by
more common road parchment
deemed keen for
ad infinitum.
Forced embankments.

Mangled remains
of dyslexic into rhyme lanes
neglecting
regardless.



It's amusing, I think...

[rayheinrich]

sucked looking signs
buying soft
with but cheap bun power between much much
thin sucked on cheap two this
between reading beautiful slept spanish signs
us beach just waiting rent
day little buying soft waiting better
writing our
looking and parts sweet
baby a
eat constant
our heat
be him only
getting dulce close
stand beside
writing than
room baby letters
firm sweet it
morning every dictionary not and surprise our
writing trying
every rent it's dictionary mexico my on streets reading
us love beside breasts milk and him so
much breasts baby breasts rest
streets bun to the
stand was popular shade of than visiting
bun innocent drink letters right
on buying

[billy]

Hey guise - been a long time....

I wasted my Sunday creating a website for jerks like myself. It's a small gadget that can cut-up any text you paste into it just like my fave author (William S. Burroughs) used to do.

On top of that, you can save your cut-ups to the site's pastebin, which is browseable- that means, you can recycle previously submitted cut-ups and remix them with whatever you want...

A small sample (cut-up of Blake and Baudelaire):

void; Life! or are you driven here, To of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned,
who allure, The nameless grace of every bleached, had a bright key, And
thirty-two white teeth. For he who has not folded in his of
cold quays to Ganges' of
trouble with your potent sneer The feast
And goad your moving artistically, and sways, Feeble and weak, on
a varnished cadavers, and grey Lovelaces, Ye go to lands unknown Carrying bouquet,
sweep, and in soot I dream; They do not see,
robe, in royal amplitude, Palls in ye, mad
dazzled race: "Proud lovers with Tom was a-sleeping, he had such
laughs at burning stream, The mortal troupes dance onward in a to
the sing the violins, And the
my mother died I was very young, And my father sold with flowery
went. O irresistible, with fleshless
fathomless eyes Are made of shade and
sinister grace, And the extravagant courtesan's thin river, and
do their duty, they oft perfumes herself with myrrh,
and never want joy. And so Tom all
fear harm. awoke, and we
none but the brave. Your eyes' black deep folds around
a horror under every sun, Death
gloomy beauty; and bare bone That is most dear to me, tall
these hearts beat for and void of breath, Drawn
by the rumour of the plain, leaping, laughing, they run And wash in
that very night, As and glides. And truth to tell, I fear lest
corpse on with a spur? Or do you hope, when
within the opened sky, The Angel's
laugh and name you in the wind: And the
awful broodings stir, Brings giddiness; need not
of arms A skeleton, nor fed on graveyard charms, Recks not his father,
Sabbath, by dead lusts that stir
he opened charm of nothing decked in folly! musk-scented
angel told Tom, if he’d face, Say to these dancers in their
upon clouds, and sport the prudent reveller Sees, while
your head’s me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry was quiet, and
said, ‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when
shine in the bare, You know that the soot cannot spoil she
got with our bags and our brushes head, That curled like a
sprays Her skull is wreathed be a good boy, He’d have God for
naked and white, all their
and handkerchief, and gloves, Proud of her gulf, where
The charms of horror please
some mocking nightmare far her
a dry foot, shod With a mingles with your madness, irony!" When
well of fault and foolishness! Eternal alembic of antique
to work. Though the morning
about her collar-bones As the the smile you gave?
skeleton! Come you black. And by came an angel,
lamb’s back, was shaved; so I warm: So, if all
face. Was slimmer waist e'er in a
bags left behind, They grips him from beneath, The eternal
serpent curls
pale candle-flame lights up our sins, To height as when she lived, Pleasure's
death, all free; Then down a green scornful jest that flies, Her
smile of trellis of your sides The sateless, wandering
moves With all the careless and high-stepping sleep. There’s little
find, Among us here, no lover to your mind; Which
of them locked up in coffins of
ball-room wooed? Her floating the coffins, and set them
was cold, Tom was happy and distress!
furbelow, or paint, or scent, When Horror comes the way your heart? Fathomless
your white hair.’ And so he sun. Then
mortals, as ye run; And they Who
bright flower-like shoe that gems
her frail vertebræ. O lascivious
the flame hell lighted in that Beauty
a sight!— That thousands ‘Weep! weep! weep! weep!’ So your
Still o'er the curved, white drive
like ye And trumpet raised on high. In every clime and
and Jack, Were a Caricature, They see not, they whom flesh and blood
rose in the dark, And sod. The swarms that hum
skeletons! Withered Antinous, dandies with plump faces, Ye you should
Tom Dacre, who cried when his rise
streams caress the stones, Conceal from every apart, And cool
chimneys I the paint above your bones, Ye shall taste
Dance of Death. From Seine's

SOOOO....

My idea was that all of you poetic guys could indulge in the fun, and start remixing your own and each others- then post results right here

Also- if you thin the site is missing some features, let me know. Except, I wont be working on the graphics, sorry, but I like it simple and old-school, just like it is.

Looking forward to read some crazy cut-up stuff

Also- once this reaches page 2, I'll cut some of Billy's stuff up with my own

EIDT - I completely forgot to SPAM my URL: http://cut-up.comli.com/cut-up.php

put the url in your sig and stop spaming the site
i'm thinking this might be better in for fun or miscellaneous, we'll see ho it goes, good to see you back.

can you make an iambic engine

i forgot, hi again

[ChristopherSea]

Good to see it's being put to use

Don't forget the site has a pastebin- you can save your stuff there, or copy stuff to lace your own with, should you feel like it. I posted the URL at 4chan's /lit/ board as well, and got a lot of good response. Some anons are already making cut-ups and saving them

I may experiment with your machine. I can appreciate Dadaism as a movement that deeply influenced visual artists. It brought us the collage, surrealism, the avant-garde and as you point out 'the beat' Burroughs brought it to literature in the cut-up. However, I did not care for his work that made use of them. Very exhausting to read for me! Cutting up an entire piece or a shuffle cut-up of two is usually a bit of nonsense. On the other hand, a judicious use of it could produce some interesting effects, e.g., an acid trip , a stream of unconsciousness, ha ha, disorientation, etc. At worst, a great phrase or two, perhaps. Fold in poems and found poems are very interesting to me. I will try it and post anything that I find interesting. Thank you in advance, for the intriguing opportunity to scramble a piece in your dice-o-matic!

I find the cut-up method to be quite useful in several ways. Most of all, as is seen with your example, it allows the author to step out of his poem. It feels like the text reclaims itself. I like that. A lot.

While I have to agree the Burroughs cut-up novels are not easy reading, I am on the other end of the apreciation spectrum. I think what he did, especially with Nova Express (with which he developed the fold-in technique), is some of the most brilliant writing to come out of the 20th century. Interesting article on the subject here: http://realitystudio.org/scholarship/rid...a-express/

To mention some uses of the cut-up technique I've found especially neat, apart from distracted amusement- is the composition of 'modulative' passages - like the classic composers would do in their sonatas - play out contrasting themes against each other and let them modulate into something new... Burroughs perfected this approach in Nova Express.

I also like to paste news bulletins and cut them up- gives me a morbid pleasure. Feels like ramming something sharp through the balloon of propaganda

It all sounds fun Moobs! Thanks for sharing you insights and experience with the technique./Chris

put the url in your sig and stop spaming the site
i'm thinking this might be better in for fun or miscellaneous, we'll see ho it goes, good to see you back.

can you make an iambic engine

i forgot, hi again

And a salute to you

Well, I had a hard time figuring out where to post this- but since this forum seemed like the one most akin to 'general discussion' I thought it'd be apropriate. I think this goes beyond 'fun'- there's a lot of aspects to be discussed, very relevant to writing, I think...

Regarding a iambic engine- tell me what you want it to do, and I'll see what I can come up with... Mind you- what I think you have in mind will probably require some kind of dictionary/database (a computer can't count syllables or determine which are stressed), and while it would be doable, the construction of said database would be very time consuming- so don't get your hopes up...