I did not compile this myself, but here are some links to stories, many in the form of tweet threads with links to other stories, by journalists and others who are documenting the current web of corruption and conspiracy.
Start here and scroll back to read up to present:
2. Megathread summary of pre-election conspiracy by Seth Abramson, poet, English professor, but also reporter.Start with the first tweet, and read the numbered tweets that follow, with links to articles. There are at least 40 tweets:
3. Louise Mensch, former Tory member of parliament, journalist, also conservative, but doing great reporting on the campaign collusion with Putin:
4. Article on why calling your reps matters:
The Moscow Project. Crowd-sourcing the Steele dossier (British intelligence agent who pulled together a dossier on Trump and Russian connections that was reported on last year, but published by Buzzfeed in January): https://themoscowproject.org/dossier.html
Adam Khan is exclelent at following the money, Russion money, Chinese money, etc. See these twitter threads:
Putin, Assad, European refugee crisis:
7. Sarah Kendizior, has done a lot of work in Uzbekistan.
on cast of characters:
Who are “these people””
8. Andrea Chalupa on Putin and Syria:
9. Legendary hacker:
10. Timothy O’Brien on Trump crony Felix Sater, money laundering, real estate, influence peddling:
11. Putin’s most recent assassinations:
and attempts to influence other countries:
12. Washington Post calls for Nunes to be investigated:
13. Other GOP politician in Iowa who came out against Trumpcare:
Only I will understand these notes, mais le blog, c’est à moi.
Henrietta S. Kahn’s nephew Dr. Hugo Adolfovich Leventhal was from Riga but lived in Moscow, in the house of Aleksandr Bari. Hugo was the daughter of Henrietta’s sister Rose, who lived in Riga. His father would be Adolf Leventhal.
There is a picture of him with Henrietta, via our cousins Leventhal-Bari-Efron (Sergei Efron, husband of Marina Tsvetaeva). I do not yet understand exactly who these people are. Reasoning: Leventhal and Bari are names we know already, and Efron appears to be related by marriage.
There is also a family picture with Boris Pasternak on his 17th birthday, in 1907.
I discovered a blog with really good writing and then realized it is, in addition, from New Orleans. I am serious that this person can write and is more interesting than many writers who are packaged and famous.
Here is a bad poem or at least, one I dislike. I read it while reading an interesting book review that shows precisely why everyone is fatigued with the Democratic Party, in the same magazine with a yet more interesting book review on Hitler, characterized as a warning from history. This was the title of an important BBC series on the second world war made in the late 90s, that is apparently being rebroadcast now.
I am of course fascinated with the Shoah since I find my Polish and Lithuanian cousins in its databases. I have seen Night will fall, a documentary about a documentary that has been finished at last. This second film is very beautifully photographed, strange though that may seem to say. But the cameramen were artists and I think they had good film and equipment.
Meanwhile, it seems that the FBI sat on the Trump-Russia file for months. But at least there is such a thing as Radio Cómeme — which offers better poetry than does (necessarily) Sharon Olds.
Filed under Arts, News, Poetry
I really do not get out enough. My students should know about Mario Bellatín, Hilda HIlst, Pedro Lemebel, Naty Menstrual, and Eugenia Prado. It seems that they, together with Diamela Eltit and others, wrote or are writing the nueva narrativa femenina latinoamericana.
I should have told my student about Sarduy, Escrito sobre un cuerpo, and Nelly Richard, Masculino/femenino; I might (although this does not go with the project so exactly) talk about what convergence there is or is not between “feminine” and postmodern writing.
“let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth”
The past’s fantasia cannot hold or let
us go. Flycatcher catching itself in
the pool’s glint gaze, Samarkand where Tamerlane
hewed his bloody thread, unspooling across
the hacked-to-pieces field, a triple axle
splitting Clio’s cataract, muddy then
clear, the opal of a rain-sheened open
eye that looks at nothing but yet holds
Euterpe, my head is in my hands.
Flies speckle the field. The sizer, hissing,
straps dynamite to a waist no bigger
than a fly’s wing span, but the daughters
of Babylon do not tarry—the road flares
burn blue, bog irises, erect, quivering.
The poem has five parts, and that was the first. I liked it and wanted to study it, but wrote on my copy of it that I must see about deadlines for the ERIP conference in Morelia, and remember to find the book Lower Education. So I am studying the poem here.