Allen Ginsberg Gets Heckled by Beat Poet Gregory Corso at a 1973 Poetry Reading

Gre­go­ry Cor­so was kind of the Joey Bish­op of the Beats—a mem­ber of the inner cir­cle of Ker­ouac, Bur­roughs, and Gins­berg, but nev­er quite achiev­ing their degree of noto­ri­ety. Nev­er­the­less, he out­lived them all, and he was also arguably the biggest come­di­an in a group of invet­er­ate pranksters (see him crack up an inter­view­er in this clip). A street­wise Green­wich Vil­lage kid, Cor­so learned his craft on the streets of Lit­tle Italy, and briefly in a psych ward and a prison cell, as much as in Har­vard class­es and the San Fran­cis­co poet­ry scene, where he relo­cat­ed along with Allen Gins­berg in 1955, arriv­ing just one day too late for Ginsberg’s his­toric Six Gallery read­ing of “Howl.”

Per­haps in order to make up for his absence then, Cor­so decid­ed to make his pres­ence decid­ed­ly known near­ly twen­ty years lat­er in a Gins­berg read­ing at New York’s 92nd St. Y in Feb­ru­ary of 1973. Gins­berg is cap­ti­vat­ing as always, read­ing in that almost hyp­not­ic cadence, with ellip­ti­cal con­ver­sa­tion­al asides, that he and Ker­ouac both mas­tered. Lis­ten to the whole read­ing above. You won’t be dis­ap­point­ed. But for a laugh, skip ahead to 5:50.

Cor­so inter­rupts the solemn pro­ceed­ings with some wiseguy heck­ling, call­ing out Ginsberg’s “poesy bull­shit.” Gins­berg takes it in stride, impro­vis­ing and toss­ing back ban­ter. Ginsberg’s father Louis is also onstage, and he takes up a mut­ter­ing defense against Corso’s ver­bal siege as Gins­berg begins singing around 10:30.

Whether the whole thing was staged or a spon­ta­neous out­burst by Cor­so is anyone’s guess, but the two life­long friends could put on quite a show when they want­ed to, like this hap­pen­ing in 1981. Wher­ev­er Gins­berg and Cor­so lived and breathed poet­ry—as Michelle Dean writes at The Rum­pus—heck­ling was “an inte­gral part of poet­ry read­ing.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear the Very First Record­ing of Allen Gins­berg Read­ing His Epic Poem “Howl” (1956)

“Expan­sive Poet­ics” by Allen Gins­berg: A Free Course from 1981

Bob Dylan and Allen Gins­berg Vis­it the Grave of Jack Ker­ouac (1975)

Allen Ginsberg’s “Celes­tial Home­work”: A Read­ing List for His Class “Lit­er­ary His­to­ry of the Beats”

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

The Art of Handwriting as Practiced by Famous Artists: Georgia O’Keeffe, Jackson Pollock, Marcel Duchamp, Willem de Kooning & More

OKeeffeHand

Click each image for a larg­er ver­sion

Did­n’t we used to hear all sorts of grum­bling about the dis­ap­pear­ance of the hand­writ­ten let­ter? What a relief those com­plaints seem now to have sub­sided, leav­ing us in peace to effi­cient­ly type to one anoth­er about how we find pieces of long­hand cor­re­spon­dence fas­ci­nat­ing pure­ly as arti­facts of our favorite his­tor­i­cal fig­ures. If you share that fas­ci­na­tion, have a look at The Art of Hand­writ­ing, an exhib­it from the Smith­so­ni­an’s Archives of Amer­i­can Art now on dis­play through Octo­ber 27 at Wash­ing­ton D.C.‘s Lawrence A. Fleis­chman gallery, which show­cas­es not only the artis­tic aspects of hand­writ­ing, but the hand­writ­ing of actu­al artists. “An artist might put pen to paper just as he or she would apply a line to a draw­ing,” says the exhi­bi­tion’s site. “For each artist, a lead­ing author­i­ty inter­prets how the pres­sure of line and sense of rhythm speak to that artist’s sig­na­ture style. And ques­tions of biog­ra­phy arise: does the hand­writ­ing con­firm assump­tions about the artist, or does it sug­gest a new under­stand­ing?” Plus, we have here the ide­al test of those hand­writ­ing analy­sis booths at coun­ty fairs — could they detect these artis­tic per­son­al­i­ties?

deKooningHand

Just above, we have a page of abstract expres­sion­ist painter Willem de Koon­ing’s mis­sive in light-blue ink of March 28, 1966 to friend and fel­low abstract expres­sion­ist Michael Loew. (They’ve even includ­ed the enve­lope.) At the top of the post, you’ll find a page anoth­er painter, the famous­ly blos­som-focused Geor­gia O’Ke­effe, wrote to New Mex­i­co mod­ernist Cady Wells in 1939. The sub­ject of the let­ter? “O’Ke­effe wor­ries that Wells does­n’t like a paint­ing she has bought and sug­gests replace­ments; and describes an argu­ment she had with a friend.” That descrip­tion comes from the Smith­so­ni­an’s cat­a­log, as does this one: “[Jack­son] Pol­lock writes with descrip­tions of his new home in Springs, on Long Island, and dis­cuss­es his work and that of oth­er artists.” You can also view both pages of that evi­dent­ly unscan­dalous piece of com­mu­ni­ca­tion on the site. They’ve even got let­ters com­posed by hand in oth­er lan­guages, such as Mar­cel Duchamp writ­ing to his sis­ter Suzanne (below) on Jan­u­ary 15, 1916. Don’t wor­ry if you can’t read French, or if you think you can’t con­tex­tu­al­ize the per­son­al con­tent of any of the let­ters at all; focus on, as the Archives of Amer­i­can Art sug­gests, how “every mes­sage brims with the per­son­al­i­ty of the writer at the moment of inter­play between hand, eye, mind, pen, and paper.” That, and the that hope school­child­ren won’t have to endure cur­sive lessons many gen­er­a­tions longer.

DuchampHand

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Vir­ginia Woolf’s Hand­writ­ten Sui­cide Note: A Painful and Poignant Farewell (1941)

Font Based on Sig­mund Freud’s Hand­writ­ing Com­ing Cour­tesy of Suc­cess­ful Kick­starter Cam­paign

Fran­cis Ford Coppola’s Hand­writ­ten Cast­ing Notes for The God­fa­ther

See F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Hand­writ­ten Man­u­scripts for The Great Gats­by, This Side of Par­adise & More

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les PrimerFol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Man Shot in Fight Over Immanuel Kant’s Philosophy in Russia

Immanuel_Kant_(painted_portrait)

In the Russ­ian port city of Ros­tov-on-Don two men were hav­ing a beer this week­end and talk­ing about the phi­los­o­phy of Immanuel Kant (of course), when some­thing went ter­ri­bly wrong. An argu­ment broke out, crit­i­cal rea­son went out the win­dow, and one man end­ed get­ting shot with rub­ber bul­lets. He’s in the hos­pi­tal with non life-threat­en­ing injuries. The shoot­er now faces up to 10 years in jail, where he’ll have lots of time to pon­der Kan­t’s the­o­ries.

If you would like to con­tem­plate Kant in a more serene man­ner, we would invite you to check out his texts list­ed in our Free eBook col­lec­tion:

And see cours­es deal­ing with Kant in our col­lec­tion of 750 Free Online Cours­es:

  • Kant — Web Site — Leo Strauss, U Chica­go
  • Kant: Polit­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy – Web Site — Leo Strauss, U Chica­go
  • Kant’s Cri­tique of Judg­ment – Web Site – JM Bern­stein, New School
  • Kant’s Cri­tique of Pure Rea­son – iTunes Video – iTunes AudioVideo/Audio on Web – Dan Robin­son, Oxford
  • Kant’s Cri­tique of Pure Rea­son – Web Site – Richard Dien Win­field, Uni­ver­si­ty of Geor­gia
  • Kant’s Cri­tique of Pure Rea­son – Web Site – JM Bern­stein, New School
  • Kant’s Epis­te­mol­o­gy – iTunes – Dr Susan Stu­arts, Uni­ver­si­ty of Glas­gow

via The Inde­pen­dent

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Enter E.O. Wilson’s Encyclopedia of Life: Free Access to All The World’s Knowledge About Life

One of the trea­sures of our time, biol­o­gist E.O. Wil­son, the folksy and bril­liant author of two Pulitzer Prize-win­ning books and the world’s lead­ing author­i­ty on ants, is 84 years old and retired from his pro­fes­sor­ship at Har­vard. But even in retire­ment he came up with one of the most inno­v­a­tive new sci­en­tif­ic resources avail­able today: the Ency­clo­pe­dia of Life, a net­worked ency­clo­pe­dia of all the world’s knowl­edge about life.

Six years ago Wil­son announced his vision for such a project while accept­ing the 2007 TED Prize. He expressed a wish for a col­lab­o­ra­tive tool to cre­ate an infi­nite­ly expand­able page for each species—all 1.9 mil­lion known so far—where sci­en­tists around the world can con­tribute text and images.

Wilson’s dream came true, not long after he announced it, and the EOL was so pop­u­lar right away that it had to go off-line for a spell to expand its capac­i­ty to han­dle the traf­fic. The site was redesigned to be more acces­si­ble and to encour­age con­tri­bu­tions from users. It’s vision: to con­tin­ue to dynam­i­cal­ly cat­a­log every liv­ing species, as research is com­plet­ed, and to include the rough­ly 20,000 new species dis­cov­ered every year.

Wilson’s vision is man­i­fest in a fun and well-designed site use­ful for edu­ca­tors, aca­d­e­mics, and any curi­ous per­son with access to the Inter­net.

Search for a species or just browse. Each EOL tax­on­o­my page fea­tures a detailed overview of the species, research, arti­cles and media. Media can be fil­tered by images, video, and sound. There are 66 dif­fer­ent pieces of media about Tas­man­ian Dev­ils, for exam­ple. A group of Tassies, as they’re known, get pret­ty dev­il­ish over their din­ner in this video, con­tributed by an Aus­tralian Ph.D. stu­dent.

As E.O. Wil­son so elo­quent­ly puts it, the EOL has the poten­tial to inspire oth­ers to search for life, to under­stand it, and, most impor­tant­ly, to pre­serve it.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

E.O. Wilson’s Olive Branch: The Cre­ation

Cen­tral Intel­li­gence: From Ants to the Web

Free Biol­o­gy Cours­es

Kate Rix writes about dig­i­tal media and edu­ca­tion. Fol­low her on Twit­ter.

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Handwritten Manuscripts for The Great Gatsby, This Side of Paradise & More

GatsbyMS

We rarely think about where F. Scott Fitzger­ald’s hard-liv­ing, often trag­ic gen­er­a­tion of Amer­i­can writ­ers went to school. This year, how­ev­er, Fitzger­ald’s own almost-alma mater mer­its a note: the nov­el­ist began his stud­ies at Prince­ton exact­ly one hun­dred years ago this fall, begin­ning class­es on his birth­day, Sep­tem­ber 24, 1913. To mark the occa­sion, that Ivy League insti­tu­tion has dig­i­tized their The Great Gats­by-writ­ing alum­nus’ man­u­scripts. Ear­li­er this year, in fact, they com­plet­ed the process on Fitzger­ald’s man­u­script, or man­u­scripts, of Gats­by itself. “We can see Fitzger­ald at work on his third nov­el over a four-year peri­od,” says  the announce­ment from Prince­ton Uni­ver­si­ty Library’s Depart­ment of Rare Books and Spe­cial Col­lec­tions (RBSC), which offers “Ur-Gats­by (2‑page frag­ment), the author’s aban­doned effort, con­ceived in 1922 and writ­ten in 1923; The Great Gats­by auto­graph man­u­script (302 pages), which he large­ly wrote in France and com­plet­ed by Sep­tem­ber 1924;” and “cor­rect­ed gal­leys of ‘Tri­mal­chio,’ the novel’s work­ing title when it was type­set by Charles Scribner’s Sons in 1924, only to be much reworked by the author ear­ly in 1925.”

You can find these online in the Prince­ton Uni­ver­si­ty Dig­i­tal Library. There you can also, nat­u­ral­ly, find papers asso­ci­at­ed with This Side of Par­adise, the nov­el Fitzger­ald began, under the work­ing title The Roman­tic Ego­ist, while still at Prince­ton. The book, says the RBSC, “still stands as the most famous lit­er­ary work about Prince­ton Uni­ver­si­ty. While Fitzger­ald was not a good stu­dent and nev­er grad­u­at­ed, drop­ping out in 1917 to join the U.S. Army dur­ing World War I, he began learn­ing the craft of writ­ing as an under­grad­u­ate and befriend­ed oth­er stu­dents who were aspir­ing authors, Edmund Wil­son, Class of 1916, and John Peale Bish­op, Class of 1917. Fitzger­ald came to form a deep affec­tion for Prince­ton that last­ed until his untime­ly death in Hol­ly­wood.” They’ve dig­i­tized the cor­rect­ed 1918 type­script of The Roman­tic Ego­ist, and the man­u­script of This Side of Par­adise. You can peruse all of these online in the PUDL’s Fitzger­ald col­lec­tion. Some regard Gats­by as a per­fect nov­el; Edmund Wil­son called Par­adise “one of the most illit­er­ate books of any mer­it every pub­lished.” (“Hasti­ly writ­ten” and “some­what dis­joint­ed,” says the RBSC itself.) But see­ing how either became the Fitzger­ald books we know today will prove instruc­tive to read­ers and writ­ers, aca­d­e­mics and (like Fitzger­ald, evi­dent­ly) non-aca­d­e­mics alike.

You can find Gats­by and This Side of Par­adise in our col­lec­tion of 500 Free eBooks.

via Paris Review

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Read F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Sto­ry “May Day,” and Near­ly All of His Oth­er Work, Free Online

Sev­en Tips From F. Scott Fitzger­ald on How to Write Fic­tion

The Evo­lu­tion of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Sig­na­ture: From 5 Years Old to 21

Gertrude Stein Sends a “Review” of The Great Gats­by to F. Scott Fitzger­ald (1925)

F. Scott Fitzger­ald Cre­ates a List of 22 Essen­tial Books, 1936

Ernest Hem­ing­way to F. Scott Fitzger­ald: “Kiss My Ass”

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les PrimerFol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Rules for Teachers in 1872 & 1915: No Drinking, Smoking, or Trips to Barber Shops and Ice Cream Parlors

1872-Rules-for-Teachers

No one would call this the gold­en era of teach­ing, not with school bud­gets get­ting slashed, state gov­er­nors rou­tine­ly scor­ing polit­i­cal points at teach­ers’ expense, and the fed­er­al gov­ern­ment forc­ing schools to teach to the test. But if today’s teach­ers are feel­ing belea­guered, they can always look back to a set of his­tor­i­cal “doc­u­ments” for a lit­tle com­fort. For decades, muse­ums and pub­lish­ers have show­cased two lists — one from 1872 (above) and anoth­er from 1915 (below) — that high­light the rig­or­ous rules and aus­tere moral codes under which teach­ers once taught. You could­n’t drink or smoke. In wom­en’s cas­es, you could­n’t date, mar­ry, or fre­quent ice cream par­lors. And, for men, get­ting a shave in a bar­ber shop was strict­ly ver­boten.

But are these doc­u­ments real?

On its web site, the New Hamp­shire His­tor­i­cal Soci­ety writes that “the sources for these ‘rules’ are unknown; thus we can­not attest to their authenticity—only to their verisimil­i­tude and charm­ing quaint­ness.” “The rules from 1872 have been var­i­ous­ly attrib­uted to an 1872 post­ing in Mon­roe Coun­ty, Iowa; to a one-room school in a small town in Maine; and to an unspec­i­fied Ari­zona school­house. The 1915 rules are attrib­uted to a Sacra­men­to teach­ers’ con­tract and else­where to an unspec­i­fied 1915 mag­a­zine.” Accord­ing to Snopes, the fact-check­ing web site, the 1872 list has been “dis­played in numer­ous muse­ums through­out North Amer­i­ca,” over the past 50 years, “with each exhibitor claim­ing that it orig­i­nat­ed with their coun­ty or school dis­trict.” Heck, the lists even appeared in the ven­er­at­ed Wash­ing­ton Post not so long ago. Here are the rules:

Rules for Teach­ers — 1872

1. Teach­ers will fill the lamps and clean the chim­ney each day.
2. Each teacher will bring a buck­et of water and a scut­tle of coal for the day’s ses­sions.
3. Make your pens care­ful­ly. You may whit­tle nibs to the indi­vid­ual tastes of the pupils.
4. Men teach­ers may take one evening each week for court­ing pur­pos­es, or two evenings a week if they go to church reg­u­lar­ly.
5. After ten hours in school, the teach­ers may spend the remain­ing time read­ing the Bible or oth­er good books.
6. Women teach­ers who mar­ry or engage in improp­er con­duct will be dis­missed.
7. Every teacher should lay aside from each day’s pay a good­ly sum of his earn­ings. He should use his sav­ings dur­ing his retire­ment years so that he will not become a bur­den on soci­ety.
8. Any teacher who smokes, uses liquor in any form, vis­its pool halls or pub­lic halls, or gets shaved in a bar­ber shop, will give good rea­sons for peo­ple to sus­pect his worth, inten­tions, and hon­esty.
9. The teacher who per­forms his labor faith­ful­ly and with­out fault for five years will be giv­en an increase of twen­ty-five cents per week in his pay.

1915-Rules-for-Teachers

 Rules for Teach­ers — 1915

1. You will not mar­ry dur­ing the term of your con­tract.
2. You are not to keep com­pa­ny with men.
3. You must be home between the hours of 8 PM and 6 AM unless attend­ing a school func­tion.
4. You may not loi­ter down­town in ice cream stores.
5. You may not trav­el beyond the city lim­its unless you have the per­mis­sion of the chair­man of the board.
6. You may not ride in a car­riage or auto­mo­bile with any man except your father or broth­er.
7. You may not smoke cig­a­rettes.
8. You may not dress in bright col­ors.
9. You may under no cir­cum­stances dye your hair.
10. You must wear at least two pet­ti­coats.
11. Your dress­es may not be any short­er than two inch­es above the ankles.
12. To keep the class­room neat and clean you must sweep the floor at least once a day, scrub the floor at least once a week with hot, soapy water, clean the black­boards at least once a day, and start the fire at 7 AM to have the school warm by 8 AM.

via Peter Kauf­man, mas­ter­mind of the Intel­li­gent Chan­nel on YouTube.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

200 Free Kids Edu­ca­tion­al Resources: Video Lessons, Apps, Books, Web­sites & More

750 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties

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What Shakespeare’s Handwriting Looked Like

Last week, we post­ed on how schol­ars have tried to recov­er the orig­i­nal pro­nun­ci­a­tions of Shakespeare’s plays and poems when per­formed on the stage. Today, we bring you the bard’s orig­i­nal hand­writ­ing. Shakespeare’s hand­writ­ing has recent­ly become the focus of a new arti­cle by Pro­fes­sor Dou­glas Bruster at UT Austin, who is using an analy­sis of the playwright’s quirky spellings and pen­man­ship to solve a very old ques­tion of author­ship. The page of hand­writ­ing you see above is a frag­ment of a lost play called Sir Thomas More and it goes by the name of “Hand D” (click the image above, and then the image that appears — for a much larg­er ver­sion).

Bruster’s short essay, pub­lished this month in the Oxford jour­nal Notes & Queries, is far too inside base­ball for any­one but hard­core tex­tu­al schol­ars to make much sense of, but this New York Times arti­cle does a good job of dis­till­ing the fin­er points. Suf­fice it to say that thanks to Bruster’s painstak­ing analy­sis of Shakespeare’s dis­tinc­tive hand­writ­ing, we can be fair­ly cer­tain that a 1602 revi­sion of Thomas Kyd’s enor­mous­ly pop­u­lar Renais­sance play The Span­ish Tragedy—in the words of Shake­speare schol­ar Eric Ras­mussen—has the bard’s “fin­ger­prints all over it.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What Shake­speare Sound­ed Like to Shake­speare: Recon­struct­ing the Bard’s Orig­i­nal Pro­nun­ci­a­tion

A Sur­vey of Shakespeare’s Plays (Free Course)

Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour Sings Shakespeare’s Son­net 18

Shakespeare’s Satir­i­cal Son­net 130, As Read By Stephen Fry

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

The Famous Feynman Lectures on Physics: The New Online Edition (in HTML5)

feynman textbook1

Image by Tamiko Thiel, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Cal­tech and The Feyn­man Lec­tures Web­site have joined forces to cre­ate an online edi­tion of Richard Feyn­man’s famous lec­tures on physics. First pre­sent­ed in the ear­ly 1960s as part of a two-year intro­duc­to­ry physics course giv­en at Cal­tech, the lec­tures were even­tu­al­ly turned into a book that became a clas­sic ref­er­ence work for physics stu­dents, teach­ers and researchers. You can still pur­chase the 560 page book online, or enjoy a new web edi­tion for free.

Cre­at­ed with HTML5, the new site gives read­ers access to “a high-qual­i­ty up-to-date copy” of Feyn­man’s lec­tures.” The text “has been designed for ease of read­ing on devices of any size or shape,” and you can zoom into text, fig­ures and equa­tions with­out degra­da­tion. Dive right into the lec­tures here. And if you’d pre­fer to see Feyn­man (as opposed to read Feyn­man), we would encour­age you to watch ‘The Char­ac­ter of Phys­i­cal Law,’ Feynman’s  sev­en-part lec­ture series record­ed at Cor­nell in 1964. Anoth­er 37 physics cours­es, most in video, can be found in our col­lec­tion of Free Online Cours­es.

Feyn­man’s lec­ture are now list­ed in our col­lec­tions of Free eBooks and Free Text­books.

Pho­to­graph by Tom Har­vey. Copy­right © Cal­i­for­nia Insti­tute of Tech­nol­o­gy.

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Richard Feynman’s Let­ter to His Depart­ed Wife: “You, Dead, Are So Much Bet­ter Than Any­one Else Alive” (1946)

Richard Feyn­man Presents Quan­tum Elec­tro­dy­nam­ics for the Non­Sci­en­tist

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