February 05, 2003

/ubu Editons :: Launch + Winter 2003 Titles

[I know that I've already informed readers of this blog about /ubu, but now it's fer real. Below is the official announcement from the Ubuweb Secretarial Pool. I'm posting it here in all its raw, email _italics_ and dead <links> glory for the sake of authenticity -- you can still smell the lingering aroma of fingers typing the letters out. For pictures of the book covers, look no further than here or here.]

__ U B U W E B __
http://ubu.com


UbuWeb is pleased to announce the launch of our new E-Book series, /ubu Editions (pronounced "slash ubu"). The Winter 2003 series, featuring 13 titles, is edited by Brian Kim Stefans and features a mix of reprints and new material presented in book-length PDF files. Each title is beautifully designed and features images from the UbuWeb site.


/ubu Editions can be accessed at:

http://ubu.com/ubu


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/ubu Editons :: Winter 2003 Titles
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Kevin Davies _ Pause Button _


Davies writing takes the social critique of the Language Poets and the crushing ear of the best Projective versifiers and sets it all in cyclotronic motion with his rapier's wit and caffeinated melancholy, making him the Zorro of poets associated with Vancouver's Kootenay School of Writing and the anthemist of choice for a disowned intelligentsia. Davies, who now lives in New York, published his second book, _Comp._, in 2000 to much acclaim, but the quasi-legendary _Pause Button_, first published in 1992 by Vancouver's Tsunami Editions, has long been unavailable to those not in the vicinity of Canada's choice used bookstores.


Deanna Ferguson _The Relative Minor_

Ferguson's first book of poems is at once frenetically impatient with anything that could be called a lyrical subjectivity yet speaks, through the sliced rubrics of its many "postmodern" poses, from a perspective singularly angry, disaffected, vulnerable, eloquent, political and brash. The Relative Minor takes the project of the Language poets to the next level of public address, the scale tipping from (though not forgetting) the lexicons of theory and falling toward the pure, dystopic clamor of punk aspiration. Ferguson, who lives and works in Vancouver, has not published a book since this 1993 volume, one of the major contributions by the poets associated with the Kootenay School of Writing.


Richard Foreman _Now That Communism is Dead My Life Feels Empty!_

For years, Foreman has been staging his plays at St. Mark's Ontological Theater with the regularity of the great Avant-Pop-in-the-Sky's postmodernist pacemaker, tooling his "reverberation machines" into a pristine state of subversive whimsy. Though the reader of this text will miss the virtuoso performances of Tony Torn and Jay Smith as bathetic superheroes dueling over the fallen Iron Curtain in the play's New York run, the paranoiac frenzy and epistemological funboxes of Foreman's high style are alive and flinching in _Now That Communism is Dead_.


Madeline Gins _What the President Will Say and Do!!_

Madeline Gins has mostly been known for her collaborative works with the architect/philosopher Arakawa, releasing _Mechanism of Meaning_, an illustrated series of playful epistemological vignettes, in 1979, and devoting most of the last two decades exploring Reversible Destiny, a radical philosophy of architecture in which one "refuses to die." _What the President_ is Gins in a more light-hearted, accessible vein, her creative assaults on mundane thinking arousing both laughter and caustic impatience with the status quo. Rarely has a book appeared as prescient and poignant twenty years after its initial publication.


Jessica Grim _Vexed_

Grim's style masterly evokes the simplicities of poetry in the "New American" vein, with its fragments of candid observation just shimmering on the surface of the poem, but she allies it with a "post-Language" sensibility that balks before the prospect of a too-fluid Romanticism, thus spicing sensual reverie with documentary relevance. The musicality of Grim's poems is understated, the words delicately gathered, such that the poems occasionally seem given over to indeterminacy and chance, but in fact each one has a formal perfection that illustrates an underlying lyrical integrity.


Peter Manson _Adjunct: An Undigest_

Adjunct _forms a teetering, overloaded bridge between practitioners of subjectively-deodorized "conceptual literature" such as Kenneth Goldsmith and Craig Dworkin and writers working in a "new sentence" vein such as Language poets Bruce Andrews and Lyn Hejinian, all with a nod to novelist David Markson's _Reader's Block_. But _Adjunct _is far from an organized literary venture; rather, it is a sprawling, subconsciously assembled stockpile of casual phrases, trivial ideas, worthless statistics, obituary notices, self-reflexive misgivings, and numberless, numbing et ceteras that make it an electric anthem to cultural (and personal) entropy.


Michael Scharf _Verite_

Scharf's poems are at once vulnerable to, and defiant of, the impositions of civic society, as the strands of global and historical implication wafting through the air that strike most of us as attenuated notes of "otherness" are transformed, for this poet, into the throbbing heart of community. The roving eye of _Verite_ takes in quantities of data that would sink writers with a less fluid and agile lyric touch, and the mixture of journalism, sonnets, "lieder" and manifesto-like prose poetry make this a compelling, multi-faceted collection, the second by this New York author.


Ron Sillman _2197_

Silliman is known for several seminal long poems such as _Tjanting _and _Ketjak_, and he has been involved in writing the long "new sentence" (he coined the phrase) poem _The Alphabet_ for over twenty years. _The Age of Huts_, published by Roof Books in 1986, has had a quieter reputation, despite its relatively concise display of Silliman's wide formal experimentation and mastery. "2197" is the second half of the book, and anticipates, with its stock of phrases morphing and reappearing in different acrobatic poses throughout its pages, the preoccupation with dataflows, rhizomes and digital recurrence that has characterized much literature in the age of the internet.


Ron Sillman _Sunset Debris_

Silliman is known for several seminal long poems such as _Tjanting _and _Ketjak_, and he has been involved in writing the long "new sentence" (he coined the phrase) poem _The Alphabet_ for over twenty years. _The Age of Huts_, published by Roof Books in 1986, has had a quieter reputation, despite its relatively concise display of Silliman's wide formal experimentation and mastery. "Sunset Debris" is, structurally, a collection of questions, but the cumulative affect of the queries is both giddily intoxicating and, subterraneously, melancholic, as the voice of personal entreaty become subsumed under the ceaseless rhythms of its literary method and, by extension, time and memory.


Juliana Spahr _Response_

Spahr's deceptively simple language conveys a serious and complex assessment of civic duty and the potential for political agency in a time when selfhood -- one's sense of uniqueness and of the _permanence _of one's personality -- has been severely compromised. Under fire by a mass media that trivializes all values for the sake of ratings and shunned by the opaque workings of a State that ignores, for the sake of control, the eye of the radical democrat, the individual is, in Spahr's poetry, revived to take center stage, floodlit by possiblity. _Response_, Spahr's first book (_Fuck You-Aloha-I Love You_ appeared in 2001), was the winner of the National Poetry Series in 1996, and demands of the reader a new sense of participation in the social world.


Hannah Weiner _Little Books / Indians_

Weiner, who died in 1997, culled from what she considered a psychic ability -- she literally saw words on the foreheads of her many New York friends and transcribed them like extrasensory conversations -- to create her typographically distinctive books of poetry. But there is nothing naïve about what Weiner was doing: she was a self-conscious, sophisticated artist, a close friend of the great innovator Carolee Schneemann, and has long been considered a central figure in Language poetry. Weiner's oeuvre reflects a complex, totalizing investment in the properties of words as they permeate and conflict with the self and the imagined "other," and _Little Books/Indians_, long out of print, is both a visual treat and an engaging read.


Mac Wellman _The Lesser Magoo_

The final of the four plays of Wellman's Crowtet, Magoo follows the adventures of Curran and Candle -- an expert on "Crowe's Dark Space" -- and their motley assemblage of peers, some of them categorically "unusualist," in the parallel, decidedly unsettled, universe that is distinctly Wellman's. Magoo is chockfull of alternative histories, comprehensive pseudo-sciences, eerily relevant, off-the-map absurdist politics and soft-spoken contacts between humans all vying for attention in the seemingly self-propelled linguistics of Wellman's versification, which at turns recalls Beckett, at others the polymath Pynchon or the more childlike landscapes of Ashbery (in Girls on the Run). The music for The Lesser Magoo, scored for voices, toy piano, ukulele, and violin, was composed by Michael Roth, for both the Los Angeles and the New York productions.


Darren Wershler-Henry _ The Tapeworm Foundry _

Toronto-based Wershler-Henry's last book of poems, _Nicholodeon_, was a seemingly exhaustive survey of the possibilities of concrete and process-based poetry in the Nineties, organized like a paper database with icons to guide the wary reader toward conceptual handles. _The Tapeworm Foundry_ is, in some ways, the opposite: a single unpunctuated sentence of pro-Situ proposals that resembles a social virus more than a functioning data-organism, its litany of avant-garde projects linked only by the seemingly innocuous, but progressively more imperative-sounding, "andor."


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/ubu Editons :: Winter 2003 Titles
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/ubu Editions can be accessed at:
http://ubu.com/ubu


__ U B U W E B __
http://ubu.com


Posted by Brian Stefans at February 5, 2003 11:25 AM
Comments

Since the Heap has no definite rules as to where it will create space for you, there must be some way of figuring out where your new space is. And the answer is, simply enough, addressing. When you create new space in the heap to hold your data, you get back an address that tells you where your new space is, so your bits can move in. This address is called a Pointer, and it's really just a hexadecimal number that points to a location in the heap. Since it's really just a number, it can be stored quite nicely into a variable.

Posted by: Rees at January 18, 2004 09:10 PM

But some variables are immortal. These variables are declared outside of blocks, outside of functions. Since they don't have a block to exist in they are called global variables (as opposed to local variables), because they exist in all blocks, everywhere, and they never go out of scope. Although powerful, these kinds of variables are generally frowned upon because they encourage bad program design.

Posted by: Digory at January 18, 2004 09:10 PM

Seth Roby graduated in May of 2003 with a double major in English and Computer Science, the Macintosh part of a three-person Macintosh, Linux, and Windows graduating triumvirate.

Posted by: Polidore at January 18, 2004 09:10 PM

Note first that favoriteNumbers type changed. Instead of our familiar int, we're now using int*. The asterisk here is an operator, which is often called the "star operator". You will remember that we also use an asterisk as a sign for multiplication. The positioning of the asterisk changes its meaning. This operator effectively means "this is a pointer". Here it says that favoriteNumber will be not an int but a pointer to an int. And instead of simply going on to say what we're putting in that int, we have to take an extra step and create the space, which is what does. This function takes an argument that specifies how much space you need and then returns a pointer to that space. We've passed it the result of another function, , which we pass int, a type. In reality, is a macro, but for now we don't have to care: all we need to know is that it tells us the size of whatever we gave it, in this case an int. So when is done, it gives us an address in the heap where we can put an integer. It is important to remember that the data is stored in the heap, while the address of that data is stored in a pointer on the stack.

Posted by: Jocatta at January 18, 2004 09:10 PM

This code should compile and run just fine, and you should see no changes in how the program works. So why did we do all of that?

Posted by: Gwenhoivar at January 18, 2004 09:11 PM