In Redstart, I noticed the “I” being put under the pressure in Kinsella’s “A Note on Ecopoetics” (pg 37). He notes that poets and poetry work within an ecology, and that ecology, as opposed to environment, is, by nature, communal. He refers to his collaboration with Gander, and as a poet in general, as “a way of challenging the security of self-affirmation.” Often in writing it is easy to be self-important, but he suggests that when working in this sort of collaboration the endgame is not self-oriented, but rather a potentially redemptive contribution to an (infinitely?) larger body of work.
As a killer whale in the Salish Sea, Figure 5 troubles me greatly. Before 1980, my brothers and sisters in the Salish were living in abundance of Chinook salmon. Over the years, however, the availability of adult salmon has been falling quickly (5a) and I fear that soon it won’t be able to sustain our needs. We haven’t even had a notable increase in salmon consumption (5c), so it is unfair that our prey availability is dropping so quickly. I have become accustomed to a certain lifestyle, and I am not willing to sacrifice it for any other marine mammal.
The concepts of incandescence and not-yet-here intertwine beautifully in Herko’s performance in Warhol’s film Haircut. The film itself, “extremely radical in 1963,” embodies the not-yet-here by showing overt queerness as quotidian (160). Herko used his incandescence to bring light to the taboo topics, “public drug consumption and flagrant, ludic nudity” (160). Herko’s incandescence naturally leads to the reveal of a not-yet-here that exists within (often undetected) communities outside of straight time, so a queer critique might view Herko as a window to an unspoken culture that existed, but those who participated were not typically as bold or illuminating as Herko.
The “Bodies Tumbled into Bodies” reading, by Tsing et al., embodies the practice of “a self-break and a reconnection” with its continued discussion of entanglements. In saying “entanglement with others makes life possible,” Tsing conveys her awareness of an individual’s inability to sustain life without any support or assistance. This shows a willingness to “consent to global dynamics,” as Glissant puts it. Although she primarily speaks of interspecies symbioses, she often acknowledges the need for humans to not only coexist, but to cooperate, and thus we, as people, may move towards a common goal of a society capable of giving-on-and-with.
In the Sze et al reading, it is obvious that at present, the top priority of decision makers regarding Delta Vision is the contribution to state economy and industrial agriculture. In terms of environmental justice, the reading emphasizes the need to focus on the human communities (scale down) while considering a broader geographic context (scale up). However, when referred to as “reformist rather than radical,” an interesting prospect is brought up as to whether “the master’s tools… can dismantle the master’s house.” So, does a nontraditional (extra-systemic) route to change need to be taken to benefit the Delta’s disadvantaged communities?
Rodriguez shares the raw reality of many aspects of his lived experiences in urban barrios across America. He explores mental illness within a family dynamic, personal and systemic consequences of institutionalized racism in law enforcement, working in construction, financial insecurity, and, less gruesomely, love, sex, dancing, and a revolution. His stories are also somewhat divided into eras, differing temporally and geographically. The common thread that holds this narrative together is community. He describes his neighborhood Watts as a “we,” and uses unifying terms such as “a people’s rage.” Whether fighting or dancing, there is power and passion in their unity.