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    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog</loc>
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    <lastmod>2019-02-14</lastmod>
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      <image:title>Blog</image:title>
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    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2019/2/14/when-love-is-a-valentines-alphabet-1</loc>
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    <lastmod>2019-02-15</lastmod>
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      <image:title>Blog - When Love Is: A Valentine's Alphabet</image:title>
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      <image:title>Blog - When Love Is: A Valentine's Alphabet</image:title>
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      <image:title>Blog - When Love Is: A Valentine's Alphabet</image:title>
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  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2018/11/24/when-love-was-two-short-excerpts</loc>
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    <lastmod>2018-11-25</lastmod>
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      <image:title>Blog - When Love Was (two short excerpts)</image:title>
      <image:caption>Excerpt from When Love Was, pages 60 and 61.</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - When Love Was (two short excerpts)</image:title>
      <image:caption>Pages 58 and 59 of When Love Was.</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
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      <image:title>Blog - When Love Was (two short excerpts)</image:title>
      <image:caption>Sometimes a man looks at a woman and sees all that he’s missed in his life.</image:caption>
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  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2017/5/29/a-revolutionary-practice-part-one-csu-summer-arts</loc>
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    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2017-05-30</lastmod>
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      <image:title>Blog - A Revolutionary Practice: Part One: CSU Summer Arts</image:title>
      <image:caption>“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1496102639866-MI5NNBC2V63T7ZIJ2LWC/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Revolutionary Practice: Part One: CSU Summer Arts</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Every morning when I wake up, I experience an exquisite joy —the joy of being Salvador Dalí— and I ask myself in rapture: What wonderful things is this Salvador Dalí going to accomplish today?” ― Salvador Dalí</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1496103185926-2U1NFG3YDC36MC3D4708/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Revolutionary Practice: Part One: CSU Summer Arts</image:title>
      <image:caption>“When I wake up in the morning, I feel like any other insecure 24-year-old girl. Then I say,'Bitch, you're Lady Gaga, you get up and walk the walk today.” ― Lady Gaga</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
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      <image:title>Blog - A Revolutionary Practice: Part One: CSU Summer Arts</image:title>
      <image:caption>"The artist who expends all his (sic) efforts in convincing himself that he is not a non-artist or the anti-artist who struggles not to become "an artist" cannot justify his vexations by appealing to an ideal of freedom. What he needs is not an ideal of freedom, but at least a minimum of practical and subjective autonomy--freedom from the internalized emotional pressures by which society holds him down. I mean freedom of conscience. This is a spiritual value and its roots are ultimately religious. Hence my first principle is that since in our society everybody is already more or less concerned with a theoretical and doctrinaire approach to the question of art and freedom, maybe the artist himself has something better to do--namely his own job. There have been many myths about the business of "being an artist" and living the special kind of life that artists are reputed to live, that if the artist is too concerned with "being an artist" he will never get around to doing any work. Hence it is to his advantage, first of all, to be free from the myths about "Art" and even from myths about the threat which society offers to his "freedom." This applies, at least, to artists living in "the West," where in fact nobody is seriously interfering with his freedom." --Thomas Merton</image:caption>
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      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1496102353969-TE42YYNQFZNLDYAU0BEL/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Revolutionary Practice: Part One: CSU Summer Arts</image:title>
      <image:caption>“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we're reading doesn't wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.” --Franz Kafka</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - A Revolutionary Practice: Part One: CSU Summer Arts</image:title>
      <image:caption>“The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up.” ― Muhammad Ali</image:caption>
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  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/12/26/a-childs-laughter</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-12-27</lastmod>
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      <image:title>Blog - A Child's Laughter</image:title>
      <image:caption>“To laugh is to live profoundly.”--Milan Kundera</image:caption>
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      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1482806731347-9887AM5DZ3B0KKE2NJGU/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Child's Laughter</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Nothing is worth more than laughter. It is strength to laugh and to abandon oneself, to be light. Tragedy is the most ridiculous thing.” --Frida Kahlo</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - A Child's Laughter</image:title>
      <image:caption>“I hope you will go out and let stories, that is life, happen to you, and that you will work with these stories... water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.”--Clarissa Pinkola Estes</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - A Child's Laughter</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” --Marcel Proust</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - A Child's Laughter</image:title>
      <image:caption>“The music in his laughter had a way of rounding off the missing notes in her soul.” --Gloria Naylor</image:caption>
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  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/12/18/love-kills-capitalism-1</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-12-19</lastmod>
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      <image:title>Blog - Love Kills Capitalism: Merry Christmas</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Passion is not friendly. It is arrogant, superbly contemptuous of all that is not itself, and, as they very definition of passion implies the impulse to freedom, it has a might intimidiating power. It contains a challenge. It contains an unspeakable hope.”  --James Baldwin  </image:caption>
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      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1482123788447-B20MD8X3HO5GRTPSSQ3Y/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Love Kills Capitalism: Merry Christmas</image:title>
      <image:caption>"When does real love begin? At first it was a fire, eclipses, short circuits, lightning and fireworks; the incense, hammocks, drugs, wines, perfumes; then spasm and honey, fever, fatigue, warmth, currents of liquid fire, feast and orgies; then dreams, visions, candlelight, flowers, pictures; then images out of the past, fairy tales, stories, then pages out of a book, a poem; then laughter, then chastity.  At what moment does the knife wound sink so deep that the flesh begins to weep with love? At first power, power, then the wound, and love, and love and fears, and the loss of the self, and the gift, and slavery. At first I ruled, loved less; then more, then slavery. Slavery to his image, his odor, the craving, the hunger, the thirst, the obsession.” --Anais Nin</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - Love Kills Capitalism: Merry Christmas</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Yet there can never be happiness in compulsion. It is not enough for love to be shared: it must be shared freely. That is to say it must be given, not merely taken. Unselfish love that is poured out upon a selfish object does not bring perfect happiness: not because love requires a return or a reward for loving, but because it rests in the happiness of the beloved. And if the one loved receives love selfishly, the lover is not satisfied. He sees that his love has failed to make the beloved happy. It has not awakened his capacity for unselfish love. Hence the paradox that unselfish love cannot rest perfectly except in a love that is perfectly reciprocated: because it knows that the only true peace is found in selfless love. Selfless love consents to be loved selflessly for the sake of the beloved. In so doing, it perfects itself. The gift of love is the gift of the power and the capacity to love, and, therefore, to give love with full effect is also to receive it. So, love can only be kept by being given away, and it can only be given perfectly when it is also received.   2. Love not only prefers the good of another to my own, but it does not even compare the two. It has only one good, that of the beloved, which is, at the same time, my own. Love shares the good with another not by dividing it with him, but by identifying itself with him so that his good becomes my own. The same good is enjoyed in its wholeness by two in one spirit, not halved and shared by two souls. Where love is really disinterested, the lover does not even stop to inquire whether he can safely appropriate for himself some part of the good which he wills for his friend. Love seeks its whole good in the good of the beloved, and to divide that good would be to diminish love. Such a division would not only weaken the action of love, but in doing so would also diminish its joy. For love does not seek a joy that follows from its effect: its joy is in the effect itself, which is the good of the beloved. Consequently, if my love be pure I do not even have to seek for myself the satisfaction of loving. Love seeks one thing only: the good of the one loved. It leaves all the other secondary effects to take care of themselves. Love, therefore, is its own reward.”--Thomas Merton</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1482124028411-KNUBO4IMEW8J8ZK2C8XX/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Love Kills Capitalism: Merry Christmas</image:title>
      <image:caption>"If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb. (Don't Hesitate)."--Mary Oliver</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - Love Kills Capitalism: Merry Christmas</image:title>
      <image:caption>“When a man says he loves you, he ain’t saying what you want him to be saying or what you think you need him to be saying. He ain’t got it in him to say all you hope and dream that he’s promising with those words.” CeCe looked away from her granddaughter’s eyes. She looked out the kitchen window to her garden, to those promises she had neglected. “No man can say what you gone and convinced yourself you need to hear. All a man is saying, when he says that he loves you, is that he wants something. But he don’t got the courage in him to ask for what he wants. He’s too afraid, so he says he loves you, hoping you fall for it, and you give him what he wants. And we all know what such a man wants.” CeCe stopped talking, stopped staring out that window, and she looked down at Elena’s small hands. She knew all that touch could do, but she feared the scars she carried, the burning. “A real man, though, is different. He ain’t no child. He ain’t afraid of himself, and he ain’t afraid of you, and of what his words can do to you. A real man asks for what he wants. He just says it direct. He don’t say he loves you, until he can mean all he says by it. Love ain’t a wanting or a needing. It’s a giving and a lifetime of being curious. Real man says he loves you, he knows he’s giving you a gift. He’s not waiting for nothing. He’s not expecting nothing. He’s just curious about what you going to make out of the love that he’s giving to you. Your grandfather was that kind of man. He didn’t say nothing because he thought I wanted to hear something. He was a patient man. A quiet man. That man looked at me and I knew what he was saying.”--Doug Rice, Daughters of the Rivers</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - Love Kills Capitalism: Merry Christmas</image:title>
      <image:caption>“May today there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us."--Saint Terese of Liseaux</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - Love Kills Capitalism: Merry Christmas</image:title>
      <image:caption>“If you love someone, the greatest gift you can give them is your presence."--Thich Nhat Hanh</image:caption>
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  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/12/11/this-forgery-of-forgetting-remembering-kathy-acker-part-2</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-12-12</lastmod>
    <image:image>
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      <image:title>Blog - This Forgery of Forgetting (Remembering Kathy Acker, part 2)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“The only sadnesses that are dangerous and unhealthy are the ones that we carry around in public in order to drown them out with the noise; like diseases that are treated superficially and foolishly, they just withdraw and after a short interval break out again all the more terribly; and gather inside us and are life, are life that is unlived, rejected, lost, life that we can die of.” --Rainer Maria Rilke</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1481521896207-ISJIM9XG878HPTR1KG6D/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - This Forgery of Forgetting (Remembering Kathy Acker, part 2)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“I have always been tormented by the image of multiplicity of selves. Some days I call it richness, and other days I see it as a disease, a proliferation as dangerous as cancer. My first concept about people around me was that all of them were coordinated into a WHOLE, whereas I was made up of multiple selves, of fragments. I know that I was upset as a child to discover that we had only one life. It seems to me that I wanted to compensate for this by multiplying experience. Or perhaps it always seems like this when you follow all your impulses and they take you in different directions. In any case, when I was happy, always at the beginning of a love, euphoric, I felt I was gifted for living many lives fully. It was only when I was in trouble, lost in a maze, stifled by complications and paradoxes that I was haunted or that I spoke of my "madness," but I meant the madness of the poets.” --Anais Nin</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - This Forgery of Forgetting (Remembering Kathy Acker, part 2)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“TODAY I THINK MY RELATIONSHIP WITH HELL IS OVER. It was hell, the ancient hell. Hell: I believed that if I loved V enough, we would love each other. All I know is that I’ve been returned to earth violently; I’ve a duty to myself to survive and to see what is. I have to deal with the truth, with nothing else. Did V’s charity to me almost cause my death? I, starving, fed on the dream that V loved me and I lived a lie. So forgive me, You who knows that only truth matters. Yes—this dawn is at best difficult. The blood he let out of my skin, now dried and stiff, hurts me and there’s nothing else in my life but memories of him. Mental war is constant. Nonetheless, this is the eve before the morning. May I accept the influxes of vigor and whatever real tenderness floats by in these barren waters. And when dawn comes, armed with my patience which burns, I shall see the cities of humans which are splendid. The imagination is nothing unless it is made actual.” --Kathy Acker</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - This Forgery of Forgetting (Remembering Kathy Acker, part 2)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Now I know what loneliness is, I think. Momentary loneliness, anyway. It comes from a vague core of the self - - like a disease of the blood, dispersed throughout the body so that one cannot locate the matrix, the spot of contagion.”--Sylvia Plath</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - This Forgery of Forgetting (Remembering Kathy Acker, part 2)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Sometimes I forget this insoluble mess and dream: he’ll save me, we’ll travel; we’ll hunt in the deserts, we’ll sleep on the pavements of strange cities, carelessly, without his guilt, without my pain. Or else I’m going to wake up and all the human laws and customs of this world will have changed—thanks to some magical power—or this world, without changing, will let me feel desire and be happy and carefree. What did I want from him who hurt me more than I thought it was possible for two people to hurt each other? I wanted the adventures found in kids’ books. He couldn’t give me these because he wasn’t able to. Whatever did he want from me? I never understood. He told me he was just average: average regrets, average hopes. What do I care about all that average shit that has nothing to do with adventure?” --Kathy Acker</image:caption>
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  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/12/4/blood-and-guts-remembering-kathy-acker-part-one</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-12-05</lastmod>
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      <image:title>Blog - Blood and Guts: Re/membering Kathy Acker (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“When the starry sky, a vista of open seas, or a stained-glass window shedding purple beams fascinate me, there is a cluster of meaning, of colors, of words, of caresses, there are light touches, scents, sighs, cadences that arise, shroud me, carry me away, and sweep me beyond the things I see, hear, or think, The "sublime" object dissolves in the raptures of a bottomless memory. It is such a memory, which, from stopping point to stopping point, remembrance to remembrance, love to love, transfers that object to the refulgent point of the dazzlement in which I stray in order to be.” --Julia Kristeva</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - Blood and Guts: Re/membering Kathy Acker (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.”--Franz Kafka</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - Blood and Guts: Re/membering Kathy Acker (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it calls itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use -- silence, exile, and cunning.” --James Joyce</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
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      <image:title>Blog - Blood and Guts: Re/membering Kathy Acker (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“I would like to write you so simply, so simply, so simply. Without having anything ever catch the eye, excepting yours alone, ... so that above all the language remains self-evidently secret, as if it were being invented at every step, and as if it were burning immediately."--Jacques Derrida</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1480919998976-L3KKCLZ91MOBRW6IWVDY/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Blood and Guts: Re/membering Kathy Acker (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>“When Kafka allows a friend to understand that he writes because otherwise he would go mad, he knows that writing is madness already, his madness, a kind of vigilence, unrelated to any wakefulness save sleep's: insomnia. Madness against madness, then. But he believes that he masters the one by abandoning himself to it; the other frightens him, and is his fear; it tears through him, wounds and exalts him. It is as if he had to undergo all the force of an uninterruptable continuity, a tension at the edge of the insupportable which he speaks of with fear and not without a feeling of glory. For glory is the disaster.” --Maurice Blanchot</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/11/27/a-tweet-by-any-other-name</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-11-28</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1480313147121-VUO78BWNO4IMPKWLUVKG/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Tweet By Any Other Name</image:title>
      <image:caption>“In the current socio-political climate, he said to himself, committing suicide is absurd and redundant. Better to become an undercover poet.” -- Roberto Bolano</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1480313654860-XCJTU9WXRO6WWL0GHCDR/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Tweet By Any Other Name</image:title>
      <image:caption>“As life in general constituted much pain in the form of struggles against poverty, disease, ignorance, and emotional anguish, what more civilized way for people to alleviate the same than by giving themselves to one another as brothers and sisters in deed as well as in word? A society of people hoping to become politically superior needed first to become spiritually valid.”--Aberjhani, The Wisdom Of W.E.B. DuBois</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - A Tweet By Any Other Name</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Forming grammatically correct sentences is for the normal individual the prerequisite for any submission to social laws. No one is supposed to be ignorant of grammaticality; those who are belong in special institutions. The unity of language is fundamentally political.” --Gilles Deleuze</image:caption>
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      <image:title>Blog - A Tweet By Any Other Name</image:title>
      <image:caption>“There are deeper strata of truth in cinema, and there is such a thing as poetic, ecstatic truth. It is mysterious and elusive, and can be reached only through fabrication and imagination and stylization.”--Werner Herzog</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1480312053937-JBHOZLTRVNY93WQK1QEZ/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Tweet By Any Other Name</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Do you know what I was smiling at? You wrote down that you were a writer by profession. It sounded to me like the loveliest euphemism I had ever heard. When was writing ever your profession? It's never been anything but your religion.” --J.D. Salinger, Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters &amp; Seymour: An Introduction</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1480313959545-XH3VMFPXW0LR19UW3NTT/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Tweet By Any Other Name</image:title>
      <image:caption>“As societies grow decadent, the language grows decadent, too. Words are used to disguise, not to illuminate, action: you liberate a city by destroying it. Words are to confuse, so that at election time people will solemnly vote against their own interests.”--Gore Vidal</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/11/21/west</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-11-21</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479751764648-627N6GDPK3QBC7LWGJRJ/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Passions of Kanye West and Mike Pence</image:title>
      <image:caption>“The culture industry perpetually cheats its consumers of what it perpetually promises. The promissory note which, with its plots and staging, it draws on pleasure is endlessly prolonged; the promise, which is actually all the spectacle consists of, is illusory: all it actually confirms is that the real point will never be reached, that the diner must be satisfied with the menu.”--Theodor W. Adorno</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479752031759-GS6GWV17MB6IOHPLWPDT/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Passions of Kanye West and Mike Pence</image:title>
      <image:caption>“In other words, I have tried to learn in my writing a monastic lesson I could probably not have learned otherwise: to let go of my idea of myself, to take myself with more than one grain of salt... In religious terms, this is simply a matter of accepting life, and everything in life as a gift, and clinging to none of it, as far as you are able. You give some of it to others, if you can. Yet one should be able to share things with others without bothering too much about how they like it, either, or how they accept it. Assume they will accept it, if they need it. And if they don’t need it, why should they accept it? That is their business. Let me accept what is mine and give them all their share, and go my way.” --Thomas Merton</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
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      <image:title>Blog - The Passions of Kanye West and Mike Pence</image:title>
      <image:caption>'I read,' I say. 'I study and read. I bet I've read everything you've read. Don't think I haven't. I consume libraries. I wear out spines and ROM-drives. I do things like get in a taxi and say, "The library, and step on it." My instincts concerning syntax and mechanics are better than your own, I can tell, with due respect. But it transcends the mechanics. I'm not a machine. I feel and believe. I have opinions. Some of them are interesting. I could, if you'd let me, talk and talk. Let's talk about anything. I believe the influence of Kierkegaard on Camus is underestimated. I believe Dennis Gabor may very well have been the Antichrist. I believe Hobbes is just Rousseau in a dark mirror. I believe, with Hegel, that transcendence is absorption. I could interface you guys right under the table,' I say. 'I'm not just a creatus, manufactured, conditioned, bred for a function.'--David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479752376756-BAAZIC738V8UHDECNS0I/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Passions of Kanye West and Mike Pence</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Worrying does not accomplish anything. Even if you worry twenty times more, it will not change the situation of the world. In fact, your anxiety will only make things worse. Even though things are not as we would like, we can still be content, knowing we are trying our best and will continue to do so. If we don't know how to breathe, smile,and live every moment of our life deeply, we will never be able to help anyone. I am happy in the present moment. I do not ask for anything else. I do not expect any additional happiness or conditions that will bring about more happiness. The most important practice is aimlessness, not running after things, not grasping.”--Thich Nhat Hanh</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479750892783-QPUXYX0O0WIL3OLLK837/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Passions of Kanye West and Mike Pence</image:title>
      <image:caption>“It just takes time, it just takes patience, he says, just like it does with people. Don't give up until you have done everything to change yourself. Then, he says as he sits on the doorstep, only then you can start blaming others.”  ― Mariko Nagai, Dust of Eden</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479751463378-FH3MBFLXRABTNGOGED02/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Passions of Kanye West and Mike Pence</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Of all the ways of acquiring books, writing them oneself is regarded as the most praiseworthy method." Walter Benjamin</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/11/13/this-is-not-america-a-letter-to-my-children</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-11-14</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479105555861-A2RJIVY80F00UM0AQEYN/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - This is not America: A Letter to my Children</image:title>
      <image:caption>“The various forms of education or ‘normalization’ imposed upon an individual consist in making him or her change points of subjectification, always moving towards a higher, nobler one in closer conformity with the supposed ideal. Then from the point of subjectification issues a subject of enunciation, as a function of a mental reality determined by that point. Then from the subject of enunciation issues a subject of the statement, in other words, a subject bound to statements in conformity with a dominant reality."--Gilles Deleuze</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479105734856-4QQJMT7FU8OAT08J789X/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - This is not America: A Letter to my Children</image:title>
      <image:caption>"You do not deserve love regardless of the suffering you have endured. You do not deserve love because somebody did you wrong. You do not deserve love just because you want it. You can only earn - by practice and careful contemplations - the right to express it and you have to learn how to accept it. Which is to say you have to earn God. You have to practice God. You have to think God-carefully. And if you are a good and diligent student you may secure the right to show love. Love is not a gift. It is a diploma. A diploma conferring certain privileges: the privilege of expressing love and the privilege of receiving it. How do you know you have graduated? You don't. What you do know is that you are human and therefore educable, and therefore capable of learning how to learn, and therefore interesting to God, who is interested only in Himself which is to say He is interested only in love. Do you understand me? God is not interested in you. He is interested in love and the bliss it brings to those who understand and share the interest. Couples that enter the sacrament of marriage and are not prepared to go the distance or are not willing to get right with the real love of God cannot thrive. They may cleave together like robins or gulls or anything else that mates for life. But if they eschew this mighty course, at the moment when all are judged for the disposition of their eternal lives, their cleaving won't mean a thing. God bless the pure and holy. Amen.” --Toni Morrison</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479106249290-KX7CDW8YH632AWIQBO1H/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - This is not America: A Letter to my Children</image:title>
      <image:caption>“What is meant by “reality”? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable—now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying. It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech—and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Piccadilly. Sometimes, too, it seems to dwell in shapes too far away for us to discern what their nature is. But whatever it touches, it fixes and makes permanent. That is what remains over when the skin of the day has been cast into the hedge; that is what is left of past time and of our loves and hates.” --Virginia Woolf</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479105838727-100HYPGE6YYFXA8KFDKU/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - This is not America: A Letter to my Children</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Finding yourself in a hole, at the bottom of a hole, in almost total solitude, and discovering that only writing can save you. To be without the slightest subject for a book, the slightest idea for a book, is to find yourself, once again, before a book. A vast emptiness. A possible book. Before nothing. Before something like living, naked writing, like something terrible, terrible to overcome.”--Marguerite Duras</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1479105384531-07LQMCDOGUQPK2H91HRD/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - This is not America: A Letter to my Children</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Nevertheless, beneath me—along the river bank, beneath the bridges, in the shadow of the walls, I could almost hear the collective, shivering sigh—were lovers and ruins, sleeping, embracing, coupling, drinking, staring out at the descending night. Behind the walls of the houses I passed, the French nation was clearing away the dishes, putting little Jean Pierre and Marie to bed, scowling over the eternal problems of the sou, the shop, the church, the unsteady State. Those walls, those shuttered windows held them in and protected them against the darkness and the long moan of this long night. Ten years hence, little Jean Pierre or Marie might find themselves out here beside the river and wonder, like me, how they had fallen out of the web of safety. What a long way, I thought, I’ve come—to be destroyed!”--James Baldwin</image:caption>
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  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/11/6/my-first-100-days-in-office</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-11-07</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1478492591083-RCRIDN57BDPJF4EY7MBK/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - My First 100 Days in Office</image:title>
      <image:caption>“The gift is contact, sensuality: you will be touching what I have touched, a third skin unites us.” ― Roland Barthes</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1478492702162-8GYYS452GED8G99TN7JN/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - My First 100 Days in Office</image:title>
      <image:caption>“We have to talk about liberating minds as well as liberating society.” ― Angela Y. Davis</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1478488154198-2YTU3JVM24RD0Z3JYUOE/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - My First 100 Days in Office</image:title>
      <image:caption>“The futility of everything that comes to us from the media is the inescapable consequence of the absolute inability of that particular stage to remain silent. Music, commercial breaks, news flashes, adverts, news broadcasts, movies, presenters—there is no alternative but to fill the screen; otherwise there would be an irremediable void.... That’s why the slightest technical hitch, the slightest slip on the part of the presenter becomes so exciting, for it reveals the depth of the emptiness squinting out at us through this little window.”  ― Jean Baudrillard</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1478491948772-0MOWT6LCQ51J0IEOF6PR/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - My First 100 Days in Office</image:title>
      <image:caption>“In general, I try and distinguish between what one calls the Future and “l’avenir” [the ‘to come]. The future is that which – tomorrow, later, next century – will be. There is a future which is predictable, programmed, scheduled, foreseeable. But there is a future, l’avenir (to come) which refers to someone who comes whose arrival is totally unexpected. For me, that is the real future. That which is totally unpredictable. The Other who comes without my being able to anticipate their arrival. So if there is a real future, beyond the other known future, it is l’avenir in that it is the coming of the Other when I am completely unable to foresee their arrival.”  ― Jacques Derrida</image:caption>
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  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/10/30/you-say-you-want-a-revolution</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-10-31</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477872666088-7OD2BNPANO04S9QFL7E6/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - You Say You Want a Revolution</image:title>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477872264419-593K9VQY4JN1KTIFB73F/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - You Say You Want a Revolution</image:title>
      <image:caption>When one with honeyed words but evil mind Persuades the mob, great woes befall the state. Euripides</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477872921879-14A9BEV2ZFN6COPSHOSL/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - You Say You Want a Revolution</image:title>
      <image:caption>What threatens us today is fear. … Our danger is the forces in the world today which are trying to use man’s fears to rob him of his individuality, his soul, trying to reduce him to an unthinking mass by fear. This is what we must resist, if we are to change the world for man’s peace and security. So never be afraid. Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion, against injustice, lying, and greed. If you will do this, not as a class or classes, but as individuals, men and women, you will change the earth.--William Faulkner</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477873745999-Z9CWG8UFOGH3H2JK573O/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - You Say You Want a Revolution</image:title>
      <image:caption>This is the charged, the dangerous moment, when everything must be re-examined, must be made new, when nothing at all can be taken for granted.--James Baldwin</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477877996297-9LRBFUWFTJALJAPG8RYU/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - You Say You Want a Revolution</image:title>
      <image:caption>“The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy ending; or more correctly of the good catastrophe, the sudden joyous "turn" (for there is no true end to any fairy-tale): this joy, which is one of the things which fairy-stories can produce supremely well, is not essentially "escapist," nor "fugitive." In its fairy-tale -- or otherworld -- setting, it is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.” --J.R.R. Tolkein</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/10/23/a-blindness-of-seeing</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-10-24</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477291152091-E44V1Z8TOOQ9PSCDDUDO/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Blindness of Seeing</image:title>
      <image:caption>“As our eyes grow accustomed to sight, they armour themselves against wonder. ” Leonard Cohen</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477290867968-ULH6284D9HZ7RSUIE4S1/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Blindness of Seeing</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Sometimes people let the same problem make them miserable for years when they could just say, "So what." "My mother didn't love me." So what. "My husband won't ball me. So what. "I'm a success but I'm still alone." So what. I don't know how I made it through all the years before I learned how to do that trick. It took a long time for me to learn it, but once you do, you never forget.” --Andy Warhol</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477290667044-SQ8YOEM1QZRFDO5V7K5L/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Blindness of Seeing</image:title>
      <image:caption>To the children and the innocent it's all the same.--Jack Kerouac</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477290136191-T79H2DQHAT8PTA8LWKRN/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Blindness of Seeing</image:title>
      <image:caption>And still the text will remain, if it is really cryptic and parodying (and I tell you that it is so through and through. I might as well tell you since it won’t be of any help to you. Even my admission can very well be a lie because there is dissimulation only if one tells the truth, only if one tells that one is telling the truth), still the text will remain indefinitely open, cryptic and parodying.--Jacques Derrida</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1477290402802-09SKX4FI308WQDRMVLDD/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Blindness of Seeing</image:title>
      <image:caption>It's never too late to have a happy childhood.--Tom Robbins</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/10/16/anyone-can-be-president</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-10-17</lastmod>
    <image:image>
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      <image:title>Blog - Anyone Can Be President</image:title>
      <image:caption>The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25 most people were finished. A whole god-damned nation of assholes driving automobiles, eating, having babies, doing everything in the worst way possible, like voting for the presidential candidates who reminded them most of themselves. I had no interests. I had no interest in anything. I had no idea how I was going to escape. At least the others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn't understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go.--Charles Bukowski</image:caption>
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      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476682071037-SWCW674MSJKHO7XO0GUF/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Anyone Can Be President</image:title>
      <image:caption>Because here's something else that's weird but true: in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship—be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles—is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.--David Foster Wallace</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476681139470-AHS3EWGKP839IPS9SQ1A/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Anyone Can Be President</image:title>
      <image:caption>The strategic adversary is fascism... the fascism in us all, in our heads and in our everyday behavior, the fascism that causes us to love power, to desire the very thing that dominates and exploits us.--Michel Foucault</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476681674920-RPX1DPHROZFEBUVCVNNC/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Anyone Can Be President</image:title>
      <image:caption>It began to seem that one would have to hold in the mind forever two ideas which seemed to be in opposition. The first idea was acceptance, the acceptance, totally without rancor, of life as it is, and men as they are: in the light of this idea, it goes without saying that injustice is a commonplace. But this did not mean that one could be complacent, for the second idea was of equal power: that one must never, in one's own life, accept these injustices as commonplace but must fight them with all one's strength. This fight begins, however, in the heart and it now had been laid to my charge to keep my own heart free of hatred and despair. This intimation made my heart heavy and, now that my father was irrecoverable, I wished that he had been beside me so that I could have searched his face for the answers which only the future would give me now.--James Baldwin</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476683117463-S5YZQENEFU2GTYRAFASA/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Anyone Can Be President</image:title>
      <image:caption>So why do I write, torturing myself to put it down? Because in spite of myself I've learned some things. Without the possibility of action, all knowledge comes to one labeled "file and forget," and I can neither file nor forget. Nor will certain ideas forget me; they keep filing away at my lethargy, my complacency. Why should I be the one to dream this nightmare?--Ralph Ellison</image:caption>
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      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476682517321-4AW21LMMSRFRQUU009B5/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Anyone Can Be President</image:title>
      <image:caption>Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events. It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.--Robert Kennedy</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476682887649-SYOH6S6AC9X268OK1RM8/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Anyone Can Be President</image:title>
      <image:caption>Let no one be discouraged by the belief there is nothing one person can do against the enormous array of the world's ills, misery, ignorance, and violence. Few will have the greatness to bend history, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events. And in the total of all those acts will be written the history of a generation.--Robert Kennedy</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/10/9/ineluctable-modality-of-photographs-of-daughters</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-10-10</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476076884666-AA42ET6AH9TGIKBQCIYU/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Ineluctable Modality of Photographs of Daughters</image:title>
      <image:caption>Ultimately — or at the limit — in order to see a photograph well, it is best to look away or close your eyes. 'The necessary condition for an image is sight,'Janouch told Kafka; and Kafka smiled and replied: 'We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.--Roland Barthes</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476077239042-LRFLEB15JEMWSF2CFW5S/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Ineluctable Modality of Photographs of Daughters</image:title>
      <image:caption>How can another see into me, into my most secret self, without my being able to see in there myself? And without my being able to see him in me. And if my secret self, that which can be revealed only to the other, to the wholly other, to God if you wish, is a secret that I will never reflect on, that I will never know or experience or possess as my own, then what sense is there in saying that it is my secret, or in saying more generally that a secret belongs, that it is proper to or belongs to some one, or to some other who remains someone. It's perhaps there that we find the secret of secrecy. Namely, that it is not a matter of knowing and that it is there for no one. A secret doesn't belong, it can never be said to be at home or in its place. The question of the self: who am I not in the sense of who am I but rather who is this I that can say who? What is the- I and what becomes of responsibility once the identity of the I trembles in secret?--Jacques Derrida</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476076756470-4R8BKLQJYC7FFBUVB0J6/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Ineluctable Modality of Photographs of Daughters</image:title>
      <image:caption>I've forgotten the words with which to tell you. I knew them once, but I've forgotten them, and now I'm talking to you without them.--Marguerite Duras</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1476078358353-6HS5BLBW73G15XZGW63M/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Ineluctable Modality of Photographs of Daughters</image:title>
      <image:caption>We must learn to speak the language women speak when there is no one there to correct us.--Helene Cixous</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/10/2/federman-rememberingremembering-federman</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-10-03</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1475456418154-3UEJ651RYRYDTIDLBGR6/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Federman Remembering/Remembering Federman</image:title>
      <image:caption>Ray Federman gently tells an after dinner story to tiny Quentin Joyce and Anna Livia. "If a word does not exist," he tells them, "you can invent it."</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1475456264004-F30AX657HL371F11XPF6/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Federman Remembering/Remembering Federman</image:title>
      <image:caption>We all live like cockroaches in the crevices of our imagination.--Raymond Federman</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1475455962823-KJP0WF37O3MBLHSUCA01/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Federman Remembering/Remembering Federman</image:title>
      <image:caption>Because you see darling, darling, there are no false questions. All questions in life are true questions. Answers may be false, but questions cannot be false. Sure,they can be dumb, they can be stupid, but never false.--Raymond Federman from Smiles on Washington Square, but also in conversation with Ron Sukenick in Larry McCaffery's home.</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1475455602861-Q20LJ0MPIUK3BGD511O6/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Federman Remembering/Remembering Federman</image:title>
      <image:caption>And so, for me, the only fiction that still means something today is the kind of fiction that tries to explore the possibilities of fiction beyond its own limitations; the kind of fiction that challenges the tradition that governs it; the kind of fiction that constantly renews our faith in man's intelligence and imagination rather than man's distorted view of reality; the kind of fiction that reveals man's playful irrationality rather than his righteous rationality.--Raymond Federman</image:caption>
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    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1475457059054-6WAY3ZYU8DH5VN6UH1AO/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Federman Remembering/Remembering Federman</image:title>
      <image:caption>Thank you, Federman. Thank you.</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/9/25/the-failure-of-failure</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-09-26</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474850078881-IY2TR292Y4R5W3O0DGLO/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Failure of Failure</image:title>
      <image:caption>"I work with pictures and words because they have the ability to determine who we are, what we want, and who we become." --Barbara Kruger</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474846764186-3QIL63YA99J05PW96I84/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Failure of Failure</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Protect me from what I want." Jenny Holzer</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474847870231-O7QNEPULC0FWN4VLK4JD/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Failure of Failure</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Money talks. It makes art. It determines what food we eat, whether we are cured or die, and what shoes we wear." --Barbara Kruger</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474848508746-QSU69Z1RRBJJ6Y8BR5W5/Doug+Rice+Between+Appear+and+Disappear</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Failure of Failure</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Cultivate courage and bravery and a sense of humor to go on." --Pema Chodron</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474848118820-CORYSLED2IBLF6WE1F5X/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Failure of Failure</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Deviants are sacrificed to increase group solidarity."--Jenny Holzer</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474847268111-RB1TZA95MQKSSJGQ8XR8/earl+jackson+doug+rice</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Failure of Failure</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Are you experienced?" --Jimi Hendrix</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474848751279-YF8K40KC6NQZ6WVAYEP5/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Failure of Failure</image:title>
      <image:caption>"You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. And you have to do it all the time." --Angela Davis</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474849603238-JJDP5BTL42HK06KFDYZ1/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Failure of Failure</image:title>
      <image:caption>I decided to teach because I think that any person who studies philosophy has to be involved actively. Angela Davis</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/9/18/a-book-with-disappearing-ink</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-09-19</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474258414149-3XQ2K2GL1AKU56HHJRJW/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Book With Disappearing Ink</image:title>
      <image:caption>I am flooded with vague, deceptive recollections, I am drowning in my imagination in tears borrowed from the most familiar tragedies, I wish I had never read certain books whose poison is working in me.--Helene Cixous</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474259885139-GEBMWA7MJ1SEOLN5ZATJ/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Book With Disappearing Ink</image:title>
      <image:caption>“I'm no longer a child and I still want to be, to live with the pirates. Because I want to live forever in wonder. The difference between me as a child and me as an adult is this and only this: when I was a child, I longed to travel into, to live in wonder. Now, I know, as much as I can know anything, that to travel into wonder is to be wonder. So it matters little whether I travel by plane, by rowboat, or by book. Or, by dream. I do not see, for there is no I to see. That is what the pirates know. There is only seeing and, in order to go to see, one must be a pirate.” --Kathy Acker</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474259539814-GXJGP07O2HVY3CDPABVH/Doug+Rice+Between</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Book With Disappearing Ink</image:title>
      <image:caption>She desired only to loosen her tongue without following what was born of her tongue. (From Between Appear and Disappear.)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474258653251-PIHAS65PISS6WXK3EME5/Doug+Rice+Dream+Memoirs</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Book With Disappearing Ink</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Reading is not as insignificant as we claim. First we must steal the key to the library. Reading is a provocation, a rebellion: we open the book’s door, pretending it is a simple paperback cover, and in broad daylight escape! We are no longer there: this is what real reading is. If we haven’t left the room, if we haven’t gone over the wall, we’re not reading."--Helene Cixous</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474260410592-8H3PF3JC6ON3ZABHRJ2N/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Book With Disappearing Ink</image:title>
      <image:caption>There are more ideas on earth than intellectuals imagine. And these ideas are more active, stronger, more resistant, more passionate than "politicians" think. We have to be there at the birth of ideas, the bursting outward of their force: not in books expressing them, but in events manifesting this force, in struggles carried on around ideas, for or against them. Ideas do not rule the world. But it is because the world has ideas (and because it constantly produces them) that it is not passively ruled by those who are its leaders or those who would like to teach it, once and for all, what it must think.--Michel Foucault</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474258833877-4RK8876EZGPPQIB4MB86/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Book With Disappearing Ink</image:title>
      <image:caption>Just like a real photograph, Mai is both here and not here.  And beneath this photograph on the inside, looking the other way, are traces of a desire that has been worn out. (from Between Appear and Disappear)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1474259046228-OD1OKW2VKSQ11N4WG560/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - A Book With Disappearing Ink</image:title>
      <image:caption>How can another see into me, into my most secret self, without my being able to see in there myself? And without my being able to see him in me. And if my secret self, that which can be revealed only to the other, to the wholly other, to God if you wish, is a secret that I will never reflect on, that I will never know or experience or possess as my own, then what sense is there in saying that it is my secret, or in saying more generally that a secret belongs, that it is proper to or belongs to some one, or to some other who remains someone. It's perhaps there that we find the secret of secrecy. Namely, that it is not a matter of knowing and that it is there for no one. A secret doesn't belong, it can never be said to be at home or in its place. The question of the self: who am I not in the sense of who am I but rather who is this I that can say who? What is the- I and what becomes of responsibility once the identity of the I trembles in secret?--Jacques Derrida</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/9/11/remembering-john-c-gardner</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-09-12</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1473629093220-2AC9XB0COD6UUQ9IM95E/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Remembering John C. Gardner</image:title>
      <image:caption>They watch on, evil, incredibly stupid, enjoying my destruction. 'Poor Grendel's had an accident,' I whisper. 'So may you all. --John Gardner, Grendel  </image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1473629388527-GV1HPCEWVDI2KYPW9ITV/John+C.+Gardner</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Remembering John C. Gardner</image:title>
      <image:caption>O the ultimate evil in the temporal world is deeper than any specific evil, such as hatred, or suffering, or death! The ultimate evil is that Time is perpetual perishing, and being actual involves elimination. The nature of evil may be epitomized, therefore, in two simple but horrible and holy propositions: 'Things fade' and 'Alternatives exclude.' Such is His mystery: that beauty requires contrast, and that discord is fundamental to the creation of new intensities of feeling. Ultimate wisdom, I have come to perceive, lies in the perception that the solemnity and grandeur of the universe rise through the slow process of unification in which the diversities of existence are utilized, and nothing, 'nothing' is lost. -- John Gardner, Grendel</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1473628764506-VL8NW0ZIN5OSAI4NJZ57/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Remembering John C. Gardner</image:title>
      <image:caption>"One of the dangers in teaching or taking creative writing classes lies--and here I'm speaking from my experience again--in the overencouragement  of young writers. But I learned from Gardner to take that risk rather than err on the other side. He gave and kept giving, even when the vital signs fluctuated wildly, as they do when someone is young and learning. .." Raymond Carver</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1473629862565-32UCG4Y2DZP26Y79S6QP/John+C.+Gardner</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Remembering John C. Gardner</image:title>
      <image:caption>In a world where nearly everything that passes for art is tinny and commercial and often, in addition, hollow and academic, I argue--by reason and by banging the table--for an old-fashioned view of what art is and does and what the fundamental business of critics ought therefore to be. Not that I want joy taken out of the arts; but even frothy entertainment is not harmed by a touch of moral responsibility, at least an evasion of too fashionable simplifications. --John C. Gardner, On Moral Fiction</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1473630139646-07W7B4MER8PH51N5Q52Q/John+Gardner+Doug+Rice</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Remembering John C. Gardner</image:title>
      <image:caption>What the best fiction does is make powerful affirmations of familiar truths...the trivial fiction which times filters out is that which either makes wrong affirmations or else makes affirmations in a squeaky little voice. Powerful affirmation comes from strong intellect and strong emotions supported by adequate technique. --John C. Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/9/3/unnerving-moments-of-rapture</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-09-05</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472954309375-A4R9DA2LEOL79ITRU8AB/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Unnerving Moments of Rapture</image:title>
      <image:caption>"That child with her dancing threatens all that you convinced yourself is true. But it ain’t true, is it? No, it ain’t. None of it’s true after all. It’s just what you did to yourself to protect yourself from love, from pain, from scars.”--from Here Lies Memory, Doug Rice</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472954061381-A5VXQRZMB3VLZGQDNGHL/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Unnerving Moments of Rapture</image:title>
      <image:caption>“The artist seeks contact with his intuitive sense of the gods, but in order to create his work, he cannot stay in this seductive and incorporeal realm. He must return to the material world in order to do his work. It's the artist's responsibility to balance mystical communication and the labor of creation.”--Patti Smith, Just Kids</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472953399956-TQKUW9V5BB6887WHJXZQ/Doug+Rice+Josh+Fernandez+Jordan+Okumura</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Unnerving Moments of Rapture</image:title>
      <image:caption>“When I write, it's everything that we don't know we can be that is written out of me, without exclusions, without stipulation, and everything we will be calls us to the unflagging, intoxicating, unappeasable search for love. In one another we will never be lacking.” --Helene Cixous</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472954935770-8JQDZ1G8HD7CHZI8Q4V3/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Unnerving Moments of Rapture</image:title>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472955155143-JXUOSUCS6R6Z0LF16ZAW/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Unnerving Moments of Rapture</image:title>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472953504860-2PZIPJ9CMAG8JW2MFVDA/Doug+Rice</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Unnerving Moments of Rapture</image:title>
      <image:caption>“We all got someone who is dead inside us,” Red would say. “A dead child holding out a hand to each of us in silence, that child just holding out his hand wanting us to grab hold of its fingertips, just wanting. Hoping.”  -- from Here Lies Memory, Doug Rice</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/8/28/squirming-forever-at-the-edge-of-desire</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-08-29</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472428303181-9W357V6S3G6RN8RN5K5V/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Squirming forever at the edge of desire</image:title>
      <image:caption>Beneath her language another language haunts her. One more agile, one more ancient, one more elusive. She tells me this is the language of her lungs, a breath that pries open her lips. (from Between Appear and Disappear)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472429481055-8AKLP773R0497OS318A0/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Squirming forever at the edge of desire</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Authenticity in literature does not come from a writer's personal honesty ... Authenticity comes from a single faithfulness: that to the ambiguity of experience ... If a writer is not driven by a desire for the most demanding verbal precision, the true ambiguity of events escape him." --John Berger</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472429231591-HZW9P6M0Z3O0JD9QUEXQ/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Squirming forever at the edge of desire</image:title>
      <image:caption>Slow reading will make you a better writer. Slow reading changes your mind, the way exercise changes your body: a whole new world will open up; you will breathe differently, you will feel and act and think differently, because books will be more alive and open to you.</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472431100389-A6ALIOQJAKMA103Q7NQL/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Squirming forever at the edge of desire</image:title>
      <image:caption>The desire in this sentence can only say, or only say again, what already exists in its language. The rest remains silent. (from Between Appear and Disappear)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/8/23/the-political-unconscious-of-boredom-part-one</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-08-29</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1471999586241-WULIJXYFDO09S54UOUU8/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Political Unconscious of Boredom (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Memory unsettles the past, Elgin." And Elgin wondered if he imagined those cold, winter mornings. The noise of a silent house is physical. A man's body experiences the sounds that have been buried beneath the hardwood floors, beneath the paint on the walls. You walk through your grandmother's house, and you don't hear a sound no more, but your body experiences all that you wish was not true, all that you wish you could forget... (from Daughters of the Rivers)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1471999415333-7MJFTM2SP4ONYW2DNW6F/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Political Unconscious of Boredom (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>"Look, Dad. This is not a pipe!"</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472000219337-8HWZHXCGJU1BMSSCFS75/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Political Unconscious of Boredom (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>A photograph interrupts time. (from Lust and Time)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472000554010-JULPQH1APEJU8DQRZRLB/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Political Unconscious of Boredom (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>"You listen to the music that seeps through the fog." Grandma CeCe to Elgin (Daughters of the Rivers) thanks to Lan Do for the photo.</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1472000424054-75F9WZVVSQHYN880521S/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - The Political Unconscious of Boredom (Part One)</image:title>
      <image:caption>There is a crack in everything That's how the light gets in.--Leonard Cohen</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/8/16/segregation-matters</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-08-29</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1471387822961-1N6C74RHKPU8JQ901JHV/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Segregation Matters</image:title>
      <image:caption>“Some things,” she told him, “just tear open at the seams.” And some things, Elgin thought to himself, tear you open at the seams, and where’s the needle for that? What can you do when the pieces themselves are all cracked? When each piece needs mending? (Here Lies Memory, Black Scat Books)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1471389373329-MXRHUBGT9VWE3ZH62N81/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Segregation Matters</image:title>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1471388106626-9GR4R6UR9GVSYFW8O949/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Segregation Matters</image:title>
      <image:caption>Johnny looked over his grandfather’s shoulder, out the window onto Dinwiddie Street, out over the buildings to the city. There were more and more darkened houses on the street, abandoned and dilapidated houses that, at one time, had been homes. Broken door- ways. Boarded-up windows. Broken glass in what little yellowed and burned grass survived the humidity of the dry summers in Pittsburgh. (Here Lies Memory, Black Scat Books)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1471389594359-1W95FFDC37I5QWRN5I8F/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Segregation Matters</image:title>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1471389125060-RUXQ1A8EQD9DT2Q1XBCM/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Segregation Matters</image:title>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/8/8/wim-wenders-william-s-burroughs-and-pokemon-go</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-08-12</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1470715178680-QJBQQH1FXT4NGYS6EADI/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Wim Wenders, William S. Burroughs, and Pokemon GO</image:title>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1470715321352-RLFZGKTHQSDP8R2WK9FI/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Wim Wenders, William S. Burroughs, and Pokemon GO</image:title>
      <image:caption>They could have met each other. They could have created a life so magical that angels would have wept with joy.</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1470716390438-T1N7DK5956XHDZV0F0B6/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Wim Wenders, William S. Burroughs, and Pokemon GO</image:title>
      <image:caption>I would like to bring you here to remember.</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1470723427907-8LTY6AQFUBL7V91APBUZ/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Wim Wenders, William S. Burroughs, and Pokemon GO</image:title>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1470719752285-OXRS2FTDIGCN57M7WLUK/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Wim Wenders, William S. Burroughs, and Pokemon GO</image:title>
      <image:caption>Sometimes you find something beautiful just in time. You were about to settle for something else, something you could name, something you've known before, something familiar, then something in you is astonished and awakens. You don't have a name for it. You just trust it. (Daughters of the Rivers: The Second Pittsburgh Novel)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1470720826072-QT2IONU71VBWLKYUNE7R/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Wim Wenders, William S. Burroughs, and Pokemon GO</image:title>
      <image:caption>Imagine what it would be like if you never had to blink again? Imagine how much more living you would get done. How much more you would see. (Daughters of the Rivers: The Second Pittsburgh Novel)</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/2016/7/30/adjectives-and-gentrification-in-pittsburgh</loc>
    <changefreq>monthly</changefreq>
    <priority>0.5</priority>
    <lastmod>2016-08-02</lastmod>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1469943742962-UG9T67Y82I9SFRZZVVBE/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Adjectives and Gentrification in Pittsburgh</image:title>
      <image:caption>A man and a woman experience the wild joy that comes from being alive and free of adjectives in Union Square, San Francisco.</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1469945296306-AL26POR4SEMTNDW17F37/lawrenceville_rockingchairs</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Adjectives and Gentrification in Pittsburgh</image:title>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
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      <image:title>Blog - Adjectives and Gentrification in Pittsburgh</image:title>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1470095351169-3IVG80P0ITJIATCMECGZ/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Adjectives and Gentrification in Pittsburgh</image:title>
      <image:caption>This is not a true headline; it is not factual. This did not happen in the real world. It is a headline text example from Ellen Lupton's book, Thinking With Type. However, I feel this headline is true; I experience it as true; therefore, it is true, no matter what the factual truth may suggest.</image:caption>
    </image:image>
    <image:image>
      <image:loc>https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/577044fcb8a79bc1087c6977/1470098762124-Y33OX0LI1OG89AJ2JZ8E/image-asset.jpeg</image:loc>
      <image:title>Blog - Adjectives and Gentrification in Pittsburgh</image:title>
      <image:caption>Welcome to Pittsburgh, google, and your over-inflated real estate prices and your "faith" in a speculative economy that does not create anything.</image:caption>
    </image:image>
  </url>
  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/category/social+criticism</loc>
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  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/category/cultural+studies</loc>
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  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/category/Novels</loc>
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  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/category/presidential+election</loc>
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    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/tag/Fifty+Shades+of+Grey</loc>
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  <url>
    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/tag/trump</loc>
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    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/tag/Segregation</loc>
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    <loc>http://www.doug-rice.com/doug-rice-blog/tag/William+Faulkner</loc>
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