Take a break, get inspired, and learn a bit more about Tim Kooken. Here is our twist on an interview.
- A quote that inspires you:
- Your writing process described as a song: sun ra & his intergalactic myth science solar arkestra – sleeping beauty [LP]
- You’re a writer so tell us with your words why you write. But please don’t bore us:
There was a time when I’d staunchly have left this question unanswered. Now, I think it is impossible to truly answer but worth the time to think about. That there is something which drives me to write is obvious, though only with real practice do I feel that I have found writing engaging, troubling, demanding, confusing, mystical, and so much in itself inexplicable. I think that many people write to explain or make sense but I can’t ever really be sure, and it honestly has no effect on why I write in the first place. It is more their writing itself that inspired me, encouraged me, in the thinking of analysts and the mystical surrealism of mystical surrealists and their diagrams of language I’ve seen, their structural idiosyncrasies, and in the instantaneous rhythms of my favorite poets, or the space-out jazz I prefer to write along to.
If I think I see something in the sound of a wild bird or even a tame, familiar bird, even if I can’t recognize it, I write. Or if I am studying something with my eyes closed, I do. I believe in something, sometimes. Though it is far more often that I couldn’t say what I believe in, or what my method of doing any particular action, like writing, seems to be. Then, I wonder if writing isn’t really an action at all. Of course, it is, but from another view, writing is a surveying and a witnessing and a consuming anxiety or consuming calm or both. It is a web of associations and myths and the constant unveiling of mystery and meaning beneath a configuration of symbols and aural cues, visual cues, memories, retellings, tomes. In so many ways, I write because the world is as it appears to me, but it is also just as it is – in the passages between these two ways of being, language is a framework with which experimentation or exaltation or dread or angst is born. Or, anything. I write because I don’t know and I don’t know if I ever will but there’s always something to learn. If I think I can tell the difference between two colors in a drying leaf, for instance, I’ll write. Or if there were two eerily similar events in two drastically different days. If nothing is the same, at all, one moment to the next, I’ll write. Right now, I’m writing because I’ve been asked to. Also, right now, no one has to tell me to write for me to do so.
- What is a recent story or poem you’ve had published elsewhere that we should read?
“The Red Disk” was published in consīs.
Tim has been a beetle, crow, mountain lion, seashell, gust of wind, cathedral spire, a chant in the middle of night, a wooden drum by the river, a still filled then emptied, a human so human it cannot bear its humanity. Love the world and she loves you back – that’s a good way to end this, he’s decided.
See you next week, with another not-so-typical interview.