Looked at James Heller Levinson and Anthony Seidman's new journal, Arson, which comes out of the vector of Hambone and Sulfur but with a decidedly Lamantian bent. I'd forgotten how over-the-top it is even to write a poem -- open the magazine at random and you'll find lines like "We're her legs' pimps" and "In the gun powder of your gaze the shaking of autumn is concentrated, the amethyst that sifts the voluntary color of incorruptible days." Levinson and Seidman may or may not have standards, but there's undeniable work by Fanny Howe, George Kalamaras, John Olson, and Will Alexander.

Reading a magazine or three every day I understand Ron's impulse to deploy superlatives as a mnemonic -- I don't think he means best ever as much as memorably enjoyable. Substitute some non-hedonic term for enjoyable if you have to.

Reading -- reading around in -- a magazine or book or three every day. I think of it as hypervigilance, but would I feel that way if I were pursuing exercise, or sex, or some other art at this rate?