listening to: motown

motown = motor town = detroit, a 1, a 2, a you know what to do.

this blog is now closed for business. i've been looking at other ones with pictures and music and that's what i'll get.

dont ideologise

listening to: animal collective


the archetype of the 'unnatural' deviant, amplifying the practice of resistance through style.
equally oppressed by the seamless web of forms and meanings which encloses and yet excludes:
'i was astounded by so rigorous an edifice whose details were united against me. nothing in the world is irrelevant: the stars on a general's sleeve, the stock-market quotations, the olive harvest, teh style of the judiciary, the wheat exchange, the flower-beds,... Nothing. This order... had a meaning - my exile.'

Jarry's cult of subjectivity.

'disarticulate' language with ambiguity puns neoligisms cliches and words used for their morphophonetic rather than semantic content. characterize that world. gravitate towards an instinctual, anarchic nature. translate it by an aggressive discourse. constitute a revolt against traditional usages of language.

create a word, throw it around, a privileged entry into your lexicon because it applies to you and your universe. A simple word suddenly changed with mythic significance. (UBU has merdre and it is happily applied to people and objects in his universe, which really only exist in relation to himself. His officer is his 'garcon de ma merdre', his wife 'madame de ma merde'. Enamored of his pompe a merde, he informs his world with overflowing, obscene matter. -- this is not my universe, its jarry's)

change spelling: expand a word's field of connotation.

Where is the great metaphysical fear that roots all theatre?
The great metaphysical fear that can allude a human if you want it to.
An indestructible yearning to escape the routine and the commonplace.
Pataphysics.

'Notoriously addicted to individual liberty, as well as to ether, which became his major vice - it was cheaper than absinthe - Jarry determinedly stalked absolute freedom, even though it led him to self-destruction.'

Shooting glass bottles against a garden wall, a mother is concerned for her children. Should they come to any inadvertent harm, he says, I will happily assist you in making new ones.

I need to read H.G Well's the time machine.

In a society you consider profoundly mediocre, push your own existence to the absurd. fanatically exercise individual freedom.

'He ordered a complete dinner in reverse, beginning with brandy and ending with soup; he then ordered a small glass of red ink into which he dipped a piece of sugar - to be eaten with great relish - without deigning to notice the bewilderment of the restaurateur'.

A sole desire to astonish the common crowd, to manifest ferocious mockery in physical appearance.
If you reject the linear, do you turn instead to symbolism and magic?
And what does this mean, 'the identity of the return of the Same with absolute dispersion of man.' - Foucault?
art is either plagiarism or revolution?

Art now. Not the symbolic expressions of sympathy or the visualisation of a certain critique of the injustices in question. The point is to present solutions, create toolkits and do-it-yourself guides. allow disadvantageds to better their situation. this form of engaged art is marked by no-nonsense, its realism: if you are not striving for immediate improvement in the fate of the victims, you have no right as an artist to produce great art.
the stakes of art are immeasurable.

i have been trying to gauge what changes between the feeling of fullness and the feeling of swirling despair! the change from self-satisfaction to self-deprication. the necessary flux. the disconnection of the modern world i do believe in. that the modern world is a beautiful thing i believe too.

there may once have been a place of light
where a god not made by man took flight

a lonely voice of descent in a generation and a common cry of madness. come to the conclusion that society sucks. you hate society? go and buy a gun and shoot yourself! you need money to buy a gun. the great importance of descent! i want to find truth and meaning in life! is that so corny?
spring from the margins.
dostoyevsky - notes on the underground
i read a piece, arthur rimbaud: the aesthetic of intoxication
you drink so much the next day you feel mortal. each ache and pain reminds of the possibility of a greater pain that never goes. twenty two, twenty two, i must avoid death!
liberate the word: be the bravest of the brave. with open acceptance i hope to propel these ideas, these people!

don't you occassionally feel the urge to embrace all these things?
oh my darling i am not overly critical. i don't like to criticise where people try
we all use our energies in different ways
some expel it in spitballs of scorn: what is not good deserves it
others nod, or half smile:
i accept what you do
i suppose i act to conserve it
the impetus to try.
i like though that you can define what's good and not
just know it's in my character to accept most things
to listen
to what does not correlate to a lack of passion
your integrity is my integrity.

a systematic arrangement of the senses
the senses are illogical forms
shatter them
well done surrealism
"thou shalt not be such a shit you don't know you are one"
why do you write?
do you sometimes wake from this dream and feel you are inhabiting yourself for the first time?
oh its so good to lose the internet
to feel connected with poets painters
transluscent treehouses
opulescent
the psycho-chemical age: overturned
pedal to the floor
nose stuck in the door
a seatbelt wrapped around my jaw
this is not a car crash
society includes non-human people
stop calling old people stupid
stop laughing at tv programmes

i want to move away from here but i can't just yet and so the most important thing i think is not to get overly comfortable and not to get upset. this may seem mad to you, to carry on when you know something isn't quite right. but i also feel that if you start something, there is merit in finishing it.
brief existence. emotionally rich, don't let it not be rich
the policeman is there not to create order
the policeman is there to preserve disorder
seeing people bursting with energy!!
the things i shall allow myself:
a love to listen
i like basketball
i like to buy postcards and visit treasure houses
try to take every illegal drug once a year
its not a tragic death.
what are your hopes, your aspirations?
is it important to make these clear?
to not be mundane.
working with children teaching them standardised skills of mathematics
is this mundane?
is that mundane?
keep carving out a consciously unreal place to never stay too long in.
i want absinthe. i want to be in an unmarked grave.
i believe in tenderness.
a dionysian movement in late civilisation
don't ideologise,
don't deny the pure.
the most important things:
type written pages
submissive to everything?
in love with life
be crazy
write what you want bottomless
the unspeakable visions of the individual
i understand and i want to understand more

last words: i know i should be frightened, but im exhilerated
your eyes are still looking for jesus
you make the world beautiful

this'll be around forever wont it

listening to: elvis costello

'when do you come into contact with children?!'
'when i go to the playground'

the secret massage room

listening to: neil diamond - the pot song

last night:

the secret massage room.

i had been sworn to secrecy and told to stay in a cupboard. the comedian had demanded that no one should know he was there. i jumped out of the cupboard and the swinging of the door open knocked him square in the head. it was michael caine and he was supposed to be getting married, but how could i let his wife marry him while knowing that tash had given him a naked massage in the secret massage room at the boys college sports centre. i had made a lot of people very angry through bursting out of the cupboard; sarah had said whatever i did i must stay in that cupboard. i picked up my speed and as i ran away i got covered in wet gravel and plastic bags and the gravel felt like the stuff the salvia made me roll in at oxegen festival. there were children outside the sports centre with strong bristolian accents telling me how good holly was and did i realise it. i made it into the church and found myself on a pew with sarah cleaver. i was still covered in scratchy gravel. two young black girls with reaaaaaally long legs like betty spaghetti and long stretched jumpers were dancing either side of the priest and the couple waiting to be married. i was trying to edge my way out of the pew. i relaxed when i realised that an objection (i think by janine) had already been made to the marriage.
--

the teachings of don juan

listening to: radio 4 - the today programme

so many so many thoughts last night and all through the day riding for hours through amager and already reading 80 or so pages of the teachings of don juan. that book got me so excited,

so excited that when the dog kept appearing, around every corner in christiania, this big, black dog, around every corner it seemed Mescalito.

and how excited i am calming down for a while with some things to do. and how early in the morning i'm awake to take a phenomenology class, and the skies even a little bit blue and my rooms been heated on 5. these three days of sunshine have made me realise how absolutely miserable the cold weather has made me.

i dreamt last night myself and three rah rah friend of the royals boys were plotting to sell a story about prince harry to the newspapers. i figured because they were ringleading it, and because i didnt know prince harry at all, it wasn't really unethical of me to get involved to make a swift buck.

black diamond

listening to: charlie parr

the nearest thing to walking up a hill in copenhagen is the travelator in the black diamond library; i went for a run in the stinging rain and it led me there. too cold today. i finished 'on the road'. no matter how sad or mad dishevelled dean moriarty is at the end, he's no tragedy is neal cassady..

'what i should've said was they were
just ripples on the bottom of the upside down lake of the void'

lucky sal though. how was it everyone liked him so much? i think i ask very different questions when reading this. reading it in the week before term starts in expensive and dark copenhagen, oh i've never felt so stagnant and itchy and podgy and ready to pop and deflate wildly around the world.

restless souls able to tell a life story at the click of a finger.

the final chapter, the mexican chapter, made me excited for summer and sad for this dark drudge that keeps us all cooped up inside, you'd be mad to hitch to mexico city from copenhagen in this weather. i cannot stand these winter months. i cannot stand more darkness. february 1st, it has been dark for 30 minutes and its 5.26pm.

there are some awful things on the waves today.

yuck. ive just listened to the liars - 'dear god' from the housecloud 7" and its without doubt terrible.

gulping at banana pear yoghurt from a plastic carton. new month, new goals for when it stops being so god damn cold.

radio 4 heaven

listening to:

today is radio 4 heaven, lying in bed reading the northern lights, getting up for tea breaks and listening to a serialisation of roald dahl's 'the witches' on the pocket radio. talk to my mum about what our daemon would be, i think a red squirrel, she wants something graceful like the swan from her shamanic journey but it could more likely be a sheep with a puzzled expression.

the book is making me remember childhood vs adulthood and today i feel particularly childlike. a great feeling. the way they played the witches on radio 4 made me feel strongly that child and adult worlds should be more evenly appreciated. i love childlike.

i love juggling. i have taught myself to juggle and each time i practice i get better. it made me squeal with glee when i got it for the first time.

im going to get back to reading northern lights now..

i am very, very happy today.

you dont have to be this and you dont have to be that, as long as you're happy.