But if you apologize to a bug after squashing it (“sorry, mate” is my go-to phrase, even though I am not English or Australian and don’t call anyone “mate”) you are exculpated and have done no wrong. I mean, is that a myth? I Ask for Water and You Bring Me the Ancestors – 2009 – Mixed Media on 300 lb watercolour paper. The arrests occurred when about 150 demonstrators who had been kettled in Mansell Street were arrested one by one for alleged breach of Section 12 of the Public Order Act 1986. The five Legal Observers who were contained in the kettle and remained to the end to ensure that the protesters were aware of their legal rights were also arrested. Strangely cryptomnesia and dark tourism have both come up for me a lot this summer, for whatever reason. In my early twenties I was completely enthralled with the idea and ‘evidence’ of cryptomnesia -- finding it through a mutual interest in early American intentional / socialist communities and 19th / e 20th c spiritualist publications -- and was certain it represented a productive metaphor or productive theory -- toward the creative commons. I was really preoccupied by the “Frost King” controversy that surrounded Helen Keller. I haven’t gotten much past this first question -- I just iteratively work it. Robert says, “Radio volume should be set to an even number (it doesn’t matter with televisions)”; David counters with, “It’s quite clear that, when given an option you should always set dials etc to odd numbers [tho it’s true that I have been known to argue that one is not a number (odd or even) and that two (therefore) is an odd number, but these are esoteric subtleties that do not obviate the basic rule ... ].” So what’s been going on with Syria’s water resources over the past several years? Essentially, a massive, five-and-a-half-year drought. From 2006 to 2011, 60 percent of Syria’s land experienced what may be the worst long-term drought and most severe set of crop failures since the birth of agricultural civilizations in the area. Is this the First Warming War? The concluding sentence of Benjamin’s essay on Goethe's Elective Affinities reads, ‘Only for the sake of the hopeless ones have we been given hope.’ Hope ain’t faith, but it’ll have to do. When I end this line / I’ll count to three & you’ll awake / forget this ever happened 1 2 / you can smell tcp / for up to three weeks after you die / (the antiseptic? tenocyclidine?) / 壁の新聞の女はいつも泣いて居る: The woman / in the newspaper / on the wall / is always crying / “the sun’s magnetic field is poised 2 flip” / When we greet someone we say keisediwos, milk is glaccha, a friend is a kerrant, and so on. Some of our grandparents still had good-luck ceramic mendismi hanging above their beds. In the end, my train wasn’t too crowded; I even managed to get a seat. Only two of us got out at Bond Street. The other guy was short and pug-faced, sweating in a leather jacket with a copy of the Racing Post sticking out of one pocket. As we walked down the platform he did something strange: rather than following the signs for the exit or the Jubilee line, he quickly looked around to make sure nobody was watching him and, not seeing me, ducked into a passageway clearly marked No Entry. What else could I do? I followed him. The passage was dark, its tiles smeared with greasy stains, a viscous black liquid collecting in its corners, a sharp scent of piss wafting over the normal musty Underground fug. I followed the man through countless corridors, down ramps and staircases, around dozens of twisting corners. Clearly this wasn’t a shortcut. Occasionally I saw adverts plastered on the walls, some for products I recognised, some for those I didn’t. Herbert’s Soap lightens the White Man’s Burden, said one. As civilisation advances in the Dark Continent, Herbert’s Soap is always there as a standard-bearer of Hygiene & Cleanliness. Another showed a priapic man and a big-titted woman against a backdrop of stars and rockets. The future of fucking is here, it said. ‘Damon’ and ‘Lucille’ sexbots starting at $3.2bn. Damon waved and winked as I passed. We must have walked for fifteen minutes, spiralling deeper into the ground; him striding, me creeping, with a growing sickly awareness that I was about to miss my lecture on morpheme-lexeme paradigms. As I hobbled down a long staircase, lit by what appeared to be gas-lamps that grew dimmer and dimmer as they plunged towards the bottom, I thought for a moment that I could hear the heavy breathing of some enormous creature. Finally we emerged on an empty Central line platform much like the one we’d just left. It was then that my unwitting Virgil noticed me. His rubbery face screwed itself up in consternation; for a moment I thought he was about to accuse me of something. I readied my excuses: I was lost in the big city; I didn’t know what I was doing; yes, I’d seen the no entry sign, but – and here my voice would rise to a plaintive whine – it’s my birthdayyyy … He didn’t say anything. He just shrugged and strolled towards a bench. I stood paralysed for a moment. There was no point trying to get to Dollis Hill now; my best bet was to take a westbound train and go home. The lecture slides would be online. I could copy them out, or maybe I could just smoke some weed myself and watch the little footballers dance. I stared blankly at the station list across the tracks. Something was keeping me from going. The train had almost arrived before I realised what it was. Between Tottenham Court Road and Holborn was a station I’d never seen before: Hexley Square. LET’S GET A HOUSE TOGETHER AND BREED RATS. Has anyone really been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like Hexley Square? (‘I am best / when I dabble in consciousness and a soundly / spinning room’). I mean, there are approximately 800,000 dams in operation on at least 60 percent of the world’s rivers. Of these dams, 37,641 are registered as “large”, meaning those that are at least fifteen meters in height, or with a minimum reservoir size of three million cubic meters. Constructed of mass configurations of concrete, steel and earth, their reservoirs have inundated more than 400,000 square kilometers of formerly terrestrial landscape, displacing entire environments and forty to eighty million people within their aqueous footprints. So what’s it like, out on the moors? “me alone lolloping, cuz i like that word, on spongy shagpile / bare feet, n i’m takin giant strides under a low sky of children’s b&w handprints, forming the face of mata hari, no, myra hindley, starin me out with her one good eye. soundtrack of my moors is the smiths wailing on the wrong speed and i’m carryin a cold baby, we’re running towards a bus stop. where i sit in the shelter with a stranger. he passes me a cigarette. when i say thanks, he sez: ‘go home, you fuckin londoner.’ it’s raining cheap cider. cathy is dead. she didn’t even leave a ghost. on the top deck of the night bus i sit behind kate bush – she’s snogging heathcliffe until he turns to dust in her arms, and by the time we reach clapham she’s wailing that song.” O! hidden gems –the weeds that already looked dirty, main, stood up that we pulled the boats out as they had engraved us.
[Note: Sources: JBR; Robert Archambeau, FB post, 8 Sept 013; JBR; Steven McCabe, FB post, 8 Sept 013; LDMG (Legal Defence and Monitoring Group), “LDMG press statement- 8/9/2013 Outrage at arrests of Legal Observers”, via Sean Bonney, FB post, 8 Sept 013 (“Five independent Legal Observers were arrested at the UAF and UEE organised demonstration against the EDL in Tower Hamlets on Saturday 7th September 2013. The five were part of a team of 14 Legal Observers organised jointly by the Legal Defence and Monitoring Group (LDMG) and The Haldane Society of Socialist Lawyers”); Andrew Maxwell, FB comment, 8 Sept 013 (“Cryptomnesia occurs when a forgotten memory returns without it being recognized as such by the subject, who believes it is something new and original” – Wikipedia); JBR, but see Archambeau, above; JBR; David Norton Need, FB comment, 8 Sept 013; JBR; John Light and Francisco Femia, quoted in Light’s “Drought Helped Spark Syria’s Civil War — Is it One of Many Climate Wars to Come?”, at Bill Moyers, 6 Sept 013, via Stephen Kuusisto, FB post, 8 Sept 013; JBR, but see previous; Walter Benjamin, Berlin Childhood and other writings, FB post, 8 Sept 013; JBR; Peter Hughes, “Site Guide (site 3)”, FB post, 8 Sept 013, JBR; Alex Fyffe, “Pencils and Glass: More Free-Form Haiku by Ozaki Hōsai (尾崎放哉)”, at Entry No. 1, 22 Apr 012 (Fyffe’s translation?); Sandra Simonds, FB post, 8 Sept 013; Sam Kriss, “The pointlessness of signs”, at Idiot Joy Showland, 8 Sept 013 (“Findlail is mildly famous in certain circles for being one of the few places in the Highlands where traces of the old pre-Celtic language survive.”); Zoe, “MADDIE”, and “is harry hairy?”, at i have absolutely no idea, 8 Sept 013; Lynn Melnick, quoted in Powell’s Books blurb for her If I Should Say I Have Hope, via Marthe Reed, FB post, 8 Sept 013; JBR; Brett Milligan, “Massively Redistributed In Space And Time”, at Free Association Design, 2 Sept 013; Rauan Klassnik, and Penny Goring, quoted in Klassnik’s “………..Penny Goring…………”, at HTMLGIANT, 7 Sept 013; Lonely Christopher/Arthur Rimbaud, “After the Flood”, at Wonder, 7 Sept 013]