The Opening of the Apartheid Mind : Options for the New South ...
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Because you go through Heathrow or any airport and you go, What’s behind that hollow cardboard wall? And he decided to find out, so he spent time there, and every time I’ve been through Heathrow since then, I know what’s behind those walls. The way the whole airport shakes every time an airplane lands, you’re like, ‘Am I in a structure or just a diagram of a structure?’ You’re not really sure. Added to the fact that there are no clocks there, either, so you’re sort of lost in this flimsy world, which is the way they would like to keep it. Omama planted the amoa hi song trees at the edges of the forest, where the earth comes to an end and the sky’s feet are rooted, held in place by the giant armadillo spirits and the turtle spirits. Here these trees tirelessly distribute their chanting to the xapiri who rush to them. These are very tall, decorated with shiny down feathers of blinding white. Their trunks are covered in constantly moving lips, ranged one above the other. These innumerable mouths let out splendid songs, which follow each other as countless as the stars in the sky’s chest. Their words are never repeated. As soon as one song finishes, the next one has already started.
1.
2.
3.
4,
Yrs. Hal
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Revelation etched his eyes when he heard her sing mathematical formulas.
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But can symmetry ever rely on memory?
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The villagers recognized a new beginning when a sudden wind bent the trees backward.
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As a student, she was flawless.
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When she mentioned the possibility of forgetting “what it was like before pain,” the postman fingered his empty sack and understood a new pain from knowing the possible only as possibility.
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In exchange for electricity, they accepted a colonizer’s alphabet.
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To treat asthma, drink nothing but the liquid from a pigeon’s egg for 40 days.
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The clicking is what freaks y’all out? Speaking of affirmation and negative dialectics. Sugimoto embarked on this project in the late 1970s and continued until he had a portfolio of photos of “shining screens” and their surrounds, taken all around the united states. Among his most famous works, Theaters has given rise to a number of interpretations, some complementary, come contradictory. It is my view that the real drama of the shining screens does not lie in the surrounds, the proscenium arches, the empty seats, etc. While those are also of interest, the question for me is: What might it “mean” (aesthetically, ontologically, psychologically, ecologically, politically …) to overinscribe a surface with light until all temporal and material details “disappear” (or do they)? In order to allow the viewer to do her own thinking about this before I offer my interpretation, Volume 1, which is made up of nothing but details of the “shining screens”, is being published first. Volume 2, which will require watching and analyzing all the films shown that enabled Sugimoto’s photos to achieve their effect(s), will follow sometime within the next two years. So we are all, at the cellular level, operating on “super under human levels of trust.” I mean, I laughed out loud in that scene when Kathy Acker is resurrected. And then there’s so much about dreaming, the dream life and the waking life, the influence of one over the other, the confusion as to which is more “real,” which makes me think of Lovecraft, and then I was thinking of that South Park episode when Cthulhu is awoken … What happens to the ‘shifters’ ‘I’ and ‘you’ when — well, when they don’t cease to shift? How does ‘Wow’ respond to the information given? We come to identify with the ‘friend’ who is introduced in the next line, who ‘faints at my feet’, and who will return a few lines later: ‘My friend is hurt’. As the static interference brings AOR song clichés into bastardised collage, ‘you’, its most vacuous trope (or its most ‘capacious’, depending on how you like your lyrics), also becomes its most elusive: ‘you refused’. It is a ‘you’, moreover, which ‘does’ — ‘The way you got of doing’, ‘the way you do’ — and does in an inimitable way (although what, precisely, is inimitable about it remains a subject for conjecture). But whoever this ‘you’ is, it ain’t us. And indeed, this is / is this? what the image of the ‘brick radio’ would tell us: What is being referred to of course, are the two ‘vacancies’ at Shoe Zone in Manchester (Vacancy Reference Number VAC000398914) and Peterborough (Vacancy Reference Number VAC000401850), both delivered by Babcock Training Limited. For the animals know their heightened diction. For if money is a form of poetry so is Detroit. For now we must live in geologic time and it scares us. For if an old dog is nice we protect it with our lives. For stripes are basic and should be worn. We were nearly always sleeping / Just past the sign that says / “Welcome Distinguished Mr. President” / Don’t stick your hand in the fryer I dare you / We slipped through bricks / So we said we would steal helicopters / All in red / And into a full body cast / Into breathable shards / For Blossom Dearie was a great poet. So. “Archaeology is a machine, certainly, but why miraculous? A critical machine, a machine which puts in question certain relations of power, a machine which has – or at least tries to have – a liberating function. I mean, “It must be underlined that I do not agree without restriction with what I have said in my books … Fundamentally, I write for the pleasure of writing.” I mean, in a discussion with psychoanalyst Hélio Pellegrino Foucault is accused of having an “extremely curious” position in relation to Oedipus. Foucault responds by suggesting that ‘Oedipus’ does not exist for him, and that he is interested in the figure mobilised in the texts Oedipus rex and Oedipus at Colonnus by Sophocles, along with other classical Greek sources. Foucault suggests that many analyses of Oedipus – it seems clear he is including Pellegrino – are pre-Deleuzian, though post-Freudian. He continues: You find me hateful [détestable], and you are right: I am hateful. Oedipus, I don’t know. When you say of Oedipus – this is desire, that is not desire – I reply: if you want. Who is Oedipus? What on earth is that? Pellegrino replies A fundamental structure of human existence. Foucault: Then I will reply in Deleuzian terms – and here I am entirely Deleuzian – that this is absolutely not a fundamental structure of human existence, but a certain kind of constraint, a certain relation of power that ... Oh my god — I just remembered I can fly. When you say I’ve got my head in the clouds do you mean that in a good way? What would you do for love? What would I do for love? What if we love each other but our answers are different? Are loquats loquacious? Will the plum and cherry trees bloom again this spring if they’ve already bloomed in winter? & if there’s no water? & again next year? What? You don’t like horses? I like Andrew’s idea to adopt a gaggle of kids and build a Mad Max biker gang in the desert of the future Bay, but do you too feel anxious while waiting for an elevator, not knowing who or what will be inside when the doors open? “Suddenly, the whole world might not even exist at all, right?” What is theory for? Why do I open 20 browser tabs every morning? Would it be more difficult to ignore the moon (as some fools do) if more than one satellited the Earth? Are my coworkers better at approaching waged tasks as ends in themselves, or have I too been fooled by their performances? Do they notice my work ethic waning? What has produced “one billion city-dwellers who inhabit postmodern slums”? Is it both? Is it always both? This is neither innocent nor apologetic, but could actually seem borderline, since our initial thoughts were to give our very selves, in the form of biological samples, to those who would like to use them for grafts. This ultimate step may be on the point of being achieved thanks to the collector Geert Verbeke, who is open to this fundamental proposition that a collector of biotechnology art should have the work implicated in his / her own flesh. While we wait for this we have, according to his wishes, grafted all the 1996 samples onto the skin of a dead pig. “A small abyss becomes / larger with use”, is what I’m asking is, you know how “Chomsky once wrote, ‘colorless green ideas sleep furiously.’ What if he meant it? “And what if it were true only in subways, storage closets, and decontamination chambers?” Like, “The word smithereens does not exist in the singular.”
[Note: Sources: Sandy “The Opening of the Apartheid Mind : Options for the New South …”, spam email re’d 26 Mar 014, approx 9:01 AM PDT; Laurie Anderson, quoted in Roy Christopher, “Terminal Philosophy: A Cultural History of Airports”, at Roy Christopher, 16 Jan 012; Davi Kopenawa and Bruce Albert, The Falling Sky: Words of a Yanomami Shaman (trs. Nicholas Elliott and Alison Dundy); Jaleh Mansoor, FB comment, 26 Mar 014; Havard Johnson, comment appended to “Call for Participation”, at Bibliotheca Invisibilis, 26 Mar 014; Eileen R Tabios, “Footnotes to ‘The Virgin’s Knot’ by Holly Payne”, in I Take Thee, English, for My Beloved, at Bibliotheca Invisibilis, 16 Mar 014; Jaleh Mansoor, FB comment, 26 Mar 014; JBR, “Hiroshi Sugimoto: Theaters: Details (Volume 1)”, at Bibliotheca Invisibilis, 26 Mar 014; Dan Levenson, FB comment, 26 Mar 014; JBR; Janice Lee, “An Interview with Michael du Plessis”, at Entropy, 24 Mar 014 (re Du Plessis’s The Memoirs of JonBenet by Kathy Acker); David Nowell-Smith, “Daniel Tiffany – Brick Radio”, at Shearsman Books, 15 Mar 014; Christian Garland, FB post, 26 Mar 014 (re: workfare); Greg Purcell, “On the New Poetry”, “Kalamazoo”, at Make 8; JBR; Michel Foucault, and Stuart Elden, quoted in Elden’s “A few translated excerpts from the discussion following Foucault’s ‘Truth and Juridical Forms’ lectures in Rio”, at Pregressive Geographies, 26 Mar 014; JBR; Jack Kimball, “Here’s a thought …”, at Pantaloons 26 Mar 014; bits from Alli Warren, “Lullaby and Goodnight”, at Harriet, 26 Mar 014; Marion Laval-Jeantet, “Self-Animality”, at [plastik], 3 Jun 011; SPD blurb for Kathleen Jesme, Albedo; JBR; K Silem Mohammad, SPD blurb for Marco Giovenale, Anachromisms; JBR; Geoffrey Gatza, quoted in Anne Waldman, SPD blurb for Gatza’s Apollo]
Grin!
Posted by: Eileen | 27.03.2014 at 05:19 PM