friday, the 27th of May
The man had his back curved between us and the window. His elbows were handling the bar in a familiar way, which you do if you are a glass or an elbow, so the effect is total.
And so to begin to hear in their own speech, the words that call up an acknowledgement of the initiations and inductions that scoop a communities humanity as they chronicle the progress of 2 centuries of settlement.
We settle in and listen, made possible because in this place we are acceptable. The way for there to be a way, is to be acceptable. The printed word and all the faded photographs, such things are bandages for the illiterate. Call it "pride", call it "sacrifice", but it is just blood that has been let. The first senses - to be and, now, to listen - these accompany the recogniser in their path for truth, and we know that some combination of forces has extracted from an autonomous life some holy thing. I do not know what word to give it, I think to name it would take from it anyway.
Depletion of the natural resources, I keep quiet and hear it from your mouth. Fabric of history, obvious, continuous, now in these calm hours as you converse it, in this conducive environment, the acceptance makes ease and it can be transmitted, it can grow into record. Such things that are not transmitted, appear in the chronicles as glaring omissions that analytical, quick minds stare blankly at, unable to access. You need to have somebody whose eyes become their own as they talk to you, who speak in their own pace of the things that required certain calibrations made to the actions and capacities of others, always others, in the past that is a faroff country and know why these buildings were built. You need to have somebody whose hands make the most sense out of anything, this day, yesterday on a plane, these hands with a million ancestors.
And eventhough he has not said it, nor come anywhere close to saying it, if I wrote a book in the momentum of this encounter, and he was the sensitive protagonist, this much is what I know he knows:
As of yet, I still believe in unknown things.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Thursday, May 26, 2005
This morning
thursday, May the 25th
Come this way, across the bridge, look left at all the lotuses. A bird on one, see, it quivers like life, like cotton on silk, and all around is buzzing - intermittant amplifications. Things with different numbers of legs keep chirruping. So deep down in the nutritious polluted lake the slow big fish track the slow big momentum, little scraps of fishes yap at the skin of the water, a clear slap noise. Stop and look, stop and look more innerly, stop and let the scene scan for you as you breathe the early morning lake air, bounce on the suspension bridge and hear the determined encounters of unhuman things. If it snaps, if the bridge should bend too far, it is only a short swim to the bank. Only that, not an eternity in rotten liquid, an intrusion into the quiet priorities of aquatic order, just a quickness to think about before sleep, that will happen then so will a shower and dettol, and that's the end of those clothes.
Come this way across the stones. They have laid them out along the curve of the trees, and straight from each bench, it is possible to wear stilettos, highly possible to wear stilettos in the moonlight poised in the open air observatory, a rat, look a mouse, a one with a commendable tail has just run by the scraggly mangrove bushes.
There's a coffee shop across the crossing, we passed it on the way when we didn't know where we were.
Come this way, across the bridge, look left at all the lotuses. A bird on one, see, it quivers like life, like cotton on silk, and all around is buzzing - intermittant amplifications. Things with different numbers of legs keep chirruping. So deep down in the nutritious polluted lake the slow big fish track the slow big momentum, little scraps of fishes yap at the skin of the water, a clear slap noise. Stop and look, stop and look more innerly, stop and let the scene scan for you as you breathe the early morning lake air, bounce on the suspension bridge and hear the determined encounters of unhuman things. If it snaps, if the bridge should bend too far, it is only a short swim to the bank. Only that, not an eternity in rotten liquid, an intrusion into the quiet priorities of aquatic order, just a quickness to think about before sleep, that will happen then so will a shower and dettol, and that's the end of those clothes.
Come this way across the stones. They have laid them out along the curve of the trees, and straight from each bench, it is possible to wear stilettos, highly possible to wear stilettos in the moonlight poised in the open air observatory, a rat, look a mouse, a one with a commendable tail has just run by the scraggly mangrove bushes.
There's a coffee shop across the crossing, we passed it on the way when we didn't know where we were.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
arcing from a moving car
Tuesday, the 24th of May
the hills against the underside of the sky. the road quite disappeared and out of sight.
the hills against the underside of the sky. the road quite disappeared and out of sight.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
the phoenix system
saturday, the 21st of may
I may not have freedom of choice, but I do have the freedom to say yes or no to the choices presented to me. I have the flexibility to confirm or deny, to accept, to recognise and to appropriate, or not.
I have the foresight to seek out my sense, what sense is to me, what sense there is according to my own inclinations.
I have the freedom to exercise my senses. I have the space to flex my muscles and I have the space to not be constricted.
Rhythm is my singular 'sense'- my making of sense, this world; and making into sense, me.
Rhythm is the map of the way that has been, at one instance, chosen. A link in sense.
The inherent sense of audio.
The vibrational thoroughfare. By which we make our way.
Through sense, to live and see the world. By sense, to seek and learn the world.
Perhaps proof is the epitome of the misled creed.
That something occured is proof of exactly zilch, not even of its' own components.
That something happened can be taken to neither preclude or predict any other thing or series of things.
Consequence is the moniker placed on, in everyday parlance, antequence. That which is, at a singular point, seen to have come before - and, making a wholly erroneous link (erroneously linking), is thus seen to directly influence or to create the specific conditions an individual might be aware that they are experienceing.
This has as much to do with the quality of an individuals' faculties and comes down to that individuals' consideration for some concept of "self" and their unique appreciation of their person as a self.
I may not have freedom of choice, but I do have the freedom to say yes or no to the choices presented to me. I have the flexibility to confirm or deny, to accept, to recognise and to appropriate, or not.
I have the foresight to seek out my sense, what sense is to me, what sense there is according to my own inclinations.
I have the freedom to exercise my senses. I have the space to flex my muscles and I have the space to not be constricted.
Rhythm is my singular 'sense'- my making of sense, this world; and making into sense, me.
Rhythm is the map of the way that has been, at one instance, chosen. A link in sense.
The inherent sense of audio.
The vibrational thoroughfare. By which we make our way.
Through sense, to live and see the world. By sense, to seek and learn the world.
Perhaps proof is the epitome of the misled creed.
That something occured is proof of exactly zilch, not even of its' own components.
That something happened can be taken to neither preclude or predict any other thing or series of things.
Consequence is the moniker placed on, in everyday parlance, antequence. That which is, at a singular point, seen to have come before - and, making a wholly erroneous link (erroneously linking), is thus seen to directly influence or to create the specific conditions an individual might be aware that they are experienceing.
This has as much to do with the quality of an individuals' faculties and comes down to that individuals' consideration for some concept of "self" and their unique appreciation of their person as a self.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Do
Thursday, May 19th
I wonder if it's possible to train myself to process separate information transmitted in the same medium simultaneously. For instance, 2 novels, one printed, the other audio.
Taxi drivers here have satellite tv beside the central aircon, so I do not think think that this thought can be solely attributed to my mental hormones. Four lane highways, roundabouts, traffic lights, pedestrians, the river, over-passes, cellphones.
i keep meeting people who want to be my friend, quietly, consistently hesitant and expectant, were there a person born into maturity as of yesterday, this arrangement would be ideal, however i know my ignorance of the specifics of the lives of all those in contact with me and of all those whose lives and mine brush past each other, and my acknowledgement of them stays in the moment. if you assume, it is tantamount to resuming, ad infinitum, a boredom unclearly perceived. take the leap, trust yourself, make your choice in joy, in confidence.
i feel as though i am running on top of other people's excuses, because it is the only way i can be a part of this beautiful world, and negotiate my social capabilities, and respect a place in which to develop my faculties. Whereas, free of other people's awkward jigsaw placement, stuff would actually happen.
It's curious how there are some who find it easy to think that they are the centre of other people's lives, because they are a numerous minority. Perhaps it is a brain thing.
I am mad that someone emailed me a vague apology.
What is it?
I keep asking myself, and I can't ask them because it is a piece of stupidity to not encourage.
And in an etiquette instilled in my values, it is insulting. It's on a par with a vague invitation.
Is it ignorance, bad manners, self doubt/self complacency. Well mannered; do more, be more, care less.
I wonder if it's possible to train myself to process separate information transmitted in the same medium simultaneously. For instance, 2 novels, one printed, the other audio.
Taxi drivers here have satellite tv beside the central aircon, so I do not think think that this thought can be solely attributed to my mental hormones. Four lane highways, roundabouts, traffic lights, pedestrians, the river, over-passes, cellphones.
i keep meeting people who want to be my friend, quietly, consistently hesitant and expectant, were there a person born into maturity as of yesterday, this arrangement would be ideal, however i know my ignorance of the specifics of the lives of all those in contact with me and of all those whose lives and mine brush past each other, and my acknowledgement of them stays in the moment. if you assume, it is tantamount to resuming, ad infinitum, a boredom unclearly perceived. take the leap, trust yourself, make your choice in joy, in confidence.
i feel as though i am running on top of other people's excuses, because it is the only way i can be a part of this beautiful world, and negotiate my social capabilities, and respect a place in which to develop my faculties. Whereas, free of other people's awkward jigsaw placement, stuff would actually happen.
It's curious how there are some who find it easy to think that they are the centre of other people's lives, because they are a numerous minority. Perhaps it is a brain thing.
I am mad that someone emailed me a vague apology.
What is it?
I keep asking myself, and I can't ask them because it is a piece of stupidity to not encourage.
And in an etiquette instilled in my values, it is insulting. It's on a par with a vague invitation.
Is it ignorance, bad manners, self doubt/self complacency. Well mannered; do more, be more, care less.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
amateur collection
thursday, the 12th of may
jars within jars contain beautiful things
beautiful things are loosed within clay
shards lie discarded, unchosen and ugly, in the build up of storm residue, from last night and the night before then, come in to the restaurant, inside we have such domestic brilliance, a cup of water
a cup of water is always very lovely, (he is outside and very happy)
the moon has begun again, outside there are flies, alive, outside, with a moon, somewhere there is water in all of this
he is among people who make jars
jars within jars contain beautiful things
beautiful things are loosed within clay
shards lie discarded, unchosen and ugly, in the build up of storm residue, from last night and the night before then, come in to the restaurant, inside we have such domestic brilliance, a cup of water
a cup of water is always very lovely, (he is outside and very happy)
the moon has begun again, outside there are flies, alive, outside, with a moon, somewhere there is water in all of this
he is among people who make jars
Friday, May 06, 2005
out from the casual service of bells
friday, the 6th of may
confectionary from a heavily industrialized country being sold in another part of the world where the investment in infrastructure is at odds with the cultural norms that define worth and personal upstanding.
indupitably a social paradox, albeit one that is but a loop strained from the mesh that this piece is testing, the point is, the links of sugar, manufacturing concentrations, wage labour, child vulnerability, nutritional vagaries, the tenuous state of that thing known 20 years ago back into the stretches of time as the staple diet, are blatantly displayed, in all their glorious optimism in the intercontinental behemoth, the duka, for which we give thanks and tarnished currency, taking sugar, nodding a little kickback to the dairy merchants who have hijacked the enterprise of sucrose, or evading them and selecting glucose on a stick, and we all take it and we all run on it, yup you see, we are all one in this, this is how we function as a together, we come together in the pursuit of curious gems in the one room emporium
it seeps out of you and the ingredients list is long, so long like the obituary of a particularly powerful man
it's one of the things you can say to yourself, if you really want some, you say to yourself at 5 in the early evening, tomorrow you can have some as you walk past the school on the way out of the front gates around 9 am
and because my arm has fully formed bone in it you understand that i am taller than the people with dancing expert eyes, attuned to the summons of the bell, in uniform, and can you see the grace after the motion, in the still, as synthetic emulsion flavoured with the essence of peanut becomes mine from all the places it has comes from and things it has been and whose existence means other things to other people in their lives, as the silver i had held in lieu rejoins the perpetual exodus of minted need and lowest common denomination.
confectionary from a heavily industrialized country being sold in another part of the world where the investment in infrastructure is at odds with the cultural norms that define worth and personal upstanding.
indupitably a social paradox, albeit one that is but a loop strained from the mesh that this piece is testing, the point is, the links of sugar, manufacturing concentrations, wage labour, child vulnerability, nutritional vagaries, the tenuous state of that thing known 20 years ago back into the stretches of time as the staple diet, are blatantly displayed, in all their glorious optimism in the intercontinental behemoth, the duka, for which we give thanks and tarnished currency, taking sugar, nodding a little kickback to the dairy merchants who have hijacked the enterprise of sucrose, or evading them and selecting glucose on a stick, and we all take it and we all run on it, yup you see, we are all one in this, this is how we function as a together, we come together in the pursuit of curious gems in the one room emporium
it seeps out of you and the ingredients list is long, so long like the obituary of a particularly powerful man
it's one of the things you can say to yourself, if you really want some, you say to yourself at 5 in the early evening, tomorrow you can have some as you walk past the school on the way out of the front gates around 9 am
and because my arm has fully formed bone in it you understand that i am taller than the people with dancing expert eyes, attuned to the summons of the bell, in uniform, and can you see the grace after the motion, in the still, as synthetic emulsion flavoured with the essence of peanut becomes mine from all the places it has comes from and things it has been and whose existence means other things to other people in their lives, as the silver i had held in lieu rejoins the perpetual exodus of minted need and lowest common denomination.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
tuesday, the 3rd of may
a little girl said hi to me today by tickling my neck.
now i want to paint human contact
and express to have it felt,
Exuberance, light, inconsequence, the swerves and the smashes, collision orkester, the ordinary joy of violence.
it is well and truly summer, (the sun so high and far from our settlement, bleaching the furniture, an irritant to those who would be sleeping otherwise), one roof over, a glasshouse, on top of a renovated bank, takes it as if it doesn't even matter, as if it has a splendid isolation, as if we all reclaim the urban askance. The birds have started to sing, and in downtown, last weekend, a middleaged man and his wolfhound walked through the crowds and left the festival over the zebra crossing.
a little girl said hi to me today by tickling my neck.
now i want to paint human contact
and express to have it felt,
Exuberance, light, inconsequence, the swerves and the smashes, collision orkester, the ordinary joy of violence.
it is well and truly summer, (the sun so high and far from our settlement, bleaching the furniture, an irritant to those who would be sleeping otherwise), one roof over, a glasshouse, on top of a renovated bank, takes it as if it doesn't even matter, as if it has a splendid isolation, as if we all reclaim the urban askance. The birds have started to sing, and in downtown, last weekend, a middleaged man and his wolfhound walked through the crowds and left the festival over the zebra crossing.
Monday, May 02, 2005
more time and more of it
monday, the 2nd of may
social terror is my base proof for the reaffirmation that physics and biology are local to human physiology.
You can follow their own twists and entwine yourself in their chronology, but it's solid bonds all the way should you choose to walk back to the visceral gulp across which inspiration and selfknowledge realize the properties of all that is vital.
in a certain light, this supplements the rendition of gravity.
do not rend the gravity. the injunction is structurally unsound, while being fundamentally crucial, along a causative model, to much of our behavioural justification.
Thus a paradigm is good for jewelry but less so for sufficiency. And because such shifts are required, all the phenomena of tectonics excercise the physical and the emotional in an organic system.
think of gravity and the figure that flies above its tightrope.
social terror is my base proof for the reaffirmation that physics and biology are local to human physiology.
You can follow their own twists and entwine yourself in their chronology, but it's solid bonds all the way should you choose to walk back to the visceral gulp across which inspiration and selfknowledge realize the properties of all that is vital.
in a certain light, this supplements the rendition of gravity.
do not rend the gravity. the injunction is structurally unsound, while being fundamentally crucial, along a causative model, to much of our behavioural justification.
Thus a paradigm is good for jewelry but less so for sufficiency. And because such shifts are required, all the phenomena of tectonics excercise the physical and the emotional in an organic system.
think of gravity and the figure that flies above its tightrope.
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