- IT WAS ONE OF OUR GREATEST FEARS, TO BE SEPARATED.  IT WAS SO IMPOSSIBLE TO IMAGINE, SO UNKNOWN TO US.  BUT I THINK IT ENDURED BECAUSE A LARGE PART OF IT WAS ROOTED IN OUR DESIRE TO EACH BE A SINGLE PERSON.  I'D EVEN GO SO FAR TO SAY IT WAS A FANTASY.  

I PAUSED, AND DRANK SOME WATER.  

- I GET ANGRY AT HIM SOMETIMES, FOR DOING WHAT HE DID, THAT SOMEHOW HE GRANTED OUR WISH, BUT I'M ANGRY THAT HE LEFT US, THAT HE LEFT ME.  WE WERE STRONGER TOGETHER, AND HE LEFT ME.  SO NOW I'M ALONE.  BUT I'M FREE, I GUESS.  I'M COMPLETELY FREE...  

THE DOCTOR DIDN'T MOVE, BUT CONTINUED TO GAZE.  

- I'M SORRY.  I'M SORRY TOO.  

- WHY ARE YOU SORRY?  

- BECAUSE I LEFT HIM.  IN SOME WAY I GUESS I LEFT HIM TOO, AND HE HAD NO ONE TO TURN TO.   

THE DOCTOR DIDN'T MOVE, BUT CONTINUED TO GAZE.  

- A FICTIVE CONVERSATION TAKEN FROM A DREAM ABOUT DEATH.

"WAS THIS WHAT IT ALL MEANT - UTTER, INTACT SEPARATENESS, OBSCURED BY HEAT OF LIVING?"

- D.H. LAWRENCE, ODOUR OF CHRYSANTHEMUMS (1909)

"A CAR ENGINE REVVED IN THE DISTANCE BUT THIS PLACE FELT SO FAR REMOVED THAT THE MAIN ROAD MIGHT HAVE LAIN ON THE OTHER SDE OF A PANE OF THICKENED, FROSTED GLASS.  HE FOUND THAT HE HAD LEFT ALL THOUGHTS OF FAMILY BEHIND AND...FELT AS THOUGH HE HAD RETURNED TO HIS BODY TO FIND IT MADE NEW AND DOUBLY ALERT.  HE FELT HE COULD HAVE SPRUNG UP A TREE WITH THE AGILITY OF A SQUIRREL OR FLITTED THROUGH THE DARKNESS BEYOND WITH THE SILENT ELEGANCE OF A MOTH.  THE ENGINE SOUNDED CLOSE AND HE REMEMBERED HE WAS NO LONGER A VIRGIN AND WOULD NEVER BE QUITE AS YOUNG AND NAÏVELY AIMLESS AS HE HAD BEEN THAT AFTERNOON."

- PATRICK GALE, 'NOTES FROM AN EXHIBITION' (2008)

"THE FRAILTY OF EVERYTHING REVEALED AT LAST.  OLD AND TROUBLING ISSUES RESOLVED INTO NOTHINGNESS AND NIGHT.  THE LAST INSTANCE OF A THING TAKES THE CLASS WITH IT.  TURNS OUT THE LIGHT AND IT IS GONE.  LOOK AROUND YOU.  EVER IS A LONG TIME.  BUT THE BOY KNEW WHAT HE KNEW.  THAT EVER IS NO TIME AT ALL."

- CORMAC MCCARTHY, 'THE ROAD' (2006)

I'M SO TIRED.

SOOO TIRED.

TONIGHT I HAD THE IMMENSE FORTUNE OF ATTENDING A PERFORMANCE OF 'CRYPT' - A SITE-SPECIFIC PERFORMANCE AT THE CHRIST CHURCH CRYPT IN SPITALFIELDS INVOLVING SOUND ARTISTS NICK PARKIN AND Z'EV AND DANCERS MARIE-GABRIELLE ROTIE AND HOLLIE MILLER.  HOLLIE IS A FRIEND OF MINE FROM SCHOOL WHO INVITED ME TO WATCH HER DANCE, AND TO BE HONEST I HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO EXPECT.

THE PERFORMANCE ITSELF WAS ENTIRELY IMPROVISED BUT HEAVILY INFLUENCED BY THE POST-WAR FORM OF JAPANESE DANCE KNOWN AS 'BUTOH' (OF WHICH ROTIE HERSELF IS A KEY INTERNATIONAL PRACTITIONER AND TEACHER), AND SO THE MOVEMENTS EXECUTED BY ROTIE AND HOLLIE WERE VERY ERRATIC AND FOR A WORD GROTESQUE, AND ACTUALLY MADE ME FEEL EXTREMELY TENSE AND UNCOMFORTABLE.  THE ACCOMPANYING SOUND WAS EQUALLY AS UNSETTLING, ATTACKING THE FULL RANGE OF HEARING, BUT THERE WAS SOMETHING EXTREMELY DELICIOUS ABOUT THE WHOLE THING.

I USE THAT WORD BECAUSE IT WAS A FEELING OF MULTI-SENSORY SATISFACTION.

THE SPIRIT OF BUTOH IS ONE THAT EMERGED FROM FRUSTRATION AND CRITIQUE WITH/OF THE CONTEMPORARY DANCE SCENE IN JAPAN (TO PARAPHRASE WIKIPEDIA), A SPIRIT OF REVOLUTION.  AS I WATCHED THE IRRATIONAL BUT HYPER-CONTROLLED MOVEMENTS OF THE DANCERS I WAS CONSTANTLY AWARE OF THIS UNSETTLED BUT DELICIOUS FEELING OF BEING PUSHED FROM MY COMFORT ZONE AND BEING ASKED TO QUESTION WHAT I THOUGHT OF AS 'DANCE'.  THE AESTHETICS OF ORGANISED MOVEMENT.

HOLLIE HAD TALKED TO ME ABOUT HER EXPERIENCE IN HER PROFESSION OF BEING CONSIDERED PURELY AS A 'BODY' (TO A GREATER DEGREE THAN WOULD A MODEL, WHO IS ADDITIONALLY A 'FACE'),  AND THE PROBLEMS OF THE DISCONNECTION FROM HER SELF THIS UNDOUBTEDLY ASKS.  I POSED THIS PROBLEM TO ANOTHER FRIEND OF MINE, ANDREA (WHO SHALL BE MENTIONED ON HERE AGAIN SOON), AN ARTIST AND FELLOW DREAM INTERPRETER/JUNGIAN ENTHUSIAST, WHO SIMPLY WROTE DOWN JUNG'S FAMOUS WORDS:

"THE BODY IS THE MERE VISIBILITY OF THE SOUL; THE SOUL IS THE PSYCHOLOGICAL EXPERIENCE OF THE BODY."

IT IS INCREASINGLY IMPORTANT FOR ONE I THINK TO PUSH BOTH TO THE LIMITS OF THEIR CAPABILITIES IF ANY GROWTH OR TRUE UNDERSTANDING OF ONESELF ON ANY LEVEL IS TO BE ACHIEVED.  A FEW WEEKS AGO I SWAM UNTIL MY LEGS SEIZED UP.  THE FOLLOWING WEEK I SWAM SO HARD INTO THE WALL THAT I ALMOST BROKE A FINGER (I BRUISED A JOINT).  THIS WEEK AT CIRCUIT TRAINING I LED THE CLASS IN 50 CONSECUTIVE BURPEES THAT MY WALK STILL SUFFERS FROM.  BUT THIS WEEK I WAS ALSO DEALT WITH AN EMOTIONAL BLOW WHICH UNDER ANY OTHER CIRCUMSTANCES WOULD HAVE LEVELED ME, BUT INSTEAD SPARKED A FIRE WITHIN MY MIND, AND REMINDED ME OF WHAT EXACTLY NEEDS TO BE FOUGHT FOR (AND AGAINST) IN THIS INDUSTRY.

THE BUTOH TONIGHT HAS REAWAKENED A SENSE OF FRUSTRATION, OF REVOLUTION AND SUBVERSION.  THAT OLD SYSTEMS OF BEING, THINKING AND MANAGEMENT MUST BE CHALLENGED, AND CHANGED.  THEY WILL DIE WITH THEIR MASTERS.

"ALL THAT IS NECESSARY FOR THE TRIUMPH OF EVIL IS FOR GOOD MEN TO DO NOTHING."

- EDMUND BURKE, c.1770

   

"I DO NOT PROMISE HAPPINESS, AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS.  YOU NEW WORLD PEOPLE ARE, WHAT IS THE WORD, HIPPED ON HAPPINESS, AS IF IT WERE A CONSTANT AND MEASURABLE THING, AND SETTLED AND EXCUSED EVERYTHING.  IF IT IS ANYTHING AT ALL IT IS A BY-PRODUCT OF OTHER CONDITIONS OF LIFE, AND SOME PEOPLE WHOSE LIVES DO NOT APPEAR TO BE AT ALL ENVIABLE, OR INDEED, ADMIRABLE, ARE HAPPY.  FORGET ABOUT HAPPINESS,"

- ROBERTSON DAVIES, THE MANTICORE, (1972)

/

FOLLOWING CORMAC MCARTHY'S 'THE ROAD', THIS IS MY 2nd FAVOURITE WORK OF FICTION.  BOTH BOOKS I HAVE RE-READ FOR THE THIRD TIME THIS MONTH AND THIS ONE ESPECIALLY I FIND IS BECOMING INCREASINGLY RELEVANT FOR ME AS I GET OLDER, AND REACH A PHASE (ONE I'M RELUCTANT TO CALL NOSTALGIC, WHICH IS A VERY PASSIVE TERM) OF LAYING ALL MY GHOSTS, AS WELL AS UNDERSTANDING AND ACCEPTING MY SUBJECTIVE NATURE.

"TO LIVE IS TO BATTLE WITH TROLLS

IN THE VAULTS OF HEART AND BRAIN.

TO WRITE: THAT IS TO SIT

IN JUDGEMENT OVER ONE'S SELF."

- HENRIK IBSEN

"...AS IF TO CATCH THE FALLING DROP, CLARISSA...PLUNGED INTO THE VERY HEART OF THE MOMENT, TRANSFIXED IT, THERE - THE MOMENT OF THIS JUNE MORNING ON WHICH WAS THE PRESSURE OF ALL THE OTHER MORNINGS, SEEING THE GLASS, THE DRESSING-TABLE, AND ALL THE BOTTLES AFRESH, COLLECTING THE WHOLE OF HER AT ONE POINT...SEEING THE DELICATE PINK FACE OF THE WOMAN WHO WAS THAT VERY NIGHT TO GIVE A PARTY; OF CLARISSA DALLOWAY; OF HERSELF."

- VIRGINIA WOOLF, 'MRS DALLOWAY' (1925)

/

HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I FELT LIKE THIS?

MRS. WOOLF KNOWS HER STUFF.

this is difficult, making adolescent statements.  we are still young and yet to mature.

THIS MADE ME SAD

THE DECADENCE OF DACADE-ISM

by Glenn O'Brien

(from 10 MEN no.20, winter/spring 10)

"...And where are we now, in this nameless decade? What is the zero-zero look? There is no dominant fashion direction but a competing spectrum of retro looks. We now choose which past decade we want to live in...It's as if the 20th century's whole life is flashing in front of its eyes.

What is the future of fashion in this next century?

The futuristic future has been out of fashion since 1982, when director Ridley Scott imagined a failed future, a postmodern future dominated by the ruins of progressive modernist ambitions. And when the twin towers fell in 2001, it was a devastating symbol of the failure of monolithic futurism. The towers were about hubris and the assumption that the future would always be bigger and brighter. The towers were ugly, arrogant and unrealistic and, as conspiracy theorists will tell you, these buildings that stood for only 30 years were completely obsolete. But now, after decades of pessimistic or at least cynical postmodernism, at this moment of hesitant transition, we seem to have a nostalgia for futurism. Cynicism isn't working any more. We want to look back at the time when the future was bright and progressive..."

this article really struck a chord with me. not least because caffeine and solitude tend to make me emotionally hypersensitive and i'd had a considerable amount of both by the time i came across this.

growing up where i did in such a transitory environment in all senses of the word - cultural, political, historical, physical - our generation wasn't really made aware of or at least feel involved with any form of history that wasn't just on a superficial level. it was as if we had spent 16 years in a waiting room with nothing but a few back-issues of Vogue/Hello/TV Guide and maybe a few Disney films and the latest Hollywood historical/war epics (all on VHS) to inform us of a world and a future that lay outside of our bubble.

(note: a world and a future that lay in the west)

so the past wasn't something that we could particularly grasp conceptually, or at least those of us diaspora that never returned regularly to our homelands. all we knew was a weird kind of present/future that was never fixed, or that was unfolding right before our eyes. our outlook was bright, it was modernist and it was extremely progressive, but like the twin towers after 30 years is now seemingly obsolete. postmodernism was an exciting enough actuality but as i think about how it has run its course coupled with the obsolescence of my former 'futurist modernism' outlook it leaves me with nothing left to grasp idealistically.

I was reading something for my tutorial on thursday by Louis Althusser about subjects being created by and existing within their own ideologies so i guess what i'm saying is that as my own ideologies are apparently succumbing to obsolescence i myself am too. and the part that really gets me is that it's not even my fault but because of how poorly equipped i was in 'the waiting room'.

the future has just been made that much more cloudy for me. i know i'm letting this one guy's opinion get to me too much but it's made me so aware of my own need to change and to evolve if i want to continue doing what i'm doing and survive.

(photo :: Duane Michals / The Illuminated Man)