Sometimes it seems like I don't have it, while everybody else do, and it's kinda embarrassing that I have this kind of incapacity, I don't want anyone to know that it is like that, and I have to engage in all sorts of dubious manouvers to keep it out of sight to everybody else. But sometimes it's different. Sometimes it seems as if I am the one who has it, while others don't. Some kind of secret knowledge, you don't say. Some kind of ability for empathy. Some kind of universal empathy.
My hands grow out of themselves.
it is dusk. it is after dusk. night had fallen over the city even the underground world where I sat and write what I like with this Japanese brand named computer. it comes from nowhere it comes from everywhere there is no longer a link between space and adjective. breath. just keep breathing. in out. breath. listen to the beat. it is your heart beating. breath. in and out.
more contrived. like an explosion it must soar. it must run over the pages like a fugitive chasing for a future tne\
i have to go to court. i'm a witness. to my own trial. whose trial. who is to judge what happened that afternoon? who was the agent? what was the cause and what the effect, i function better with the sun in my eyes i go by.
take a second of me. reduce me seduce me dress me up and seduce me. no sense that yiyu can trust me trick or tream it must be written mi itself.
fjkdlsalskdejjowksossiejd |ke adsadf w3wd wsiwd dhf wskqa sjdhf ska s s vne iska iejr weia djeoix eiw ajks fiej sja eid ewiee.,dsikekd.s diiejnn cd
Monday, April 12, 2004
Carnival Love
It comes in the form of a few milligrams
It can have any number of colors and shapes
It is assertive and submissive, but never misses
a carnivorous carnival
carnage me implanate me
Sometimes you can see the bubbles imploding
Sometimes the heat of the flame spurting out of the carnival's belly drains you in sweat
Sometimes you can drown yourself in the puls the beat the stomping feet
And yet to rest inside this spectacle
forget me leave my flesh
Run! Follow that gargantuan rabbit through the hole
What does memory deserve? Paper slips and Polariods?
Monuments and deities? Holy holy thy memory of me
At the carnival embracing strobing rolling over
Laughing remembering
It's been 33 years
I have been waiting a long time for this carnival
In the City of God there's too much mindless killing
I want to kiss you mindfully
Imigood what kindof carnival is this? That man has taken his shirt off,
Oh, and that girl is sitting on her knees and, oh no...
Adreanline kick me, hit me with your hammer and strike me out of this state of the
Carnival
A thousand eyes watching me from the walls of this carnival-theatre
How are you doing? Are you all right?
Man in gray sweater, discreete medic
Iris rolling around in his head outside somewhere in the mist, the fog, blown, beaten,
Where are you now, my soul? Where did you fly that night of they beat you, bruised you?
Will you return upon my return?
Will you again reveal your wings to my reason?
What are we waiting for? When will the moment arrive when we will, finally, collapse this structure of reason and turn, make a turn, somehow, globally, I mean, totally, structurally. No neautral position. The passivity of the bottom depends on the activity of the top. You don't say.
It comes in the form of a few milligrams
It can have any number of colors and shapes
It is assertive and submissive, but never misses
a carnivorous carnival
carnage me implanate me
Sometimes you can see the bubbles imploding
Sometimes the heat of the flame spurting out of the carnival's belly drains you in sweat
Sometimes you can drown yourself in the puls the beat the stomping feet
And yet to rest inside this spectacle
forget me leave my flesh
Run! Follow that gargantuan rabbit through the hole
What does memory deserve? Paper slips and Polariods?
Monuments and deities? Holy holy thy memory of me
At the carnival embracing strobing rolling over
Laughing remembering
It's been 33 years
I have been waiting a long time for this carnival
In the City of God there's too much mindless killing
I want to kiss you mindfully
Imigood what kindof carnival is this? That man has taken his shirt off,
Oh, and that girl is sitting on her knees and, oh no...
Adreanline kick me, hit me with your hammer and strike me out of this state of the
Carnival
A thousand eyes watching me from the walls of this carnival-theatre
How are you doing? Are you all right?
Man in gray sweater, discreete medic
Iris rolling around in his head outside somewhere in the mist, the fog, blown, beaten,
Where are you now, my soul? Where did you fly that night of they beat you, bruised you?
Will you return upon my return?
Will you again reveal your wings to my reason?
What are we waiting for? When will the moment arrive when we will, finally, collapse this structure of reason and turn, make a turn, somehow, globally, I mean, totally, structurally. No neautral position. The passivity of the bottom depends on the activity of the top. You don't say.
Friday, April 09, 2004
Tautological shapes
Oval rolls awkwardly
Line squeaks and sneaks
An equation can never be the same
You turn a corner in the Tate Modern and face Dalí's "Narcissus"
Carved in stoned you hardly sense the flower that springs from your head
You recede behind the mountain catching
A last look at yourself in the river, stoned
So many of us and yet so few
So many duplications and
the joy and the laughter and the paraknowledge
that's on offer, up there, at the third floor at the Tate Modern when you
suspend your self, Kant-like, or
distract extract contract and explode your self
in front of Matisse's headless therapist,
opening his coat to reveal his interior: a bird cage
opened, and yet two birds remain there, perching,
resting waiting
I leave my mind at the counter of another restless nightwatch
It is cold, next stop the Fridge
Rolling over and over, speaking, squeaking, sneaking
Equating same with same
Oval rolls awkwardly
Line squeaks and sneaks
An equation can never be the same
You turn a corner in the Tate Modern and face Dalí's "Narcissus"
Carved in stoned you hardly sense the flower that springs from your head
You recede behind the mountain catching
A last look at yourself in the river, stoned
So many of us and yet so few
So many duplications and
the joy and the laughter and the paraknowledge
that's on offer, up there, at the third floor at the Tate Modern when you
suspend your self, Kant-like, or
distract extract contract and explode your self
in front of Matisse's headless therapist,
opening his coat to reveal his interior: a bird cage
opened, and yet two birds remain there, perching,
resting waiting
I leave my mind at the counter of another restless nightwatch
It is cold, next stop the Fridge
Rolling over and over, speaking, squeaking, sneaking
Equating same with same
Clapham Junction, London
9 April 2004
Returning to repairmen POMPEL&PILT (dir. Ebbe Ording), we made some investigations into whether this fine piece of TV entertainment, in the form of puppeteering 1960s style is available to young and eager minds of today. And lo and behold. NRK, the Norwegian State Broadcaster is now publishing the series as a DVD for the meager price of NKR 199 (USD 28.7123 according to http://www.xe.com/ucc/). From the web jacket:
POMPEL&PILT was first aired on NRK in 1969, and then re-broadcast several times. In around 1985 the pressure from pedagogical quarters on NRK that the series had anti-pedagogical content made the broadcaster submit that it was not "fit for children." In 1994 they caved in to contrary pressure, however, and transmitted it one more time. The current head of programming for youth and children in NRK, Kalle Fürst, calls it a "classic of cultural history." It was "pioneering and surrealist. I can't fathom how NRK in 1969 dared to put resourses into a series as peculiar as this, completely absurd in form and content." However, it is not of "sufficient quality" for children of today, even if Fürst promises to consider broadcasting it to an "adult audience, at night." He doesn't shy away from recommending the DVD on sale from his employer's sidekick on-line store, though. And hence and in all ways demonstrates his loyalty to Employer and Provider. Well done, Kalle. (http://www.vg.no/pub/vgart.hbs?artid=38456.)
Anyway, this post was supposed to introduce the series. Bjørg and Arne Mykle wrote the script and made the dolls. There's photographs with them and the dolls at http://www.vg.no/pub/vgart.hbs?artid=38462. If you look closely you'll see that Pompel (the older chap with the tired eyes) and Pilt (younger and with more hair) don't have mouths.
There's another photo, in black and white, at http://home.powertech.no/shoiem/turidg/pp/reparatorene.html with Pompel to the left, Pilt to the right, and Gorgon the Custodian in the center. It's kinda difficult to explain the story line, if there is one. Child psychologist Thore Langfeldt describes the mood of POMPEL&PILT as "chilling, funny and surprising" at the same time. Professor of Media Sociology Eva Bakøy explains that it made a radical break with the norm of children's television of the 1960s and 70s.
"It has no happy ending, doesn't offer a sense of that 'everything will be OK', and it communcates a chaotic and incomprehensible world," she says, adding that, first and foremost, "it was FUNNY" (http://www.vg.no/pub/vgart.hbs?artid=38460). There's more on Bakøy's research at http://www.forskning.no/Artikler/2002/juni/1022772677 (in Norwegian).
We have managed to ascertain that there is at least five episodes of POMPEL&PILT available, and that there might be a sixth episode made. The titles of the first five parts are:
1. The repairmen are coming
2. The repairmen are returning
3. The repairmen are coming and coming
4. The repairmen are coming again
5. The repairmen are returning again
The disputed sixth episode is probably entitled "The revenge of the repairmen."
The music was performed by Arild Boman on organ, Helge Hurum, flute, and Espen Rud, drum sponge and percussion. The drum sponge was made on the basis of an old matress, onto which a number of bells and other objects were attached. When the repairmen walked around in their vast, open spaces, the sound from the drum sponge would evoke a sense of uncertainty and polyphony.
As repairmen Pompel and Pilt move around in this building, or whatever it is, trying to negotiate their way past door that lead nowhere, or back into the same room as they had just left, they meet several characters, some friendly, some not. Gorgon the Custodian appears to be the one who has comissioned Pompel and Pilt to repair something. This observation is based on that every time they encounter him, they ask if he has anything that needs repair. Upon hearing the question, Gorgon goes off on a long harangue consisting of words that resemble or sound like "repair," like a grown-up lost in her or his own long, incomprehensible sentences. When Gorgon enters into this kind of trance, Pompel and Pilt seize on the opportunity to run away, but always ends up in more difficult and mysterious situations.
They also meet Gorgon's wife and his rapacious son, Gorgon the Custodian's Assistant. Then there's also the Moffedill, who gets by on eating keys, and the numerous Migrants, who look somewhat like bicycle pumps with funny rasta hair and necks that keep extending and contracting, while they whistle. They are always busy and confusing.
Pompel and Pilt never really get to repair anything. Their world is not only confusing and absurd. It is also beyond repair.
You can download some soundbites to get a further sense of the atmosphere in the series. Each episode contains a scene where Pompel reminds Pilt that now he should surely understand that it is better with two repairmen than with no repairmen: http://home.powertech.no/shoiem/turidg/lyd/bedre.wav.
Gorgon the Custodian goes into his strange trance-like state here: http://home.powertech.no/shoiem/turidg/lyd/gorgon.wav.
A makeshift translation of the first part of the first episode is available from Utopos: http://home.no.net/torgfje/utopos/pandp.html.
It is now slightly updated, with some stage directions added, and some wording changed here and there.
Puppet show in black and white, with figures that were always contained in a large hall, without walls or ceiling, but equipped with doors leading nowhere. They argued incessantly, and lived in perennial fear of Gorgon the Custodian and his ravenous son. http://butikken.nrk.no/butikk/product246.html
POMPEL&PILT was first aired on NRK in 1969, and then re-broadcast several times. In around 1985 the pressure from pedagogical quarters on NRK that the series had anti-pedagogical content made the broadcaster submit that it was not "fit for children." In 1994 they caved in to contrary pressure, however, and transmitted it one more time. The current head of programming for youth and children in NRK, Kalle Fürst, calls it a "classic of cultural history." It was "pioneering and surrealist. I can't fathom how NRK in 1969 dared to put resourses into a series as peculiar as this, completely absurd in form and content." However, it is not of "sufficient quality" for children of today, even if Fürst promises to consider broadcasting it to an "adult audience, at night." He doesn't shy away from recommending the DVD on sale from his employer's sidekick on-line store, though. And hence and in all ways demonstrates his loyalty to Employer and Provider. Well done, Kalle. (http://www.vg.no/pub/vgart.hbs?artid=38456.)
Anyway, this post was supposed to introduce the series. Bjørg and Arne Mykle wrote the script and made the dolls. There's photographs with them and the dolls at http://www.vg.no/pub/vgart.hbs?artid=38462. If you look closely you'll see that Pompel (the older chap with the tired eyes) and Pilt (younger and with more hair) don't have mouths.
There's another photo, in black and white, at http://home.powertech.no/shoiem/turidg/pp/reparatorene.html with Pompel to the left, Pilt to the right, and Gorgon the Custodian in the center. It's kinda difficult to explain the story line, if there is one. Child psychologist Thore Langfeldt describes the mood of POMPEL&PILT as "chilling, funny and surprising" at the same time. Professor of Media Sociology Eva Bakøy explains that it made a radical break with the norm of children's television of the 1960s and 70s.
"It has no happy ending, doesn't offer a sense of that 'everything will be OK', and it communcates a chaotic and incomprehensible world," she says, adding that, first and foremost, "it was FUNNY" (http://www.vg.no/pub/vgart.hbs?artid=38460). There's more on Bakøy's research at http://www.forskning.no/Artikler/2002/juni/1022772677 (in Norwegian).
We have managed to ascertain that there is at least five episodes of POMPEL&PILT available, and that there might be a sixth episode made. The titles of the first five parts are:
1. The repairmen are coming
2. The repairmen are returning
3. The repairmen are coming and coming
4. The repairmen are coming again
5. The repairmen are returning again
The disputed sixth episode is probably entitled "The revenge of the repairmen."
The music was performed by Arild Boman on organ, Helge Hurum, flute, and Espen Rud, drum sponge and percussion. The drum sponge was made on the basis of an old matress, onto which a number of bells and other objects were attached. When the repairmen walked around in their vast, open spaces, the sound from the drum sponge would evoke a sense of uncertainty and polyphony.
As repairmen Pompel and Pilt move around in this building, or whatever it is, trying to negotiate their way past door that lead nowhere, or back into the same room as they had just left, they meet several characters, some friendly, some not. Gorgon the Custodian appears to be the one who has comissioned Pompel and Pilt to repair something. This observation is based on that every time they encounter him, they ask if he has anything that needs repair. Upon hearing the question, Gorgon goes off on a long harangue consisting of words that resemble or sound like "repair," like a grown-up lost in her or his own long, incomprehensible sentences. When Gorgon enters into this kind of trance, Pompel and Pilt seize on the opportunity to run away, but always ends up in more difficult and mysterious situations.
They also meet Gorgon's wife and his rapacious son, Gorgon the Custodian's Assistant. Then there's also the Moffedill, who gets by on eating keys, and the numerous Migrants, who look somewhat like bicycle pumps with funny rasta hair and necks that keep extending and contracting, while they whistle. They are always busy and confusing.
Pompel and Pilt never really get to repair anything. Their world is not only confusing and absurd. It is also beyond repair.
You can download some soundbites to get a further sense of the atmosphere in the series. Each episode contains a scene where Pompel reminds Pilt that now he should surely understand that it is better with two repairmen than with no repairmen: http://home.powertech.no/shoiem/turidg/lyd/bedre.wav.
Gorgon the Custodian goes into his strange trance-like state here: http://home.powertech.no/shoiem/turidg/lyd/gorgon.wav.
A makeshift translation of the first part of the first episode is available from Utopos: http://home.no.net/torgfje/utopos/pandp.html.
It is now slightly updated, with some stage directions added, and some wording changed here and there.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
On 6 Apr 2004 at 17:15, Michael Geary wrote on lit-ideas:
Dear Mr Geary and Judge(s)
We here at the Utopos Office of Spam Encryption (UOSE) would like to submit the following entry in your contest. It was devised by taking advantage of author Diderik Humble Jr.s self-devised Encryption Routine, programmed in Pascal, to produce the following:
gigawatt, proper name, possibly a symbolic representation of a distant relative of President Megawati, who is up for elections. here it serves as interpellative, as in
* gigawatt, i want you to do something for me, and here comes what it is...
which renders the proper transcription thus:
1. "Gigawatt, [perform the] 'chivalrous, inflammatory handyman drainage' [now, please]"
which makes it obvious that the implied narrator instructs Gigawatt to operate a particular KIND OF handyman drainage. These considerations leads us to the question of what the "chivalrous [and] inflammatory" type of handyman drainage would be. On this the Routine remains silent.
On behalf of UOSE,
phatic
[sign]
editor
Do you like my subject line (gigawatt chivalrous inflammatory handyman drainage)? All life['s] a random event. So it's randomness we must order into meaning. Here is a perfect phrase to practice on, say I. I suggest a contest to determine what that subject line is all about.
Dear Mr Geary and Judge(s)
We here at the Utopos Office of Spam Encryption (UOSE) would like to submit the following entry in your contest. It was devised by taking advantage of author Diderik Humble Jr.s self-devised Encryption Routine, programmed in Pascal, to produce the following:
gigawatt, proper name, possibly a symbolic representation of a distant relative of President Megawati, who is up for elections. here it serves as interpellative, as in
* gigawatt, i want you to do something for me, and here comes what it is...
which renders the proper transcription thus:
1. "Gigawatt, [perform the] 'chivalrous, inflammatory handyman drainage' [now, please]"
which makes it obvious that the implied narrator instructs Gigawatt to operate a particular KIND OF handyman drainage. These considerations leads us to the question of what the "chivalrous [and] inflammatory" type of handyman drainage would be. On this the Routine remains silent.
On behalf of UOSE,
phatic
[sign]
editor
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Five indications that you might have spent too much time on-line
1. You double click the remote
2. You tilt your head when smiling
3. You turn on your computer on your way from bed to take your morning shower
4. You get up at 3am to use the toilet, and just have to check your mail
5. Your on-line affair has lasted longer than any other affair you've had
Darwin P. Johnson
president
PS!!!!
i only get four out of five. (i watch streaming video.)
Adapted from Jørgen at http://www.humor911.com/femting/
1. You double click the remote
2. You tilt your head when smiling
3. You turn on your computer on your way from bed to take your morning shower
4. You get up at 3am to use the toilet, and just have to check your mail
5. Your on-line affair has lasted longer than any other affair you've had
Darwin P. Johnson
president
PS!!!!
i only get four out of five. (i watch streaming video.)
Adapted from Jørgen at http://www.humor911.com/femting/
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