- arnold schoenberg, the relationship to the text
prescience, felicity, urbanity, hauteur, surfeit, magniloquence, enravishment, execration, abnegation, riot, debauch, hope, joy, grief, effluent life, and a lot more.
- harry partch, genesis of a music
1. i don't
I DON'T WRITE much at the moment because i only have so much obsessiveness and i need it for music right now. i wake up thinking about something and whatever that thing is gets the most care. for a while it was these stories. i woke up and thought about how to say something better or how to say it at all.
i liked it but it sucked the obsessiveness out of my music and my music needs it at the moment. writing is easier than music: you don't need any special equipment: just the stuff we all pour out of our mouths and around our bodies all day. of course, this makes everything more naked but that's good.
all i'm saying is right now i want to wake up with sounds in my head instead of sentences. maybe deep down, if there is such a place, sounds and sentences aren't different and i'm just being silly. but i'm a little bit groggy when i wake up and it seems to me it's one or the other at the moment. i'm writing this now because i said these little stories are some kind of love letter to you all and they are and i don't want you to feel like my love is diminished because it isn't.
2. anyway, i just wanted to say:
I WALKED. THE world unfolded around me and enfolded me. i looked like a thing but i was just a fold in the stuff of the world, like origami. the earth seemed to turn beneath my feet to accommodate me. thanks world! you're the best!
tree stumps loo(something else had looked at me earlier. it was a dandelion orb, a halation of seeds. halation is a fancy word i learned the other day which means 'the spreading of light beyond its proper boundary in a photographic image'.)ked at me. my breath had settled in my body, down the bottom somewhere. all the bad breath was down there. i needed to stir it up so the bad bit could come out of my mouth and quit poisoning me.
i climbed a hill. something was green. there were deciduous trees filling with fresh green too young to be holy. deciduous trees go through a year-long menstruation of leaves, collecting them like blood and then letting them go: whoosh.
the poison breath had settled in my body because before walking i'd been staring at a screen for a few days, trying to write something about noise. it's hard. noise is what you get when you ask a representational system, like for instance a guitar amplifier, to do too many things at once. noise is what representation systems do with excess. it's how they represent what they can't represent.
i'd been staring at a screen and staring at a screen is a kind of sensory deprivation, like being in a flotation tank. when you come out the world seems so real.
anyway: i walked. there was some kind of light in the sky shining on everything. trees got in the way of the light and made dark patches on the ground. there were wires above my head carrying electricity from one place to another because this all happened at a time when we used electricity to make something we called privacy. privacy was a kind of drug we were experimenting with. it meant you could do things like cook and learn and laugh at stories even if no-one else was nearby, but you needed electricity to be able to do it.
3. what i was trying to say before about noise relates to writing, somehow. for me, writing is something that demands itself when i'm trying to represent too many things at once. so this writing is noise, a kind of by-product of excess, the noise the world makes when i try to swallow it whole, the noise i make because i want to take the whole world into me at once instead of dividing it up and eating it one piece at a time. i'm like this because the world is like this: the world eats itself all day every day. of course, the world is bigger than me and can get away with it but it doesn't stop me trying. i want to make myself in the world's image because the world knows everything and i only know a few things. re which, i'll tell you four:
IF YOU GREW up bookish and awkward like me these might help you. they're keys to locks that can form around your neck.
2. have a fun life whatever the ladies do, if you're a heterosexual male. ladies are other people and other people do all kinds of things. don't rely on them doing what you want. make sure you have a fun life even if they don't do what you want them to, like adore you, or say the things you want to hear. it's a pity not getting what you want but no reason not to have fun.
3. have a sense of humour. it'll help. if you don't have one make one up. if you can't make one up then just smile to yourself and think how nice it would be to have a sense of humour: yeah, that'd be sweet. you know you can't have a sense of humour but at least you can enjoy the idea of one. try that.
4. find something in the present moment to enjoy. it doesn't matter what it is. the thing that matters is that you don't have to wait for things to be different to feel pleasure. i've tried this lots of times and there always turns out to be something available to enjoy.
5. i was drunk on the world
I WAS DRUNK on the world. it kept looking at me and holding me up so i could walk on it. i was a fold in the world. i said that already. it was knotted into my heart. my heart was a knot in the world and dragged the world with it. everything was still because everything is always still. everything seemed so real. i wore the sky like a crown.
love to all
Sunday, October 26, 2008
when one cuts into any part of the human body, the same thing always comes out - blood.
1. if you can't accept a feeling you can make up something called 'the self who feels this' and accept that, whatever the feeling is. try it. it's a kind of sneaky back-door path to acceptance when the feelings seem impossible.