television

3: All Information is Bullshit

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it says here / read this / it says there / is a definite / sign / look / for the unambiguous / we’re fired up / on noise / we’re deciphered / auto-mobile / we have knowledge / where the word / says so / it says it there / no error — Diarmuid G. McKernan, Voice of Noise, from Bleeding Lines ‘77

Those who identified with Nas saw him as an adventurer willing to transgress accepted modes of the rationale of communication. He showed that the ground of being was a banquet laid out before them at which all present were consumed by the privilege of free choice, not granted automatically, nevertheless available to them as sentient creatures should they so choose.

In their story, N was an anti-hero conqueror of other planets, an astonishingly gifted yet terribly flawed individual. He had appetites he would satisfy but not be controlled by. He would put them to use to advance his ambitions ruthlessly. He was not a man to make a snap judgement. (more…)

Licentia IX

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‘Licentia’ poster, bookartbookshop, Shoreditch, London

Lilliane’s new song poured from the hi-fi, bringing me to tears: “What Will We Be Burning?”. I was honoured to be inhabiting her lyrics. In one of her rooms where Sancho had fitted a black taxi cab, I read aloud one of my screenplays. She was so hyperactive and thin and muscular. Really elegant! Irresistible, despite our better judgement.

So, in the morning, we found ourselves displayed lewdly at the table, breaking our fast on one another’s bodies, and avocado and papaya and coconut. Once we were conjoined, we became very still in the fusion of pompoir. But, she called a sudden halt, panicking over what to wear for her appointment with a photographer she was already late for.

She showed me a warning she’d scrawled with a felt-tipped pen on her denim shirt sleeve cuff.

After many attempts at costume, she settled on a bright orange business suit, blue silk stockings and stilettos.

We met a photographer in a gallery and he talked about ‘creating an image, the capturing of a soul’s light’.

Later, we browsed through a record shop and Lilianne seemed to realise, ‘there’s no point in anything’. She was accosted by a supercilious music radio station host who recognised her from her last television show.

‘I’m more shy than I think I am.’

‘No, it’s the other way round.’

He didn’t need any persuasion.


© A. A. Walker

Recitation

[pdf: Recitation]

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Recitation, Kings Head Theatre, London

Whether or not it is an everyday observation, have you ever tried to do anything but decipher codes? You will perceive that here, where what is there, is in the making of the difference being made, but it is merely between the choice and the record, no more, no less.

Some time during my sojourn, I would regret it later but be obliged to play tribune to that part of human consciousness which is of its time [insert date] yet without a contemporary, which means to say for each of us it is in fashion. This thought occurred like a rapture pliant with foolscap devices, randomness, accounting, murmuring.

A sense of belonging concerns the definition of how desire takes place within a custom or saying, which at present is bearing a resemblance to literature. That is, to furnish knowledge going near, without or toward, relative to the images of the characters of the written word. In truth, not even the speech, and neither the thought!

But the written. (Read more… )