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{Saturday}

 
I.P. INEDITE. . .

Other night exasperated finally with post midnite tv fare you know I am still awake in that kind of twilight state which is a kind of natural prozac where you are still sharp enough to READ and CORRECT stuff but not enough to write, so, I started trawling pre-PILL BOX era notes I’d made and left like old milk bottles in the folders of my Mac … and it’s notably weird that leave such things uninspected even a month or so and you’re STUMPED as to why you wrote or noted certain things, what the context was, why it seemed so urgent, and so on…

“131 Instances of Musical Fall or Flight”

{- for instance, was I think my idea of a REPLY to that recent Nick Hornby book [which I’m quite happy to slag off to kingdom come and consign to history’s Wastebaket not having read a word of it outside of a few quotes in reviews…] and it, or rather I continue: }

like e.g. the Hendrix piece.
And add
Oh yes: the LYDON betrayal piece… add/hone*… WIDEN
Add all the things x didn’t/doesn’t.
Also, like SS on nina simone et al.”

{I spent five full minutes just now racking my brains as to who this particular hone[y] was, what on earth she had to do with my hurt feelings re John Lydons lowered artistic aspirations and what part she had to play in my maybe re writing … ah, right: hone, as in sharpen. OK.
NO idea who or what 'SS on nina simone' is, though.

- And then there’s a mini history which I can only imagine was supposed to be some kind of consulting grid for the 131 to be chosen from: }

I remember…

The Arthur Brown poster
The Jimi Hendrix poster
Rocknroll pts 1,2
Roxy
imports
Jewel Alabama
[sonny terry & brownie mcgee]
[library jazz]
The marvin gaye bobble hat + + +
Sailing shoes cover
Nme letter [charles fox/jb!]
Little feat hammersmith odeon + a/math
‘Anarchy’ in Downham Mkt
Let it rock. Street life. Mackinnon. Smith.
Pete erskine. [judy carne syndrome?]
Wire & Magazine: reviews without ... uh, me.
Ececticism. First few months for nme… obscure collection. Heavy metal. Reggae. New wave. Jazz. Add.
Iggy/aswad/soft boys/elvis/only ones/
The fall +n [soul/rock]
Prag vec/only one/guy/leather trs
Getting shit in post from clash fan.[rock soul stalinism etc]
The whole lydon thing
[of the author as a musician briefly...]
Theoria: speed & its consequences; timeliness & its opposite…
[speed: buckley night…]
[21: grace, eddie, james, e.s. bdlng… &tru lv sweetst girl
[mescaline, m.d-something, x, et al

James brown in paris. {a-n-d… “denis, denis”
Drugs with j*hn lyd*n.
Acr/n.o. gig in n.y.
Dj-ing in manchester
THE GHOST OF RB
Ecstasy and hell in NY
[coke, speed, neubauten, frankie, hacienda]
bp/cave/camden palace
FASSBINDER? Night of death
[= also; live at leeds. H.]
CUSP here----------------???????
[camden palace girls x2 wo-a-ah]


{And it stops - rather thankfully prematurely, I have to say - there.
But MY GOD I must have been in a good mood when I jotted all those down because I tell ya bucketloads of cash coudln’t get me to tell you about most of that stuff right now in a sober frame of mind. What the hell was I on? [February? Ah, could have been just about anything and/or everything then: I HATE Januaries & Februaries. . .]

There is then a note about THREE separate dreams in one fortnight period about Coil.

- then a wonderful and painstakingly transcribed
Paul Bowles quote : – }


You will find yourself among people.
There is no help for this, nor should you want it otherwise

I have no idea of what is going to happen
or in which parts the pain will be.
We are only in spring, and spring has a twisting light.
Spring’s images are made of crystal and cannot be recalled.
There will be suffering, but you know how to coax it.
There will be memories, but they can be deflected.
There will be your heart still moving
in the wind that has not stopped flying westward
and you will give a signal. Will someone see it?

We thought there were other ways.
The darkness would stay outside.
We are not it, we said. It is not us.

There was a time when life went along brighter lines.
We still drank the water from the lake,
and the bucket came up cold
and sweet with the smell of deep water.
The song was everywhere that year, an absurd refrain.
It’s only that it seems so long, and isn’t.
It’s only that it seems so many years,
and perhaps it’s one.

When the trees were there I cared that they were there,
and now they’re gone.

There were many things I wanted to say to you
before you left. Now I shall not say them.
Though the light spills onto the balcony
making the same shadows in the same places,
only I can see it, only I can hear the wind
and it is much too loud.

The world seethes with words. Forgive me.
I love you, but I must not think of you.
That is the law. Not everyone obeys it.
Though time moves past and the air is never the same
I shall not change. That is the law, and it is right.


{ - and then THIS-}

Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things,
of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them,
for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind,
little by little. That is to say, you must think of them for a while,
a good while, every day several times a day, until they sink
forever in the mud. That’s an order.


{ -which I cant remember writing, so I’m not sure whether it’s me or a quote. Seems a bit too elegant for me I must say. And it continues…}

How long is it now, it seems a time although it most likely isn’t, at least, it seems time has passed. I know.

I’ve been feverish. Or: my body has suffered fever. While my mind, my mind tarries, retreats, unequal to the smallest task, it is the season, that’s what I say, I am never at my best, which is a leap to begin with, and mornings this time of year, no, it’s not going to happen, the feeling is, it’s never going to happen, no, not now, and thus, therefore, what is called a vicious circle, then, the more helpless you feel, not even an inch each day, you fall behind, thinking, no, the time has gone, past, when I could even begin, never mind finish, a work of any substance.

But.

Last night I dreamed (perhaps it is the fever but I have experienced uncommonly vivid dreams these last nights, this last week, not disturbing, no, I wouldn’t say that, but certainly nagging, so detailed, such detail, but no, before anyone asks, not the sort of detail one as is said blanches at, simply, rather, let’s say, the ordinary rendered uncommonly clear, let’s – yes, let’s say that) as I recall it now, I was writing, in this dream, which is unusual as far as I recall, in general, at least, and the dream has a moral of sorts, which is: just keep writing and it … things will be written will almost write themselves, if you attend to the simple step by step details, they will slowly mount, pile up, and before you know it, something will have been written; as opposed to, worrying, all your grand plans, will it be this, will it be that, can I be as good as X who I so esteem, will it equal 2 Y who I have always wished to emulate

{No quotation marks so maybe it is me. But “tarries” isnt a very me word. I think it must have been a semi-conscious semi deliberate ‘imitation’ or exercise. The next two do have qtn marks:…}

“I didn’t feel well, but they told me I was well enough. They didn’t say I so many words that I was as well as I would ever be, but that was the implication. I lay inert on the bed …”

“Come come, he said, and anyway no one understands a tenth of what you say. I’m so old, I said. You are not so old as all that, he said. May I stay here just a little longer, I said, till the rain is over? You may wait in the cloister, he said, the rain will go on all day. “

{ - but i don’t now… Anna Kavan? (‘Tarries’ is much more her i think.) God, I must name things more or one of these days I’ll ‘innocently’ post my thoughts and they’ll turn out to be evelyn waughs or don de lillos or sylvia plaths or andy warhols or something.}


AND… a return to a certain ethics; or, a birthing of a new ethics; I was thinking today that it might be time to return to marx, or, more accurately, begin reading, properly reading…
THAT time. Althusser. Marx, hindess hirst?
But the only one that was READABLE… was the modern prince wassit GRAMSCI.
Derrida: re marx.
Hauntology.

What goes thru our heads.

The idea the figure of revolution is a spatial one – a capital city, city of capital where it is concentrated ditto power, and something is stormed, the two immedaite examples exemplars = paris, the french revolution; and may 68, esp the latter, because it threatened promised suggested far more than it actually ‘achieved’… what goes through your head… because the one way in which writing seems to be liberated IS in this way…

There was a sense of relief, phew, the subject, jouissance, polyphony, text, textuality, I mean, bottomline here, its sexier, and we were young after all, best years of our lives, and politics whatever else it was wasn’t a trip, I tried I really tried, join the labor party, go to meetings, local meetings, I mean, there is nostalgia abroad at the moment, and justifiably so in one sense [bec of what the LP has become] but it wasn’t all xyz back then… more neuralgia than gnostalgia … beer and sandwiches and it was, it was an OLD BOYS network, it was STUCK, insular, in turned, pale, it was DETERMINEDLY anti change, it was [word?] Proud of… being stuck, it didn’t want to change, it … what am I trying to say here? Middle aged guys, class, power, this was how they wanted it, a reverse elitism, snobbisme, it was hard to see… the ENERGY opened up by ‘punk’ an energy of WANTING, of DESIR, delire, re reading re setting, wipe clean, fast, furious, the circuit lit up by speed, sex, language, excitement incitement, and then, at this precise moment, all this FRENCH STUFF, cut, influx, translation, import, access, translation, lagging behind in one sense but in another appeared at just the right time, if there has to be a ‘POST punk, then what is going to occur in this as yet unmoulded unthought SPACE? Tremble of excitement, opportunity to imagine culture itself anew. And even tho i sometimes blanch with embarrassment at the messianic and vitriolic and [word?] tone, at the same time, I can see now WHY that tone arose, because punk…. And punk crossed with… but it reaches an increasingly negative point, [telos? Back wash? Negative what? Narrowing, bitter, beady, as if on the LOOKOUT for slips, mistakes, infractions, a secret police, a kgb, and I was increasingly suspicous of eg g., snidey about EVERYONE else, it was HIS neurosis not a general or desirable condition, jouissance, joy, nietzsche, reading nietzsche was a revelation, and you can plug it in, deleuze guattari, desiring machines, plug ins, plateaux, ahead of its time, mobile, a 1000 plateaux, micro fascism, way ahead, and NOT BEING ACADEMIC then you don’t need to feign or follow – even now – to the ‘letter’… it can be simply deployed – nothing more to say – brook no sniffly opposition from ‘experts’ footnote-ists, you plug it in and off you go, you do it NOW, buzz, a line of nietzsche, a trail of deleuze, after all there was the lesson of situationism, started out such ajoyful flux and ended such a miserable reservation [in how many senses] anti-oedipus, what goes through your head, how many… for instance, the rise rush of anger I get hearing about US economy, about people dealing in shares etc, getting 72 million dollar pay offs, gorge rises, actors too, but you cant ‘attack it’ exactly, altho, you CAN boycott hollywood, why not! There is SO MUCH more to sample, and MAKE, the equipment is now so cheap, why not a 1000 blooms of punk/diy cinema, delete even the word cinema bec it is constricting, an industrial term, lose the term cinema, it’s a it’s a it’s a sin, just camera, gnosis, not delivered TO you thru the hex cathedra in camera church of holywood but do it yourself gnosis, dizzy, buzzing, anyway, the thing to do is not to attack, in old terms, insurrection, but to wipe instead the VALUE SYSTEM upon which…?

+ ----- -

‘this beastly and magic leisure
pronounced lees, places in midst of
woods I end today listening to cb won
dering exactly or wider diffuse generally
what it is we do reward hi and them and would be me for
only the truly lost satin bars on tues mornings
at 8am like today the kind of day they stack up until you have years of them calendars crumple and time is pressing a phrase today what was it time its cruelty but it isnt cruel its what yre doing to yourself not heeding and but tho it comes down to this sometimes sitting end a day listening to cb and it RINGS it does and you know one of those desert island qstns – you know – derrida or cb – and i think it wld have to be cb, like pta today, y-n, magnolia, broke into me, broken into thous, broken into smoke and sleep and no sleep
amazing dream last night if I could convey that – magic truly magic this moment – my years – today such up and down if I cld just –
broken like a string
list it
that is not nothing
thse thoughts
some of it
all of it....

[hk late night ‘nd it is true: the moment of censorship – in fic. as in p/a it is the mOMENt of repression silence xxxx–ing back – that is where … singularity, grief, guilt, pull, backwash,
today , pd love only 93 mins [whereas…}
sobs,
sobs
so rare
but good
b/c…

- ----- +

the nature
of fascination,
the Orphic gaze,
the impossibility of death,
the gift

+

influence of Pascal.

“…As it is known, Pascal was a convert to Jansenism,
which was an ascetic and unorthodox sect of Catholicism that exaggerated
Augustine's concept of grace. Before becoming a filmmaker, Bresson studied
Jansenism, a fact which perhaps explains why several of his films, such as
The Diary of a Country Priest and The Trial of Joan of Arc, treat religious
themes. Although Blanchot operates (like Nietzsche) largely in a classical
rather than Christian cosmology, one occasionally suspects that his concept
of inspiration, despite its Surrealist tenor, possesses below its surface
some resemblance to the Jansenist concept of grace, which views grace as
something akin to divine compulsion. In other words, one does not walk away
from The Space of Literature with the sense that the free will or the mere
technique of automatic writing can access the incessant murmur of
inspiration. Rather inspiration appears to exist as light at the end of an
endless tunnel, as something that appears at a distance, always to come..."

----------------- ----------------- ----------------- -----------------

CB: [CYCLE?} that BOY [as] she derisively referred to [him] to the presenter of the show [h. directed]. Altho what direction… a cutting together. Editing more like. Cut-nd-sniff {now, now…]. Laughter track. LAUGHTER RACK. Yep.

I’ve never liked boys, I much prefer men
She must have liked the way it sounded
She said it again…


[stange laugh - slightly abashed, slightly in on joke]
twice like this.
The other time was when… I related…
…rhetorical. I know just so you know I know…
abyssal. A warning: push me so far but no farther.

The Boy she derisively… snorted. That bloody boy.
Cocaine was endemic in their circle. Late nights in the cutting room. [ha ha h!]

Cb: [she wanted to…her dream project was… m de s.
but not a version I you could see the a. ever ---ing.
Flesh.
Mis en scene.

Antonioni…. I was too late [bloody typical]
Bresson… I lent her and she still has, one day on her period in the same clothes as prev night [speeding?] watching midday video of the devil probably
Roeg…first d. [blanchot: the [how does it go] "welcoming intimacy of the first night"] … melville … another of my fv… f*ck ALL my best videos ALL of 'em... eurkea, le samurai SHIT bob le flambeur (for the SECOND time!) veronika sodding voss... I AM NEVER GOING TO LEND ANY VIDEOS TO ANYONE EVER AGAIN...



posted by Ian 5/24/2003 10:17:00 AM

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