What does this have to do with anything?
The project was created to house a public space for a monologued train of consciousness. The process itself, intended to result in a series of short video works, evolved into a single performance piece with the script itself the seven days of blogged entries. Each speaker represented a signifier of the author and a dichotomy of the self as well. The public space gives reference to voyeurism and comments on the deterioration of personal, physical interaction; as apposed to the Cyber identity, intended as a venue for personal expression and thought.
There is a level of control in stating this through the safety of the screen. There is nothing that ties myself or anyone to ideas or statements. Personalities are contrived, altered and edited with a chance of deletion. It is impersonal yet personal, fictional and factual. The real and the unreal are dissolved by the confines of the formlessness of the space. For this reason the text is slanted and chaotic, words are written by association with an attempt at truthfulness and complete absurdity.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Decapitated sunset
Speaker one: (impatient)
Time is almost up and the duration is tedious.
If I lay down I might dream of the ocean, where tables float upside down and I'll float out to sea. Perhaps you'll be waiting and perhaps not. That is not relevant. My lids are like drapes. No one ever considers that they can be drawn whenever most convenient. So lay down your heads when the sun passes over the hills- I'll lay down my head and close my eyes and all I known will turn into smoke. Time has no numbers and clocks are filled with honey. I'll drink dark coffee and fall to the bottom of the cup with remnants left to tell me gossip. And one... two... one two... one... two... one.
Time is almost up and the duration is tedious.
If I lay down I might dream of the ocean, where tables float upside down and I'll float out to sea. Perhaps you'll be waiting and perhaps not. That is not relevant. My lids are like drapes. No one ever considers that they can be drawn whenever most convenient. So lay down your heads when the sun passes over the hills- I'll lay down my head and close my eyes and all I known will turn into smoke. Time has no numbers and clocks are filled with honey. I'll drink dark coffee and fall to the bottom of the cup with remnants left to tell me gossip. And one... two... one two... one... two... one.
Decapitated sunrise
Speaker seven: (removes antlers and sighs)
Do you ever fear the end of something wonderful?
Speaker one: (taking off green shirt)
No.
Speaker seven: (crawling on hands and knees)
There is a perfect quote from someone I don't know, it goes: "Life listlessly lessens like lemons: like lakes, like laughter, like light. It is literally laughable, but that too wanes or erodes.".....
Speaker one:(taps foot)
Speaker seven: (sighs)
Do you ever fear the end of something wonderful?
Speaker one: (taking off green shirt)
No.
Speaker seven: (crawling on hands and knees)
There is a perfect quote from someone I don't know, it goes: "Life listlessly lessens like lemons: like lakes, like laughter, like light. It is literally laughable, but that too wanes or erodes.".....
Speaker one:(taps foot)
Speaker seven: (sighs)
If I close my eyes
Speaker four: (anxiously whispering)
It was crowded there.
Speaker six: (laughing)
Speaker four: (sadly)
There were times I didn't like it.
Speaker seven: (shaking forward and backward in large motions: antlers rest atop head)
Where have all the children gone? I looked one day and they vanished into cynics and academics. The ones I managed to save were locked away! Taken from me, turning into stone gargoyles...
with their mouths open: all speakers start to hiss. Wide like small birds needing to feed.....wider now their skin slashed at their cheeks, wider now their heads folded back; wider now, with room to rip their thick tissue apart.
Speaker four: (gestures largely)
I saw him there. Walked right by without a word, eyes above averting mine, would not stay to talk! And yet, and yet and yet
Speaker six: (laughing)
Speaker seven:
Lies! I was never there, and if i was I wasn't. I wasn't!
Speaker six: (laughing, becomes hysterical)
It is all the same, this carnival game, this circus event of fate.
With totem-pole heads painted bright red
And their Plastic dolls left Without faces.
I have seen little dogs, twirling rounded and tall
dressed up in little white dresses.
Speaker two: (yawning...very slow)
you would grow to be massive and cup them all into your mouth, your saliva a syringe: the fluid poisonous. Wicked, enjoyable and erotic.
It was crowded there.
Speaker six: (laughing)
Speaker four: (sadly)
There were times I didn't like it.
Speaker seven: (shaking forward and backward in large motions: antlers rest atop head)
Where have all the children gone? I looked one day and they vanished into cynics and academics. The ones I managed to save were locked away! Taken from me, turning into stone gargoyles...
with their mouths open: all speakers start to hiss. Wide like small birds needing to feed.....wider now their skin slashed at their cheeks, wider now their heads folded back; wider now, with room to rip their thick tissue apart.
Speaker four: (gestures largely)
I saw him there. Walked right by without a word, eyes above averting mine, would not stay to talk! And yet, and yet and yet
Speaker six: (laughing)
Speaker seven:
Lies! I was never there, and if i was I wasn't. I wasn't!
Speaker six: (laughing, becomes hysterical)
It is all the same, this carnival game, this circus event of fate.
With totem-pole heads painted bright red
And their Plastic dolls left Without faces.
I have seen little dogs, twirling rounded and tall
dressed up in little white dresses.
Speaker two: (yawning...very slow)
you would grow to be massive and cup them all into your mouth, your saliva a syringe: the fluid poisonous. Wicked, enjoyable and erotic.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Oh the shame and other untold stories
Speaker six: (restless, wearing a yellow suit)
I speak of a place they won't want you to know.
where the hills are alive and all that they show:
is not quite the fantasy, not quite make-believe,
the trees are to whisper of all that they've seen.
Ho! how it is lavish! (wondrous and free)
But oh, they will spite with a furious creed.
Calling it false! (a land that's untrue:
I am but to whisper of all that they'll do.)
Then come stow away so you might learn to see,
all the things you've once known of the night, called a dream.
I speak of a place they won't want you to know.
where the hills are alive and all that they show:
is not quite the fantasy, not quite make-believe,
the trees are to whisper of all that they've seen.
Ho! how it is lavish! (wondrous and free)
But oh, they will spite with a furious creed.
Calling it false! (a land that's untrue:
I am but to whisper of all that they'll do.)
Then come stow away so you might learn to see,
all the things you've once known of the night, called a dream.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Tea in a blue mug
Speaker five: (wearing a rabbit head, dancing)
I wish I was desirable, a creation of my lust, love and mystery! A Majesty that mountains bow and small children flee. I am miserable and sad. I long for a time without numbers and a clock without minutes. I am overdramatic and uncultured. I want potatoes on my fingers and yams on my toes. My music is my flatulence. I long to pick all the blossoms off the trees, inhaling pollen with each breath: inviting the bees into the pit of my belly, well rounded and pulsating. I would become a commodity, a holy grail among men. They’d stab at my gut, spilling out fresh honey to cup up with their golden chalices.
Beautiful Way
Speaker five: (eyes closed in the sun, bundled under sweaters and scarves)
It is invigorating to walk barefoot in the snow, entering the darkness of the night on streets familiar but too dark to see. To be lead by the slight reflections of street lights, avoiding weak ice and deep snow. A cold suctions to the soles of my feet. I imagine myself a night phantom, walking through still alleys, there is no sound but the faint disturbance of motors. Car ruts become hollow caverns. Deep and black. The air is warmer than it used to be, and I am unseen as I like.
(Speaker three walks by yelling)
Speaker three:
HOGWASH!
Speaker five:
Indecent
Speaker three:
I WALK TO BE SEEN! I DANCE IN PUBLIC CONTORTED AND POSSESSED.
Why do anything but, crazed street walker, a freak without shoes, I'm all for the individual but there comes a time when you want to scream. Yawlp like a barbarian! Guffaw! Use your voice as intended! What are these words but indicators hiding truth!
Speaker two: (crawls out of box near speaker five, to speaker three)
I fantasize about your moans, your subconscious sexual phonemics. What will make your leg shake and your mouth pant? Perhaps if I stroke your nose?
Speaker three: (Amused)
TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS BRUTE! PAT MY HEAD!
Speaker five: (As if alone)
The personal self is not intended to be viewed as a freak show carnival.
It is invigorating to walk barefoot in the snow, entering the darkness of the night on streets familiar but too dark to see. To be lead by the slight reflections of street lights, avoiding weak ice and deep snow. A cold suctions to the soles of my feet. I imagine myself a night phantom, walking through still alleys, there is no sound but the faint disturbance of motors. Car ruts become hollow caverns. Deep and black. The air is warmer than it used to be, and I am unseen as I like.
(Speaker three walks by yelling)
Speaker three:
HOGWASH!
Speaker five:
Indecent
Speaker three:
I WALK TO BE SEEN! I DANCE IN PUBLIC CONTORTED AND POSSESSED.
Why do anything but, crazed street walker, a freak without shoes, I'm all for the individual but there comes a time when you want to scream. Yawlp like a barbarian! Guffaw! Use your voice as intended! What are these words but indicators hiding truth!
Speaker two: (crawls out of box near speaker five, to speaker three)
I fantasize about your moans, your subconscious sexual phonemics. What will make your leg shake and your mouth pant? Perhaps if I stroke your nose?
Speaker three: (Amused)
TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS BRUTE! PAT MY HEAD!
Speaker five: (As if alone)
The personal self is not intended to be viewed as a freak show carnival.
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