I finally managed to perform this without major tech issues! unfortunately, I find that when you become well versed in one of your own performances is becomes still harder to envisage how any aspect will come across to an audience I felt less enthused about it today, but maybe that was the nerves the most frustrating thing, I think, is how little the documentation serves to reflect it. So much of the text is just illegible on the video. Ah well, at least someone other than me has seen it now!
Also- I can spell ciao- I just had a full of mindblank at the beginning of this and forgot everything I was supposed to be typing.
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as part of Jayne Dent's Underscore project, I have written a text in response to Josh Wilson's photographic score.
which, I swear, I meant to talk about but somehow I got stuck on bouncing dungarees.
Taxonomy from IsaacLacklustre on Vimeo.
Ahh
(I felt my bones becoming teeth and fancied them inset inlayed encrusted unla a cluster of molars in plaster polished crown jewels white/dusted rupturing forth biting off and spreading a virus growing like geode crystals flash/bang sprawl for champing and I was rigid brittle my mouth couldn't sing my legs couldnt dance my body was silent bald stonelike all mouth no moves flattened bruxist teeth to grind spiking wretched marrow wrenching free chewing through splitting spitting out teeth splintering shins elbows shattered tatty ratbag brushed enmassed colgate cold collagen flex capped clatter a structure heavy set with substance stretched over teeth Dead to the roots Fading enamel Receding In threat: They were bared. As in stuck: They were fast. Gumming the works They were snaggling Incisive Dogged I was set in stone Set on edge I was calcified Fossilised Molarised Fragmented I was shining Solid Rooted to the spot Rotten to the core I was Braced I was Sweet I was Aching I was teeth.) And spit. AgainstTeeth: Dentist from IsaacLacklustre on Vimeo. I am stuck; totally stuck, I always put this down to having nothing to say, and being told that when I find myself in such a position, I should not speak. Unfortunately, art school dictates that I am a never ending power house of profoundity.
Poor, naive artschool. Anyway, I am totally stuck and whenever I am totally stuck (which does seem to be an alarming percentage of the time), I find it helpful to look to those outside myself for some stimulus to respond to. This time, the marvellously talented but (though almost tragically oblivious) Simon Clowes of May Days in Barcelona fame [ google him, he's ace] has asked me to contribute to an album he is hoping to make. Things are up in the air currently, but I gather this is to involve musicians/writers sending him things loosely tied to the theme of family, home and communicating with them. I sent him this, to fit with a short riff he sent me (apologies for the spelling/punct- I recently gave up on grammar) To you first class November I remember the sheep skin rug and your record player magic discs of vinyl that I mustn't touch and get my sticky mitts all over. I still feel guilty touching records, they're precious such that I don't fancy owning any I was never a stickler for collecting like you but now I mind the sheep skin rug which I would roll in singing notes instead of words too young to understand the wild side and walking on it and songs with the f-word which these days I anchor to the definite article and letting the hifi melt into the air fade away and radiate feeling it like soft heat from the hearth and maybe there's the smell of christmas pine needles and sticky tape and anticipation this is major tom to ground control I won't be back for your birthday this year but I sent you a card with a line in like the package I sent the week before two stamps on the jiffy bag a glass frog and no real message because blood is thicker then water but blood is lax when it comes to truth maybe its the colour water crystal clear blood ambivalent B negative we are turning to dust but dust is all we ever had ancient albums and that photo of the hippie in the pink shirt from your 80s scunthorpe album who you always said got in the way of the shot but it turned out you knew him I forget his name I wonder do you forget yours sometimes- when you took on titles instead? I never want to have a child and you got stuck with 4 I ring home to makesure you're all alive because I think of walkabout and the shotgun and because I think of alcohol and the wardrobe and because I think of coffee cups and the wall and because I think of starsigns and lymph nodes a few of you are lost to me we don't speak you're too cool too balanced you're embarrassed i'm too something or you are hassled and hard to speak to you are all the hardest to speak to we built each others walls but i'll be back soon backsun xxx this was intended to be part of a larger video essay. Unfortunately it currently looks horrible and this is the least horrible moment. In the beginning there was the word, and since then we have had nothing but trouble. When I told you I was worried about condensing, I didn't mean that I was gas but you said that that is all that comes from me and I told you off for your sparing deixis. But When I told you I was worried about condensing, I was speaking more in terms of polysemy. I didn't mean that I was gas. But you said that that is all that comes from me. Gas. I think you meant, but the three times that was not precise. Gas I think you meant, as in hot air. Water vapour. That which I breathe out. That that again. The cat has got your tongue. The devil makes work for idle words. Though in the beginning there was the word, and we are told that HE is holy. They seem to make the word a man. Which they, I can't say. It's as vague as that. And That does not bare thinking about. But that He is holy. Heilig. And the devil makes work for idle words. In the beginning there was the word, and since then we have had nothing but trouble, and when I told you I was worried about condensing, I think that I meant quite the reverse. Condensing is a process, they use it to mean making shorter, or more intense. I suppose like milk. And radio plays. And you told me you'd like the abridged version of what I meant, but I could not because I was condensing. And when I told you I was worried about condensing, I didn't mean like milk and radio plays. And I didn't mean the other process. They use it to refer to the the state change of gas into liquid. But I think what I meant was quite the reverse. I meant that I was worried about association. A sea of such. And you told me off for my sparing deixis. So when, in the beginning, there was the word that I told you that was condensing. And that I was worried about that. That is, that I was worried about association. And drowning in seas of it. And when you told me off for my sparing deixis, I said that my worry has more to do with evaporation. Polysemy is not the same as breathing on a mirror. Then what is transparent, becomes, visible, at least for a moment. But then I suppose, it confounds another. And breathing on mirrors is not much sport but an enjoyable pastime. And you can confound yourself, as indeed I do and as indeed I did when I told you I was worried about condensing. And I suppose a clouded mirror is more like what I meant when I told you in the beginning I was worried about condensing. And you said that that was all hot air. And I told you off for your sparing deixis. And you told me off for using terminology I barely have a handle on. And I told you to keep your idioms to a minimum because even with handles I cannot get a grip. And you told me that was the most sense I had made all day. And I think what you meant was quite the reverse, because in the beginning there was the word, and since then there has been nothing but milk and radio plays. And those idle words are nothing but trouble, and I am worried that this is all hot air.
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