Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Automatic writing - Myself

I am not a fan of myself. Myself is difficult. Myself is challenging. Myself is myself. Sometimes we don’t quite see eye to eye. One wants one. One wants another. Compromise. Sharing give and take. Teamwork. Difficult through just the one woman with the green and gold back that takes on each part of you and still shares with others. That black and white liquid that tastes of blood and metal and babies. The twist that doesn’t end no beginning middle or finish a continuation of a continuation. Yellow dances around my eyes and I am alone, blinded by this shock of colour. In need of a protection that is a million miles away and right in front of my face but still out of reach to a human with her tongue cut out. Sliced and separated without question or consultation. Unwanted and thrown away to rot with the pieces of millions. Voicelessness is a concept which is a concept which is a concept which is difficult to understand unless you are voiceless. You cannot trust the other one. the stink of dead fish clings in the nose hair as the innards open up.  A pearl. An iota of hope is found in the rotting carcass and is plucked and taken by the magpie. Winged beauty. Absolute freedom within you, through you, without you, by me, and in me but not myself. Isolation in a square in which the walls mirrored but reflects not the life outside but the death within them.

Sunday, 19 February 2012

Documentation of 'Untitled' 3rd September 2011

I want to put myself absolutely at your mercy for good or evil without any condition, without any limit to your power. -Leopold von Sacher Masoch, Venus in Furs
Secretly or not... it is necessary to become different or else cease to be. -Georges Bataille Ac├ęphale
  Photo Credit Chris Watson.

Sunday, 5 February 2012

'The pink rucksack' Live generated automatic writing text.

Escape take me with you interlock my fingers and pull my thumbs I don’t want to be left on my own on the 12.27 underground service to Cockfosters. I can’t cope with being left on my own with only my pink rucksack as salvation. I don’t want to traverse a world without you in it you make it make sense to where would I live on my own my skin doesn’t suit Hawaii but it’s about give and take and I can’t take Australia but maybe somewhere in Northern Europe would be ok. We can drink that was pissed on by Bulls and we will like it and piss on each other. Pierce my mouth and tie it to yours then lets see if we can make sense of a conversation. Don’t cut me cut the blue cheese lying hiding in the back of the fridge then make a sauce to pour over the dried out steak you got for twelve pence because no one else wanted it. I can never fit this ideal of the 1950’s housewife in peplum skirt and blue pinny. I can’t wear red lipstick it makes my teeth look yellow and then my teeth look like they will fall out into a small neat pile of broken shards into my fingers. Like the broken plaster casts of toes I made to make someone other than you happy. I should have never have done that. Small tiny and insignificant piles of shiny white powder, which surmount to nothing. The black dog with 2 legs runs past our window again its fetid breath filling my lungs and sending me to sleep with the fishes. Deep dark and under the sea where no one could find me except the lobster who came again with his razor sharp claws and cut off my toes again. I am bleeding but not because I want to be or because you wanted me to be but because someone else made that decision for us. Like a baby that we never had taking up all my time because everyone said it was the right thing to do. There is an umbilical chord wrapped around this slimy purple screaming infant’s neck and it is not mine but my mothers. There is no knife. I need to stop this thing from dying my teeth are the only implement. I bite through this rubbery hose and like the way the clots stick to my gums as I drink someone else’s blood down. The blood in my eyes makes my eyes not red but white and milky though it’s a milk I can’t give to this horrible baby because …

'Joy in Union' performance text.

Joy in union. One for sorrow. Two for joy. Complete me as I complete you. Search for me within a crowd. Allow our eyes to have that split second of electric. Loose myself within them. Find myself within them. Rejoice within that journey. Different exciting and thrilling every single time. We breathe in the same breath we walk in the same step. Refine my thoughts and needs. Enjoy me as I enjoy you. I wouldn’t change a single second. Wholeness. Completeness. Oneness and twoness all at the same time. Give and take. Share. Share blood. Feel the claret warmth. Rich, luscious, delightful. Red sings on my skin. Hold, tender and close. Push me, make me work hard for you. Challenge me. Honour me. Worship me. Excite me always. Don’t question the future. Feel the future and understand. Know without knowing why. Two is enough. I want for nothing else. I feel full, I feel whole, I feel live without. Fingers that are the same, toes that are different. Be giving and generous with everything. Take me as I am. Understand I can survive without you. Enjoy the alone. The separation, the distance, the time. Do not fear. See and become the Scientist and dive in deep. Forget the rest. That. Pain through pleasure and pleasure through pain. Winged, fallen and ethereal. Sit, still and sweaty. The gentle crashing ocean of the interior pulse. A distant echo of another life. Of other lives. Be there. Be here. Be free. The Other, equal and opposite. Flowing easily like deep gentle waters. Air that feeds the fire. Make decisions make judgements palm-to-palm, shoulder-to-shoulder, mouth-to-mouth. Experience without giving brevity to a name. Shared space. Being generous with ourselves with others. Exhaust ourselves with our open caring and generosity. If something is easy it isn’t worth doing. It has never been easy. Let the breath catch in the chest at the thought of each tomorrow. Always.