presence.

i was thinking about human presence, and how everything you put into a conversation with someone you know never stands alone, except, perhaps the first time (and i am not even sure of that). you are always coiled up into the Werdegang of the entire relationship from time immemorial. you weigh words, intonations, gestures, traces, absences, you even weigh presence.

so intangible, yet so material. it is in looking back briefly at skype conversations that i realise that an ontology of human life based on energetic flow, as silly as it may sound at first reading, is pretty plausible. for how else can you possibly describe the kinds of threads that connect us? those magnetic fields that we navigate and that we find pretty constant with people, even though they may be disregarded in case of behaviours etc – how do we account for the stuff we feel?

i still circle the old, unanswerable questions. the moth and the light? the bird which knows its south (ma boussole)? i do it perhaps out of habit, perhaps out of lingering curiosity, perhaps in the vain glory of glimpsing at the answer in the midst of the fog for a second – unexpected, it would shake me for a fortnight! i do it perhaps because i am still trying to cope with the shattering co-existence of presence and absence. and untimeliness. not lucid eternity, but zähflüssige untimeliness.

and this is not just a first to third person incommensurability problem.

borges: happiness.

Whoever embraces a woman is Adam. The woman is Eve. Everything happens for the first time. I saw something white in the sky. They tell me it is the moon, but what can I do with a word and a mythology. Trees frighten me a little. They are so beautiful. The calm animals come closer so that I may tell them their names. The books in the library have no letters. They spring forth when I open them. Leafing through the atlas I project the shape of Sumatra. Whoever lights a match in the dark is inventing fire. Inside the mirror an Other waits in ambush. Whoever looks at the ocean sees England. Whoever utters a line of Liliencron has entered into battle. I have dreamed Carthage and the legions that destroyed Carthage. I have dreamed the sword and the scale. Praised be the love wherein there is no possessor and no possessed, but both surrender. Praised be the nightmare, which reveals to us that we have the power to create hell. Whoever goes down to a river goes down to the Ganges. Whoever looks at an hourglass sees the dissolution of an empire. Whoever plays with a dagger foretells the death of Caesar. Whoever dreams is every human being. In the desert I saw the young Sphinx, which has just been sculpted. There is nothing else so ancient under the sun. Everything happens for the first time, but in a way that is eternal. Whoever reads my words is inventing them.

threshing-floor.

if someone mentions character building, i might uncharacteristically turn violent, and get one of my mafia connections to deal with them. that is called sarcasm in the dead of the night (this is written between the hours of 3 and 4am).

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

in silence, i long for company.

in company, i get restless and leave.

in love, i trust very much i will get it right one day.

clarity of feelings is probably not prioritary at the moment.

thanks to you who comfort and soothe and care.

comic rippled from here.

dawn is just around the corner.

it seems that i cannot sleep tonight. full moon. moonstruck. it is after 5am. only a few birds are out to sing in the starry icy night. dawn must be just around the corner even in this northern place. i remembered this at around 3am:

Encounter by Czeslaw Milosz

We were riding through frozen fields in a wagon at dawn.
A red wing rose in the darkness.

And suddenly a hare ran across the road.
One of us pointed to it with his hand.

That was long ago. Today neither of them is alive,
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.

O my love, where are they, where are they going
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.

Europe? Democracy? Political?

ON THE DOWN SIDE.

I wonder what our Prime Minister is up to when he says that the Irish made a wrong choice, and when even the British Parliament look to ways of pushing through the ratification of the Lisbon treaty using an endless string of euphemisms and lies.

Yes, of course the way the EU works needs reform, even though that is a stretchable term.

I can already hear some people say, oh you’re such a populist, whoever ‘the people’ are, they’ve been wrong before, and they are just not as enlightened as they should be. I beg to differ.

As if JCJ’s interest still lay, now, with ‘the people’. Jeejee, géi dach wech! Quetschen och! This would be like saying that GB has a long-standing, idealistic interest in EU construction enthusiastically shared by its average citizen. Ha! Bordering on the absurd now.

I think the European project of integration the way it is run today has nothing to do with how its foundational fathers imagined it. They would probably be turning in their graves, if they knew or cared about the monster that it has become.

Let me get it out there, for those new to this forum:

Experience shows me, everyday, all the things that are wrong with capitalism’s neoliberal version, as it spins in ever more unequal spheres.

I have also come to think representational democracy is a scam, albeit a brilliant one with a long-standing cultural history of optical illusion.

Yet you can hopefully also sense that I will probably never abandon concern with politics and effective social action bringing about positive change.

My political compass is definitely skewed though, especially since fieldwork. I would not even be able to say anymore, and of this I was so sure when I was younger, whether I am left or right.

To me none of that makes much sense, although I consider myself a highly political animal.

I hope I make politically the right decisions in my life and my work. Along with whoever (I forget) made the difference between ‘un homme politique’ and ‘un politicien’, I think that today’s rulers rather crowd into the second, ultimately self-serving, category.

C’est dommage, mais c’est un début!

 

ONE THE PLUS SIDE….

I had a lovely surprise.

In January, when I was home, I concocted a dossier of readings, largely inspired by Greenpeace’s action on implementing GMO Free Regions, in response to repressive (in terms of the possibility of organic “co-existence” of non-GM plants) legislation being passed in Brussels. I submitted this to my local Council in the village I grew up in.

A few weeks later, my parents got a phone call from one of the councillors asking whether I could come in to give a presentation about the issue.

Being stuck in the Deen, this proved impossible to me, but I remember being chuffed that they had, at least, taken note of the dossier.

About a week ago, my parents got a letter sent in the post stating that they had unanimously voted, in the council meeting, that this initiative I suggest in the dossier, be taken up.

Yeah! We need more encouraging examples.

I feel very drawn to the research area(s) of progressive politics, direct democratic procedures that effect positive social change. Anyone for any more concrete ideas? And I do not really mean Switzerland by this.

fever.

One

A black and white arrow with a red beak landed next to my head and started whispering into my ear. In line with my custom of general restraint, I let it happen, and did not react instantly, even though I may have been startled. I do not recall now. My companion turned to me in mild disbelief, his eyes and mouth widened and he took a step back. He may have forgotten to breathe for just a moment, but found his bearings back fast. The oystercatcher told me everything I needed to know for the present. As my being became clear, I realised I had not been at my best all my life. I learn to read all over, letters dancing without connection in front of my sliding-halting fingers.

Two

As I swung with the rhythms of conversations in human intricacy and noisy leather, I never managed to leave the thought of you behind entirely. As a ripple in an ever-expanding circle, you unknowingly proved all laws of thermodynamics strangely outdated. Heather honey brought us from one continent to the next as your voice travelled over from the other room. I missed you suddenly even though we have never been close. Our avoidance rituals were telling me to let go of the thought of mutuality. Still you turn my head in silence.

Three

The linen was rare green, but it felt and smelled like that week could last forever. Of course it did not, but for a moment it felt comforting to be caught in arrest. I touched the linen and it tore my skin. We spent the afternoon busying ourselves with asking the wrong questions and making conversation. We never took the turn to get off anxiety pills and expose make-believe contentment as fear. You waved and disappeared from view. I longed for the oystercatcher song. I ran across wet tarmac and thought I was stepping on many tombs and shards of glass. I laugh it off.

quirkiness.

i have been thinking about the not-so-shared nature of aesthetics, funnily enough, in the context of eurovision whackiness.

here the lyrics to my personal favourite. oh, i wish i spoke that language, of which i will have to presume it is a variant on south western slavic, aka bosnian or serbo-croatian, though i have not a lot to base this sentence on. ethnologue knows a little bit more.

elir lakovic laka, the singer and writer of the song was born in gorazde, but sadly i didn’t find any other of his songs on the web… yet?

and no, the sheep do not bear any relation to the text, as usual, though they could stand in for the monkeys referred to briefly.

Na moju omiljenu foru	I tricked both fauna and flora
Prevarim faunu i floru	With my favorite prank
Da život nije postao u moru	That life did not begin in the sea
Nego od ljubavi	But of love
Ljubavi, ljubavi	Love, love
Od ljubavi	Of love
Kolike protračismo dane	How many days did we spend
Ležeći, jedući banane	Lying down, eating bananas
Pa spadosmo na niske grane	And then we fell onto the lower branches
Bez ljubavi	Without love
Ljubavi, ljubavi	Love, love
Bez ljubavi	Without love
Pokušaću da te poljubim a ti se pravi luda	I’ll try to kiss you and you can act foolish
Pokušaću da te poljubim a ti se pravi luda	I’ll try to kiss you and you can act foolish
Pokušaću da te probudim a ti se pravi budna	I’ll try to wake you up and you can pretend you’re awake
(Ne silazi sa čardaka)	(Don’t come down from the balcony)
(Rek’o mi je pjevač Laka)	(Laka the singer told me)
(Ne klepeći nanulama)	(Don’t make noise with your sandals)
(Nemoj da se praviš dama)	(Don’t pretend to be a lady)
(Ne silazi sa čardaka)	(Don’t come down from the balcony)
(Rek’o mi je lično Laka)	(Laka told me personally)
(Ne silazi sa čardaka)	(Don’t come down from the balcony)
(Dok ti ljubav nije jaka)	(Until your love is strong)
Pokušaću da te poljubim a ti se pravi luda	I’ll try to kiss you and you can act foolish
Pokušaću da te poljubim a ti se pravi luda	I’ll try to kiss you and you can act foolish
Pokušaću da te probudim a ti se pravi budna	I’ll try to wake you up and you can pretend you’re awake

mutant hedgehogs.

bearing black spikes

that pierce bone and tissue

i remain transformed

transfigured fratzenhaft

hardly recognisable

breath interrupted

body not mine

talking through me

possessed

i am flashes of light

i am lava

i am annoyed

and

annoying

too much

attempting.

to resolve to soothe

to trickle to break

to explode to discipline

i run and run and run

the beasts become still

suddenly i understand

the nature of the pull

resistible.

needing to learn to live with black spikes within.

syntagm/paradigm

ha! this is the time when you notice that the blog should, in fact, have black as a background colour. i count on your wild imagination, as usual. i apologise for suboptimal picture #2… you can click on the pictures and they blow up (in a harmless way).

what you’re dealing with is a nocturnal meditation on ‘nightswimming’ by r.e.m.

The Infinite Small Hours of Awakening.

 

Consider the challenge to linear temporality:

How is it that we have spent so little time around each other and yet you make me feel like I have known you for all my being?

Remember the connective properties of fields, lodestones, electricity:

How is it that I miss you as you have not even walked out of sight?

Reckon with a tug of open-ended poetry of the everyday:

How is it that we can never spend enough time while your features arise with mine, strangely, marvellously?

Think about lightness unbound abounding:

How is it that with you being is easy and right and true and beautiful?

 

Ponder the uncanny presence of ghosts:

Propelled-interrupted by incisions of real-life withdrawn and stifling.

Compelled by deductive logic:

The bubble’s promise shimmers, glistens in the light of dawn and silently bursts.

 

 

Today’s front-page headline:

 

‘Nutshell exposed as entirely unrational/irrational being. Boas smiling from grave.’