Honestly, I'm a Liar, & Other Balances & Imbalances

January 17, 2017

Baldwin on the presise role of the artist

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 12:17 pm

The precise role of the artist, then, is to illuminate that darkness, blaze roads through that vast forest, so that we will not, in all our doing, lose sight of its purpose, which is, after all, to make the world a more human dwelling place.”

JAMES BALDWIN The Creative Process

December 27, 2016

From author Jim Crace’s “Quarantine”

Filed under: fragments, prose, visions — Tags: , , , — namelessneed @ 5:40 pm

“After his boyhood years of study at the temple school, steadying the scroffs and holding down the parchments beneath the pointing fingers of the priest, Jesus had learned to match up some of these Aramaic shapes to sounds–the little candelabra of the letter sha, the lightening strike of enn, the falling plough sign of the kaoh. He liked the places on these parchments where scribes were changed. The one who’d stitched his way across the page with wary, threadlike marks passed on his verses to the playful and untidy  one who led his muddy sparrows leave their tracks in undulating lines. Then came the scribe whose writing always toppled backwards, as if the meanings to the words were riding faster than the shapes which soon would fall on to their spines.

“This was a happy ignorance for jesus, only knowing a dozen words amongst so many thousands. He would not want to read as easily as scholars, he told himself, for that would only help to split the meaning from the sound, to divorce the music from the shape. If he could read like his priest could, by simply dragging the forefinger underneath the script and speaking every word he touched as if these were not verses but an endless rote of errands to be run, then the scriptures might become little more than strings of tiny tasks, a list. There’d be no mystery. But in his ignorance, he could both listen to the words of the reader and marvel, too, at the unspoken narrative of shapes, or concentrate not only on the script but also on the spaces in between. God was in the spaces, he was sure. God went to the very edges of the page.”

Author Jim Crace, from “Quarantine”

November 27, 2016

THERE’S FOG

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 10:39 am

 

 

“Life is short, and Art long; the crisis fleeting; experience perilous, and decision difficult.”  -Hippocrates

.“In the fog you are sheltered against the outside world, face to face with your inner self. Nebulat ergo cogito.” (fog therefore I think) -Umberto Eco

November 23, 2016

Giving Thanks, Counting Blessings, Yes But, Humility Too

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 2:32 pm

 

 

 

 

November 14, 2016

By the Light of the Moon in Bruges: Henri Le Sidaner, 1898-99.

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 3:08 am

henrilesidaner

October 13, 2016

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 8:04 am

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This All Hallows Eve

I could go out as one true menace to all that is holy. Doctored Dump.

Don’t let that shiny costume fool you; he’s
Super-callous, fragile,racist.Extra braggadocious.

And he wants to take our home. And he ain’t paid for decades for decades

(“He’s a genius”)

 

August 28, 2016

A RESPECTABLE MAN

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , — namelessneed @ 3:29 am

R.I.P.   John Huston (1906–1987)

 

July 30, 2016

glad you were born today, KATE BUSH

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 4:38 am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 24, 2016

surrendering you senseless

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 12:13 pm

Schlafwagen und Wunderkammer (Richard James Allen)

Posted on May 24, 2016 by in Heightened Talk

FullSizeRender(‘Schlafwagen und Wunderkammer’ is German for ‘sleeper’
or ‘sleeping car’ and
 ‘cabinet of curiosities’ or ‘wonder room’)

you are on the night train to Vienna
and you have already arrived in Berlin
you are about to walk home in Sydney
and you must dash back out to see
the play that is now more popular
than Hamlet in London

you are cold in your high sleeper bed
that you collapsed into
when the night heat came on
suddenly in a rush
without getting under the covers
that are now cold
that you collapsed into

you are wrapped in an old overcoat
you don’t remember owning
dreaming of trying to stay warm
in a high-raked hall of a tall-walled university
listening to a lecture on the mechanics of flashback
and your mind keeps wandering to a back shed
somewhere beyond the Wall in East Germany
full of homemade contraptions that were far too unreconstructed
ever to be sent to a Dickensian-looking patent office
piled high with yellowing documents
that curl like nineteenth century moustaches

you are in the long tail of a tall tale
a cat coiled up in itself asleep
the way those big ropes
that secure ships to their ports
are coiled into perfect circles
by nameless foreign seamen
the forever migrant workers
circling the globe
only one of whom
ever gets off the boat
to become Joseph Conrad

you are being asked by your roommate
your bunkmate your companion
what do you call someone
travelling with you on a night train
in one of the lower bunks
a person who for reasons unknown
shall remain nameless
to set an alarm so that she yes she
that much you can know
can wake up before the guard
who has no English comes with the croissants

you are sure you are reassuring her that you have
and it may be that you have
but you don’t remember in which country
or time zone you would have have-have-have done so
though you like the idea
that this act of thoughtfulness
may have occurred
and you being the enactor
if not the instigator of it

you are thinking that you may have to be the alarm clock yourself
though your clock hands are wrapped inside your imaginary overcoat
and not a lot about the rest of you resembles a device
for the capture and distribution of time

you are of the opinion that when you fell into this  sleep  in  a  cocoon  of  vibration  you
were  sure  or  at  least fairly certain that  it  would be a normal sleep that  is  to say just
like any other sleep but on the contrary  it  feels  as  if  you have been having the whole
history  of  consciousness downloaded into the data banks  of  your  body  which for an
unspecified period  of  time have replaced your usual cells but this  is  most odd as you
are  not  sure  if  you  believe  any more that consciousness  has  a  history  though  you
might  go  so far  as  to  offer  that it gets woven in to history finally realising that it was
only ever  a  visitor  to  the aforesaid state  of  you are not sure what really playing hide
and seek  in  the winding corridors and hallways of time and personality a game  it  got
caught up in but now understands it can step away from any time it wishes to exit
time that is to say whenever it no longer wishes to be part of
the here and the now
and the then and the to come

Knock, knock, knock!

so the question the guard asks you
in English by the way
is not would you care for some breakfast
but are you ready to be awoken from this dream of timelessness
or would you prefer to remain in a room of marvels
a disembodied spectacular down the rabbit hole of the fantasia elevator
taking up semipermanent residence in the cross-eyed manifesto
of time masterpieces of continuous previousness
a conspiracy of angels flocking in all directions at the holy speed of intuition
as you learn to live in the fantastic space

 

____________________________________________________________

smaller-cropped-Richard-James-Allen-portrait-by-Saba-Vasefi-Copyright-©-2016-The-Physical-TV-CompanyRichard James Allen’s ten books of poetry, fiction and performance texts include Fixing the Broken Nightingale(Flying Island Books), The Kamikaze Mind(Brandl & Schlesinger) and Thursday’s Fictions (Five Islands Press), shortlisted for the Kenneth Slessor Prize for Poetry.  He won the Chancellor’s Award for most outstanding PhD thesis at UTS.  Widely published in anthologies, journals and online for over thirty years, Allen has been the recipient of numerous awards, nominations, grants, as well as opportunities for presentations, screenings and broadcasts, in a unique international career as an acclaimed writer, director, choreographer and performer. Further information: http://ww.physicaltv.com.au & http://www.poetrylibrary.edu.au/poets/allen-richard-james.

April 2, 2016

JIM HARRISON (1937-2016) RIP

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 3:52 am

 

 

 

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