So what is the game of debriefing a supermarket visit? A lousy test of temporary knowledge?We did not dig deep till now did we. We hardly touched any substance. Well I did not. Are you alright with your head on the ground? I can hardly hear you from down there. What you say? The building? I do not know anything about architecture! Let me fix your headquarters but first move a little. There are more rooms in the mansion after all and in the dining room we can finish our bun. I will also eat your part since you are not capable of simply swallowing it without taking extra risks. Want to sit in the bus shelter and throw some wood on the fireplace? Can you move? Need a hand? You are so cold, old soldier, you want your brain back? Buy a ticket and take a ride?
They sit as Sluik suggested for a while at the bus-stop where no immediate words are spoken. Senis gets his breath back and recovers from the breakdown or stroke he had earlier. Sluik is not the least worried or impressed with the setback nor the quick recovery and crunches away on Senis' part of the bun. He has become a patient and obedient man once in a while and in between and waits until Senis speaks. The supermarket is their view. Senis suddenly starts fountaineously and Sluik spits out a sporadic question mark in between:
It is the building I wanted to hear some words about. The shell as much as the shelf. Tell you ahead: I like it so much and want you to agree with me. Can not care less what happens behind my back. You buy we sell. To call it kiwi is also brilliant. Just brilliant! Ha, you worry about fooling the client and nag about fake behaviour! Nothing of that kind here. Not in the attitude of selling and not in the way of presenting it. You are kidding? No, I will make you agree with me in a few minutes. It is not particularly this one but the principal of all. Slowly the world has made the dividing of wealth a virtue. We Northern ones except so many things now without questioning. We can all live with no concern! Endless temporary. Huxley alive today would immediately revise or hide the brave new world! Hypnopaedia is after all not needed to get us worshipping the reality stars. And we have liberated the world for all products to travel free! That is progress! The drug is there too it just does not come in a capsule or on a plate. Soon we do not have to move anymore or anywhere, not even virtually. The product will travel for us. We will get a product that goes for us on holidays and makes us relax and continue to relax. A Huxley drug that tans us is around the corner for the whites amongst us. Cynical Senis needs a parasol?You might not agree with the new world rules but have to agree they do a good job of it. A free market with a huge but invisible fence or camouflaged panzer-box and eyed with CCTV, not to scare the occasional notorious nut pickers of your handful sort but to scare ourselves, the innocent. They even create crisis of conveniences to clear up some bonos and spilled leftovers of the past. Look at it. Look at it! The store is a massive sea container with mouth and ass and we clients enter and leave through the ass! We actually never get to see the mouth. We do not even know where it is. I would say the building is in excellent condition with the expiring date as long as it's products. The archaeologist of the 25th century will not find a trace of the kiwi! You still wonder if I do not fool you, you poor Fidel. Robbing and evaporating is the new form! See the long-term use of it. It is only an example. There is an abundance of kiwis and it is spreading like a new satisfactory flu. Would be good for the observers if the development goes to a little overweight for the building. The predicament of Erwin Wurm! You want some round curves? Or it is good as it is, so straight forward. Supreme and breathtaking! Convinced with the beauty of your evil opponent for the better world? Sl ...
This has really gone far enough. It is really getting smelly and beyond the point of using energy on. The reversibility is so obvious and so tedious and tiresome. Thinking that I am honestly observing but finding myself constructing constructions. If I continue like this I end up with the Michael Moore righteousness disease. Oh what a pretentious blabla and pitiful behaviour. Oh yes truth does not exist which includes subjective truth and partisan truth and slain or lovers truth and in my case the truth of the coward. It is all much more real out there! I will start over again but delete nothing.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Part 6: in the garden of kiwi.
As the word turns this title will be a little too Norwegian perhaps...
The soup is less hot so I might as well stick to the jumping and clarify some here some there of what is observed and heard. The kiwi episode is just the right thing to mention. Oh, do realize I make a sinuous giant leap now but that is me: time dictates directions and not the other way round.
So remember it to know now! I already told you several times what the word temporary really means. Yes, I see that now, old man, and love the simplicity of it. Just needed some time to let it sink in. Well, you should do better than that. You have got after all the date right. You really think that has something to do with it? I mean, I use it myself so many times but thought more of it as a gimmick or play of turning numbers and establishing hardly existing or thin relating links and showing the academics I see the light too while clogging their memories with my truth! Brave aimless sabotage boy! Do not think it is as easy as that. Should be but it is not. Not yet. Let's walk. My back still hurts but I can breath now. Let's walk a little distance. To the chain-store where we get a bun. Let us walk to that kiwi!
It is the only shop in a circle of at least half a kilometer or so. The next one is a gas station. Their local supermarket is situated at the end of a trolleybus line. A little up the mountain of Natland. There is the main road, the bus-stop and a huge parking as an observatory crest, overlooking beautifully the centre of the city below, all the way to the sea. Temperature is just below zero that day and thin drizzling snow occasionally falls, snow like rain and rain like snow. They stroll there in utter silence and go for one large plain bun to share. Sluik enters and pays with the deposit of bottle and tins. Senis stands outside. They take in the view nibbling and Sluik says if seeing it for the first time: Oh, what a lovely view! It's a great parking with a view! A discount parking plot panorama pleasure! which triggers Senis enough to turn the subject:
Stop biting bits of bun for a second, leave the view for a minute and turn around for a while and look at the door you just came out of and give me some words about the space while you were visiting the bread section. Lend me your brain and tell me what you encountered.
All for our convenience I enter the suburban unclassified corrugated temple-box below the green neon kiwi. I pass cryptic announcements telling the times I can fill up with consumption and bargains which means it is always open when I am not sleeping. Entrance is Exit. Cash desks ahead and turn left right left passing pamper, washing powder, frozen food section. That's it. Now it is just various buns ahead. I take one and continue straight to the deposit department to cash my tin. As a habit I pick a nut in yogurt cream or two and via carrot and herbs and beer and sweets I Ass get out, breathless and find you looking in bins for new tins. No memory of other passersby. Not even a recall of the face of the till girl... No, that is not true. Almost forget I saw Tilbud in the corner of my eye... He is loud.
Oh, it is an extremely dull place with the average pretty spot face filling the lanes and counting cash registers. Ugly place of plain providing. I mean really ugly and full of stuff of wants and not haves with enough room for a mold in the box. Priced stuffing blowing and sucking without making too much fuzz about it's overweight. Chain store politics of greed rules here. Did the monster not shit it's pile just where it wants ? Is it questioned? What do you expect me to come up with? Are they not fuck all the same wherever you may go in the country?
Gmpho! Gumpho! Gonpho? Guntho! Gun who? No, gontzo! Gonzo? Yes, Gonzo... Bun... Bum!! What about Gonzo? Ah, I get your point I think. Gonzo the Muppet puppet was on sale? Still stuck that bun? I slice your head off and you are cured.
The soup is less hot so I might as well stick to the jumping and clarify some here some there of what is observed and heard. The kiwi episode is just the right thing to mention. Oh, do realize I make a sinuous giant leap now but that is me: time dictates directions and not the other way round.
So remember it to know now! I already told you several times what the word temporary really means. Yes, I see that now, old man, and love the simplicity of it. Just needed some time to let it sink in. Well, you should do better than that. You have got after all the date right. You really think that has something to do with it? I mean, I use it myself so many times but thought more of it as a gimmick or play of turning numbers and establishing hardly existing or thin relating links and showing the academics I see the light too while clogging their memories with my truth! Brave aimless sabotage boy! Do not think it is as easy as that. Should be but it is not. Not yet. Let's walk. My back still hurts but I can breath now. Let's walk a little distance. To the chain-store where we get a bun. Let us walk to that kiwi!
It is the only shop in a circle of at least half a kilometer or so. The next one is a gas station. Their local supermarket is situated at the end of a trolleybus line. A little up the mountain of Natland. There is the main road, the bus-stop and a huge parking as an observatory crest, overlooking beautifully the centre of the city below, all the way to the sea. Temperature is just below zero that day and thin drizzling snow occasionally falls, snow like rain and rain like snow. They stroll there in utter silence and go for one large plain bun to share. Sluik enters and pays with the deposit of bottle and tins. Senis stands outside. They take in the view nibbling and Sluik says if seeing it for the first time: Oh, what a lovely view! It's a great parking with a view! A discount parking plot panorama pleasure! which triggers Senis enough to turn the subject:Stop biting bits of bun for a second, leave the view for a minute and turn around for a while and look at the door you just came out of and give me some words about the space while you were visiting the bread section. Lend me your brain and tell me what you encountered.
All for our convenience I enter the suburban unclassified corrugated temple-box below the green neon kiwi. I pass cryptic announcements telling the times I can fill up with consumption and bargains which means it is always open when I am not sleeping. Entrance is Exit. Cash desks ahead and turn left right left passing pamper, washing powder, frozen food section. That's it. Now it is just various buns ahead. I take one and continue straight to the deposit department to cash my tin. As a habit I pick a nut in yogurt cream or two and via carrot and herbs and beer and sweets I Ass get out, breathless and find you looking in bins for new tins. No memory of other passersby. Not even a recall of the face of the till girl... No, that is not true. Almost forget I saw Tilbud in the corner of my eye... He is loud.
Oh, it is an extremely dull place with the average pretty spot face filling the lanes and counting cash registers. Ugly place of plain providing. I mean really ugly and full of stuff of wants and not haves with enough room for a mold in the box. Priced stuffing blowing and sucking without making too much fuzz about it's overweight. Chain store politics of greed rules here. Did the monster not shit it's pile just where it wants ? Is it questioned? What do you expect me to come up with? Are they not fuck all the same wherever you may go in the country?
Gmpho! Gumpho! Gonpho? Guntho! Gun who? No, gontzo! Gonzo? Yes, Gonzo... Bun... Bum!! What about Gonzo? Ah, I get your point I think. Gonzo the Muppet puppet was on sale? Still stuck that bun? I slice your head off and you are cured.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Part 5: I am involved so it concerns me
Thank you so much Mister Max. Yes, thank you so much for your reply. It was really nice of you to ask. And all the way from England! And so prompt. It was really touching when you especially asked directly me how he is doing at a moment that thoughts alter and severely corrode maybe too. I went straight to him, knocked on his doors, encountered some screaming from inside. No, it is not good. It is not good these developments. Oh, one can not imagine how different he expected it to be once the summer would pass. He really had a drive to create some local but radical changes and not to stumble into obvious new and old potholes. I did not leave. I hang around the place long enough to witness. When he read your kind concern he did at first react quite erratic which was followed by a confusion of laughs. I know he really appreciated your attention. And then he was confused, maybe hurt even. But that had nothing to do with you.
Who is this Carla he is revering to?
He totally forgot how he dragged me into the public domain!
I wonder how this Max got hold of Carla!
Here he is so right: I have nothing to do with the correspondence. Tilbud and Tilbake signed it and are just overlooked again and neglected by all. Mr Albert as well as Mr Robert did the same not much later: just dropping details now to divert. Tilbud and Tilbake are actually not even available if one wanted them and off somewhere or in some degree and certainly not back yet to answer his little bit pitiful post of despair. Maybe I should clarify a little this reoccurring pancake affair: Sluik had send out a call for a helping hand. while they are admiring the sun with their crowd or alone. Tilbud is on a cheap chill Costa for this and Tilbake obviously has enough with a postcard of sunny Acapulco on the wall above his bed. They both really think in their own way that the sun shines just for them and get preoccupied and tend to forget him as much others overlook them. Leave them be, they are not the issue. They can be so easily neglected and they still have feet. It does not help them or hurt him to solve the mess he got himself into. He continued with his old self and for a moment here I wish Senis popping up. Although I know he does not interfere.
Nothing else? No offers or deals?
Oh, it is so rare: real concern. When people take time, I mean, and really go into the matter. Other people's matters. No not poking around. That is not what I mean. One should not poke. Attentive unselfishly concern is different. Deep attention, not just a quick scan on the surface. To become one and to take that risk to misunderstand and being misunderstood. These days it still has to lead to merchandise! Senis says it simply does not exist yet: concern. Merely the attempts do and that is what we should call them. We should not ignore those attempts though. Far from it. They should be cuddled and treasured until one day we can deal with concern and we can value others in real time, in real circumstances. Before that time comes we have to do with the substitutes, the virtual puppets, the make belief of truth. Senis promises it will work when we stick to it.
Can this Max read?
No, it is not good these new developments. And in all my naivety I thought I could just follow one line and do it chronologically. I hate it when it becomes so chaotic and confusion seems to take over and options are so endless. It is bad enough when one has to observe and describe this tendency of matter which associatively is mixing up thoughts and ideas. Maybe I am too rough in that sense or too much a perfectionist for that matter. I know I have to return to it sometime but he is weak for the moment. It would not be fair now. A gaping mouth easily hooked and a simple shot in the back of the head. It is however not the last said on it by far. No snow has fallen yet so far though. And I have to be so careful not to get involved. At least not more than an observer can be involved in such things. Before you know they call me Gonzo too and only think of it as that puppet!
Utter Fool! Utter Fool!
He was the one who asked for help and included Max. I must have been so from another planet in the beginning thinking I would not get involved. I would just stay neatly outside the lines of the field. Oh, do not worry I will not continue this for ever: I just need to get this off my chest. You have any idea how important it is for me to be taken seriously and to be treated accordingly. Oh yes, flowers do wonders sometimes, ask any woman! I am too agitated for the accusation that I am old fashioned and not emancipated enough. Wash the mouth before speaking brainless twitter! ...Poor Max!
Why do I bother? Feeding sheep blindly, that is what it is! Oh, give me that bottle Louis Nag Nagel! I will empty that half for you! Open your mouth you suffocating sweet collaborating nurse of the third generation! Repent and swallow!
For the moment he hardly realized there was more, more sweet and courteous drips of attention. Just drips till now though and according to him all somehow almond sweet in scent.
Who is this Carla he is revering to?
He totally forgot how he dragged me into the public domain!
I wonder how this Max got hold of Carla!
Here he is so right: I have nothing to do with the correspondence. Tilbud and Tilbake signed it and are just overlooked again and neglected by all. Mr Albert as well as Mr Robert did the same not much later: just dropping details now to divert. Tilbud and Tilbake are actually not even available if one wanted them and off somewhere or in some degree and certainly not back yet to answer his little bit pitiful post of despair. Maybe I should clarify a little this reoccurring pancake affair: Sluik had send out a call for a helping hand. while they are admiring the sun with their crowd or alone. Tilbud is on a cheap chill Costa for this and Tilbake obviously has enough with a postcard of sunny Acapulco on the wall above his bed. They both really think in their own way that the sun shines just for them and get preoccupied and tend to forget him as much others overlook them. Leave them be, they are not the issue. They can be so easily neglected and they still have feet. It does not help them or hurt him to solve the mess he got himself into. He continued with his old self and for a moment here I wish Senis popping up. Although I know he does not interfere.
Nothing else? No offers or deals?
Oh, it is so rare: real concern. When people take time, I mean, and really go into the matter. Other people's matters. No not poking around. That is not what I mean. One should not poke. Attentive unselfishly concern is different. Deep attention, not just a quick scan on the surface. To become one and to take that risk to misunderstand and being misunderstood. These days it still has to lead to merchandise! Senis says it simply does not exist yet: concern. Merely the attempts do and that is what we should call them. We should not ignore those attempts though. Far from it. They should be cuddled and treasured until one day we can deal with concern and we can value others in real time, in real circumstances. Before that time comes we have to do with the substitutes, the virtual puppets, the make belief of truth. Senis promises it will work when we stick to it.
Can this Max read?
No, it is not good these new developments. And in all my naivety I thought I could just follow one line and do it chronologically. I hate it when it becomes so chaotic and confusion seems to take over and options are so endless. It is bad enough when one has to observe and describe this tendency of matter which associatively is mixing up thoughts and ideas. Maybe I am too rough in that sense or too much a perfectionist for that matter. I know I have to return to it sometime but he is weak for the moment. It would not be fair now. A gaping mouth easily hooked and a simple shot in the back of the head. It is however not the last said on it by far. No snow has fallen yet so far though. And I have to be so careful not to get involved. At least not more than an observer can be involved in such things. Before you know they call me Gonzo too and only think of it as that puppet!
Utter Fool! Utter Fool!
He was the one who asked for help and included Max. I must have been so from another planet in the beginning thinking I would not get involved. I would just stay neatly outside the lines of the field. Oh, do not worry I will not continue this for ever: I just need to get this off my chest. You have any idea how important it is for me to be taken seriously and to be treated accordingly. Oh yes, flowers do wonders sometimes, ask any woman! I am too agitated for the accusation that I am old fashioned and not emancipated enough. Wash the mouth before speaking brainless twitter! ...Poor Max!
Why do I bother? Feeding sheep blindly, that is what it is! Oh, give me that bottle Louis Nag Nagel! I will empty that half for you! Open your mouth you suffocating sweet collaborating nurse of the third generation! Repent and swallow!
For the moment he hardly realized there was more, more sweet and courteous drips of attention. Just drips till now though and according to him all somehow almond sweet in scent.
Monday, July 6, 2009
part 4: bad I am the world.
Sluik thought he was all on his own on top of the hill and alone amongst the snowmen until Senis voice appeared from the dark. In fact he did not notice that voice either. He just assumed it was his own question he heard. So naturally he answered himself and in his own way.
Ha, snowwomen, snowwhite and snowwife, snowmademoiselles, snowbabes, snowbunnies, snowmodells, snowidols, my dear snowgirl... The Popgroup on record Y: snowgirl is on fire!
Ha, would there be no word for a female snowpuppet in any language? The Inuits must have! They have I don't know how many words for just snow. Do Eskimos make snowmen? They have time for that? Are snowmen a whitemansthing? Who build the first snow puppet? Must have been Bruegel's children! Let me introduce you to Adam and Eva Snow-Balls. Does your church allow that? And what about snow on the cross? What has that to do with it?
Did I photograph any women just now? Did I actually think of man or women while looking at them? The double headed one is a pregnant species! One in the beginning, number four or five, had some little ones running around: snowkids...but all boys... There you go!
Sneeuwman met klompen and in German: Schneepuppe, that is female, Die Puppe! In Chinese or Russian or Estonian or Papiementu? Another google-task! ... Snø...Tombe la Neige ! Adamo: LalalalaLalalalalala... Stop Sluik, they are puppets of snowflakes. Not more not less. But what if.
I however did hear the voice and knew it came from another direction than usual. I tried to see where it came from, to see who it was who asked. But despite the white carpet the world seemed too dark for me to deceiver my surroundings. I wonder if it would have helped if Sluik had flashed around with his precious little toy. Of course he did not such a thing and consequently right then I did not get to see the person who spoke. It is not my task to interfere. I only observe. I admit I was tempted to... I was eager to hear the voice again. Certainly it was not a passersby question.
Should I say where we were exactly at that moment? Does it matter? It could have been anywhere where snow falls. So what was all my fuss about earlier you should ask me. And meanwhile I hear you think: it was one of the snowmen talking. Ha, do not make me laugh: they are just balls of snow. I suddenly realize now writing down these recalls and memories that it does not matter who is who. Or am I hurting somebody now? I do not want to hurt anybody but the moment I am aware of that it seems all around me are wounded. We are all injured. I am one of the injured.
I feel I have to give it a rest for a while. Sluik is too busy with not much and other things and Senis is sleeping anyway. I am sure I can be more clear when I continue and not so loosely and summerbirdly like i tend to do now. After all there is no hurry. I realize nobody is waiting for this. That is fine. Oh, I get so easily involved.
Oh, I get so easily involved.
Ha, snowwomen, snowwhite and snowwife, snowmademoiselles, snowbabes, snowbunnies, snowmodells, snowidols, my dear snowgirl... The Popgroup on record Y: snowgirl is on fire!
Ha, would there be no word for a female snowpuppet in any language? The Inuits must have! They have I don't know how many words for just snow. Do Eskimos make snowmen? They have time for that? Are snowmen a whitemansthing? Who build the first snow puppet? Must have been Bruegel's children! Let me introduce you to Adam and Eva Snow-Balls. Does your church allow that? And what about snow on the cross? What has that to do with it?
Did I photograph any women just now? Did I actually think of man or women while looking at them? The double headed one is a pregnant species! One in the beginning, number four or five, had some little ones running around: snowkids...but all boys... There you go!
Sneeuwman met klompen and in German: Schneepuppe, that is female, Die Puppe! In Chinese or Russian or Estonian or Papiementu? Another google-task! ... Snø...Tombe la Neige ! Adamo: LalalalaLalalalalala... Stop Sluik, they are puppets of snowflakes. Not more not less. But what if.
I however did hear the voice and knew it came from another direction than usual. I tried to see where it came from, to see who it was who asked. But despite the white carpet the world seemed too dark for me to deceiver my surroundings. I wonder if it would have helped if Sluik had flashed around with his precious little toy. Of course he did not such a thing and consequently right then I did not get to see the person who spoke. It is not my task to interfere. I only observe. I admit I was tempted to... I was eager to hear the voice again. Certainly it was not a passersby question.
Should I say where we were exactly at that moment? Does it matter? It could have been anywhere where snow falls. So what was all my fuss about earlier you should ask me. And meanwhile I hear you think: it was one of the snowmen talking. Ha, do not make me laugh: they are just balls of snow. I suddenly realize now writing down these recalls and memories that it does not matter who is who. Or am I hurting somebody now? I do not want to hurt anybody but the moment I am aware of that it seems all around me are wounded. We are all injured. I am one of the injured.
I feel I have to give it a rest for a while. Sluik is too busy with not much and other things and Senis is sleeping anyway. I am sure I can be more clear when I continue and not so loosely and summerbirdly like i tend to do now. After all there is no hurry. I realize nobody is waiting for this. That is fine. Oh, I get so easily involved.
Oh, I get so easily involved.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
part 3: black or white, it is all the same to me, is it.
Shortly after Sluik entered the house he returned outside and determined. Less than a year before a man and very close friend Emile Toorop gave him a little digital compact metallic blue Lumix camera. Maybe surprisingly for some Sluik got fond of it very quickly and started photographing practically everything and anything. Things and objects and landscapes and his little family. Emile Toorop explicitly told him he should photograph his sons, so he did.
Obviously he had a self imposed mission of some kind again. The obsessive need to capture and collect like usual. Snow under his feet sounded different this time: harder and resistant or maybe firm and sound? It definitely cracked though. Earlier on he wandered. This time he literary marched up tempo. As if something or one could escape him and the route was planned, approved and signed months ahead.
>The world has expanded! I found new citizens! The ground is invaded today! They must be here by thousands! What are they up to? How long will they stay? Got to catch them all! Collect them and keep them! They are the pawns! Towers and bishops on horses! All off them are chessmen. Got to catch them before they are off. I have to keep an eye on them as long as they are here. They won't run me away! Not this time now I have thought of it in time this time. I have it all under control but I should be quick and stop thinking and brains out.
Sluik seemed restless and nervous, inpatient and hard on excited or better and in the mean time so self pleased with not much. And I was there observing poor him. We tumbled through the snow like a chasing hound dog. Sluik quickly flashed the men in the dark he encountered all over the estate. One, two. I noticed he was afraid for the use of the flashlight to alarm any in the neighborhood asleep. He did not want to get caught. Seven. He photographed in a hurry as if the flash would appear shorter that way. We hurried over the yards and fields discovering yet another of his soldiers. Eight. They seemed to move with him and became what he imagined them to be. Some he straight forwardly disliked and mistrusted and others he felt confident with. Fourteen, fifteen. He disconnected the creators and created the ancestors. In between he hastily whistled a Richman song... ring your bell, ding, ding! Rapid but soft and so out of tune not to wake up any spectators. He wanted to be left alone and in the mean time in the centre of the world surrounded by a crowd who would see it with him. Next catch: twenty one.
You see what I see? Yes, I do. But, you need me to explain. No I don't. Right, and the others see it too? Yes, they do! So we all see the same? Yes! Sure?? Yes!! So, no mistakes, no misinterpretations, no word confusion, no additional explanations needed. Brilliant. Twenty six! We all look and see the same thing! That is good... isn't it?
What am I going to do with the lot? With my new collection of puppets! There must be a market for it. There must be some kind of interest. Somebody out there listening? I just show them as they are. They just real size scare shit out of others. Thirty-two, ring your bell! I obviously do not have to go far and just keep it simple. I discovered the significance of snowmen, know what they are up to, and want all to be witness. They are the thieves of time. They do not take us seriously. We should learn from them!
And that is, I believe, the moment where Senis showed up out of the dark blue and asked him straight forwardly if he had managed to catch a snow-woman as well. I do not think there was an introduction before or a hello or my name is, just:
Caught any women?
Obviously he had a self imposed mission of some kind again. The obsessive need to capture and collect like usual. Snow under his feet sounded different this time: harder and resistant or maybe firm and sound? It definitely cracked though. Earlier on he wandered. This time he literary marched up tempo. As if something or one could escape him and the route was planned, approved and signed months ahead.
>The world has expanded! I found new citizens! The ground is invaded today! They must be here by thousands! What are they up to? How long will they stay? Got to catch them all! Collect them and keep them! They are the pawns! Towers and bishops on horses! All off them are chessmen. Got to catch them before they are off. I have to keep an eye on them as long as they are here. They won't run me away! Not this time now I have thought of it in time this time. I have it all under control but I should be quick and stop thinking and brains out.
Sluik seemed restless and nervous, inpatient and hard on excited or better and in the mean time so self pleased with not much. And I was there observing poor him. We tumbled through the snow like a chasing hound dog. Sluik quickly flashed the men in the dark he encountered all over the estate. One, two. I noticed he was afraid for the use of the flashlight to alarm any in the neighborhood asleep. He did not want to get caught. Seven. He photographed in a hurry as if the flash would appear shorter that way. We hurried over the yards and fields discovering yet another of his soldiers. Eight. They seemed to move with him and became what he imagined them to be. Some he straight forwardly disliked and mistrusted and others he felt confident with. Fourteen, fifteen. He disconnected the creators and created the ancestors. In between he hastily whistled a Richman song... ring your bell, ding, ding! Rapid but soft and so out of tune not to wake up any spectators. He wanted to be left alone and in the mean time in the centre of the world surrounded by a crowd who would see it with him. Next catch: twenty one.
You see what I see? Yes, I do. But, you need me to explain. No I don't. Right, and the others see it too? Yes, they do! So we all see the same? Yes! Sure?? Yes!! So, no mistakes, no misinterpretations, no word confusion, no additional explanations needed. Brilliant. Twenty six! We all look and see the same thing! That is good... isn't it?
What am I going to do with the lot? With my new collection of puppets! There must be a market for it. There must be some kind of interest. Somebody out there listening? I just show them as they are. They just real size scare shit out of others. Thirty-two, ring your bell! I obviously do not have to go far and just keep it simple. I discovered the significance of snowmen, know what they are up to, and want all to be witness. They are the thieves of time. They do not take us seriously. We should learn from them!
And that is, I believe, the moment where Senis showed up out of the dark blue and asked him straight forwardly if he had managed to catch a snow-woman as well. I do not think there was an introduction before or a hello or my name is, just:
Caught any women?
Friday, July 3, 2009
part 2: first to end then begin
Sluik: This is it? Senis: Yes, this is it.
These are the last words said on platform 4 at railroad station Gardermoen Oslo, 7 May 2009, 19.53 shortly before Sluik took a local train into the centre of the city. Alone.
I have been hesitating if I should continue this. I really have been wondering over and over again if there is any use in reconstructing something that is history. From or in the past I mean by that. Oh, history is such a heavy and loaded word most of us get to peep at from a distance or even just hearsay. Who amongst us does get close to it? Yes, Pina Bausch died this week. A person said about her that he thought some people are eternal and just can not die and she was one of them according to that person. People die every day by thousands not leaving much traces and soon they fade away totally. Of course new people are born too. Ha, I sound like Senis when I re-read those last sentences. I guess I have been under his umbrella for a while and too much.
It is behind feasible and verifiable: Sluik was near the Benfica fields the first week of February 2009. I however not and this is why I can not confirm Senis' claim they met there the first time. I know now of their shared admiration for Eusébio da Silva Ferreira and would not be surprised that the claim is right but I just do not know and for that reason I start my story a little later.
So they first met Tuesday 17th of February 2009 on the Natland estate. I do not recall the exact time but I guess it was late in the evening and close to midnight with a hiding half moon, so dark and kind of dreary. Previously that day a load of snow had fallen which covered the valleys and hills. It sucked up the sound from afar and clarified each crisp step made by Sluik in the virginal fresh white carpet while seemingly aimless walking around. It was cold but friendly cold. I guess the carpet kept some warmth as well. Earlier on that day Sluik had build a huge snowball lamp with candle lights on the porch of the backside of his cabin house.
The light which reached far over the land contributed to the seemingly endless warmth spreading over the small mountain that day. He went out for a walk having a presentiment the world had expanded somehow. He did not know what that actually could mean. But he had his sorrows too. Was he ever without that self-imposed burden? Above the crispy sounds of the squeezed snow under his feet I could clearly hear him talking loud to himself in circles in between his practice of whistling indefinable tunes:
I am a bad chess player. I really am a bad chess player. There is nothing that can be done. Live with it. Live in it, I say. Just not capable of looking too many steps ahead. That is it. Bad chess I play. Should not pretend I know the rules. I know some moves of all the chessman... but of the women too? I guess women might be better chess players than men. They just do not show it do they? But is that not exactly why they are the better ones? I am a bad chess player. I really am poor.
Only when he came closer to his cabin he realized he had passed at least a double dozen of snowmen which had been erected by the children during the day.
These are the last words said on platform 4 at railroad station Gardermoen Oslo, 7 May 2009, 19.53 shortly before Sluik took a local train into the centre of the city. Alone.
I have been hesitating if I should continue this. I really have been wondering over and over again if there is any use in reconstructing something that is history. From or in the past I mean by that. Oh, history is such a heavy and loaded word most of us get to peep at from a distance or even just hearsay. Who amongst us does get close to it? Yes, Pina Bausch died this week. A person said about her that he thought some people are eternal and just can not die and she was one of them according to that person. People die every day by thousands not leaving much traces and soon they fade away totally. Of course new people are born too. Ha, I sound like Senis when I re-read those last sentences. I guess I have been under his umbrella for a while and too much.
It is behind feasible and verifiable: Sluik was near the Benfica fields the first week of February 2009. I however not and this is why I can not confirm Senis' claim they met there the first time. I know now of their shared admiration for Eusébio da Silva Ferreira and would not be surprised that the claim is right but I just do not know and for that reason I start my story a little later.
So they first met Tuesday 17th of February 2009 on the Natland estate. I do not recall the exact time but I guess it was late in the evening and close to midnight with a hiding half moon, so dark and kind of dreary. Previously that day a load of snow had fallen which covered the valleys and hills. It sucked up the sound from afar and clarified each crisp step made by Sluik in the virginal fresh white carpet while seemingly aimless walking around. It was cold but friendly cold. I guess the carpet kept some warmth as well. Earlier on that day Sluik had build a huge snowball lamp with candle lights on the porch of the backside of his cabin house.
The light which reached far over the land contributed to the seemingly endless warmth spreading over the small mountain that day. He went out for a walk having a presentiment the world had expanded somehow. He did not know what that actually could mean. But he had his sorrows too. Was he ever without that self-imposed burden? Above the crispy sounds of the squeezed snow under his feet I could clearly hear him talking loud to himself in circles in between his practice of whistling indefinable tunes: I am a bad chess player. I really am a bad chess player. There is nothing that can be done. Live with it. Live in it, I say. Just not capable of looking too many steps ahead. That is it. Bad chess I play. Should not pretend I know the rules. I know some moves of all the chessman... but of the women too? I guess women might be better chess players than men. They just do not show it do they? But is that not exactly why they are the better ones? I am a bad chess player. I really am poor.
Only when he came closer to his cabin he realized he had passed at least a double dozen of snowmen which had been erected by the children during the day.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
part 1: the introduction
It is clear to me that this should be told and that some should be able to read it.
For most it is of no importance but for a few or at least one or two of great significance that former artist Ron Sluik and the legendary temporary art observer Senis Besmegenis had some intensive encounters in the first winter months of 2009. Although this history is only young it is already clear now that it had a major influence on the first man mentioned. According to people close by, amongst whom were notably Tilbud and Tilbake and myself, Sluik has said:
I am not the man I used to be. I have changed my approach to where I stand in life. I have the feeling I opened a door I might have overlooked otherwise, it will never be the same anymore. It has nothing to do with the fact that I stopped drinking or smoking temporary. It is just that I would have overlooked that door otherwise. I would not have considered it useful to open that one. But I did and now all has been put in a different light. Wonder if I should have kept it shut. Maybe I should have just left it and put up a sign: TEMPORARY NO TRESPASSING. And throw away the key. But I opened it.
And he kept on and on like this for quite a long time. It is not totally clear (yet) if the encounters had the same impact for the latter. The moment this is written down Besmegenis is not available for reply anymore or at least for the moment.
One could argue I should not start writing it all down and leave it for the time being. But how long should one wait before things are forgotten? At this point I can not reveal who I am but one can believe me when I say that all that follows is according to the truth or at least to what I percept as the truth. For the moment I like to call myself Carla but I might change that while the story goes along. I am like Senis Besmegenis an observer too but of a different kind and less temporary. He actually believes we never saw each other. All is based on the recordings of fragmented memories of several characters, big and small, closely involved and related. The memories will come back in future time. Tilbud likes to think of it as haunted bog. It is not clear to me what he means by that but he is the type that likes to make issues smaller and look upon life as a bargain.
Preface
They met February 2009 for the first time. It is not clear yet who was first seeing whom. According to Sluik it was him who shook Senis actually awake from a seemingly endless sleep. According to Senis however it was him who opened Sluik's eyes the first time they met. Neither of them is clear about the actual place where this happened. Sluik claims it was near Restaurant Slavia in Prague but Senis disputes this and claims it happened almost a month earlier before near the fields of Benfica. They might be both right in their own way. I think they first met in Natland but shook hands along the river Vlatva. Clear is that from the moment they met some kind of chemistry was there which kept, to say it mildly, the two definitely busy for the following months. Insiders observed some kind of frightening fusion between them which made it hard to decipher who was who at certain moments. For sure the period was intense and can actually easily and partly be retraced and looked at. Senis worked for instance in this period on a temporary survey which still is accessible online and includes many pieces of the puzzle.
According to Sluik they split as good friends but his explanation for the sudden breakup was that Senis consciously directed the situation towards it. Sluik described it as a summersleep that would do the right trick. This however was in the eyes of Senis, as far as it can be reconstructed, not the true story. He thought he might have been swapped for some girl, some tart Sluik picked up somewhere along the road. Sluik laughs about this and claims that Senis has no idea what he is talking about. I, for myself, blush now because it could refer to me. Senis does not realize how silly he will appear once he finds out who I really am. Furthermore Sluik has been heard to say in public: I am Senis Besmegenis. Senis finds this kind of offending and over the top and even thought about legal actions. He also claimed to have witnesses who would support his allegations. According to Tilbake they will be together again and on good very good terms. He thinks it is all part of truly intense friendship. But who is he to say so? More the reason for me to do what I do now whatever the outcome might be in this history which over lapses the present.
Additional information
Sluik is actually called Ronnie Sluik. He prefers to be called Sluik within the professional art world he used to be part of. Senis Besmegenis likes to be just called Senis. He claims it makes him feel younger than he really is. In the descriptions and fragments of conversation to come I restrict their names to Sluik and Senis. For a moment I considered suitable using nicknames FARS and TAO but this might confuse more than necessary in a matter which is too complicated already in its simpleness. Before I can end this introduction and without any intention to make it even more twilight zoned and without wanting to draw extra attention to me, the following: Recently Sluik has used within a new project he initiated in cooperation with the emerging and talented artist Tudor Bratu (do I want to protect him ?!?) my name. Sluik states two versions about my identity which both are not necessary true. In the first one I am a Chinese puppet on his wall and in the second I am long dead and buried in Belgrade. I leave it to the dedicated readers of this text to form their own opinion and beliefs. I will add in the times to come the memories I have and which are significant for you to become truly understanding observers of the whole history too and which does not seem to have ended yet. I hope courage will be given to me to continue what I started here.
Carla T Hauser, 31 May 2009.
For most it is of no importance but for a few or at least one or two of great significance that former artist Ron Sluik and the legendary temporary art observer Senis Besmegenis had some intensive encounters in the first winter months of 2009. Although this history is only young it is already clear now that it had a major influence on the first man mentioned. According to people close by, amongst whom were notably Tilbud and Tilbake and myself, Sluik has said:
I am not the man I used to be. I have changed my approach to where I stand in life. I have the feeling I opened a door I might have overlooked otherwise, it will never be the same anymore. It has nothing to do with the fact that I stopped drinking or smoking temporary. It is just that I would have overlooked that door otherwise. I would not have considered it useful to open that one. But I did and now all has been put in a different light. Wonder if I should have kept it shut. Maybe I should have just left it and put up a sign: TEMPORARY NO TRESPASSING. And throw away the key. But I opened it.
And he kept on and on like this for quite a long time. It is not totally clear (yet) if the encounters had the same impact for the latter. The moment this is written down Besmegenis is not available for reply anymore or at least for the moment.
One could argue I should not start writing it all down and leave it for the time being. But how long should one wait before things are forgotten? At this point I can not reveal who I am but one can believe me when I say that all that follows is according to the truth or at least to what I percept as the truth. For the moment I like to call myself Carla but I might change that while the story goes along. I am like Senis Besmegenis an observer too but of a different kind and less temporary. He actually believes we never saw each other. All is based on the recordings of fragmented memories of several characters, big and small, closely involved and related. The memories will come back in future time. Tilbud likes to think of it as haunted bog. It is not clear to me what he means by that but he is the type that likes to make issues smaller and look upon life as a bargain.
Preface
They met February 2009 for the first time. It is not clear yet who was first seeing whom. According to Sluik it was him who shook Senis actually awake from a seemingly endless sleep. According to Senis however it was him who opened Sluik's eyes the first time they met. Neither of them is clear about the actual place where this happened. Sluik claims it was near Restaurant Slavia in Prague but Senis disputes this and claims it happened almost a month earlier before near the fields of Benfica. They might be both right in their own way. I think they first met in Natland but shook hands along the river Vlatva. Clear is that from the moment they met some kind of chemistry was there which kept, to say it mildly, the two definitely busy for the following months. Insiders observed some kind of frightening fusion between them which made it hard to decipher who was who at certain moments. For sure the period was intense and can actually easily and partly be retraced and looked at. Senis worked for instance in this period on a temporary survey which still is accessible online and includes many pieces of the puzzle.
According to Sluik they split as good friends but his explanation for the sudden breakup was that Senis consciously directed the situation towards it. Sluik described it as a summersleep that would do the right trick. This however was in the eyes of Senis, as far as it can be reconstructed, not the true story. He thought he might have been swapped for some girl, some tart Sluik picked up somewhere along the road. Sluik laughs about this and claims that Senis has no idea what he is talking about. I, for myself, blush now because it could refer to me. Senis does not realize how silly he will appear once he finds out who I really am. Furthermore Sluik has been heard to say in public: I am Senis Besmegenis. Senis finds this kind of offending and over the top and even thought about legal actions. He also claimed to have witnesses who would support his allegations. According to Tilbake they will be together again and on good very good terms. He thinks it is all part of truly intense friendship. But who is he to say so? More the reason for me to do what I do now whatever the outcome might be in this history which over lapses the present.
Additional information
Sluik is actually called Ronnie Sluik. He prefers to be called Sluik within the professional art world he used to be part of. Senis Besmegenis likes to be just called Senis. He claims it makes him feel younger than he really is. In the descriptions and fragments of conversation to come I restrict their names to Sluik and Senis. For a moment I considered suitable using nicknames FARS and TAO but this might confuse more than necessary in a matter which is too complicated already in its simpleness. Before I can end this introduction and without any intention to make it even more twilight zoned and without wanting to draw extra attention to me, the following: Recently Sluik has used within a new project he initiated in cooperation with the emerging and talented artist Tudor Bratu (do I want to protect him ?!?) my name. Sluik states two versions about my identity which both are not necessary true. In the first one I am a Chinese puppet on his wall and in the second I am long dead and buried in Belgrade. I leave it to the dedicated readers of this text to form their own opinion and beliefs. I will add in the times to come the memories I have and which are significant for you to become truly understanding observers of the whole history too and which does not seem to have ended yet. I hope courage will be given to me to continue what I started here.
Carla T Hauser, 31 May 2009.
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