London
United Kingdom
mikepars
When I look for gold
for John Stiles
(Silence)
Strongly
Strangely
slowly;
lke a child in water
a child I once cared for.
Seems to me I am more what Barthes describes as a "clerk"
than a priestly "author".
Post-revolutionary I might be
but there is still a narcissism, an enjoyment,
sound, even song.
Is there the fragmentation of ecstasy...?
Is there fragmentation in ecstasy?
I'm in a lecture.
Alex Duttman is in the chair.
Christophe Merke is discussing chapters 1-5 in Adorno's "Aesthetic Theory". Someone eulogises Beckett.
I look at the pen in Merke's hands,
he's so confident it still has the top on.
It has a white dot,
which means its a "Parker",
(actually it means it"s a Paper-Mate Florian later explains,
joking that Merke is parking his thoughts in theory.)
Anyway, whatever it is, it's not gold
Like the one I used to have,
the one I was given in Truro
and which I lost when I worked on the parks in Southwark.
I look around the room,
there is hardly any gold anywhere
Walking back that evening, I promise myself, that i will buy some when I get paid.
Days pass, til it's Monday evening.
I'm so tired I go to bed early
trembling like a baby.
Is this flu or tiredness?
Kleinian renegotiation
or Lacanian fragmentation?
Rebirth or regression?
Was it induced by the Vivaldi I was listening to earlier?
Going to bed isn"t easy anymore.
Mike Parsons
Copyright 2009 EASTBEAT. All rights reserved.
London
United Kingdom
mikepars