Monday, January 21, 2008

Cicerone´s Journeys: Twenty Two / Paused

Cicerone pauses to consider outcomes and eventualities. Events/Dualities. Bipolar actions, switchers. They would be digital, binary.

Like, when you're on you're on
when you're off you're off,
but if you are somewhere in between you are possibly nowhere at all, or in an image of nowhere, trapped between somewhere and somewhere else.

You can try to interpolate, animate, reanimate, reactivate. Or take it to the bridge, to the edge, to the max.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Cicerone´s Journeys: Twenty One

Cicerone is a hunter, tracking an elusive prey. What he wants to capture is:
Not the thing, but the shadow of the thing,
Not the thing, but the reflection of the thing,
Not the thing, but the echo of the thing.

He is searching for displacements, distortions, filtered representations, decontextualisations. He attempts to record a change of velocity in time, or a change of velocity in space. Maybe they are the same thing. He is riding on a jet stream, buffeted by western boundary currents, a turbulent cruise through the stratosphere.

He is looking for the appearance of the thing, not the thing itself. What is an appearance may be true or fictitious. He finds a formulation that says that the Apparent is True plus Fictitious: A = T+F. It seems to make sense, when most things have stopped making sense.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Cicerone´s Journeys: Twenty

Cicerone is locked into a private audio space and he is making a journey that has the provisional title "true/false". These are the places on his itinerary: Untrue, a place where he looks for The Bogus Man who is mixed up in a Shining Dub. We must Sleep, Eat Food, Have Visions and avoid getting Stung On Tomorrow in the Valley of The Saroos. Every Next Day our Simple Heart needs Protein Protection from the Son Of King, to whom Aleister Explains Everything about a Scarlet Ceremony and Scarlet Ribbons, Scarlet Ribbons

Friday, January 18, 2008

Cicerone´s Journeys: Nineteen

Cicerone thinks that it would be good to feel like never before, to experience the shock of the new, to be a champion, to create an invention that changed the world, that made the world go round a little faster. He thinks about bodies approaching dissolution or collapse, spinning into oblivion. Loss of balance, teetering, spasms and awkward or unlikely movements. Communication fragmented into a sequence of stylised freeze-frames, a stroboscopic vision of the social. Blink, blink again. Now you see it, now you don't.

Cicerone´s Journeys: Eighteen

Cicerone thinks about alphabets, languages, accents and dialects, he thinks about communication and confusion. He thinks about how to speak, or how to speak in the absence of grammar, for example. He thinks about problems that can arise if, for example, one were to try to speak the language of birds, to explain the alphabet of clouds and sunsets. He sits at a table. He is sitting in a room. He looks at a television and he thinks; this is a television. He writes a list that begins;
the grammar of stones
the grammar of bridges
the grammar of waterfalls
the grammar of chimneys
the grammar of windows
the grammar of locks
the grammar of postboxes

the list continues.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Cicerone´s Journeys: Seventeen

Cicerone says it is always like this, more or less. We are all here, we are waiting, we are watching. Electric eyes behind curtain glass walls of watchful buildings, a malignant architecture, a social cannibalism.

Mirror wall to mirror wall, a closed circuit dialogue. Echoes of human presence trapped between matrices of self-desiring screens. It's an eternity box, a false infinity, a device for rendering the unreachable. It's a bounce-space, an image trampoline, an echo chamber of little horrors; horror of appearance and horror of disappearance. You need a black belt in click boxing, you click and tick the boxes to make the choices that fix your co-ordinates in the blink of an eye and eye and eye.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Cicerone´s Journeys: Sixteen

Cicerone says: come on, light me up, enlighten me, light my fire, take me to your dream house and break another little piece of my heart. From penthouse to pavement, it's a leap into the void, a Klein-blue moment on the eve of destruction. Let me be your demolition man. Let me take your world apart to put it back together again; same, same, but different.