Note 34

Italy was like a dream; it sleeps fervently; the buildings like the closed face of a coloured curtain withdrawn from the world into the hills, into the dressing-gown cupboard that locked hidden things. Shadows plague the puppet architecture of the walls; grand mausoleums of society; emptying of space but filled with directionless, decaying spirit. The inescapable foreignness of the country is an exotic starting point where one plays out one's drama of the unknown: the grotesque yet charming preservation of the spirit of the dead (Italy is its coffin), strikes one as necrophilia, while the strangely useable beauty of the shaded streets seems to remind one of the crevices in our mind that remain stuck in the past.

Note 33

Narcissism is performance's favourite decoy, and it makes one sick and nauseous. Acting that tricks oneself; a lesson. The subject as your audience; not you.

Note 31

We note that culture is essentially the underlying principles of the structure by which values systems are situated in actual circumstance.

These principles underlie the network of meanings by which significance is attributed to events.

It is my contention that an objective structural description of these principles exist and can be given.

Strange Thought

What was the point of the thrifty compass?
He spun in the northern tiers
directionlessly faithful, focused
or was it distraction that bred the cause,
a failed thought that derailed at high speed
a poor driver, a poor train,
of indian construction, or difficult terrain.
One that stalled when over its speed limit.

But we were always delayed
the trains at coventry were always late
and standing in the open cold talking about life
we would speak of photographs
of making memories of forgotten things
and knowing, if we looked hard enough
we stood a chance of remembering.

There was always the big city
The signboards that changed at every quarter hour
telling of delays,
and as you walked past frustrated faces
or acquaintances in the hundreds
as you walked past the station
towards the mall, the church, the row of shops
as lamplight pooled our gaze at stunted spires
as the columns rose and crammed and slid by
you felt that this was all he had, and you were all he needed.

***

Note 30

the flower king

sandbeds and the third eye
romping through the countryside
a taken beast, a fleeting touch,
and lilting eyes, as the sun blazed golden on
the waves drowned as they pulled ashore

fishes crammed into the sides of tanks
like sharks in the fleshy deep
but you turned left
and the curtain rose to meet the sun
but you turned again
and the corridors led to dead ends

we stood in the room of mirrors
staring at the sunlight through the window
reflecting on the dusky floor
on the images of days
there shone a blueprint
it was the bounds of sense
like a child grasping at light
you reached for the image in the mirror
but all you saw was your reaching
all you touched was the light