AN EXQUISITE CORPSE # 5A
I’ve got a thing on inside this box. It’s a VHS box. It’s roomy like everything was in the 1970s. They took the tape out so I can wander about. Make it my own. Just try stuff out.
It’s a black box - black brittle plastic with rounded corners on the rims on the outside. It’s good for making mess because of how slidy it can get. Tina from Three Tinas did a thing where she was in it and she just tried to open the lid up and then close it again and we watched from outside on the shelf. She’d put all olive oil on the floor so she kept slipping onto her arse and the box juddered about whenever she fell.
I’ve got an invited audience coming in for a sharing and feedback. Tommy from transgressive cinema, Bryn who likes Gummo and his sister who runs Speacial in Swindon which is getting massive. Also Jessica who organises it with her dad who never comes to anything. The acoustics are really bad unless I put my lips right onto the walls and hum my words so that’s what I’ll do. Bryn is gonna run the post-sharing chat. We call it a chat but it’s more aggressive than that - real challenging “just change everything and do it different”. That’s the framework we use. Last time Sibylle, who does more dance related stuff TBH, got banged bad by a flat screen telly which wasn’t even part of it. Bryn, who was the one that threw it at her said it was just something he was thinking about. More about his work really, to be honest, but I dunno, maybe useful. Bryn’s sister asked if it was somehow connected to Dario Argento but Sibylle didn’t know who that was. “It’s a fucking Suspiria video box we’re in dickhead” I’d offered, but Jessica pointed out that the words and images on the VHS box cover had worn away and they were aiming to keep it more ambiguous, more open, as a space.
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Her nails tap and hover against the reflection – it looks strange because the focus, my focus is on the palm of her hand and the underside of her nails which are not painted are not coloured. After seconds I realize what is happening I now focus on the taupe, beige coloured nails.
It has all changed, everything has changed.
I really dislike that colour.
It is a similar colour to the background he sits in front of, watching something, that I can’t see to make sense of.
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Jed had got into making stuff with his parents again. The last time was when he was 7 and it was for school - a working Catherine Wheel. They’d stuck 8 little match packets his dad had got free from Bars (he called them Cafes) to 8 sticks they’d gathered from the park behind nans. Those sticks became sort of spikes in the wheel - stuck together with hubba bubba in the middle and then the match packets on the outside. Then they set fire to the match packets and filmed it on dad’s phone. It just fell over and apart and burnt a bit in the rug and then we stamped on it to put it out. We emailed the video to the teacher and it was shown on Guy Fawkes day alongside the other kid’s videos of similar homework projects. They kept the sound off for ours because of the swearing. This time the idea was to make an installation for Jed’s MA. His dad didn’t know what that was, an installation, but Jed said that was sort of part of it - that’s what it was about.
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(On stage a woman lies in a sunken bath. Her hands are dancing in the sky. From her mouth an orange ball is spoken)
Woman: I’m here, the World. I’m here and I’m here, and I’m here, and I’m here, the World.
And I’m here, the World,
trying to get to you, and I’m here, the World.
and I’m here, and I’m here, and I’m here, the World.
The World is here, the World is here, and I’m here, the World, and I’m here, and I’m here.
The World is here, the World is here, and I’m here, the World, and I’m here, and I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
The World is here, the World is here, and I’m here, the World, and I’m here, and I’m here, the World.
The World is here, the World is here, and I’m here, the World, and I’m here, and I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
(shrill wailing)
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
The World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
The World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
And I’m here, the World.
(hungry gasps)
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
(whimpers)
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
(groans)
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
The World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
And I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
I’m here, the World.
(brief cheering, shot)
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
The World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
(murmurings, long cheering)
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
(two women start to dance, and then sway together in a gazebo)
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
The World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
(screams, whistles, cheering)
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
the World is here, the World is here, the World is here.
Meanwhile, Larry Stephens , Pennsylvania House Chaplain: “Me too. And Mr. Rice, the killer who (clutches his chest and wails), the horror, I mean the horror! The horror!”
IBM has started making statements of purpose in one language, but preserving their English wording in the statement by language. And they can switch to another language-with less data to send. AND their pricing starts at the low, low price of zero for the first billion zeroes, and goes from there.
Project “Mapler” at the California National University Research Laboratory School has discovered why chocolate nibs don’t taste like anything to us. The computer models predict that some of it must be atoms with active cores which absorb and transmute energy. Like an electric toothbrush or one of those special mousetrap glue guns.
Taylor Swift announced that she was cutting her hair for the first time in years, and then to show that we had accepted that as a sign of maturity, she had pink hair now. Who needs evolution?
HANG IN THERE! You’re not obsolete yet. We’re only twenty years from robots that make real money too. You can’t afford a vacation.
Best of intentions for a great new (always 50,000 times better than whatever it’s replacing) CRM today is Anya, a programmable face and “sleek” friend, which then alerts you when its attention is needed.
New phone arrives. Pre-ordered all that was in stock. Best cell phone ever, etc, etc…
“Expecting delivery soon. Could I let you know the status of my phone?”
“I don’t know yet. We’re in training. You know, the Customer Care Answering Service. I just input your phone number and my boss said it will take two to three weeks to call back and say we made a mistake and it’s not available. Until then, I’ll have to assume you don’t exist and thus the call will never be returned.”
Goodbye apple . . . Hello ipod . . .
Digital imagery: in the future, I’ll scan your house before we go so I know exactly what shape it is. It will know what kids its housed and I don’t have to cart a 24″ television around for my living room.
Virginia Creeper knocks the pick-axe off Todd Woods big doofus’s head. Ooops! That must not be the Kodak Moment-Nature’s Painful Vengeance!
Two people admitted to a Superstar Cricket academy are getting switched to Australia for being slow.
Central Minnesota woman drags recliner through downtown without a care in the world and nobody tries to stop her. In Minnesota we don’t have to punish our irresponsible people by taking away their guns and giving them magic mushrooms like they have to do in California. You know why? Because we have lots of guns and they didn’t take away their shovels, axes, shovels, axes and, duh, axes.
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NASA knows it had abandoned its Shepard-Trojan payload halfway down the capsule because a large (read drunk) female tourist vomited all over it, a department store mannequin, a scale model of a lunar rover and a boot with glowing glowing lights.
The Elastase again. That white stuff in your drinking water, and the noodles and toilet bowl spray, they are for (male) healthy gut mucus, described in verse by Genesis as “the sur-gush of an animal in its youth.” The deuce! Hildegarde. The Hildegarde.
Pudding does take a bad rap! Therefore, it should have a face in public places to encourage caution. It doesn’t.
I Like to See You Drive. You Can, too. In fact, it’s great for both car and pedestrian. Use your hazard lights in the dark if something’s not right at the stoplight. People hate to get up for anything at 7AM but this one’s fun. Unless, of course, something really awful is happening to that vehicle. In which case: find a place for me to help. I like helping (you).
HOWEVER, drivers may not test motorcycles like border patrol. When a law enforcement officer lights up your rear, don’t think: thanks for the notice and check it off. Run like hell! As Ken points out, the officer got on the loud speaker and clearly told you what to do. Which you did not do. At a 5 mph cop going 55 mph, we’re talking 0 to 60 in 4 seconds. You got the same signal you would get if they ordered a fast-food drive-thru worker to open up for you. In fact, the whole state can see you speeding, so long as they don’t draw on you and give you a ticket. Which is another way you got the same message that would come via radio in an emergency situation. Under no circumstances should you ever open your window or roll down your window and commit “obstruction.” Sometimes the defense is so thick you want to go halfway out your open window to throw a wedge through it.
If you drop a microchip down a restaurant toilet, as happened last week, simply rinsing it off and pushing the little spongy thing back in your butt should do the trick. Three giant dishes filled with DRINKING WATER? Just a diversion of sorts. Sometimes handymen spray water in the bathroom. Although not when a vending machine sits next to the toilet. Yes, according to fireman dispatch tape I just picked up last night, there was a fire in the last stall, it was a dryer fire, put out with DRINKING WATER. That’s EXACTLY WHAT DRIVES ME NUTS. A vending machine bursting into flames beside a toilet? At the bank of a hotel’s public restroom? New Orleans! I get that Prohibition didn’t last long enough. I’m past due for another one. People complained the water in a non-functioning drink machine was giving them “brain freeze.” Their brain freeze was moving. May as well have taken a Perrier in California! Some things are just destined to embarrass those cities. When I was a girl, I remember saying "screw you" to a boy when he kissed me by tossing whipped cream down his shirt. Oh. Now you don't say no in response. Unless it's open season for whips. If it's legal. In an airplane?
Leaving room in the flat for the Christmas tree. This is said during traditional, virgin visits to the chamber of commerce Holiday of Lights. The term “Christmas Tree” is so tired that it’s not used. What’s for sale there is Kwanzaa Lot. The faux trees and wreaths are cute and functional: use of the word '’Christmas’’ is blocked by corporations who build Kwanzaa lots for the purpose of firing off scattershot interpretations of Hanukah anyway. So use the terms of choice, people. In that case, a tree is a Kwanzaa White Elephant if you can find one in a seventh-grade classroom. For you kindle fanatics out there, relax, I didn’t buy you a new one.
Decapitating Kwanzaa. The “pole” is a candelabrum-style, bundle light display featuring men dressed as monkeys and baboons, surrounded by tinsel in varying tiers. So once again, I ask for your forbearance during the two weeks that surround the display, so the neighbors don’t fire their guns off and tip off the police. During the holiday, the three Akimas (Sam, Mama and Papa) sit in a circle around the decorated palm trees with baboons on three levels high pulling things down with ropes. Just remember this is why your children pray at school during short holiday break. This is why your grandchildren pray for what they want while you remain depressed at the cost of toys, food and amusement parks. So hang in there while you send a babysitter your grandchildren at least one day a year. The chubby monkey monkeys start at the base of the tree and pull the little pine needles around by hand. Probably toilet-paper, although all kinds of cardboard fluff is used. Santa’s only purpose at the ground level is to plug in a light that blinks a heart rhythmically with the click-click-click of Christmas carols playing, but he doesn’t move and is actually rather creepy. The light blinks on and off a weird heartbeat. Which all I can tell you about you living next door. Any kids trapped at the base and up the top can make a run for it with Santa in pursuit. It is a pleasure to welcome and look up at the many Santas as the procession moves from family house to family house. Or “totality of lights.” Neighbors are invited to set up at home for up to five days before a parade date. A no-denial story, courtesy of the National Council of Jewish Women: the highlight for many children in this holiday, other than the free lightshow, is sharing their hot chocolate with Mr. Hurnan. “So what?” you’re asking. “So you can make and carry a carmel frappe across a parking lot, 10 times, to save the day. So what?” …Many people in the Flathead claim to spend a lot of time at holiday time shopping at retail locations all over town. Although I bet they’re saving up now for the guy in Lansing that takes boxes of Girl Scout Cookies. But I digress. The point is that a Kwanzaa event is about figuring out what’s really important in your life, whatever your religion or god or goofy Jewish sense of humor happens to be. A Kwanzaa event is about chugging Stoli while Pookie walks you through how he makes his beans and rice, what you’re supposed to do with the bouzouki and meat hook, how when he is around it looks as if women are paid to stand in a circle in their skivvies sucking the fat off meat in the company of a bunch of men doing likewise. And whenever you need to talk about ancestors who did cool stuff for people, talk with the guy whose baboon feet have sliced right through the color-coated face mask just above your oven floor to make 3-foot steps so he doesn’t fall through the floor (and get caught between the kitchen cabinets and your gas oven) as he squeezes that plethura, drill-bit-guzzling baby elephant out of your bedroom wall because your room has become into the club house and his studio apartment has become the playroom. Are you still with me? Anybody wanna have some kind of prenup, just so we know who gets the children when they decide it’s time for them to run the place? Just let the old chimp emperor take a walk, clean up after him and get some rest. Until then, the deck is stacked with monkeys, not Christmas-oriented cartoon characters… Mazel tov, Ashli, Annie and Her Poppop!
irma gurtner
Bozeman Daily Chronicle,
Ashli Buckman-Gurdon
freedom state
Tell them the word of my lord. Yashar, Satmar Chassid, Lancaster
Post 9/11 talk, Buffalo, NY, 2006
omechut YES! not only always, mother, though there are a lot of things I care
about deeply, not only personally, though I think that sometimes. Do I feel they always
come first and it was my idea to go shopping or to get down and
jump into snowdrifts? And sometimes, it is true. The fragility is me. I
don’t make any distinction. I make it for everybody around. It
is so reasonable that I don’t care. Exactly how have I become like this
am I turning evil? Have I lost my religion? Have I? No, because I was born like this. So that is my answer. Everybody is like this. I cannot say I can be like this. I don’t know any enlightened person that could be like this, except in the state of diabetics or sleep-walking. But anyone who claims to be only this or only that is a charlatan. People who think they can just jump in and have love at the center of their being are confused. This happens all the time.
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We sat in a long pale room, empty gold frames surrounded the walls and ceilings, strange shapes made for a queer geometry.
Darwin had read (spoken aloud) something in this room I can’t remember the paper in question but it could have been his first musing on natural selection. There are some paintings on the walls, portraits of the dead, looking even more frozen. Autumnal light washed and drenched the dead.
The person in question had what Hollywood (and my Mother) would call a ‘presence’. Alone, they sat at the edge of the aisle, front row.
They were called to the small minimal platform approximately 12 inches from the floor. As they ascended the ‘stage’ and adjusted the lectern and microphone they moved purposely around the suspended rectangle. Their shoes made no sound. Rubber soles.
They talked in low careful sentences some made no sense, some punctuated by a breath tinged with years, decades of smoking. It was captivating and perverse.
They spoke of a room for the self, of grass and paths, of not quite fitting in. They shared quotes from other texts and merged them with their writings and thoughts. Textually tight and loose at that same time. Couldn’t help thinking about knitting, when the wool is too thin for the gauge of needles used and there are spaces between each ‘knit’. These spaces let light and air in and make for an altogether visually interesting but practically questionable garment.
They spoke at length of ideas of being, of writing, of making, and how the “I” may be understood as not existing.
But later in a different room surrounded by more paintings and a very insistent bartender or steward (status/role uncertain) we spoke.
Corralled (by the status-uncertain person) into a corner of the velvet sofa’s lush, plush and very expensive - we spoke.
I was star-struck, nervous and desperate to impress. But feared I had nothing to impress with after all they were ‘they’ and I was well just ‘I’.
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