kagablog

170

The capitalist need which is satisfied by urbanism in the form of a visible freezing of life can be expressed in Hegelian terms as the absolute predominance of “the peaceful coexistence of space” over “the restless becoming in the passage of time.”

He picked me up at party
His name meant Dawn in Hebrew
Which I have to say, seemed pretty fruity to me
But he spoke English well
And said he knew he’d take me home
As soon as we got to his room
He also said he liked having sex listening to music
He suggested the Cranberries
I think he hoped I’d be louder than Dolores
Which made me laugh
I said no
When I listen to music during
I concentrate too hard on the music
And I’m not in the moment enough
Which disturbs me after
He had the smallest member I’d ever seen
Which didn’t disturb me
Because I’d heard that guys who are smaller
Give better to girls
Young and naïve as I was at twenty
It takes me a long time to be done
He said
Which I also thought would be a good thing
Since so did I
So did most girls as far as I knew
We lay in his bed
Him on top of the sheets
Me beneath them
We didn’t have sex
Just messed around
His parents room was next door
I could hear his dad getting up in the middle of the night
To use the bathroom
Wash his hands
He didn’t know I was there
He snuck me out with him early the next morning
Dropped me home on his way to work
I saw him twice more
I don’t want to fall in love with you
If you’re leaving in two weeks he told me
For me being in love means thinking about the person all the time
He started telling me about his ex
Who it had taken him ages to get over
It ended dramatically
With a fight in the parking lot of his apartment building
I wouldn’t let him drive me home
I hopped into a cab instead
He was furious
He told the friend that introduced us
That I acted like a girl in a soap opera
We never had sex
I never met his parents
And we certainly didn’t fall in love
He tried to tell me how to dress after the second date
Don’t wear glitter on your eyes he said
You’re so much prettier without it
Don’t wear big jewelry, it’s weird
The list went on and on
I didn’t want his love anyway,
It wouldn’t involve me being me
His criticisms were a bad sign of things to come I decided
I knew that better was out there waiting for me
I just had to find it

end
poem
offence
word-bomb
disturbing the populace
everything
nothing
skin
out

yes,
it was you
who took my heart
and stretched my sinews;
you who tore a part of flesh
from me –

and yet, you
missed the best that i had
quietly kept, somehow
protected from
your love.

the volume of the television
is turned down..
death is that bearded man
dressed in a black gown
trying to burn
himself free
over and over
..against a bleached
screen,
there in the silence.
behind him
is a mound of bodies
that will be burned

He was a soldier who never wanted to be one
He didn’t believe people should be forced
But didn’t want to be kicked out of his own country
I met him on an organized trip
I liked him because he reminded me of my first boyfriend
And there was something really non threatening about that
He had the same blue eyes
And an even skinnier build
One of my friends joked
That he looked like he was eight
I motioned to him
To sit beside me on the bus
We talked about music
bands like A Perfect Circle
he was a drummer always drumming on table tops
and surfaces
we walked around
holding hands kissing
he made me feel less alone
in a group full of strangers
more accepted
those three days
he told me if he fell in love with me
it’d be a problem because I was leaving soon
I nodded
He was adventurous
He fingered me in the bathroom once
As my roommate sat in the next room
Talking on the phone
She never knew
He wanted us to sleep together that last night
Thought it was sweet that up til then I’d only slept with one other person
Quaint, innocent, childlike

I couldn’t do it
Couldn’t bring myself to go all the way
I like to know someone first, I told him
I’d held out forever with my last boyfriend
I think in the beginning, he said carefully
It doesn’t matter if you sleep together or not
So you might as well
I mean, it’s only once the first wave of attraction passes
That you know what’s real or not real anyway
I loved his thinking
But I couldn’t do it
He left complaining of blue balls
And we never spoke or saw each other again
But the poetic sound of those words I never forgot
It was such an unusual way of putting it.

from the highest ideals
like anarchy dreamed
and lived as reality
to base observations
manoeuvres accepted
feelings or words
carefully juxtaposed
real-time nightmare
of a lived projection
vortex of endeavour falling
like dust at the ankles of statues
times i lose this thread
times laughing in the evening and
by morning lost in tears

Txt: Bertram Niessen

Mikrosolke, anarchic manipulators of narrations, were born from the meeting of Unz, Tatiana and MM . It is very difficult to explain (and understand) what they do. First of all, we must say there is not a “Mikrosolke” recipe”. It is in fact an improvisation project coming out of fun, sometimes sick, in building fragile (drenched too) bridges between audio and video worlds.

Mikrosolke’s performances are a new wave in the world of Italian audiovisual performances, lately worryingly oriented towards lounge-atmospheres fundamentally inoffensive. Their way to present on stage breaks the mould: to the cold posture peculiar to Tatiana’s and Unz’s laptop performers the unpredictable physicalness of MM (member of Mercoled젡nd Newtone 2060 too) who, between screams and sweat sometimes literally seems to fuck with the instrument (which can be a mixer and a couple of broken record players, a piano or some slide projectors) and sometimes it seems she is about to take off.

Their performance is an underground dirty and infected splinter, the sort with an unpredictable trajectory able to carry you high towards lyric and acid spaces or to make you sink into brutality so as to make your ears bleed. We asked Unz and Tatiana to tell us about their way of working, focusing on their performances rather than on their techniques and aesthetics choices. In their work it is in fact quite clear that those aspects are of secondary importance and that what counts is their energy during lives.

http://www.digicult.it/digimag/article.asp?id=535

www.mikrosolke.org

http://www.galerieknap.org/

Nietzsche on his silent chair, its fossilised creaks, with his forehead steeped in on itself, with his roaring crashing world of spaces cracking into the open, his riddles torn from sky.
Sometimes, the arbitrary glare of day basking through the open window beside him, he felt convincingly un-alone; he felt himself moving in the midst of quiet strangers who shared his step, who silently acknowledged and appreciated oneother with a warmth invisible to expression. Sometimes, directing his loud words, Nietzsche strode in a strange and familiar other time, a metre of experience that housed the anonymous few.
But mostly, as the mystery of moments went about their business of awaying, there was only the profound awareness of himself, of his fated relation to the questions, and he sat seeking God, working the words into place. In these endless afternoons with their periodic disguise of night he sat drawing up the paths, conceiving their syntax along the deep unknown of presence.

171

If all the technical forces of capitalism must be understood as tools for the making of separations, in the case of urbanism we are dealing with the equipment at the basis of these technical forces, with the treatment of the ground that suits their deployment, with the very technique of separation.