[3 November 2003] read/write
Home after ten NL days I browse the linking diaries of some of the g-pack and briefly click other clueful web, when suddenly I remember Groningen University professor Hans Locher who stipulated that one art historian would only devote his or her life to one artist if s/he would take art history serious at all. 01/01 attention... how far have we moved away from such read/write wrigour. At the service of, hoping for what sort of, reading are we infinitely pointing, commenting, pointing — what sort of reference/reference read/writing shall we invite? A literature which allows no more lighting one's manuscript for the smoking. All turned fire-less smoke screening Omnia Mea In Media linking.
The world wherein one reads one, or one writes one disappeared. The one who still reads one or writes one is hard to find unless that one is one self. Note to self. Rolf from the back of the car last night reads aloud the joke he finds on the inside of his Carambar wrapper: A fool is found posting a letter. Upon being asked to whom it is addressed, he replies: ‘To myself’. ‘So what is it about?’ ‘I don't know. I haven't received it yet’. We discuss his 94 year old grandmother's short term memory, or rather lack of it. Would she qualify to write that letter to herself? Even she would know what she was writing while writing, we agree. How short would an attention span finally be? Only fools fool themselves into remembering all of their actions.
The Moulin we find barren of most of its wrapping foliage. It's all down on the grass. G. hasn't been here for three weeks. The Perfect House Guards left the place in its always again striking homeliness, adding to its inventory two book titles, an apple pie, a glass pot of home made pear jelly, a ratatouille on the gas stove waiting to be heated and on the table a €20 note for R+r's piggy bank. Very appreciated all of this — particularly finding the laundry not on the bed but next to the washer, where it belongs.
The vehicle comes heavy with generations of inventory. Birds, landscapes, maps, portraits — print, objects.
Warm welcome to more perfection protection in the mail: from Russia, in its Russian brown paper package (1/2), closed by a piece of Russian hemp rope, inside protected by Russian bubble wrap, a virgin Matryoshka 10x couple, nested faceless featureless dolls. The unpainted linden wood has glossy colour rich varnish figurative written all over it but very fine saw dust falling from its top. The traditional shape evokes immediately all decorative variations one has ever spotted in shop windows the world over. Sufficient tree is left in it for the moment of imagination.
Soon I light the dining room fire. Walk up and down the ground floor rooms, back and forth to the bureau via salon and bibliothèque. Make some noise to check the place's resonance. Open all shutters. Streaming me streaming the light streaming house. Plug in Macedelica for 01Tunes and fresh NQP in autumn tones. Will Oldham and Fionia Apple (and Johnny Cash's rendering of the former's I See A Darkness) over the headphones when 0i sit down. I can hear my painfully off pitch whistle echo the room before piercing the headphone's plastic shell and foam cushion, poisoning the tunes to further improve the 01mood.
The nakedness of the house forecasts winter exposure. I'm ready to receive some.
Perestroyka! Just a couple of years after: ‘Shock and Awe’, with a couple of tens of companies competing over the right to brand their products by that name, according to a newspaper clipping. Sic Transit the world as we know it. Eric Karich, a trademark lawyer from Texas, has filed an application for 160 different products. "The military planners did such a great job with branding that battle plan as shock and awe. When I heard it on the news I was thinking to myself what a great trademark it would make," Mr Karich said.
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