thoughts on nothing

Found these two quotes on this rather good blog entry from local art project Central Reservation:

*As Susan Sontag said, silence is never pure, after all, your heart is always beating.

*Nothing seems to me the most potent thing in the world – Robert Barry, 1968

Feeling in a mood just to share words I like rather than writing in a coherent fashion.  The above quotes seem to set the mood.  My favourite song lyrics have to include Tales from Black by Tunng, they are so laden with sadness and enigma…I like the line that hints at the deep rooted knowledge that when they find her and lock her up, that’s it.  no escape.  grind down the key…  is it because of inherent distrust of the self and knowledge of a capacity for badness or because of a knowledge of the inherent unfairness and lack of understanding of the outside world?  Or is it part of a deep seated myth of the dark side of women propagated by the church, propped up by myth, reaffirmed in popular culture… Brings to mind the Led Zep song Dazed and Confused: Been dazed and confused for so long, it’s not true/Wanted a woman, never bargained for you/Lots of people talkin’, few of them know/Soul of a woman was created below.  I must say, disagree with all this inspiration towards misogyny as I emphatically do, the idea of female stealth and wisdom being far above the capacity of the male  ego is somewhat appealing…

Anyway, this is Tales from Black:

    She washes all the young blood from her hands in the sink
    And she knows that the lights will be there for her
    Breaks down the bodies to dark subtle ink
    And she scrawls on the parchments that hang in the air


    She rides a horse over stones in the night
    And she closes her eyes and lets go of the reigns
    She knows the radios run through the night
    And she knows that the lights leave the prettiest stains


    She builds a shrine and a typing machine
    And she curls up to write down her tales from the black
    Prays for a soft breeze and cool gentle rain
    And she prays for the bodies that rise slowly back


    She knows the dunes where the steel cities grow
    And she knows when they jail her they’ll grind down the key
    She knows the lights lay the heaviest blows
    And she knows that the sand must submit to the sea


    She builds a bird out of plywood and gold
    For to carry the old souls on up to the sun
    Turns on the TV and sits in the cold
    And she dreams that sometimes she’s the prettiest one


    She knows the thrill of the chase in her veins
    And she knows that the sinking’s a trick of the light
    Prays for the silence and cool gentle rain
    And she prays that the radios run through the night

And just for sheer entertainment value because his writing makes me laugh, here is a small excerpt from Silas Wynd’s invite to “the party that no-one remembers”.  masterful…

I Drink Because I Like It & Because I Don’t Like You When I’m Sober. You’re Prettier When I’m Drunk. I’m Richer When I’m Drunk And If You don’t Like Me You Can Fuck Off & I’ll Bother Someone Else. It Doesn’t Matter Where I am or What I’m Doing, What I’m Wearing or Where Tomorrow Is. It’s a Party and There’s Drink and There’s Boys & There’s Girls And Some of Us Know Each Other And Some of Us Don’t. We May Be Friends, For The Night or For Life, We May Mate, In The Toilets, On The Stairs in The Bushes, On The Beach in The House, In the Car, It May be Just Once, It May Not Be Fun. But One Day It’ll Be Beautiful & I’ll Look Into Your Eyes And Know I’ve Mated For Life. If You, Any of You, There’s So Many of You Now, Had Known That Too I Wouldn’t Be here And I Wouldn’t Be Asking You To Join Me. I’d Be At Home in Bed in Our House in The Country, By the Sea, With Our Children, Dog, Cat, Pony, Chickens, maybe a couple of Horses, Allotment & Orchid House, Volvo on The Drive And Worries About Next Terms School Fees, And Wondering When I’ll Next Have A Minute To Myself For a Wank.

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