BAK-TRUPPEN - TONIGHT :-)
In 1960, when the young recruit Phineas Gage was doing floret fighting exercises with his room-mates, he suddenly turned arond and got the opponent's floret right through his nose, into the brain, where it hit the time center. Although he is now in his fifties, his mind stands stock still in 1960. And while he is vegetating in a timeless world, the doctors keep discussing and studying his case.
Middelsex is not only a part of England. X is situated in Brainscape, which is a part of Freudland. Now, when Freudland is taken over by marked-leninism, it's no longer easy to have real time communication with the workers.
Most of them are dead, and the living ones are so few that they have no right to represent the working class.
This is a working class tragedy, but - as we say - tradegy is a cheap truth. In order to buy the more expensive truths, you don't need money.
Money is there for all to buy, you can sell out immediately if you want: All that you are. This is Freudland: You don't know where you are, but where you want to be. Flame marked-leninism, it has no toy-value. According to the surf-punk family-plan, you should move your head before it's dead.
I live in a think-net made out of dead bodies. The dying may seem wasteful, but from my point of view it's not a waste of time. Hacking away in the nootropic rickshaws, I find history devided into mainstream, hipstream, slipstream and notstream, which means death.
I think we have this consensual hallucination of a world existing, and it's all part of the Mindscape, called Freudland by pomos, and in the middle of this you will find a very material thing called X
The thing was taken over by market-leninism, that's why you can't have real time conversation with the workers anymore. They are usually dead, at least they are not here, 'cause the work is being done in the third world, as we say. This is the first world, a tragedy, but - as we say - tragedy is a cheap truth. And to buy the more expensive truths, you don't need money, but more information. That's the reason why they call this Freudland: You've got a lot of information about what's going on, but you don't know what happens when the info goes in: Into your brain, which is part of the Mindscape.
In Mindscape most of the real things are passing without notice. But mind is so beautiful, that you can use almost anything to enhance the brain-functions: Even a smell will do.
Peeping into the jargon-file yesterday, I stumbled across an apocaleptic with a speedy fucked up high weirdness of great toy value.
When I first grabbed the idea of X , I grabbed it with my power- glove, which I bought from a fringe-head in Gibraltar, a part of Deathscape. I know, when your mind-box gets fixed on Deathscape, you shouldn't be interactive
I was interactive. I wanted to have real time communication with the workers down there, the ones who lived before our thinknets were taken over by marked-leninism. Loaded with past, they told me: Cut time, it won't make you smarter.
I said I didn't want more brain, it will go rotten anyway. I love melons. They said I was a comic figure, who of course repeated their own tragical fate. And we could have left it like that, if it wasn't for my dream of making all information free. I was a dreamer, I still am - you know, we dream a lot where I come from - and I asked if they could please show up once more. Make a little nosedive into the present and maybe change the ongoing wargames with peace-bombs from the past? They just spat at me; keep on fucking up there, you ugly newbie!
When I first grabbed the idea of X , I grabbed it with my power- glove, which I bought from a fringe-head in Gibraltar, a part of Deathscape.
I know, when your mind-box gets fixed on Deathscape, you shouldn't be interactive. I was interactive. I wanted to have real time communication with the workers down there, the ones who lived before our thinknets were taken over by marked- leninism. Loaded with past.
they told me: Cut time, it won't make you smarter. I said I didn't want more brain, it will go rotten anyway. I love melons. They said I was a comic figure, who of course repeated their own tragical fate. And we could have left it like that, if it wasn't for my dream of making all information free. I was a dreamer, I still am - you know, we dream a lot where I come from - and I asked if they could please show up once more. Make a little nosedive into the present and maybe change the ongoing wargames with peace-bombs from the past? They just spat at me; keep on fucking up there, you ugly newbie!
It was a dream-ware, X , and as the dream was interpreted in Freudland, they said that the dead ones won't predict our future. 'Cause if you have real time conversation with living people, most of them seem dead-heads.
That is an old game, and this is a game planet. All games are hostile, and basically there is only one game.
And that game is war. After the struggle they will interrogate you like an animal. They will torture you if you don't answer, for they also interpret the muteness of beasts. And they will make predictions from your cries and you will not even be able to defend yourself.
But lady, I don't want to defend myself. I like you but you're not a very good cook. Hi, there's a man out there who wants to talk to you about a job. Tell him I'll take it. But I won't work for more than ten minutes. You misunderstand. He wants a job here. Oh, he wants a job. I think I can put him to work. I don't wanna work. I just wanna job. How about references? 1.st time: HIS LATEST FLAME Aw, that's all right. You don't need no references. I like your face. And I like your face. What do you wanna do? I want a divorce. I'm a very busy man you know. How long have you been married? Oh no, I'm not married. My father, he's married Oh, he want's the divorce. Oh no, he no wanna divorce. He likes his wife. He's happy, but I think he's a little bit crazy.I can't live within you
Tell him to go away!
Don't let your face hang out like that. Keywords: Detection, rejection, dejection, injection, infidelity. Lots of infidelity.
No way Josephine, in the next life maybe. This will remain a tousand -mile-problem with unending blahblahs on soul-patches turned into brainless malfunctions.
Oh no, mister Bill!
Let's have some Internet shoe-gazing and cloud-watching. (Shoe-gazing/Cloud-watching)
The internet dance! (The internet dance.)
Fuck what a precence
this is cool
and very liberating
what a tool
It is the internet relay-chat
It comes to me directly from the blue
It is the internet relay-chat
It comes to me directly from the blue
and suddenly I feel completely new
When we left cyberspace yesterday, you said you wouldn't flame me. Flame market-leninism, you said, but now I feel theese wires which doesn't make my brain function at all.
I'm not designed for this. I'm programmed into being a non- existent tomb-denying creature who never ever is able to digest time.
Your capacity for angst is only leveled out by your sexual desire.
Let me weigh your breath against this dead cat.
Dead cats are NOT sexy. It's my intention to prove that you have forgotten this. The boredom of language has conquered your instincts.
You must remember, the natural and at the same time the spiritual goal of every human being, is the UNITY of sex and world. Isn't it sexy?
Language is NOT sexy. If you can see how this bullshit streams out from the anal of silence, you would nevermore be tempted to analyse, but fuck on.
I think you should go forward
and don't forget the past
I hope it will be funny
For all the people that we've met before
Let's give them all we have
I think they need some more
The past is now tomorrow
and we are here tonight
I fucked up solidarity
I didn't want to fight
I thought I gave
they said I didn't
and so it just went on and on
We'll send you flowers tomorrow
for every single one of you
we'll send you red ones and blue ones
Not so at X , where a lamer is a lamer and a shame is a shame, and nobody has time to go shoe-gazing in the name of progress. Sad to say, the emotional ketchup-burstout of Freudland sounded like Mick Jagger in his best days, like Sympathy For the Devil, and the real sadness was turned into an interview with the upgoing successophobian surfpunks. Historical slumming etc. That is a cheap truth, and to buy the more expensive truths, you don't need money. Money is there for all to buy, just sell what you are. Flame market-leninism. As Middelsex is not only a part of England, X got troubled about it's own sex, and as another juvenile it started studying mirrorshades, and they don't exist anyway. Exept on the surface. Exept in the moment. Which is where we are now. Tonight.
Bullshit. The analysis of bullshit is a pain in the ass. Maybe it can be completed only in reverse, when you let the bullshit analyse you. You should act like the bullshit's d┌j├-vu. Awakening from bullshit, the ego will be gone and have to constitute itself in another animal. Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Dead-heads. They stole your planet. They're ravishing your country. They're going to kill your family. There's only one thing a civilized person can do: Grab your cybersuit. Strap on the old plasma canon. Jump in your shuttle and scream into the fire-flight of your dreams. Say F! Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Deathscape. (tableaux) Raking through my late 20th century memo-file, I recall people. We used to meet and enjoy eachother's wits and guts or maybe just find eachother total assholes and not even worth the bother. And I used to get these serious back-pains, probably leaking in through cracks in our space-time continuum from the - I dare say it - Strychnine Universe. Arrrrrrggggghhggghhh. Brainsplatteringly funny. As happens sometimes, a moment hovered and settled and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment. Then gradually time awakened again and moved sluggishly on.. What a pleasure. Sounds like a mongoliancluster-fuck in an existance which is just an interim measure between life and death. You can quote me on that. It's all very New South Africa. Sort of the kind you say to the kids. Oh, I'm feeling very New South Africa today! And then the head-lines: Parent goes mad, kills children. Whites do not sweat. They perspire with honor. There are no more ugly secrets. The witch-hunts, the non- persons, the liquidations, the photo-fakes and the memo-holes. And then the walls and curtains came down with a swop or a grok like the sound of wet-ware in soft cunts, and pomo non-voters blasted across their tottering Mcjobs in a high-band with metal- screaming blitz of two millon lipstick-glossy hamlet-screaming colors and swedish throw-aways. You bitch. Me bitch. Now, let's make a new twist. You said i was your cousin. Don't poke your big ears into my bussiness! I don't like nobody to get nosy. I just come here. I didn't hear nothing you guys were saying. I've been figuring and figuring. I got it doped out how we caneven make some money on the net. Return to the first apearance of Deathscape
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Go to the Hypertext Index Do. dodobebe dodobebe dodobebe dodobebe The perception of time to understand everything is the grok-song When everything fits and belongs in the world like 2 plus 2 is 5 is the grok-song So let me come out of the circuit tonight to the quiet place where my mind can rest is the grok-song is the grok-song is the grok-song Going up the ladder, drinking and bathing in the source of youth, coming down again - young and alone. The old woman and the old man, each alone. Going up the ladder, drinking and bathing, coming down again young, alone, all alone and each by themselves. No fun, no love, no children, no nothing. And then the man who built the ladder thought, maybe it is better to have the joy of birth and the grief of death, which means love. So he took the ladder away. And there you are, out of the circuit: Nerdvana. Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Game. We are happy to present ourselves as your accessable wet-ware tonight. As you have noticed, we have carpets here. One of the founders of this factory, Reinhold Herman Kaemp, was passionately devoted to oriental carpets, which he laid one on top of eachother in his office. We he suddenly died - the last day in the last century - they brought all the carpets out. They covered 320 square meters. That is as much as we stand on, now. Our costumes have been chosen by our co-producers. From Hebbel Theater, Berlin: uuuug. aosum. rrrrr. rrrrr We look nice, huh? From Theater am Turm, Frankfurt: I'm not wearing real hair tonight. I wear false hair because I want to show respect to the women who are not here. And from Kampnagel, chosen by Hannah Hurtzig: The tattoo is made in Hamburg three weeks ago. It's a way I wanted to do something with my body. It makes me different from what I was without. It's made after inspirations from old norwegian viking patterns. When I came back to Norway, I went to the viking museum for the first time in my life, and there i saw this pattern for real on viking-ships and on the dragons they used for ritual ceremonies. It made me feel really good. Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Head Overhead: This is the brain , which is wet-ware. Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Hipstream Tonight, let's zoom in tomorrow Weird paradox, huh? All I really wanna do is be outta my mind, and here I am with this constant snore in my brain. ZZZZZZZ You are a subgenius in faking the normal social up- and downdogging. (Tableaux) Holy hardcore, I hate to have you mad at me. Sure. You ain't done nothing wrong. I didn't mean no harm. Well, get the hell out and wash your face. That guy is too cool for human description. Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Interactive Computer, 4 pianos & saxophone. Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index The Lydians. The Lydians were living in Asia minor, and they had their own music scale, which was a part of the diatonic system. This is a major scale with an augmented fourth, and is sounds like this: Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Mindscape. Let's go back to the brain for a moment to have a look on the process of remeberance. How is it possible to remember something? In the middle of the brain you can find a structure called the seahorse or hippocampus. Here the sensations pass to be remembered. Let's have a look at one of the nerve-cells that pass here. Here is the cell body. And here are the arms that recieve signals, sensory signals like sounds and sights - they will come in here. When the nerve-cell reacts on this sensation, it will send a signal in this direction. And only in this direction. And no we come to the crucial point: When the signal comes to the next nerve-cell, you will find a gap like this. Chemical messengers will be released, and when enough messengers come out at the same time, the gates will open in the next nerve-cell so that chemistry can come in. One of the gates opens first when extreme amounts of messengers are released. This is named NMDA. And when this opens, you will remember afterwards the sensations you had. Coincidencially NMDA wordly resembles the chemical substance MDMA, better known as XTC. A central and special drug in sex-magic. Also known as The love drug. Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Money Money was invented by the lydians in the 6th century before Christ. Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Net Where there is a net there is always a spider. I am an amazed fly telling ˝spider, go widerţ. I do that a lot. I'll pretend to act a certain way just to see how you'll respond. All those times you thought I was depressed, I really wasn't. In fact, I've been remarkably level the whole year. You don't mind, do you? Because I do it a lot and you never seem to know. Ain't you a big looloo? Not especially well known for your maturity or your presence of mind are you? You just run off at the mouth like there is no tomorrow. I can't help but laugh at you. Nobody likes that. Nobody likes the way you laugh. That's really too bad, 'cause I've considered you a good friend for years. Is that all you can aspire to, to sit down and throw stimuli at people, and watch them react? I really feel sorry for you. As I walked home last night, through the pleasantly mild autumn air, I knew that I was alive, really alive, in a way that you'll never ever know. Beatpunk. (Shake) Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Past. As lovely as today will it always stay Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Real time. What is real time?
Right now it is........ Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Smarter. The so-called nootropic drugs are supposed to make you smarter. I consider the brain as a drug. Do you want me to tell you how to use it? You either sit or lie, and you should really be naked . Otherwise you are gonna mess up your clothes. See what I mean? Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index Working class. (Tableaux as hypertext) Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index X X is a word which changes in each performance. In the first performance the word was "Kampnagel", in the second performance it was "Frankfurt am Main", now it is "hospital", "doctor", or "health industry". Return to the first apearance of X
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Go to the Hypertext Index XTC. Extacy comes from the greek ek stasis, which means to be out of your own wet-ware. Return to the text
Go to the Hypertext Index