Commission GÉDÉON Commission

Another brief from the Articles and from the Health Sciences Centre. An odd name for a hospital to be honest, a place of care and healing as well as a place for experiments and alchemy. Lovely.

Sadness seems to be my trusted companion, with it happiness and anger and hunger divide their time on my desire and imagination. I would not return to this place by choice, but it is a journey well worth undertaking. One learns both to love humanity and despise it just as much.

Alliances are fickle things, like a spurned lover, or a drunkard husband they seek to destroy all that is respectable in order to fulfill an inordinate need to possess total control on desire. Theirs and others.

At least Jacques Lacan thought that, he wrote of the Other with a capital “o” to name the object of desire, to make it an entity as real as the table you are sitting at. We succumb to our desire for the Other, we are crewel to the Other, we try hard to destroy the Other. We call it desire, but it is murder.

Spotted helipad in the great north, layered and juxtaposed with flesh and body. Again.

Still cannot describe the feelings I have; about me, about the universe. I am pretty sure that time is a human invention and that it does not really exist outside our minds; the universe does not happen in time. At least time has no direction, one of our biggest mistakes.

I am healing, it is slow and painful; there are more set-backs than progresses. No one seems to understand what it is to have an illness that settles in the mind and makes that mind confuse its circuitry wholly. It is not necessarily a bad experience but it is the total lack of respect for the apparently normal brains that makes things so much worst, that make us feel that much more like exceptions.

Our society requires conformity, if only to understand time as a universal constant, but that also becomes ideology, demagoguery and murder since those responsible are those controlling our societies. W.S. Burroughs has it right in “Cities of the Red Night” and “Place of Dead Roads” where a pirates society called the Articles celebrates individual rights and freedoms and allows members to settle their differences in any manner they choose, some ways incur great penalties and others ensure the survival of the colony. Every one is responsible for every one else.

Once one is many and time is no more – expansion into dimensions is common place.

It has been a difficult time. My work is on hold, art is all that makes sense. Thinking about time, Science Fiction time which is no time at all. Aboard the TARDIS or some North American version. Somehow, I think it looks a lot like a muscle car with a little cardboard tree hanging off the rear view mirror. Swinging to and fro.

The road at night a long triangle with a solid yellow line, sometimes doubled, dotted, either side dotted solid alternating at every turn. Blink, blink, blink. Brrrrrrt, sleep alert, the car realigns with the tarmac; and the lines. The triangle becomes focussed anew.

But I seem to be ill, sick or some such thing

My symptom is mania from ode to joy to funeral dirge

No stops in between.

A pawn for a crown.