"California Blues"
Elaine Spatz-Rabinowitz

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- VERMILION's TEXT -


[Communique: 03.31.03]

I will be in Amsterdam until April 7.
I will try to check email from there.

Alexandra - a thousand dust-tormented streets. Five races, five languages, a dozen creeds - but more than five sexes.

Lawrence Durrell, Justine


[Communique: 03.29.03 - 4PM]

We have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour
Now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour
And there are things to be considered

Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in the right relation?
Where is your water?
Know your garden.

It is time to speak your truth
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader.

This could be a good time!

There is a river flowing now very fast
It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.
They will try to hold onto the shore.
They will feel they are being torn apart and they will suffer greatly.
Know the river has its destination.

The elders say we must let go of the shore, and push off and into the river, keep our eyes open, and our head above the water.

See who is in there with you and Celebrate.

At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally.
Least of all ourselves.
For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.

The time of the lone wolf is over,
Gather yourselves!

Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary.
All that you do now must be done in a sacred manner
And in celebration.

"We are the ones we've been waiting for..."

- The Elders, Hopi Nation, Oraibi, Arizona

Long live the collective wolf!

The multiple wolf stalks the end of the world.

- a mishearing of Into the Woods


[Communique: 03.29.03 - 1PM]

The Annunciation

Because from the start you were fated to be mine.
Before the ages of wheat and larks

and even before fishes.
When God had nothing more than horizons
of unending blue and the universe
was a will not yet pronounced.
When everything lay in the
divine lap, confused and intertwined,
you and I lay there complete, together.
But then came the punishment of clay.
It took me in its fingers, tore me

from that absolute and ancient fullness.
It shaped my hips and shoulders,
inflamed me unceasing wakefullness
and denied me oblivion.
I knew that you were there asleep among all things
and I breathed the air hoping to find you
and drank from fountains as if to drink you in.
Deprived of your sweet weight on my chest,
nameless so long as you did not descend,
I languished in exile, forlorn.
I was like an empty jug
nostalgic for generous wines
and sonorous, ineffable water.
I resembled a mute zither.
I couldn't even die
like one who falls
with the loose muscles of a brusque renunciation.
I was whipped by the fierce certainty of your absence
just ahead, seeking your footprints or your sign.
I couldn't die because I was still waiting.

Because from the start you were fated to be mine
my solitude was a somber passage,
an impetus of inconsolable fever.

Because you were to come and break my bones
and when God gave them their form he though
to make them less than your strength.
Docile my waist to the roundness of your touch
and to your virgin ears my voice, disciplined
in intangible syllables of foam...
Because you were to break my bones,

my bones, at your arrival, break.

And here you are.
Among contradictory angels you approach,
pouring yourself like gentle music,
like a glassful of unguents and aromas.

You praise my humility.
Your gaze, benevolent,
turns my wounds into fiery splendors.

And now you draw near
and find me surrounded by prayers
as if by leaping flames.

- Rosario Castellanos
translated from the Spanish
for the libretto of El Niño


[Communique: 03.29.03 - 10AM]

I have been writing an application for a fellowship with Cornerstone. In describing neverland to them I was rereading what I wrote about it in January. Here is something from a letter to a friend:

I didn't see neverland as being as apocalyptic as you did. The theme of armageddon, as I understand it, is one that romantics and revolutionaries often use in the service of their visions. While it is very powerful (and appeals a great deal to me), I don't think it is the whole truth. It's just as important to remember that the world is not ending, that life goes on, and that humans are primarily a danger to themselves. As for the ideology behind X's vision - you will see that in the story it is pretty explicitly Marxist. I opened it up to the performer and asked him to create it new every night, which is why it changed so much. I was uncomfortable with his choice to propose the murder of all children, but I also think that he did that completely within the rules of the game and that putting such terrifying images on the table was part of the deep work of the project. I think that in all my watching of Holocaust documentaries and horror films and anti-capitalist videos and everything that has to do with murder and sickness and genocide, I have never heard anyone propose the murder of children in general.

For me, X is a visionary in the anarchist tradition. At its most radical, this is indeed negativity towards the history of human beings (to the extent that history begins with writing and civilization and therefore with structures of dominance and slavery) and white people (to the extent that whiteness is a construct based on colonial domination) and Americans (to the extent that America is the largest and most powerful empire in history). Ideally this kind of radical anarchist perspective does not mean that you hate all history (which is also the history of love and justice and peace) or all white people (who are not inherently dominant or evil) or all Americans (who are not all emperors). But I think the tale of X, as you will see in the short story, is about the difference between a romantic utopian anarchism which is fundamentally disconnected from the world and a complex historical materialism which is essentially cynical and relativist. My own proposal would be something that combines historical materialism with romantic anarchism, but this is not something we see a lot of in "Elegy," which is a very dark story. In "Elegy," both options suck. The visionary X leads his friends into destruction, disillusionment, and murder, while the historical voices (the radio, for example) talk constantly about war and military coups. Everywhere you turn, violence.

I was also offended by some parts. On this project I rejected some of the assumptions about the director's role. I would not at all be willing to take responsibility for everything the actors said and did. Traditionally the director has all the agency and actors have none, but in this case I gave them responsibility for their words and actions.


[Communique: 03.28.03]

Try to live the questions themselves.

- Rilke

i am living the questions
they are tearing me apart
it feels okay
okay


[Communique: 03.27.03]

On Tuesday I went spontaneously to Lenox, Massachusetts with Micha. I was not wearing shoes and we got stuck in a snow bank and thought we had destroyed the front axle of the car. But then I found some shoes and the AAA pulled us out of the snow and the wheel was fine.

So that was good.

On Monday I am going to Amsterdam for a week.

I found a file of random notes from a year ago. Here are a few interesting old thoughts...

Marxists predict a great economic crash. Technology has shifted the nature of this crash from economic to environmental, shunted off the burden.

She's in touch with her edge.

Hi, I'm a syntheticalist. I don't eat anything organic, only synthetic food. It's sort of like being on a hunger strike, except you can do it for years and years.

Short film: A young woman enters her sunny apartment. Sends her roommate out for honey and vinegar. Starts writing sigils on walls. What is coming? Eviction, and something worse...

I feel so fat today. I feel like a giant corporate flag smothering infant children. I have to go back to the gym.

- a famous post-colonial feminist theorist
(in private)


[Communique: 03.25.03]

Somehow I believe archaically that I can do work, live, love gratify alone. But also I know - perhaps also archaically - that I can do nothing alone. This is what G. was trying to tell me this morning about acknowledging his existence, his contribution to my life process.

And J.'s and the Group's. And to acknowledge it in fact is also to permit disruptions - to turn over to others - more or less, but in increasing amounts - the possibility of influencing my life; my life "course." ... To realize that I am not what I put myself out as being. I am not self-contained, invincible, untouchable.

I do not like to be touched. For those hands on my surface, those unsolicited hands, can suddenly plunge into me and bring up guts

- Richard Schechner, Environmental Theater


[Communique: 03.24.03]

cued

cued by breath
we await the electronic
emptiness in our hearts

unleashed by exasperation
we question our names
brought forth without hope
and crying
the children go

desperate with ourselves
we break our own bodies over cords of silk
lacking just what we need
to be whole

"i am whole" you said
whole and broken
"question it" you said
now go

Theater Against War
Midnight to Noon
Every Friday and Saturday

... the hardest thing is wanting ...

... am i becoming less clear?

From confusion comes clarity!

- Estevan


[Communique: 03.23.03]

cradle

this egg is unsustainable
this room is unsustainable
fight for your wrong to be here
i didn't go marching
nobody

put a stop to

endless endless grain
and we're going to use it all
trash on the sidewalk users
pushing pushing pushing
into the television

and it's not about iraq
and it's not about blood or oil
but power
and building an empire
and we are in it
we are all in it together

this weight is on us
nobody artists in a big city
with a tiny education and some skin
saying fuck you for imperial effort
and fuck you for fear
fuck your children dying of cancer
in a city that looks like Brooklyn

garbage is what we eat
and we just don't know it yet
anger among friends is a fluid
breaking at the dam
breaking now
breaking
slowly
in the dark

get out of that box
get off the streets
i don't want to hear about your jealousy
i only want to hear about love today
it's burning
in the desert
and i am dogma
and i am not proud

so fuck you for the anger
fuck you very fucking much
fuck you for the microphone
and the state of your fucking union
bite this piece of my arm off
and drop it into Baghdad
dye it brown and green and
stick it in the microwave

and fuck you for not waking up
when i called you from the kitchen
and fuck you for not waking up
when i realized you were dead
and fuck you for singing me those songs
when all i wanted was bread
and fuck you for telling me stories
and not hearing what i said

i want to cut this country up
into six hundred tiny pieces
and put a fucking garden in each city
until people have to look in your eyes
i want us to all walk naked
i want us to care about peace
i want us to stop being stupid
i want us to give up right now

the answer isn't good news
simple is not always easy
the best way is not always clear
and clarity isn't a virtue

the virtues are not hard to find
but searching takes all of your heart
my heart is not with this war
but this war is not every war
every war is unjustified

knowledge cannot bring peace

peace
is not good music
peace is not good food
peace is not good people
or happy days
peace is not a cease-fire
or a graveyard
it's not a fucking religion
it's not a cheap date
peace is not something you have
it's not something you get
it's not something you own

have it
keep it
own it
do it
fuck it
lose it
lose your shit
lose your mind
lose your shit
lose your mind
lose your shit
lose your mind
go numb
or
don't

as we bomb
the cradle of civilization


[Communique: 03.18.03]

... Fear of going home. And of not being taken in. We're afraid of being abandoned by the mother, the culture, la Raza, for being unacceptable, faulty, damaged. Most of us unconsciously believe that if we reveal this unacceptable aspect of the self our mother / culture / race will totally reject us. To avoid rejection, some of us conform to the values of the culture, push the unacceptable parts into the shadows. Which leaves only one fear - that we will be found out and that the Shadow-Beast will break out of its cage. Some of us take another route. We try to make ourselves conscious of the Shadow-Beast, stare at the sexual lust and lust for power and destruction we see on its face, discern among its features the undershadow that the reigning order of heterosexual males project on our Beast. Yet still others of us take it another step: we try to waken the Shadow-Beast inside us. Not many jump at the chance to confront the s Shadow-Beast in the mirror without flinching at her lidless serpent eyes, her cold clammy moist hand dragging us underground, fangs bared and hissing. How does one put feathers on this particular serpent? But a few of us have been lucky - on the the face of the Shadow-Beast we have seen not lust but tenderness; on its face we have uncovered the lie.

- Gloria Anzaldua, Borderlands / La Frontera

shadow : beast : serpent : wolf : fat : worm

there is no place like home, and no way to find it.

sinking like some stones
... that's not the one ...
why are you raining my blood again?
it hurts when you come out of me
every time is like a breath
i can't take it any other way
tuna melt


[Communique: 03.17.03]

- I'd be dirty / and exciting / and full of whatever / of life / I'd be / I'd be beautiful ...

... and I get a colour, stuck in my eye / the colour turqoise

- jeff noon, needle in the groove


[Communique: 03.16.03]

Here are some photos of the war room.


[Communique: 03.11.03]

A poem works for me not when it says what I want it to say and not when it evokes what I want it to. It works when the subject I started out with metamorphoses alchemically into a different one, one that has been discovered, or uncovered, by the poem. It works when it surprises me, when it says something I have repressed or pretended not to know. The meaning and worth of my writing is measured by how much I put myself on the line and how much nakedness I achieve...

... Feed the muse within you. The voice that lies buried under you, dig it up. Do not fake it, try to sell it for a handclap or your name in print.

- Gloria Anzaldua

What I want to do with my life this year is strip away all the shit that I do because of ambition, because of the handclap, because of wanting to achieve a certain image that gratifies my ego. I know what it is to do work that feels deep and real. I know that that work is powerful, that it can be "successful" or not and that either way it is truly life-giving and life-sustaining. I go in and out of that courage. I want to find that pulse and listen to it.


[Communique: 03.11.03]

Music is you wake up and you see what the day is like and then you go and play that instrument, and what comes out is how you feel about that day. And before jazz became institutionalized, everything you heard was pretty much somebody's view of how they felt that day. And you could hear it in the notes and you can hear it in the song...

So the more notes they found in common together spontaneously, then it just kept building and building until everything became recomposed or reimprovised over and over and over. It's like having a conversation with someone about the same thing every day, but it sounds different every time. Like saying "I love you" every day, you mean the same thing and you have the same feeling, but you have to come up with some way of saying it...

- Bob Beldon, interview with MLF

trains & training. bees & wax / philosophical.

i had to learn why i need objects in order to let myself have them. i never just walked down canal street and took what i needed. somebody says you aren't supposed to make theater that way. but now i understand. the objects can ground you in whatever those fabulous colors are. critical theory is not something you can put in your pocket and bring into a neutral space. race and gender cannot be the premises of a mirror exercise. too much thinking, not enough skin. always reducing to skin. but a flag, a blue eyedropper, a phone, a shoe, a pair of red socks... these can be dropped into the action-water to dissolve like rocks in lava. these are the tools of the shaman. you can't control the flow of energy but you can carry a utility belt. i'm not wrong for resisting the letting go into a sea of supposed neutrality. i need to make my demands clear to the gods, incarnate them in icons for an altar, and then go into the circle naked, carrying only my totems.

i need to relax. it's a choice.

i think i will get on a train and be back tomorrow morning.


[Communique: 03.07.03]

the war room took place. It happened. Thanks to all those who stopped by. Images and notes will be posted on the website as soon as possible.

Also, I have a review up in the NYC TheatreWire.


[Communique: 03.02.03]

People want to know: Why do you worry about taking your clothes off when we have to wipe out imperialism?

- Julian Beck

Upcoming project: the war room

You are personally invited to come view / participate in this piece. It is an all-day installation. It will not be performative like a piece of theater. Nobody is putting on a show for anyone else. We will simply be there, thinking, all day long. The point is to create a space in which people stop and think seriously about the meaning of war. The space will be contemplative rather than informational, slow as well as urgent, serious but not morbid, and political in the deepest sense.

You can be a participant on either side of the glass.

Meanwhile...

I am now 24 years old.

In attendance at my party yesterday: Rammellzee, Ben Blum-Smith, Megan Spence, Tove Hermanson, Timmy Jones, Casey Davison, Krainin, Georgia Ewen-Campen, Trevor Frontin, Michelle Goldsmith, Kody Blue, Emily Barth, Jim Isler, Marina Teper, Gillian Tunney.




vermilion's text = journal of a rootless cosmopolitan
all text by bspatz
return to anagnorisis

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