Reverse-Engineering Persona

January 24, 2010

If you’ve ever had to write an essay about something seemingly meaningless, you probably know how this works. You pick a thought (the more unlikely the better), connect everything to it (the less obvious the connections the better), and make sure to overlook anything that goes against your “theory.” Does this projection of meaning onto chaos sound like what art critics do?

All is well until you start believing your own words. That is what happened to me, and I am open-sourcing some of them here, for the whole world to point and laugh and maybe even plagiarize. This story is about Bergman’s Persona and a certain Andalusian Dog, so if you haven’t seen those species yet, come back later.

Persona: the metafilm

An unwanted child, an insecure man, an arrogant genius, Ingmar Bergman directed what could very well be the most cryptic movie ever made. Persona is painted in two layers: a foreground that makes sense on a background that mystifies. The upper stratum is Alma’s story of self-acceptance, of coming to terms with her dark side. The backdrop is Bergman’s meditation on cinematography.

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ingenting nej ingenting (and i love* you)

February 20, 2009

*wakeup wanttosleep
want nothing but
thedreamisdead longlivethedream
may be youll see her to day
so getup

bathroom disinfectant like putrid chestnuts
sit and shit and ponder the meaning of life
and forgodssakes keep your eyes closed when brushing your teeth
(thirld wolrld)
out

food minus taste
add mustard or ketchup or mayonnaise
not nonsweet sugar but
sweet sugarfree sweetener
and filteredwater with a distinct taste
the taste of chewinggum overchewed

blur
free hugs sorries and thanks no thanks
freewithafineprint
blur
unblur
her eyes smile
but she dreamsnot what youdream
(first world)
blur

outofphase ambulance wails
twelvestrobes in fivedirections
smilingfaces on the website
of a mental hospital
cheerful noises
onholdonthephone
and a twentyfourseven funeral service

albino squirrels
pin ging stree tlights
walk inwhite stop inred
newspeak in the t station

noise repeat
blur repeat
depth of field decrease
in stay(up)
and pull the shades down

planes taking off at threeinthemorning
surroundsound fire alarms
sweaty feet under nylon sheets
the sound of ventilation is your lullaby

overload not sensory synesthetic
colors of france britain russia and the czech republic
despair brown. cells abcdeeing you
hope not from above from the underground
from the grave of beethoven

stomach rumbling like a badharddisk
to forgetsomeone is as easy as removefromcontactlist
the wood texture on this nonwood desk is p i x e l a t e d
(beculeţeledelamodemclipesc) thereforeIam