#55…Considering Play…

img_0001Play is the eldest of habits, preceding the scribbling on cave walls, the accumulation of stuff, the maturation of mythical leaders, the harvesting of row-crops, the forming of balls (and bombs), and the counting graphs of wealth and power.

The ultra-new ( which includes old-school avant-garde) is worthy, when remembering, that play is connected to the antiquarian, the ancients, the creation myth of all things fiction; fulfilled in all things art.

With all of the pernicious crap going on in and around the tent of The Temporary Museum of Enfant Terrible Culture it is important that we remember that there are children present; and play should be a part of this gathering, no matter what real or imagined fears the adults cling to.













Our anarchist emotives live a nervous maturity; favoring adult sophistication that is (only?) monetized aggression, raging against a pitiable return. Collusion with wealth and power is often difficult to avoid, oligarchs tempt.











img_0001Please excuse the following official note:

The tent, overseen by those to whom We have given authority – The Deciders, is stretching into an oligarchic character.  Scholarly attention has been devoted to reigniting the carcass of artistic drive towards a new, superior (monied) academy; without an artistic skills component. It is to proffer effete emotive intellectualism lacking any direct involvement in lowly affairs, such as real children playing.

Play is to precede to a type of professionalism that diminishes childlike wonder with its’ erratic anarchic character ( i.e. the spontaneous substitution of a broom for a horse, the type of realism that never claims victory over an actual stone castle).  It appears that it should accomplish goals (sooner and fiscal in character) in service to the Decider-In-Chief.  Play, as now proposed, should be systemized in a digital format.










The Decider-in-Chief as established a play area developing skills more likely to benefit the fate of children when they seek a day-job.



Yorick established a play area outside last summer but the winter has limited it as a refuge, arguments have reminded some of the other Deciders of that effort. To what end we must wait, at least till next Saturday.





#45…comic bubbles…


We have just had a mixed media poetry performance ( or endless vitriolic political rant with celebratory cliches ), here in the Temporary Museum of Enfant Terrible Culture.  The poet just wanted to add some colorful beauty to surround and lift the words. Apparently not so elevated as to be pushed into awe, just some run-of-the-mill beauty.  But the bubbles were destroyed; there was little hope, they wouldn’t quite stay in the air, sorta just crashed, unnumbered.

After the first thousand attempts, there should have been an outpouring of communal joy.  The happiness of seeing the not-so-good get smashed, and then the succeeding attempts;  watching a human ( poetic to be sure ) enclose words that resonate, sing and harmonize, and pulsate enlivening other words.  That shoulda been a party, it would unite.  It seems like a happy haptic public poetic sequence, but we missed it. There should have been a holiday marking the thousandth failure. But it is so long ago and didn’t seem then like a notable event, and now no ceremony is likely.


Yorick, who ponders both the comic and the tragic, would be happy to help the poet.  He knows that first there is pain (more than a smashed finger), sometimes then, clawing; that inability to reach beauty, not to mention Awe ( the overwhelming).  But anyhow, there is pain, then the reality, something has to be done,  then the hope that something may improve the originating pain, then the effort (scribbling), money (if lucky ), then stuff, the manipulation, arriving at – the imperfections.  Followed by maybe enclosing all in modern media bubbles,  for safe keeping.

Yorick, being born of “olde”, doesn’t quite get the isolation, no matter the utility.

The bubble may be the modernist’s  most significant enterprise.  That ability to enclose things, quotes, economic plans, political slogans; separating deeds and words.  Bubbles, bubbles make people happy, don’t they?  But bubbles, real bubbles, happy bubbles don’t need utility: they just are –  floating away in the breeze.

Some bubbles don’t even have air, they are built, big expletive markers helping the poetic anarchist emote.img_0001

They replace having a touchable community in completing the poets deeds.

Next Saturday we begin to celebrate something easier, the Season.