Showing posts with label Blackboard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blackboard. Show all posts

Sunday 14 June 2020

Bugger Kafka

David Foster Wallace: Remarks on Kafka

“And it is this, I think, that makes Kafka’s wit inaccessible to children whom our culture has trained to see jokes as entertainment and entertainment as reassurance.

It’s not that students don’t “get” Kafka’s Humour but that we’ve taught them to see humour as something you get the same way we’ve taught them that a self is something you just have. 

No wonder they cannot appreciate the really central Kafka joke : that the horrific struggle to establish a human self results in a self whose humanity is inseparable from that horrific struggle. That our endless and impossible journey toward Home is in fact our home.


It’s hard to put into words, up at the blackboard, believe me. You can tell them that maybe it’s good they don’t “get” Kafka. You can ask them to imagine his stories as all about a kind of door. To envision us approaching and pounding on this door, increasingly hard, pounding and pounding, not just wanting admission but needing it; we don’t know what it is but we can feel it, this total desperation to enter, pounding and ramming and kicking. That, finally, the door opens … and it opens outward—we’ve been inside what we wanted all along. Das ist komisch.”


1999
"There is nothing up there."

STANTZ :
Hey, where do these stairs go....?

[ Venkman strides purposefully the ruins  of the obliterated corner-penthouse apartment, conducts a visual inspection of the newly-manifested architectural feature and pronounces his finding on the structure. ]

VENKMAN :
They Go Up.

[ And so they do. ]

Wednesday 27 November 2019

Laughter is Infectious




 
You've heard of the placebo effect.
But are you aware of the nocebo effect? 
 
 
In which the human body has a negative physical reaction to a suggested harm.
 
This will make you vomit.
This will make you vomit.
This will make you vomit.
 
 Your mind has the power to create its own physical reality.



This will make you vomit.
 


[VOMITING]
[CHEERING IN DISTANCE.]
 



Why do we yawn when we see others yawn? 
 
Throughout history, there have been incidents.
 
The Dancing Plague of 1518 
 
The Tanganyika laughter epidemic.
 
The Hindu milk miracle.
 
Psychologists call it 
conversion disorder.
 


In that the body converts a mental stress to a set of physical symptoms.
 
In this case, a tic, or spasm.
 
And, like any disorder, it can be contagious.
 
This kind of collective behavior is not limited to human beings.
 
What we know is that, in certain communities, under specific circumstances, an involuntary physical symptom developed by one person can become viral.
 
 
And spread, from person to person until the entire community is infected.
 
And so, my question to you is, if the idea of illness can become illness, what else about our reality is actually a disorder? 
 
  



 
ANIMATION: 
Cartoon sequence of animated Victorian photos, at the end of which a large pig descends, fatally, on a portrait of a man.
 
Cut to wartime planning room. Two officers are pushing model pigs across the map. A private enters and salutes.
 
Private
Dobson's bought it, sir.
 
 
Officer
Porker, eh?
Swine.
 
Cut to a suburban house in a rather drab street. 
Zoom into upstairs window. 
Serious documentary music. 
 
Interior of a small room. 
A bent figure (Michael) huddles over a table, writing. 
He is surrounded by bits of paper. 
The camera is situated facing the man as he writes with immense concentration lining his unshaven face.
 
 
Voice Over
This man is Ernest Scribbler... writer of jokes. 
In a few moments, he will have written the funniest joke in The World... and, as a consequence, he will die ... laughing.
 
Ernest stops writing, pauses to look at what he has written... a smile slowly spreads across his face, turning very, very slowly to uncontrolled hysterical laughter... he staggers to his feet and reels across room helpless with mounting mirth and eventually collapses and dies on the floor.
 
Voice Over
It was obvious that this joke was lethal... no one could read it and live ...
 
 
 
 
 
The scribbler's mother (Eric) enters. 
She sees him dead, she gives a little cry of horror and bends over his body, weeping. 
 
Brokenly she notices the piece of paper in his hand and (thinking it is a suicide note - for he has not been doing well for the last thirteen years) picks it up and reads it between her sobs. 
 
Immediately she breaks out into hysterical laughter, leaps three feet into the air, and falls down dead without more ado. 
 
Cut to news type shot of commentator standing in front of the house.
 
Commentator (reverentially) 
This morning, shortly after eleven o'clock, comedy struck this little house in Dibley Road. 
 
Sudden ...violent ... comedy. 
 
Police have sealed off the area, and Scotland Yard's crack inspector is with me now.
 
Inspector
I shall enter the house and attempt to remove The Joke.
 
At this point an upstairs window in the house is flung open and a doctor, with stetoscope, rears his head out, hysterical with laughter, and dies hanging over the window sill. 
 
The commentator and the inspector look up briefly and sadly,
and then continue as if they are used to such sights this morning.
 
Inspector
I shall be aided by the sound of sombre music, played on gramophone records,
and also by the chanting of laments by the men of Q Division ... 
 
(he indicates a little knot of dour-looking policemen standing nearby
 
The atmosphere thus created should protect me in the eventuality of me reading the joke.
 
 
He gives a signal. 
The group of policemen start groaning and chanting biblical laments. 
The Dead March is heard. 
The inspector squares his shoulders and bravely starts walking into the house.
 
Commentator
There goes a brave man.
Whether he comes out alive or not,
this will surely be remembered as one of the most courageous
and gallant acts in police history.
 
 
The inspector suddenly appears at the door, helpless with laughter, holding the joke aloft. He collapses and dies. 
 
Cut to film of army vans driving along dark roads.
 
Voice Over
It was not long before the Army became interested in the military potential of the Killer Joke. 
 
Under top security, The Joke was hurried to a meeting of Allied Commanders at the Ministry of War.
 
Cut to door at Ham House:
Soldier on guard comes to attention as dispatch rider hurries in carrying armoured box. 
 
(Notice on door: 'Conference. No Admittance'.) 
 
Dispatch nider rushes in. 
A door opens for him and closes behind him. 
We hear a mighty roar of laughter....
series of doomphs as the commanders hit the floor or table. 
Soldier outside does not move a muscle.
 
Cut to a pillbox on the Salisbury Plain.
Track in to slit to see moustachioed top brass peering anxiously out.
 
Voice Over
Top brass were impressed. 
Tests on Salisbury Plain confirmed The Joke's devastating effectiveness at a range of up to fifty yards.
 
 
 
Cut to shot looking out of slit in pillbox. 
Zoom through slit to distance where a solitary figure is standing on the windswept plain. 
 
He is a bespectacled, weedy lance-corporal (Terry Jones) looking cold and miserable. 
 
Pan across to fifty yards away where two helmeted soldiers are at their positions beside a blackboard on an easel covered with a cloth.
 
Cut in to corporal's face -
registening complete lack of comprehension as well as stupidity. 
 
Man on top of pillbox waves flag.
The soldiers reveal the joke to the corporal. 
He peers at it, thinks about its meaning, sniggers, and dies. 
 
Two watching generals are very impressed.
 
Generals
Fantastic.
 
 
Cut to a Colonel talking to camera.
 
Colonel
All through the winter of '43 we had translators working, in joke-proof conditions, to try and produce a German version of The Joke.
 
They worked on one word each for greater safety.
 
One of them saw two words of the joke and spent several weeks in hospital.
 
But apart from that things went pretty quickly, and we soon had The Joke by January,
in a form which our troops couldn't understand but which the Germans could.
 
Cut to a trench in the Ardennes.
Members of the joke brigade are crouched holding pieces of paper with the joke on them.
 
Voice Over
So, on July 8th, 1944, the joke was first told to the enemy in the Ardennes...
 
Commanding NCO
Squad! Tell The ... Joke.
 
Joke Brigade (together)
Wenn ist das Nunstruck git und Slotermeyer?
Ja! ... Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput!
 
Pan out of the British trench across war-torn landscape and come to rest where presumably the German trench is.
There is a pause and then a group of Germans rear up in hysterics.
 
Voice Over
It was a fantastic success.
Over sixty thousand times as powerful as Britain's great pre-war joke ...
 
Cut to a film of Chamberlain brandishing the 'Peace in our time' bit of paper.
 
Voice Over
...and one which Hitler just couldn't match.
 
Film of Hitler rally.
Hitler speaks; subtitles are superimposed. 
 
SUBTITLE
'MY DOG'S GOT NO NOSE'
 
A young soldier responds:
SUBTITLE:
HOW DOES HE SMELL?
 
Hitler speaks:
SUBTITLE:
AWFUL
 
Voice Over
In action it was deadly.
 
Cut to a small squad with rifles making their way through forest.
Suddenly one of them (a member of the joke squad) sees something and gives signal at which they all dive for cover.
From the cover of a tree he reads out Joke.
 
Joke Corporal
Wenn ist das Nunstruck git und Slotermeyer?
Ja! .. Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput!
 
Sniper falls laughing out of tree.
 
Joke Brigade (charging)
Wenn ist das Nunstruck git und Slotermeyer?
Ja! ... Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput.
 
They chant the joke.
Germans are put to flight laughing, some dropping to ground.
 
Voice Over
The German casualties were appalling.
 
Cut to a German hospital and a ward full of casualties still laughing hysterically.
 
Cut to Nazi interrogation room.
An officer from the joke brigade has a light shining in his face.
A Gestapo officer is interrogating him;
another (clearly labelled 'A Gestapo Officer') stands behind him.
 
Nazi
Vott is the big joke?
 
Officer
I can only give you name, rank, and why did the chicken cross the road?
 
Nazi
That's not funny!
(slaps him)
I vant to know the joke.
 
 
Officer
All right. How do you make a Nazi cross?
 
Nazi (momentarily fooled)
I don't know ... how do you make a Nazi cross?
 
Officer
Tread on his corns.
(does so; the Nazi hops in pain)
 
Nazi
Gott in Himmel!
That's not funny!
(mimes cuffing him while the other Nazi claps his hands to provide the sound effect)
Now if you don't tell me the joke, I shall hit you properly.
 
Officer
I can stand physical pain, you know.
 
Nazi
Ah ... you're no fun.
All right, Otto.
 
Otto (Graham) starts tickling the officer who starts laughing.
 
Officer
Oh no - anything but that please no, all right I'll tell you.
 
They stop.
 
Nazi
Quick Otto.
The typewriter.
 
Otto goes to the typewriter and they wait expectantly.
The officer produces piece of paper out of his breast pocket and reads.
 
Officer
Wenn ist das Nunstruck git und Slotermeyer? Ja!
... Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput.
 
Otto at the typewriter explodes with laughter and dies.
 
Nazi
Ach! Zat iss not funny!
 
Bursts into laughter and dies.
A guard (Terry G) bursts in with machine gun, The British officer leaps on the table.
 
Officer (lightning speed)
Wenn ist das Nunstruck git und Slotermeyer?
Ja! ... Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput.
 
The guard reels back and collapses laughing.
British officer makes his escape.
 
Cut to stock film of German scientists working in laboratories.
Voice Over
But at Peenemunde in the Autumn of '44, the Germans were working on a joke of their own.
 
Cut to interior.
A German general (Terry J) is seated at an imposing desk.
Behind him stands Otto, labelled 'A Different Gestapo Officer'.
Bespectacled German scientist/joke writer enters room.
He clean his throat and reads from card.
 
German Joker
Die ist ein Kinnerhunder und zwei Mackel über und der bitte schön ist den Wunderhaus sprechensie.
'Nein' sprecht der Herren 'Ist aufern borger mit zveitingen'.
 
He finishes and looks hopeful.
 
Otto
We let you know.
 
He shoots him.
More stock film of German scientists.
 
Voice Over
But by December their joke was ready,
and Hitler gave the order for the German V-Joke to be broadcast in English.
 
Cut to 1940's wartime radio set with couple anxiously listening to it.
 
Radio (crackly German voice)
Der ver zwei peanuts, valking down der strasse,
and von vas... assaulted! peanut. Ho-ho-ho-ho.
 
Radio bursts into 'Deutschland Ãœber Alles'.
The couple look at each other and then in blank amazement at the radio.
 
Cut to modern BBC 2 interview.
The commentator in a woodland glade.
 
Commentator
In 1945 Peace broke out.
It was the end of The Joke.
Joke warfare was banned at a special session of the Geneva Convention,
and in 1950 the last remaining copy of the joke was laid to rest here in the Berkshire countryside, never to be told again.
 
He walks away revealing a monument on which is written:
'To the unknown Joke'.
Camera pulls away slowly through idyllic setting.
Patriotic music reaches cresendo.
 
Cut to football referee who blows whistle.
Silence. Blank screen.
CAPTION:
'THE END'
 
The seashore again, with the 'It's' man lying on the beach.






















Sunday 14 October 2018

Fear and Love






Charismatic/Narcissistic Sexual Predator : So now let us begin Life Line exercise number one. Please press “stop” now. 

The Flying Monkey obeys.

Flying Monkey : As you can see, the Life Line is divided into two polar extremes. 

Fear and love. 

Fear is in the negative energy spectrum. 

And Love is in the positive energy spectrum. 

Sean Smith: <Muttered> No duh…. 

Kitty Farmer: Excuse me? “No duh…” is a product of Fear. 

NO —WRONG : Ridicule is a product of Love.

This is Another Proof of The Truth that Love and Hate are in-fact THE SAME EMOTION, merely pointing in opposite directions.

Captain Ahab LOVES Moby Dick enough to follow him to The Very Ends of The Earth - So that they can kill each other.

Nothing Could Be More Intimate.

Now, on each card is a character dilemma which applies to the Life Line.   

Kitty Farmer: Please… take this… 

<Kitty tries to hand a card to Seth Devlin who refuses to take it> 

Kitty Farmer: … Thank you. Please read each character dilemma aloud, and place an “X” on the Life Line in the appropriate place. Cherita? 

<Cherita gets up, stands by the blackboard, and reads from the card> 

Cherita Chen: Juanita has an important math test today. She’s known about the test for several weeks but has not studied. In order to keep from failing her class Juanita decides that she will cheat on the math test. 

<A Narcissist would experience no fear in deciding to cheat, which is why they constantly do it — it’s as natural to them as breathing;

Moreover still, they regard it is not only acceptable, but moral, ethical and good — heroic, even, since the only love of any kind they have or are capable of experiencing, much less expressing is their own self-Love

Getting caught cheating or trying to cheat, and being punished for it is absolutely morally unacceptable to a Narcissist. Because that means that must have been stupid, incautious and careless, otherwise , how else could they have ever allowed themself to get caught by one of The Ants...? > 

Kitty Farmer: Good, good. Very good. Mr. Darko. 

<Donnie gets up, stands by the blackboard, and reads from the card> 

Donnie Darko: “Ling Ling finds a wallet on the ground filled with money. 

[ ...as well as, though though nor specified here aside from the driver’s licence, we may assume, a fair number of other things — wallets contain far more things than mere money,  so the fact that this one was found FULL of money is really only of very minor, second-order significance in influencing the owners level of desire/interest in having the wallet returned to them — 

One thing that is worth consideratio

She takes the wallet to the address on the driver’s license but keeps the money inside the wallet.” 

A Reasonable Punishment — We May Consider This to represent Asshole Tax.


<Scoffs> I-I’m sorry Mrs. Farmer. I don’t get this. 

Kitty Farmer: Just place an X on the Life Line in the appropriate place. 

Donnie Darko: No, I mean I know what to do, I just don’t get this. You can’t just lump things into two categories. Things aren’t that simple. 

Kitty Farmer: The Life Line is divided that way. 

Donnie Darko: Life isn’t that simple. I mean who cares if Ling Ling returns the wallet and keeps the money? It has nothing to do with either fear or love. 

Kitty Farmer: Fear and love are the deepest of human emotions. 

Donnie Darko: Okay. But you’re not listening to me. There are other things that need to be taken into account. Like the whole spectrum of human emotion. You can’t just lump everything into these two categories and then just deny everything else. 

Kitty Farmer: If you don’t complete the assignment you’ll get a zero for the day. 

Donnie Darko: <deep breath>…


Thursday 8 June 2017

Paddy the Bastard




I was their #1 son - and they treated me like Number 2.

- Oswald Cobblepot
Candidate for Mayor of Gotham City


Troyer: 
How many scripts did you write? Your name was on 2.

McGoohan: 
Well, my name was on and then I wrote under a couple of other names: 

Archibald Schwartz 

[ Genuine/Precious, Bold Black or Dark-Complected Person (Black Irish?) ] 

was one and 

Paddy Fitz 

[ Paddy the Bastard ] 

was another.

Troyer: 
So how many all together?

McGoohan: 
I t'ink 5.

Troyer: 
Which ones? The last one...

McGoohan
The first one I re-wrote. It came out...not the way I wanted, and then the last one, I wrote. 

The penultimate one, I wrote. 

Free For All - another one, and then there was another one, I can't remember the name of it offhand. 

It's a long time ago.






6:
 There are those who come here and deny that we can supply every conceivable civilized amenity within our boundaries. You can enjoy yourselves... and you will. You can partake of the most hazardous sports and you will. The price is cheap. All you have to do in exchange is give us... information. 

You are then eligible for promotion to other and perhaps more attractive spheres. 
Where do you desire to go? 
What has been your dream? I can supply it. 

Winter, spring, summer or fall, they can all be yours at any time. 
Apply to me, and it will be easier and better.

Elsewhere, Number 2 is also in rhetorical mood. He stands, megaphone in hand, on a stone balcony overlooking the gardens; the butler holds the black and white umbrella over him. The crowd here are much more sombre.

2: 
There are those who come here with a fresh face, with an enthusiasm that cannot be denied. Beware, be careful. Their promises ring richly in your ears. Our friend Number 6 has a splendid record, has adapted himself admirably to our procedure, but he has no experience whatsoever of the manipulation of such a community as ours. Beware! Has he got the administrative ability to implement his policies? Can you trust him?

The Prisoner is now haranguing the Village from a moving taxi.

6: 
Place your trust in the old régime: the policies are defined, the future certain. 

The old régime forever... and the old Number 2 forever? 
Confession by coercion, is that what you want? 
Vote for him and you have it! 
Or, stand firm upon this election platform and speak a word without fear! 

The word....
is "Freedom". 
They say 
"6 of 1 and half a dozen of The Other"... 

Not Here. 

It's "6 for 2, and 2 for nothing" and 5 for Free... For All... 4 Free 4 all! 

Vote! Vote!

His boisterous parade winds its way into the garden below Number 2, chanting "Six! Six!" and waving placards. Suddenly everything stops, including the brass band. Number 2 shouts down through his megaphone, and the Prisoner's amplified voice floats back.

2: 
You seem to be doing pretty well.

6: 
Far be it for me to carp, but what will you do in your spare time?

2: 
I cannot afford spare time.

Prisoner: 
Do you hear that? He's working to his limit!

Can't afford spare time! 
We're all entitled to spare time! 
Leisure is our right!

His crowd wave their placards and chant 
"Six for Two! Six for Two! Six for Two! Six for Two!"

Number 2: 
In your spare time, if you get it, what will you do?

6 : 
Less work... and more play!

Crowd: 
6! 6! 6! 



Later, at the Cat and Mouse nightclub, a waitress brings a tray of drinks over from the bar to the table where the Prisoner is sitting with Number 58. Like everyone else in the bar, she wears a Number 6 rosette.

Waitress: Sir, non-alcoholic gin, whisky, vodka. Looks the same and tastes the same.

Prisoner: Bet you can't get me tiddly.

Waitress: No alcohol here, sir!

Prisoner: You going to vote for me?

Waitress: You and only you.

Prisoner: Go away.

Waitress: Gin, whisky, vodka. Looks the same and tastes the same.

Prisoner: GET OUT!

Scared, she runs away. Behind them a woman dances oddly to the jolly music of the mechanical band. The Prisoner points a finger at Number 58.

Prisoner: You're spying on me, aren't you?

Number 58: Ik...?

Prisoner: Get me a drink.

He holds up a glass. Number 58 whipers agitatedly.

Number 58: Kokazi trak ozamuk ni, tak ta.

Prisoner: Alcoholic drink.

Number 58: Kokazi trak ozamuk ni, nas ta.

Prisoner: A DRINK!

He hurls the glass violently to the floor. Number 58 quickly leads him out, collecting her coat in the foyer. He mumbles at passing customers as though drunk.

Prisoner: Vote for 6... vote for 6... vote for me and a drink... vohhhhte for 6...

Number 58: Ibazka!

Prisoner: Vote for me... six... vote...

Number 58: Ibazka!

Outside the club, she leads him to their taxi.

Prisoner: I'm for you... let me be... ever let me go... ever let me go...

They drive to the outskirts of the Village, where they get out and walk through the grove of statues.

Prisoner: Vote for me...

Number 58 points to the concealed mouth of a cave and mimes drinking.

Number 58: Eng brifti nakh, abartuk. Sluch! Sluchje...

She starts to run back the way they've come, but the Prisoner grabs her, smiling stupidly.

Prisoner: Spying on me, aren't you?

Number 58: Ag... sluchje! Sluchje!

She escapes his clutches and flees in terror. The Prisoner stares after her for a moment, then wanders into the cave.

Prisoner: Vote for me... I'm for you... let me be... let me be...

Inside the cave, a middle-aged man in an apron throws a bit of wood onto a roaring fire, then walks over to tend to a still in the corner. There is little else in this seedy drinking establishment apart from a hooded figure boozing on his own at one of the few tables. The aproned barman steps towards this figure, failing to notice the Prisoner in the entranceway.

Barman: Large or small, sir?

Figure: Massive.

The Prisoner suddenly steps forward.

Prisoner: I'll have a double!

Barman: With or without water, sir?

The figure leaps up and pulls the hood from his head. It is Number 2. He focuses groggily on the Prisoner. The Prisoner simply smiles back in acknowledgment.

Prisoner: ... Without.

Barman: Please take a seat, I'll be right with you.

The Prisoner wanders over to Number 2's table, but neither of them sit down yet.

Number 2: Little drop now and again keeps the nerves steady.

Prisoner: ... You're scared, aren't you?

Number 2: Frankly, yes.

Prisoner: Of what?

Number 2: It may seem improbable to you, but I'm wondering what's going to happen to you.

He pokes him drunkenly. The barman brings them each a beaker. The Prisoner glances behind him suspiciously.

Number 2: Don't worry. There's no surveillance here. This is the Therapy Zone.

They sit down together.

Prisoner: Clever, aren't they? CLEVER, AREN'T YOU?!

Number 2: They are, damn clever. Think of it: if you want to be an alcoholic, you can be one here in perfect privacy, so long as you rejoin the flock in good time.

Prisoner: You don't approve?

Number 2: Of the Village?

Prisoner: Yes.

Number 2: ... To hell with the Village. Cheers.

The Prisoner blinks.

Prisoner: ... Cheers.

They drink. Number 2 puts his hand on the Prisoner's shoulder, then indicates the barman, now busy again at his still.

Number 2: See him?

Prisoner: 
Yes.

Number 2: 
Cheers.

Prisoner:
 ... Cheers.

Again they drink.

Number 2: 
He's a brilliant scientist. Just does that for a hobby. Come with me. I'll show you something.

Number 2 leads the way into a small dingy chamber at the back of the cavern, containing chemical equipment and a blackboard covered in diagrams.

Number 2: We leave him here in peace, he brews his brew, plays with his chalk; we come down once a week, photograph the stuff, clean it up for him so that he can start on another lot.

He laughs and the Prisoner joins in. They both drink.

Prisoner: Clever as hell!

Number 2: Cheers!

2 starts singing; the Prisoner again joins in. 2 absently wipes some of the writing off the blackboard.

Number 2: 
Vote for me...

Prisoner: 
Vote for me...

Number 2: 
And I'll be...

Prisoner: 
And I'll be...

Number 2: 
Ever so comforty!

They drain their beakers. Number 2 giggles. The Prisoner teeters and topples onto the floor, out cold. Number 2, completely sober, removes the tatty shawl he is wearing and regains his normal composure.

Barman: 
Quicker than usual.

Number 2: I warned you not to make it too strong. We mustn't damage the tissue.

Barman: You needn't worry. There will be no remembrances. The portions were exact to take him right through the election.


Friday 6 May 2016

The Voodou, Hoodoo, What-You-Don't-Dare-Do People


"If you look at cave art – the first art was done; the first writing that was done, basically as art. 

And if someone wanted to make something happen; like, if you were in the — like, if you were some fucked up caveman in a cave somewhere, worrying about your dinner. 

What do you do? You draw a bison on the wall; stick some spears in it. 

Go out, and the bison dies filled with spears."

Grant Morrison 



"Do you know much about voodoo? That's a fascinating practice. 

No real doctrine of faith to speak of - more an arrangement of superstitions; the most well-known of which is the voodoo doll.

You see, a mockup of an individual is subjected to various pokes and prods.

The desired result is that the individual will feel those effects."

Loki/Kevin Smith

"The Black Ark was too black and too dread. Even though I am black, I have to burn it down, to save me brain. It was too black. It want to eat me up!"

Lee Scratch Perry







" “This is part of human experience. It’s a part of human experience that has been described to us for thousands and thousands of years – but for the last two hundred has been hidden and made occult. For some reason that we don’t understand – but it seems to have something to do with the industrial revolution and corporate culture.”

So these things happen. Magic works. And I found out when I was doing the comic that you could actually make magic happen by writing things, and changing the operating system of the universe. It works, and I’m here to tell you to try it when you go home tonight. Because it fucking works.

And what happens if we all do it? If everyone in this room decides to take control of reality? I’m talking about reality; I’m talking about quantum physics; I’m talking about taking control of things from the quantum level up, from the molecular level up – and it works. This magic works.

So I’ll tell you something you can do, while I’m here. You know one of the best techniques, and one of the easiest techniques, to prove that this thing works is to practice sigil magic. The technique is simple: have a desire, tonight.

Go home and do this! Don’t listen to this shit! Don’t listen to my bullshit and think “yeah, we are the fucking counterculture!” DO IT! Do it – and we will change the world.

Because I did it. Coz I didn’t trust those guys. I didn’t trust Wilson and all those people who told me we could do this stuff. And I’m here to tell you: it works. And you can do it; we can all do it.

Bacon's New Atlantis, 
beyond the Pillars of Heracles


Number one: first thing you do is, you write down a desire. Make it something easy that’s likely to happen. Something possible, rather than say, y’know, “I’m going to be king of the moon” – which you may want to be, as we all do, but.. it’s kind of hard to be king of the moon. You’re gonna have to get a rocket and go up there.

Something easy. If you want to sigilise for a lottery win, make sure you buy a ticket or else it probably won’t work. So these are the conditions within the material universe that we live in.

What we’re really dealing with here is, as I say, some kind of operating system that can be hacked, using words. Words seem to be the binding agent of this.. thing. Whatever it is.

So I wrote this comic book – and as I wrote it, it became true. 

Things I would make the characters do became true.

The main character was.. I gave him a bald head and a leather jacket, because I thought people would like me when I they read the comic. Bald heads were really uncool back in 1992.

The Shakes-Spear Tulpa 
(w. skullet)

Avatar of the High Priest and Devotee of Pallas-Athena,
The Spear-Shaker

The Golem of Avon


And it worked. I found that if I put the character through a situation where he’d been tortured; where his lungs had bust and he was being held in captivity; subjected to all these awful things. Two months later: I’m in hospital, two bust lungs, dying of blood poisoning; facing exactly the same shamanic trial that I put my character through.

So once I figured out that, I thought: the best thing to do is to give this guy an easy time in the future.

King Mob/Gideon Stargrave/Grant Morrison


So as a result of all this, I’d just split up with my girlfriend. And I was like: “okay, I want a new one and I want her to look exactly like this chick in the comic, coz she’s cool.” 

So I did a sigil; a month later, the girl turns up. 

Then another one. Then another one. Then another one; then another one. 

All aspects of this character. And then [I was like]: “Oh fuck, this is insane. Because it works and I’ve done something ridiculous. Because now I’m dealing with all these women who look like the character, but who I don’t get on with, or I can’t talk to, or I can’t deal with.

And I began to realise a little bit about how this stuff works.

So beyond that, I decided: I won’t just use it to get laid, because it seems a pretty low-grade kind of way of dealing with magic. But man, it works! Believe me.

So I thought: how much could you effect reality by writing a comic that mimics reality, but pushed it in weird directions? So round about 1997, I decided that I would really seriously turn this thing into a super-sigil.



And it was based on the idea that: if you look at cave art – the first art was done; the first writing that was done, basically as art. And if someone wanted to make something happen; like, if you were in the — like, if you were some fucked up caveman in a cave somewhere, worrying about your dinner. What do you do? You draw a bison on the wall; stick some spears in it. Go out, and the bison dies filled with spears.

“Hey, man! We can make this happen!”

Slowly, those things become words; they become abstractions – complexes of meaning. And you can take that basic idea, and – as we’ve seen – people like Austin Osmond Spare, the magician from the early part of the century, or Crowley, or the chaos magicians of the eighties who were a big influence on me – they used this stuff. 

And like I say, what you can do is this: go home, write down a desire; it’s quite simple, what you can say is: “It is my desire that my cat wins the Olympics.” 

Take out all the vowels..

- Write this down, for fuck’s sake! Don’t just listen; do it! Right? -

Take out the vowels, and you’ll be left with a string of consonants. 

Take out all the repeated consonants, and you’ll be left with a string of consonants with no repeats in it. 


X, Y, A, D, whatever. 

Turn that thing into a little image. 
Take the D, draw a big D. 
Then you’ve got a T; draw a big T on it.

Keep reducing it down until it looks magical.

And there are no rules for this thing. 

Do it until it looks magical.



At that point you now have a sigil. 
The sigil will work. 
You can project desire into reality, and change reality. 

It works!

Those must be the people who’ve done it.

So please, I mean, write this down, go home and do it. Check; verify the results.

Because – I was reading this thing in New Scientist this week and it said: the difference between bad science and good science is.. 

Scientific procedure has three criteria. And the criteria are: 

that you can verify results; you can talk to other people who’ve done the thing and make sure that, you know, it works out. 

You can duplicate results. 

And also.. 
some other thing; I’ve forgotten. 

But yeah, two things is pretty good, innit? 

Two outta.. yeah.

This is verifiable. People have been telling us about this for thousands of years. The Tibetans have been telling us about this. The Mesopotamians have been telling us about this. And why has it been made ‘occult’?

Because: Coca-Cola have got the secret.

What you do is you create a sigil.

Coca-Cola is a sigil. The McDonalds “M” is a sigil.

These people are basically turning the world into themselves, using sigils.

And if we don’t reverse that process, and turn the world into us using sigils, we’re going to be living in fucking McDonalds.

But McDonalds have no more power than us, apart from the fact – like what Doug [Rushkoff] said earlier – they’ve got some money.

Fuck it; who cares?

At the top levels of this stuff, no one’s using money anyway.

You think Rupert Murdoch, or the Queen, or Bill Clinton, or any of these fuckers use money? Of course they don’t.

They’ve realised that money is only useful to sell to the middle classes – the people in the middle who make things happen; who make things run.

We’ve been sold a fiction. 
There’s no such thing as money. 
Ignore it. 
At the higher levels..

No.. YEAH! HEY!

There is no money. 
These fuckers don’t use money. 
If Rupert Murdoch wants a Rolls Royce, they give him one. 
Because he’s Rupert Murdoch. 
And if they see him in a Rolls Royce, it means they get some status out of it.

So you’ve gotta understand, these people on the higher levels are operating on a hierarchy of exchange and barter.

On the lower levels – where I lived in Glasgow, which is one of the poorest cities in Europe – people are operating on a hierarchy of exchange that’s quite different: they steal shit, and then they sell it back, and they have their own little money.. and they have this complete black market economy.

There’s only us in the middle who think money’s worth anything – and we chase it until we drop.

So forget it.

Where was I?

(And the other thing is: I hate talking at people, so if anyone wants to join in just put your hand up. Coz I fucking hate just talking at people.)

So… having figured these weird things out, having thought about this and having been through this experience, which was exactly the experience I’d been promised by Wilson, McKenna, Philip K. Dick – everyone, they promised this thing, and it works. You can get the experience. 

Do what they told you to do, and it will happen – I promise you. 
You will meet the aliens; they will talk to you. 

The Golden Dawn called this “Knowledge & Conversation Of The Holy Guardian Angel”.

So it’s been around for a while; it’s accessible to everyone. 
Magick is accessible to everyone. 
The means of altering reality are accessible to everyone.

And when everyone starts doing it, we’re going to start to get to see desire manifest on a gigantic scale. Everyone’s desire. 

What happens when *everyone’s* desire becomes manifest?

Does the universe have to split up into a billion to accommodate it? Do we all have to suddenly understand that we’re all in the same place, and that we can all share in each others’ desires?

I don’t know. 
I’m just here to talk about this stuff.





LEE PERRY and the BLACK ARK STUDIO 

In 1973 Lee Perry was having a nap in the backyard of his family home in Kingston and
had a strange dream, hearing the strangest sounds and music never heard before. After
awakening he reflected on the dream, took it as a singn from the Almighty and decided
to build his own studio on this very spot. After completion in 1974 it was named 'THE
BLACK ARK' and one of the biggest mysticisms of Reggae music - and music in general -
should have it's origin there.

The studio was equipped with comparatively simple equipment through all it's time: a
four-track 1/4-inch TEAC reel-to-reel, 16-track Soundcraft board, Mutron phaser, a
Grantham spring reverb and a Roland Space Echo. But with these means only, completely
independent ways of production and lots of time to experiment Lee Perry created the
100% unique sound and style that will identify him forever. 

He shot pistols, broke glass, ran tapes backwards, and used samples of crying babies, falling rain, animal sounds and TV-show audience to create music and cleaned the tapeheads with his T-Shirt and blew Ganja smoke into running tapes to alter the sound. 

With records like 'DUB REVOLUTION' or 'BLACKBOARD JUNGLE DUB' the dirty and magical quality of the BLACK ARK sound was formed, never to be re-created.

In these surroundings only Lee Perry's production skills reached a new level, he
played the mixing desk like an instrument (roll over the pic above!), modulated
everything with phaser and delays and made the 4-track-machine sounding like a 20-
track:

"It was only four tracks on the machine," Perry explains, "but I was picking up twenty from the extra terrestrial squad. (...) I see the studio must be like a living thing, a life itself. The machine must be live and intelligent. Then I put my mind into the machine and the machine perform reality. Invisible thought waves - you put them into the machine by sending them through the controls and the knobs or you jack it into the jack panel. The jack panel is the brain itself, so you got to patch up the brain and make the brain a living man, that the brain can take what you sending into it and live." 

The aura of the BLACK ARK studio attracted many musicians, newcomers and veterans
alike, and countless timeless classics were created there. The 'OPEN THE GATE'-Box on
Trojan is an extraordinary document for the productions of that time and one of the
best Reggae records ever put to vinyl. Check out tracks like 'WORDS', Leroy Sibbles'
'GARDEN OF LIFE' or the milestone 'CONGOMAN' by the Congos (recently re-edited by
Carl Craig). Each song - great in themselves already - comes along with a dub version
that all have a deepness in them with no words to describe it. An absolutely
essential release!

Additionally to his achievements of stretching Dub over it's breaking point and
defining a new musical dimension of its own, Lee Perry was also a gifted riddim-
master and song- writer. Loads of classic riddims were created by him in this
era and - like 'POLICE AND THIEVES', 'SOULFIRE' or 'I CHASE THE DEVIL' - even reached
Top Ten status in England. And that is the big difference between him and King Tubby:
while Tubby RE-CREATED (in this time) Lee Perry CREATED. The music done by him in the
BLACK ARK studio present the pinnacle of Jamaican creativity, Reggae at its highest
heights and greatest power. 

But constant production and constant use of weed and booze took its physical and
mental toll in the late 70ies. Additionally the overall political situation in
Jamaica became almost civil-war-like, the streets being dangerous, looters hanging
around the studio and local gangsters pushing Scratch for protection money. Unable to
take that strain his wife and children left him and Perry started to walk the slim
line between reality and fantasy, reason and madness. Visitors and journalists
arrived at the Black Ark to find Perry worshipping bananas, eating money or spouting
long and violent diatribes. So in this time the BLACK ARK as a 'living brain', as he
described it before, ceased to function.

Perry spent much of his time vandalizing the Black Ark then, covering the once
colourful decor in bizarre and profane grafitty and splotches of black paint. Reels
of master tapes lay strewn on the floor, and the recording equipment was next to
useless due to water damage from a leaky roof. The once proud studio was now little
more than a junkyard. 

Then in 1979 Lee Perry burnt the studio down and left Jamaica for good. The whole
story of it is not clear until now, it's one more legend surrounding the mythos
Perry, but as a reason for this final step - and point of no return - he said: 

"The Black Ark was too black and too dread. Even though I am black, I have to burn it
down, to save my brain. It was too black. It want to eat me up!"

He spent some time in New York and England in the 80ies and finally married a Swiss
bussiness woman, who became his manager afterwards. The releases he turned out after
the death of the BLACK ARK never reached that quality again. He now lives in Zurich /
Switzerland. 

RECORDS:

Additional to the records mentioned before check out 'SUPER APE', an unforgettable
dub session with the Upsetters, 'JAH LION', 'HEART OF THE CONGOS' by the CONGOS,
'ITAL CORNER' with Prince Jazzbo or 'KUNG FU MEETS THE DRAGON'. All highly
recommended!