parrotfeather
We need to think about how people’s deliberate and ostensibly voluntary self-exposure, through social media, visible consumption and choice of positions within the field of opinions, also assumes a performance in the field of the perpetual gaze of virtual others. We need to think about the ways in which this gaze inflects how we find, measure and know one another, as co-actors in an infinitely watched perpetual performance. Our success in this performance in turn affects everything from our ability to access human warmth to our ability to access means of subsistence, not just in the form of the wage but also in the form of credit. Outsides to the field of mediatised surveillance are increasingly closed off, as public space is bureaucratised and privatised, and a widening range of human activity is criminalised on the grounds of risk, security, nuisance, quality of life, or anti-social behaviour.

In this increasingly securitised and visible field, we are commanded to communicate. The incommunicable is excluded. Since everyone is disposable, the system holds the threat of forcibly delinking anyone at any time, in a context where alternatives are foreclosed in advance, so that forcible delinking entails desocialisation – leading to an absurd non-choice between desocialised inclusion and desocialised exclusion. This threat is manifested in small ways in today’s disciplinary practices – from “time-outs” and Internet bans, to firings and benefit sanctions – culminating in the draconian forms of solitary confinement found in prisons. Such regimes are the zero degree of control-by-anxiety: the breakdown of all the coordinates of connectedness in a setting of constant danger, in order to produce a collapse of personality.
We Are All Very Anxious - Plan C (via 11213372)

Glitches get stitches.

Morning video diary of bay area inadvertent time based art. 

DEAR DIARY, A Beautiful Short Story about Dreams by Me that has a happy ending, so there 

Two nights ago I dreamed that I went to a mammoth brutalist building in L.A., a kind of library or arts center, made entirely of a dour whitish gray. The dream weather was overcast. I was going to a reading, actually there were three readings going on simultaneously in the building. There was an avant garde feminist prose writer on the broadsheet. Her name was Gisele Ghersal. The broadsheet was written in an elegant script. There were also a bunch of writers from that Les Figues Press who were going to read. The events were very promising and the venue seemed exotic to me.
I walked through the door a former lover was there just coming out. He’d also liked those Les Figues books, probably because his other girlfriends gave them to him, but I suppose that became more obvious later. At the time I was happy to borrow them and was surprised out how pristine and unwrinkled they were. He said hello and we had a friendly conversation which soon dissolved into brawling and recriminations, and declarations of undying devotion. I woke up crying, which was not unusual.
End dream part one.
I often have dreams with conversations and people that I want to talk to. Yesterday I dreamed that my orchid was telling me that it needed more water. Wah wah boo hoo, it said. I woke up to check the potting mixture which was perfectly in between dry and moist. “You asshole,” I murmured to the plant with a smile on my face.

DEAR DIARY, A Beautiful Short Story about Dreams by Me that has a happy ending, so there 

Two nights ago I dreamed that I went to a mammoth brutalist building in L.A., a kind of library or arts center, made entirely of a dour whitish gray. The dream weather was overcast. I was going to a reading, actually there were three readings going on simultaneously in the building. There was an avant garde feminist prose writer on the broadsheet. Her name was Gisele Ghersal. The broadsheet was written in an elegant script. There were also a bunch of writers from that Les Figues Press who were going to read. The events were very promising and the venue seemed exotic to me.

I walked through the door a former lover was there just coming out. He’d also liked those Les Figues books, probably because his other girlfriends gave them to him, but I suppose that became more obvious later. At the time I was happy to borrow them and was surprised out how pristine and unwrinkled they were. He said hello and we had a friendly conversation which soon dissolved into brawling and recriminations, and declarations of undying devotion. I woke up crying, which was not unusual.

End dream part one.

I often have dreams with conversations and people that I want to talk to. Yesterday I dreamed that my orchid was telling me that it needed more water. Wah wah boo hoo, it said. I woke up to check the potting mixture which was perfectly in between dry and moist. “You asshole,” I murmured to the plant with a smile on my face.

todf
todf:

issueprojectroom:

Save the date! Tuesday, December 9th, ISSUE Project Room hosts a special benefit event featuring acclaimed electronics duo Matmos performing scenes from Robert Ashley’s groundbreaking television-opera Perfect Lives.
VIP Reception tickets on sale Wednesday, October 8th.
Member Pre-Sale for General Admission tickets on sale Wednesday, October 15th.
General Admission tickets on sale Wednesday, October 22nd.
http://issueprojectroom.org/event/matmos-perform-robert-ashleys-perfect-lives

whaaaaaaaaaat

AAAAAAAAAahhh!

todf:

issueprojectroom:

Save the date! Tuesday, December 9th, ISSUE Project Room hosts a special benefit event featuring acclaimed electronics duo Matmos performing scenes from Robert Ashley’s groundbreaking television-opera Perfect Lives.

VIP Reception tickets on sale Wednesday, October 8th.

Member Pre-Sale for General Admission tickets on sale Wednesday, October 15th.

General Admission tickets on sale Wednesday, October 22nd.

http://issueprojectroom.org/event/matmos-perform-robert-ashleys-perfect-lives

whaaaaaaaaaat

AAAAAAAAAahhh!

allen-bergman

Nevermind

We walk down the street and he’s telling me about his plans. He’s going to remake Vertigo, where I’m Kim Novak. He spent the night up storyboarding but now he’s worried about being over-budget. At least that’s what he tells me as we walk down Dwight, autumn but still sunny.

He tells me that it’s not a shot for shot remake, but loosely based on th film. I play a has-been Olympian swimmer who’s vacationing in France. Presumably I’m in France for a meet, but also to get some time away from the Bay Area. They’ve invited me to stroke and turn judge. For me, it’s nothing serious, just a diversion. My athletic days are behind me since I’m not a child really, basically, which was all I ever really had going for me then. I get letters for these things occasionally still. I guess I’m still a celebrity to someone.

I write mostly, but my publisher’s a crook, that’s what he tells me, about the character. What’s never clear is if my publisher’s ripping me off or if I’m paranoid or both. That part doesn’t need to be explicit he says.

In France, I’m existentially stuck. Like that Camus novel, I go to the beach at sunset and get tired of my life. It’s my artistic temperament, he says. I’m in a seaside town, but can’t stand it. I’m horrified of the sea and have nightmares about waves swallowing up the house. My character’s afraid of sharks, even though there aren’t any sharks in the Atlantic. He tells me it’s a learned fear, that I’ve always loved artificial pools and chlorine, but could never stand the real thing. The fear, he says, that’s where the Vertigo part comes in.

I point to my head. How can I be Kim Novak with this hair? He tells me that we’re shooting an Asian version, that it’ll be mostly underwater. He plans to have his goldfish co-star. Do you swim? He asks me.

I don’t know if I swim that well, I hesitate.

Isn’t Vertigo about James Stewart’s erotic obsession with that Kim Novak character? Doesn’t she sit in from of a portrait at the Palace of Fine Arts that looks just like her, completely absorbed? Isn’t there that whole part with the double, where James Stewart gets her to dress like the dead girl and then there’s that chase where she jumps off the roof?

Yes, he says. Remember that part where James Stewart is running on the roof? Well, we’ll have the riptide swallow up the good guys. Instead of falling off buildings, it’ll be water and beach. He’ll fall into a pool.

Don’t let anyone know you’re in my movie yet. It’s a secret. You’re such a celebrity Angela. We need a big name for this project.

How can you be over-budget where you’re in pre-production? I say. Plus I’m hardly a celebrity. He says he likes that I’m not pretentious and that I’m easy to work with. He tells me, I’m not over budget yet, I just know what’s going to happen. Look at this phone, all of my money is inside the phone. It’s dead.

Would you want to make your character not married, but her boyfriend can’t see? I think I’m going to call the first part of the story arc Nevermind.