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reminding you of … something … at the edge where true memory segues into false

and used to advertise on Titter a link to this.

who is the artist

who the model?

perhaps it reminds me of James Palumbo’s (aka Lord Palumbo of Southwark, member of the UK House of Lords; aka Baron Palumbo, founder of Ministry of Sound and very very rich) novel Tomas.

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from the David Byrne playlist, but worthy of your independent consideration. Please see & hear under here

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a soundtrack playlist after my own heart

click beautiful click

David Byrne presents one year later … romantic conflagration of the first third of 1000 days …

http://davidbyrne.com/radio/david-byrne-presents-one-year-later

best,

Simon

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set up but laying it down

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a curtain not to be lifted – & other minuses – …towards a logic of sensation adequate to an analysis of performance

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theatrum philosophicum

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“Everyone is delighted that Dr Johnson’s writers’ prayer is the one that will be used as an epitaph for the print age.”

O God, who hast hitherto supported me, enable me to proceed in this labour, and in the whole task of my present state; that when I shall render up at the last day an account of the talent committed to me, I may receive pardon by the grace of God. Amen.

— in Enrique Vila-Matas’s Dublinesque, Trans. Harvey, R. & McLean, A., Vintage Books, 2013, pp. 232-233

“No one, except Riba, can understand what is going on when Walter then suddenly starts weeping inconsolably. In theory, he’s not a writer and so this problem linked to literary talent and work shouldn’t affect him. But the thing is, even if he were, it wouldn’t really be very logical for him to start weeping like this. After all, no writer has ever been overwhelmed by a single tear. But Riba knows that’s precisely where the clue to solving this enigma lies. Writers don’t cry for themselves or for other writers. Only someone like Walter who sees everything from the outside and who has a special intelligence and sensitivity can understand how much one should cry whenever one sees a writer.”

— Ibid., pp. 233-234

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Protomartyr introducing a private understanding

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Phantom of Aleppoville – B. Clementine

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the window is open a crack; but I will not sober up and shut it.

The Jacobin’s Branko Marcetic sniffs the breeze and smells the austerity on the breath of Ardern’s Labour Party.

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time to watch Hair again

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