Born, one way
Or another
To live,
Die,
And nothing in between
25.2.11
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Is discharge Dada? No, it is not. Influenced by and with a similar attitude to, but not Dada..
Is discharge Fluxus?
No, it is not.
Influenced by and with a similar attitude to, but not Fluxus.
Is discharge art for intellectuals? No, discharge is for anyone and everyone who appreciates creativity in all its myriad forms. Be it static visual, audio or moving image; the written word or the deconstructed, non-linear form. The spoken word and noise.
All creativity is the springboard for discharge. It highjack’s a multitude of genres and disciplines and transposes them onto the internet. discharge is electronically transmitted art, be it via blog, myspace or whatever format possible, it can also be produced and seen in classic formats.
The discharge Chapbook. The discharge Building by Parts book. discharge has no rules. All contributors to discharge are responsible adults. discharge has no leaders although it has an elected body of rotating editors who oversee rather than dictate the flow of the group.
The aim of discharge is to profile creative people and to do away with the pretension of the art world.
Everyday people creating art everyday to an exceptional quality.
Art by barrow boys and girls.
discharge is international.
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February
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- It watches its shadow
- Unseen
- Still...
- GAGA!
- Get your Voice Heard
- !
- Master Plan?
- Midsummer's Night Dream
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- . seeds of the twilight .
- On the track of time ...
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- Dog Breath and his Doughnut
- Whose next?
- You are camera: I deny you ownership
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- Dustland by Diego Stocco
- spawn juice innards
- Purple Haze, baby
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- ART IS DIDACTIC
- For CHM - Pumpkins Should be Judged With Care
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- Side Effects
- I Like Pumpkin
- a Chronology for Survival
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- "manifesto".
- Valentine's Day
- Specially for Ruela Today - "Crash (2010) Weiss...
- Religious ecstasy
- "transmirror".
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- Decimal Points
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- I see you!
- Sadly, Stickleback2 has left this site leaving thi...
- "wrath".
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- #Dream Journal Entry, Jan.30, 2011
- Reverse Metal, February, 2011
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February
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13 comments:
I was going to say
there's always some hope
but you did it first
"And hope always comes in dreams"
...
Strange. I say that 'hope', like 'love', 'fear' and other human emotions are simply a sublimation of our instincts.
As our mental processes evolved, we sublimated need for the safety and companionship within the confines of a tribe into 'love'. Our instinct to survive became 'hope'.
We are human animal, nothing more. Finding logic in existence isn't possible. Begrudging the fact that there is no logic or purpose is futile.
... but sublimation is part of the human experience therefore hope, love, compassion, anger are as real as any dream. We are neurons & cortex: these things twitch and spark are create their own worlds.
Oh, incidentally, I haven't dreamed in years: I only have nightmares. Nightmares are not dreams like hope.
Iryna
welcome to the nightmares club...
lately I had some good dreams but
they become very fast into nightmares...
I honestly hope, Ruela, that you will never reach the stage I've reached: where nightmares are the norm and dreams - no matter how fragmented and strange - remain dreams.
Nightmares are my norm. 'Hope' has been spoken of as regards several posts of late but I am a cynic regarding this survival mechanism we sublimate as hope. I wish it for others. I wish it to remain, if nothing else, the one aspiration they continue to believe in. Truth be told, I do not. I rejected it as having any substance a long, long time ago.
If I have any 'hope' left in me, it is to promote 'hope' as the only aspiration for those who still believe in it. I value it a concept. It is, after all, the only saving grace we human beings (who have the final say for all species and beauty on this planet) can hold dear to ourselves.
Personally, I have found a way to balance my lack of hope against my emotional and intellectual state. It is not an easy balance to maintain. In fact, I shouldn't even call it a balance as 'hope' is the boulder I spend my time pushing uphill.
I 'hope', for you, that the nightmares subside into strange and bizarre dreams again.
I'd forgotten that there are dreams other than nightmares. It is a wish I have for others, yet I do not have for myself.
Perhaps my lack of hope is what is keeping me motionless of late. Or restlessness, either of those.
We build pretty walls, don't we? To keep others out and keep the voices in.
Wah! Like a samurai, a few deft strokes and you've...well then it's very quiet.
like a vacuum
These words have given rise to a longing:
Next time the sun comes out, I'm gettin' in it. First chance, I go barefoot in the grass.
Means nothing, just something to do "in between."
;-)
Ah, Shadow Lor, 'Master Plan?' spoke to me deeply on the level of just how heavy the vacuum truly weighs upon us. It is our common denominator/commonality of being human. Apathy breeds lethargy breeds apathy breeds lethargy... Were we ever apathetic? Are we lethargic? Probably neither... yet the same conclusion/lack of something (as being unopposed to nothing) cripples us all. Well, not all. I am still astounded at how few truly acknowledge this profound un-truth.
If 'nothing' else, those of us who have responded to this post have expressed our unity/commonality. It is an unfortunate way in which to exist because it barely constitutes existence. If 'nothing' else, we can huddle here in the void for a moment and provide each other comfort.
Reminds me of a poem I wrote in 1979 (I don't know why I've kept it but I do know that, as soon as I read your poem, I knew the words, although they were your choice of words rather than mine. I think we've all written them in one form or another):
PARALYSIS
I watch myself:
A tiny dream
Peeling inwards.
Can't remember the source:
Must have been a moment
As empty as this
I had to fill.
Big hugs to you as we huddle in this moment. Perhaps there is some comfort, some warmth we can impart to each other.
- All my love from the Old Harpy
... and, for you, madecker, a magnificent poem about the desire to be satisfied with ephemera written by my beloved friend, Gary... brilliant! Ha! I can't find it. It appears that it's disappeared!
It either existed or only existed in my dream-nightmares. I don't think it matters as it only holds significance in as much as it is part of my nightmare. I can only vouch for how poignant it was/is/will be.
- Hugs from the Harpy who can no longer vouch for any concept!
Well Iryna, I got a pretty satisfactory laugh from that. ;-D
I truly wish I could do better, Mr Decker. I suspect we've reached a point in our lives where sharing a giggle (or the kind of groan elicited by a really wince inducing joke) is the closest we'll get to an epiphany. Didn't we all go to look for America years ago: even those of us who didn't live in America? I think we only found "Two-Lane Blacktop" and it's the closest we'll ever really get.
Promise I'll still be sending you bad jokes when we're in the dementia ward of some old-folks home.
Tragic, actually. I can't even promise that much. I'll just have accumulated a bunch of email addresses mainly belonging to those long deceased and be spamming them with lolcats from icanhascheeseburger.com (or whatever it is)... then will be waiting for my take-away (I think you call it take-out in your neck of the English speaking woods) to be delivered... for a maximum of 10 seconds until I've forgotten I placed an order... then place another order catburger...
Iryna,
"Two-Lane Blacktop." Heh, yeah, same "America."
I don't know from epiphanies, but I seem determined to keep digging(hope? dammit)and these 'conversations' are egging me on in that pursuit. To wit: my reaction to some of your words, mainly in the "...Camera..." comments, resulted in persistant reflection that brought back to my attention a...uh...point of potential self-knowledge--rrrrr! Visual language works better for me: I found a window down by the "subconscious" which I've allowed to get--and remain--very dirty because I get so much pleasure from drawing pictures in the dirt and allowing that to filter/distort what I see through the window. I'm sure these exchanges with you have brought that back to my awareness because a similar(in a way)--ironically, online as well--encounter a few years back is what first made me aware of it.
I'm not sure that makes any sense. I think I'm trying to say, I'm a bit excited because I think I'm making progress toward understanding my fixation with imagery. And I wanted to make it "real" so I couldn't shove it back down again. So I'm tolding you, and well everybody else here I guess, about it.
I think about it too much, without acting on it--I'm considering writing about it here to be acting on it-- I wind up concluding I'm just fulla shit.
So, you hear the one about the hillbillies seeing an elevator for the first time?
PS:Shadow Lor, sorry for taking up your comments space for goin' off like this. I reckon your very potent verse kinda touched a nerve or two. ;-)
Decker: I'm quite flattered to have my comment's area taken thusly lol. The general response to my poetry is a growing silence and people edging as far away as they can get >.> although that may be the samurai sword doing its work. It explains a few things ;)
Iryna: it is comforting to know that I'm not the only one who has observed this. Logically I know I'm not, but sometimes I wonder... I appreciate the imagery in your poem. Empty moments...
Shadow Lor: I suspect that it isn't your poetry that people are edging away from (although if you are waving a well-honed samurai sword around, I recall reading somewhere that - although it influences people - it's only effective for killing any friends you've made).
While I love just wandering around the Discharge site without feeling that I need to make a comment, it's great to pick up on an image (be it text or visual) and respond.
I've noticed that, for some time now, there has been a terrible silence here. The best one finds in terms of commentary or interest in the works presented are the equivalent of a 'Like' button. Certainly, it adds to the strangeness of strange works just hanging in cyberspace, dislocated from any reality other than the big, fat nothing... but I, for one, enjoy dialogue between those who contribute. None of us just throw bits 'n pieces together without intent AND hard graft... Such places to meet are wonderful. We can dig through each others' graveyards, share bones, broken glass and revel in the dirt without being judged beyond our lack of fear of being honest.
Well, I'll take my conversation with Mr Decker over to the image/art it pertains to.
lol! That's priceless! Here, where we all deal in the darkest abstractions, I'm declaring that this particular venue is not quite as salient as another!
Looking forward to your next piece... and to having another demented chat and mutual recognition!
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