SYNCHRESIS
You suppose that you don't have to do anything at all to hear a
dog barking and know that it is a dog barking. That is a big mistake. Because
you do not realize what a tremendous effort you put forth... you inject into
the sound you hear the most appropriate sound that can be drawn from all your
remembrances... a perfect correspondence without the slightest
discrepnancy..."
Henri Bergson, The
World of Dreams (1901)
let us talk then to the animals, the wing'd aequatics,
the crustaceans then in the world of dreams, dear
Yannick Dauby,
give them your ear under
the 21,000 leagues of the seizures of the seas,
under that pressure, let the click
reverberate and surround our ignorance,
for the listening will be the means of the message
i want to hear everything i can hear
down to dew-drops the exhalation of frankincense
the doppler crab cricket lagooned
beneath that wall we call wreckage
shrimp pitches barked in harmonic
interference propagation
rendering pythagorean quantum
(for which he'd gone
into exile, for the sole idea of a ratio
I draw out the seed inside me so to speak, then crunch numbers
"we the gods who alone created heaven only to tear it down"
condensare (compression of thought.image.figure.word) is not a poet's elitist privilege, a resistance, from which, words withdraw into an acetate terminus, but the living phantome of the earth-memory, a framed fossil, minute cosmological constant of culture, entrained in the dna the brain maintains, which culture also often avoids, as too delicate to mention
-- but by
creating "agents" --- to explain it's crop failure from year to year -- it identifies sectors of cooperatives, quadrants, territories, root-systems that behave like rhizomes, rhizomes transsexuelles working along the street as roots, the fungus in the ear calling across the axis of cross-breezes -- here I am, here I am, I am here, where-ever I look, feel deeply, totemic trivia in seeming torpor of stone, obsidians, agates, the glass face cast into the colors of our children's eyes as reminders we are children of the earth
-- gods and counter gods are invented, stand as theorems fabricated from the
plausible outcomes already given: economic universities, climatology, ethno-botany, marked marx, theories,
spiders written to unwrite the algo-code, possible childhoods to come, civilizations, potential artificial intelligence that becomes organic, organic infiltrations of artificial intelligence, morphogenesis, morphic resonance, resonance regions, the dreamings of the Aboriginals, the ab-originals of which we the heamaotodes, the tiny people in the red vein of the soft white rocks called our bones, we throw up those flutes of temples at once under dark & lighter seas...
(one of Yannick's hydrophonic recordings... )
for you will come a upon a person of another century wandering like a ghost insisting the stones and bamboos that Wen Fu cut do literally and actually speak and fishes pulse from some inner organ songs and you, in 2020, will say, yes, they do, we have grown ears called microphone insertibles, chips even between odd electrons, and this chap from the earlier centuries (what direction does the vector of time move in?) will say, no, no, no... this is not possible yet, you have heard nothing... and we will also have our doubts, being scientists...
Blake would say that there are some places in the Universe where the
Fall has not occurred, the world has not turned upside down, and Eden
still exists. Here Mankind is not governed by the rules of reason,
stupid and strict, but by the heart and intuition. The people do not
indulge in idle chatter, parading what they know, but create remarkable
things by applying their imagination. The state ceases to impose the
shackles of daily oppression, but helps people to realize their hopes
and dreams. And Man is not just a cog in the system, not just playing a
role, but a free Creature. That's what's been passing through my mind
during my long illness, making my bed-rest almost a pleasure.
Sometimes I think that only the truly sick are healthy.
--Olga Tokarczuk
.... meanwhile peoples we call the Assanges and Snowdens and then Mannings created to carry the burden, the whistle-blowers, make some version of information palpable as truth, become scapegoats, messengers, between layers of the social orders, but held in check, too dangerous, made non-sensical, deconstructed by disinformation, so that the commoner, the non-specialist, so-called, gives up trying to understand, can't fact check into the deep slumbering web or sift from the unconscious codes of selfish superstitions, the public demonizes or animalizes these hermetic figures, and, like the different orders of animal world, the spirit animals at the cross-roads, or the mad in asylums, assumed to be always incommunicado, by having no explicable language, falls between the cracks, and yet...these are silences gagged like a frackable landscape...
coyotito escaped from the clutches of the deceitful
and taught her people how to avoid mankind
-- so, i guess what i am on about
here, is this, a plan for escape:
what we think of as the local is a special condition of the
random...
and perhaps vice versa, in the sense that a seed contains an
implementation pattern for exploration of an indefinite spurt bifurcation...
and it's probably because "compression" itself is a modality, a kind of collapse, a pre-boom slump -- but cells go odd, some being round and rolling, while others grow a directional whip of stirring up waveforms, of creating life enzyme passages, beating patterns, drift compositions that attract or repel
we may actually understand birds very well
(a
selection of primes in a sequence) that render(s) something as
"intelligible"
spatial intelligence as sound "bounce" // resonance -- we pitch our sound to environment --
which we now only think of as "viral"... which
is not a bad way to think, because as we examine these (dis)associative
minutiae, these carbonic erotomanias... they replicate themselves (thought as virus, language as virus) AS IF the only means to study the generative principle itself, the spatialization of the genetic code
we can think of them as words,
syntagms, memes, enyzmes at specific heats,
particles, sub-particles, monads, molars---
but language, as an event of environment mirrored between the nomadic nasal and
pharyngeal cavities, yes, we have some work to do to liberate it's gasp, the cardiopulmonary
textuality graphed --- look how the heart has been transformed:
toroidal electromagnetic fractal resonator
but we don't write enough in sounds... and we also don't speak at all
levels of sounds (this is another cultural conditioning... saint francis and
doctor (hilda) doolittle are not far again from aletheia in wonderland... we
don't need to think in freudian/darwinian terms of being "lowered" to
their level of speech... we must raise ourselves to theirs... but we will never explain ourselves precisely, it seems, we are gravelly shadows upon shadows twisted into ropes unraveling light we know nothing about
speaking to the whales, life inside the whales
"Synchresis is the forging between something
one sees and something one hears - it is the mental fusion between a sound
and a visual when these occur at exactly the same time. Synchresis is an
acronym formed by telescoping together the two words synchronism and synthesis"
-- Michel Chion
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