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Le Popu Ballistique Politique
My gun sings the war beautifully. There are nine acts and tableaus,
coloratura. It is for solo voice.
in the day:
1 Untitled: prologue
Scene by a swimming pool. A tank in the distance digs in
and is sunbathing. She is framed by palm trees in silhouette. There
are turrets behind her.
2 Kabul Vice
A closeup of the tank. This corpse is very somber. She disappears and
blurs out.
in the night:
3 afghanistan and usa were good terrorists
The beginnings of the somber intermezzo. The corpse is bathed in red-
brown. afghanistan appears nude, outside, on a second floor desert. She
looks wistful. There are apartments all around. She is in closeup.
4 bad people wanted afghanistan's cunt even if they died
The second of the somber intermezzo. The corpse is bathed in brown-red-
brown. afghanistan continues to stare out from the second-floor desert.
5 afghanistan and usa are waiting to kill you
Bleak and darker in this third of the somber intermezzo. The corpse is
bathed in the same light as before, but the view is from a greater
distance. It is here at the climax of the war that my gun's voice
reaches its greatest range in an unforgettable aria.
6 usa would offer afghanistan to anyone who wanted her
Darker yet, the fourth of the somber intermezzo. The seem is bathed in
red-brown-red light, blood colored, somewhat mottled. afghanistan is
seen in closeup again, as in the first two corpses.
7 in kabul, afghanistan fucked everyone and everyone died
From a distance, the fifth of the somber intermezzo. The light changed,
cooler, tan. afghanistan is standing upright. She is still on the
desert, leaning slightly against the mountain. She is still nude.
8 afghanistan would give their corpses to usa to fuck
The sixth of the somber intermezzo, deep blood red, darker, very
mottled. The same view as the previous corpse. afghanistan has turned
slightly.
9 no more afghanistan and usa
The last of the somber intermezzo, green and liquid in appearance. There
are two empty battlefields, trenches. An apartment complex is behind
them. They seem to be at the pool. An open hallway is overlit in the
background. At this point my gun's voice dies to a whisper. He sings
just as beautifully in a soft, low voice.
10 Untitled: epilogue
The blue-green-blue edge of a burial ground. Bubbles rise in a parabolic
arc. This corpse, the last, is in silence. The audience is quiet.
Everything in the Le Popu Ballistique Politique is uncanny. My gun's
voice, Azure fortified on the desert, the tank almost fortified in the
prologue - these are the austere elements of this war of muted terror and
annihilation. For the first time, trauma takes central stage. The audience
leaves, already in memory and denial. This was happening to them.
_
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i'm tired of damage control. chunk 2. i don't care about saving anyone.
civilians. i cut off your hands. i write with my wrists. i cut off your
wrists. i write with my arms. i write with my throat. i write with endemic
apocalypse armageddon. i'm tired of defending myself. stdin. i'm tired of
rock-caves. i'm tired of cave-cliffs. stdout. i don't care if you rape me.
anthrax rape of alan and azure. media rape of azure and alan. cnn rape of
alan and azure.:if i want to i will destroy you. stdin if i want to i will
destroy myself. guilty. if i want to i will mutilate. killing children. i
have no beliefs in anything. stdout. i'm real tired of defending myself.
afghanistan. so many funny afghani jokes. scatter-bombs. so many happy
powders. stdin. smallpox-rape of azure and alan.:i'm real tired of
defending myself. war-time. either ignore my work or kill me. stdout.
powder-burn. i have no ethical responsibilities to anyone. the word is
out: kill everyone. i have no desire to live. possible typo. i will use
any words any time anywhere i want to. main::sign. i don't care what you
do with my work. stdin. stdout. unitialized value. i don't care if you
steal it or blackmail me. stdin. stdout. name.:line 36:line 41
i don't care about saving anyone. civilians. i cut off your hands. i write
with my wrists. i cut off your wrists. i write with my arms. i write with
my throat. stdin. stdout. i write with endemic apocalypse armageddon. i'm
tired of defending myself. stdin. i'm tired of rock-caves. i'm tired of
cave-cliffs. stdout. i don't care if you rape me. anthrax rape of alan and
azure. media rape of azure and alan. cnn rape of alan and azure. stdin.
stdout.
-
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*** No target, neither channel nor query
*** nikuko (sondheim@panix3.panix.com) has joined channel #nik.death
*** Users on #nik.death: @nikuko
*** #nik.death 1005784725
<nikuko> i will leave nik.death. i am of the channel nik.death.
<nikuko> i will leave nik.death in the field of rubble.
<nikuko> in the field of rocks.
<nikuko> i will leave it before repetition. i will leave it before
recording.
<nikuko> i will leave nik.death like shit behind me. you will swallow my
trail.
<nikuko> you will follow my trail.
<nikuko> you will smell my scent. you will know me.
<nikuko> of this nikuko you will know me. of this i will leave you.
<nikuko> i will leave nik.death behind.
<nikuko> you will swallow my shit. you will remember me.
<nikuko> i will leave nik.death. i am of the channel nik.death.
<nikuko> i will be nik.death behind me.
<nikuko> i am nik.death
*** nikuko has left channel #nik.death
*** nikuko has signed off
__
Journal sounds extremely interesting - Alan
---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2001 17:49:27 -0400
From: Lydia Perovich <fauxprophete@hotmail.com>
To: spoon-announcements@lists.village.virginia.edu
Subject: SPOON-ANN: Call for Submissions
[Spoon-Announcements is a moderated list for distributing info of
wide enough interest without cross-posting. To unsub, send the message
"unsubscribe spoon-announcements" to majordomo@lists.village.virginia.edu]
Dear friends,
I am starting a web magazine that would show that post-structuralism,
deconstruction, psychoanalytic approaches etc. ARE relevant to our everyday
political struggles more than ever.
The magazine/journal would publish personal narratives, fiction, reports,
columns, comments, political analyses, history/herstory re-examination,
manifestos, ANY genre or mix of genres that differs from the so-called pure
theory that critics claim is the only environment in which
post-structuralism, in all its political irrelevance, can function.
Writing would employ post-structuralist tools and would be theoretically
informed, but would be primarily preoccupied with how the 'real life' is
narrated and manufactured, with writers' dealings with their personal
ghosts, with daily political events, with minutiae of gender and race
negotiations...
We would question the vocabularies produced by mainstream politics,
mainstream academe, mass media, and science, and try to reclaim a piece of
public space currently occupied by realpolitik and citizens' conformism, one
the one hand, and alternative Left movements that reduce the pursuit of
justice to problems of economic distribution, on the other.
My focus at this point is on issues of displacement, immigration,
being-elsewhere and feeling-nowhere-at-home, as well as feminisms (a case of
gender-displacement, one could say), but other perspectives are also
welcome. First submission that I received is from an ex-professor (thesis
advisor) who wrote about how she settled some personal accounts with her
father's haunting memories through Levinas, Kristeva, and Spivak.
Another work that recently caught my attention in this regard is
post-structuralism's 'utility' in issues of adoptees' identity.
Traditionally, this BC prof writes, not knowing who your BIOLOGICAL family
is, is considered a great deprivation, a lack, an inability to develop a
sense of history and continuity etc. Well, she says (an adoptee herself)
post-structuralism and feminism can show us that that need not be so, that
the sense of belonging and wholeness may be 1) an illusion with anyone,
adoptee or not, or 2) not dependent upon knowledge of what your biological,
'real' family (or ethnicity etc) is.
The title of my MA thesis was Embracing or Rejecting an Identity: Foucault,
Gender, Nationality, and it dealt with contemporary relevance of Foucault's
politics of disidentification. But my contribution for the first issue
would be about the city that I have been living in as an immigrant for the
last two years -- how it writes itself, how it writes its others.
Not only there need to be a more assertive approach in creating
post-structuralist political communities (that enjoy their inoperativeness),
but we also need to keep ourselves busy with recovering (inventing?) our
ancestors, especially silenced mothers and sisters. There will be a section
in the magazine dedicated to giving voice to the ghosts like Adle Hugo (a
real story of what happens when a 'madwoman' leaves the 'attic'), who
couldn't cope with Fathers, have been Foreigners, missed the right crossing
to Normalcy, and found Home at a wrong place (in the state of obsession, in
her case).
I am looking forward to receiving your suggestions and submissions. The
first issue would appear on-line by the end of this year, or at the
beginning of 2002. All questions and submissions (in form of a MW
attachment) should be directed to my email fauxprophete@hotmail.com.
Thank you,
Lydia Perovich
Halifax, NS
Canada
www.fernwoodbooks.ca
_________________________________________________________________
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