[silence is sexy]
[supercomputing rapture]
[advanced silencing system]
Summations, peculiar triangulation, and all forms of fundamentalist adherence to a singular (period) are rejected by the elegant, seeping liquidity within the notion of silence. It’s a sublimely subversive quality for a word and it’s baggage to so lithely slither away, quickly changing timbres as it escapes the current foreground for yet another.
A stand-in for the purified landscapes of the unknown known; distilled, vaporously blinding spaces are the silence. Silence where we think but can’t imagine, stare and can not see clearly, listen and can not distinguish, express finitude and receive an infinitude in return. An empty suitcase of permissibility awaiting instructions.
Silence: it’s not an absence of anything, but a cloak. When losing one’s voice to screaming the voice still exists, but is sound hidden by the outcomes of tense effort. This species of non-existence references existence, the cycle of rebellion against orthodoxy, what a mirror does for the wall behind it, the unseen sheathing the possibly seen.
[What we already know we know about unknown known:
Donald Rumsfeld’s Unknown Unknowns — omitting the Unknown Known]
k
[Slavoj Zizek’s essay What Rumsfeld Doesn’t Know That he Knows About Abu Graib from 2004]
http://www.lacan.com/zizekrumsfeld.htm
*
Sound does not have a single home. A sound always has many homes. We speak — our vocal chords make sound, our ears receive through the air, through our bones in simultaneity. We hear the inner sound of our mind shaping the words just a millisecond ahead of the mouth.
[small child in an echo tunnel for the first time]
Silence is shouting. When you must shout it means there is or you fear there is only echo on the inside for your voice. The aftersound, the echo, an emptiness that you must make for what is unheard beyond your skin. You tuck it away and ferment.
Festering inner-sound grows into unscreamed screams and ultimately explosions. After explosions there is an incredible silence. For an instant there is nothing but silence an it travels through your skin, to your feet, to your mind, out your ears and back in again. The body hears “anticipitoraly”, reaching for nourishment that will create a balance between these inner worlds of echo, of the unheard and unscreamed and what happens beyond the flesh.
Irreconcilable forms of starvation.
[a-political teenage explosions in drainage tunnels]
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cARuUWvh-6c
When the world returns your scream, there is only joy — permission — it connects the inside to the outside and back.
[older humans]
[in transylvania at the enormous turda salt mine]
*
[do the meditation rock]
