Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Entry #8

FULYA PEKER, intern, responds to rehearsal:

Maybe…Continue. . .
Anything can change anytime, because anything can change anytime. The whisper of unconscious mind echoes in the resonance of conscious mind. Trembling, naked and endless momentum, circulating in our blindfolded heads, struggles with stillness. Even when one is perfectly still, there is the movement of existence in the body, expressing itself as a mild turbulence. Does the mind ever rest?

Like the thoughts of “young children,” cognition shifts from one object to the other, perception dances in and out of time and space. After a while senses become wide open, without questioning the surrounding disorder, without the side effects of explanations or indications. One understands, one learns without restrictions, like “young children” who are the great observers, who are ready to inhale whatever there is, without perplexity. Were we not also young children once?
The “flowers” exist, so much so that they do not worry about fitting into our rational definitions. You do not know what the hell you are doing, so much so that you finally overcome the idea of finding a reason for every other act you perform. Even this very statement is an act of reasoning itself for me. This is a conversation in-between sleeping and awakening without the screams of reason. Is it possible to pause reason for a second?

This is not a dream anymore, although the staccato siren of awakening is not serving our hunger of aesthetic harmony, the harmony that can be forgone only in dreams. There is nothing beautiful about it. It is complex, because it is simple, more than the sub-conscious mind can handle. Is this sleeping without a dream or a dream without sleeping?
. Everything is incomplete, that is why it is hard to bear. Everything that needs focus and deep involvement happens all at the same time. Lights, music, effects, projectors, actors, costumes, props, tea, delivery man, colors, dust, anxiety, excitement, curiosity, etc. As if while we listen an intense Wagnerian non-explosive melody, all theatrical devices delicately come together and the implications of all objects “twitch.” It is not boring, because there is no gap that one can fill with boredom. There is no time for an emotional arousal either, just “moving on,” without “holding on.”

Even now, these long, so-called complicated sentences I have written need to be put on the tip of a screw gun, and engraved from the beginning. Mr. Sleepy and all his neighbors are yet asleep, but can a screw gun work without noise? Instead of saying “we have a happy life” why not say “we have a life like an airplane on a plate, no forks but broken heads.” While my brain was recording these unconscious lines as sparks of consciousness, my fingers were recording these as light cue 105. Now, so, the unconscious mind is dead…and it is dead, unconsciously…



Anonymous Anonymous said...

sounds elusive

11:06 AM  

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