The 'sound therapy' of the Tom-Pauls..
'Monetisation'.
Now, as i 'riff' with every day three or four folk.
Only on landloping days that is - to end now...
As 'shortcut' but true words to break through the assumptions (have i done here a neatly folded white hanky in the back pocket no matter how trampish one may appear - my my pulling that out nukes their prejudices...so many!)
(i always do have though get so into my encounters i rarely remember to bring it out...and clean the corners of my lips....slowly... as they wonder WTF he looks a bit hair unkept and probably is a xxxx and now he has a crisp folded bright white hank a dabbibn...now i shall have to..." ) which is the point i guess, great 'art' leaves one thinking - as per the picture of a face today...as per all Jas*** the 2nds sketches...
It does not tell you what to think. Or tell you its aches and pains like Emmin, and the most absurd of all Nan, Goldin do....and every 'artist' nowadays ever on 4chan: and here is the great photographer Missey Noart and she suffers from... [some label].." became their main art! All i know is it isn't art...
But her little shock of silvery white hair... that is somehow real art.
But, all the 'art' and £250 a weekend in Paul's smelly yurts as he is too lazy to air them despite local authority grant money, him gonging away wearing all the right Nouvelle 'hippy' gear despite going to a Beds private school...so many years ago he looks just like an old crusty....
ripping folk off with gonging so as to have a last desperate sniff at some younger panties (i see THEY are 'art' in Porthseresmell )?
Essentially the two - art and 'therapy' became ultimately entangled in absurd dilettante (as Maximo agreed) blowjobification of everything... but sucking on old ones...
That don't work.
All i know in landlopings and riffing face to face " i have lived for periods in some of the most expensive hotels in the world..." is shortcut language but if one were given the stage (Nerd=uda said a conversation does not begin until we have been speaking an hour" god...so intimidates the Katrina-Pollies.. and every 'middle class' striver of a ...
well i cannot call them 'persons' as there is no point being a person unless now and again one take sthe time to meander through words and what matters... if one never has that we may as well drown in the faecal matter that makes her creek ..smell so...in high summer at any rate. ( i so needed to experience that if nothing else)
The short cut statement is true. Not by choice and never after 25 years ago. I knew by quite young adulthood, the Carltons, City Squires.. god forbid Lanesboroughs. were all dead. No life there, ever, and thank god my conscience is clear i never 'chose' to be there - just happened to be put up for a night or even few weeks by some (as always) sad half a billionaire i had flown his 'puddle jumper' over to the sun for a weekends - or if Yugoslavia, tragically coerced unwittingly into selling bomblets...maybe...i never really knew...
You rarely do.
Those are the 'masters' of the universe - for decades master at never really saying all their business....so never trust one ever... nor their Katrinas who ..in fact yes there's a 'sexism' - the palnes always were in HIS name..
I only ever pitied every one. But i pity ANY one - i.e. almost everyone, nowadays, who may lust after some expensive 'healing' or 'therapy' or even 'holiday' .. because there is only one i know that works and really i could sell it for £50 an hour or two...
falling asleep after a good lunch... as always up at 5.20 on the dot and full power ahead..
Despite today my my rather a lot to TRY and do...
But such truly gorgeous 'diversions' - both so interesting... their understanding "twee" said one.. the second - fire in her belly i could tell was real (99% of artists fake it i am expert at fakes)...
Even on a best of days, tired out, to fall asleep and be woken by the one sound above all that really is the best of therapy...
rain on a small-space, tin roof
DM650003
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1QLM_m87q0YFmAlydFFFe4IeNn8r0c07G/view?usp=sharing
I could sit for hours just BE ing in that sound...
And i have known the best of supposedly 'art' in sound... and just the last 6 weeks enjoyed the most wonderful of 'medative' unguided walks just meandering the pathways ... days on end....
(it beats the sound of the sea any day)
But the question is, how to ...well first i have to go back and pick out many recordings of rain on the tin roof in a range of places... not 'obtuse' weirdo art -but they are fine punctuation, or perhaps lulls - ebbs ...in dealing with my my some troubled souls... even if they pretend to be all engaged and DOing stuff..
All - but i mean years, of audios ...and pictures and some essays - somehow combined into one big splurge - a tongue in cheek word for taking the viewer/listener/reader...on a 'journey' - even if we try not to use that pants word... to where? - if one day she was indeed PM or at least Minister for ... 'justice' or ' not bullshitting' ...because she should be. And i do not do
as she knows
flattery.
As i think we both know what REAL life is - when it is about a child, either damaged or to be or not to be
that is the question.
But that is - that encounter is cream on the cake - and i believe she did understand "only one person i have encountered made me believe she has accepted entirely our mortality - or death if one must, and this may be free to LIVE...as we can only live when we have accepted death.." (to poetically combine twice i have stated that of late - into nearly the right statement - ALL here is first quick so hurried draft with no plug!)
