orengo

[psorengo]

haha crisis always starts at home too - 

[psorengo]

that moment of fear when you close your eyes that the world in it’s entirety might run away from you

nothing but a fleeting in discrepancy

a conversation that went on too long

PAUSE

i don’t have anything to say, there’s no use pretending, my interest has fallen

i am still interested in being interested though

i am not interested in being interesting, i am interested in my self and conception of self, i am self-interested

and if i open my eyes the world is normally still there

if it did remove itself in it’s entirety, and i was still here, wherever there is, that would suggest a separation, a split between my universe and the rest of it, the rest of it being the universe at large

well that is one large position of superiority to presume, your universe versus the universe at large

why am i writing this, is it because I wish to be interesting, i am trying to interest myself in my self, to retain a degree of interest in the universe at large

what was that thing

charity always starts at home

[psorengo]

morning

enough of this buggerin about, i give myself role of healer, i wish to clean myself out first, of any sickness or impurities, fag ends and dog ends, and the half smoked ends of thoughts that are smouldering unstubbed

i stub you

gently

i give myself role of healer, role of giver, to give outside oneself, for there is infinite love in the world, in our universes converging, subjectivity is insignificant in the grand scheme of things, it is all shared

[psorengo]

time to submit some order to chaos, time to submit some chaos to order

tiny tracks are made all day

forget how easy it is to let slip the things that hold us, when other things begin to take their place, there’s only room for so much in a mind, and it was nice while you were occupying mine

a caress known shortly, if i held you for a time

[psorengo]

an open soul

i dream romance, longing, let it drip from me, not in a saccharine sense, in a hard mountainous and bitter sense, something almost bare, biting, is it a desire for pain? it is a desire for extremity, as we grow older does extremity fade? 

the necessity to surrender has been lost, surrendered to, continues, experience, grows out of me, roots are  - that is something, not to be forgotten, the lithe body grows, breathes, and along with it those roots no not lighter, littler, but stronger, deeper

wriggling each day a small little deeper, outer

my toes dip further, they do not recoil,  though the illusion of loss is sometimes apparent

bring stronger winds, beat branches, yet these still run long these roots

is it an intensification of experience that is necessary now? how far can we surrender? it would be an impossible life to live permanently seeking out that which makes you afraid - i am sure, the unfamiliar grows smaller each day

when we claim familiarity - how do we become once more unfamiliar? is it this? some unlearning, the beginning again, a mind,

wait -

body

wait - 

soul

forever encountering, the joy of a new experience made, it is childish vulnerability, uncertainty

rather than the confidence of a conquest, why do we seek to conquer?

our bodies

our souls

i leave my open to conquest

i surrender before battle begins

in my heart i declare surrender

it is not 

to the outside

but to my 

internal armies

let you conquer no more

await

together we will fall

and take familiarity down with us

[psorengo]

i lean through, quiet head pokes gently 

surprise

the living room window

there is a cat below

watching

placcid gaze, fur to fur

it eyes me

my hair stands on end

no surprise 

there, tiny bird

flies by, jitters on wind

fleeting mind

the cats head turns gently

a moment of disinterest

arises

it is a -

[psorengo]

and time passed................................................

[psorengo]

the cyclical nature of knowledge

knowledge here, being synonymous with experience

in an expansive sense

thinkfeel

feelthink

feelthinking could be a nice way to express this, expression over define-ment

[psorengo]

your breath was hot

your hair long

your mouth 

wide open

[psorengo]

we’re here again, to begin, unencumbered by old nonsense, except 

we’re here again, to begin, encumbered by old nonsense

we’re here again, to begin, emboldened by old nonsense

we’re here again, to begin

 we’re only ourselves to our self, to anybody else we are somebody else, the subjectivity of our own internal experience, as we attempt, the impossibility to externalise it, to draw out of ourselves this slippery thing we think of as ‘me’, the i    

what happens when our sense of self weakens, or is it in modern society we are encouraged to have so strong an identity that if yours does not adhere to these high standards a panic may be induced? how much much-ness do you possess? for how long do we set undesirable questions of excess, of gathering past expectations? Am reminded again of the need to un-gather, to let the self unravel slightly, to let this fantasy of the ‘whole’ be un-realised

There is no sense in the production of uniformity. It is the production of digressing, of poking and prodding and losing - of perhaps also jumping - 

Trying to draw the self out, I am present, yet I cannot present, To realise the present self, to be aware of one’s thoughts and feelings, of mental processes, of love, innate, and that desire to experience, to create

To nourish these innards, til growth becomes a natural process, I feed on old mulch, cyclical, the need for much-ness dissipated, I seek not the ‘new’, but the new experience of the old. Each time fresh, Imagination to be renewed must be intensified, without new experience imagination dies 

- Yet there is no new experience to be known, truly, we have experienced everything already, we hold the infinite possibility of all life within us, yet we herald and seek out this ‘new’

- To renew the imagination with experience past

- To renew the imagination ith experience present

It is the present that is the crux here maybe, the present, un-catchable, yet theoretically important, practically important, not the present, yet the desire for it, the action of knowing

To know presently

To re-gather, in opposition to the production of the new, the fresh, the clean

The dusty present, rather appeals

It is a moment not so far away 

[psorengo]

shamanic cooking show

ritual movements, nigella/oliver speech

wheel in dining room table, and carry on secondary table ellie curled up on top of a silver tray, sometimes moving underneath are herbs, spices, vegetables, incense, garlic, onions, vegetables, utensils, chopping board, oil, candles

show introduction and invitation to sit round whilst candles are lit and incense circulated and given out meat is tenderised oil drizzled herbs and spices applied garlic onions vegetables chopped and added prayer/monologue of thanks and food

X PANSION

shaman kicthen

cooking/sacred setting, nigella oliver presenters WITH LATEX TRIBAL MASKS, dressing of meat and show ongoing OKAY CUT CUT, NICE, LET'S TAKE A BREAK, JAMIE IT WAS PERFECT, NIGELLA MORE TITS, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'VE GOT THE INCENSE YEAH HOW'S THE MEAT? ellie sits up

whole piece acted inside of the cookery show set SHAMAN KITCHEN

new age cooking show for those who wish to follow the shaman path whilst not forsaking the middle class urge to throw extortionate dinner parties, set in a future where cooking shows have beome accepted as the new churches, this one headed by Amy Oliver and Nigel Lawson. Amy Oliver being what Jamie Olivers attractive lesbian shaman child would look like and Nigel Lawson Nigella's camp shamanic son. Both excel in the kitchen and flirt shamelessly to gain more converts and ratings. The shaman kitchen follows the delicious path of indulgence and extortion. An ethos of have more, make more, eat more, waste more ... to ENJOY MORE! (and realise your true spiritual nature) Through an introduction of simple rituals to purfiy your kitchen activites these shaman chefs will make sure you can have as much as you want, of what you want, guilt free (whilst progressing along the shamanic path to open your eyes minds and tastebuds to new perceptions and revelations) It's all for YOU. Go on, treat yourself. Their main recipes involve human flesh, now mass produced for the consumer market but DON'T PANIC the new battery bred human brains are on the same wavelength as that of the bovine family, so you can enjoy the best (low conciousness) MEAT with an easy conscience! it's all done for YOUR ease! And with a few sticks of incense and our special blessed brand shaman kitchen candles (avaialble in basil, rosemary and thyme scents £6.66 a box) you can cover up that slight waft of sizzling flesh (which can make new converts slightly uneasy) with the scent of your best loved herbs.

[psorengo]

SATISF(ACTION) an exploration of satisfaction through action with everyday objects, inducing of subjectively profound satisfactory qualities.

margarine window handles windows that are fully open smoking cigarettes after ecstasy wooden clothes pegs toes meat tenderisers fingernail clippings body hair especially pubic eyelashes that have fallen off butter knives beetroot garlic bulbs small lightbulbs but not too small tangerines honey full fat milk empty jars candles that have melted to a small height deep red seeded jam singular long blonde hairs small trees in pots council tower blocks clean white sheets of A4 printing paper eyebrow tweezers single duvets with clean white covers small cappucino cups spatulas cotton mops cement breezeblocks ears black leather gloves toilet paper I have blown my nose on before and after thick bubble bath that glugs loose dirt stains on cloth(es) matches vegetable oil hard boiled eggs silver plain teaspoons clean muslin hammers bald heads hooks of any kind drawing pins wet vaginas very small tables

[psorengo]

They, the small lovers, they sit They sit still and notice eachother They don't need anything else They sit in the wind and the snow and let it bite against their red cheeks and full lips, hand in cold hand They cradle the mountains and and the sea and the light in their held hands, it rests in the creases of their skin They exist because of the wind and the snow and the mountains and sea and the earth and the sweet scent of eachother They exist because of and for the bare world They exist because of it it does not exist for them They came into being because of it We become into being because of it and for it We were sprung from the bare ground, of the bare soil, bare earth Cunts and cocks and arms and spines and feet pushing up from the dirt, carrying up golden thoughts and long soft ideas rom the earth Bore into beauty, to be bare in it's beauty and become it's beauty and hold it's beauty close We were bore because it could not stand it's beauty alone To feel the passions and despairs it could not share and could not stand alone We were bore to become it and know it together it could not share it could not stand alone To grow and fade it could not share it could not stand alone in the mass For what is a heaven alone but a hell that can't be shared

[psorengo]

the air i fill is near to empty

and you, anchor

encase me in cupped hands

a tender and intense action

eik and I coat eachother in vaseline, coat eachother in mod rock, break out and breathe we are trapped in our own actions, eachothers actions, feeding eachothers skin with plaster and bandages

we began by coating eachothers bodies in vaseline slowly and surely to protect from the modrock it was good to feel another body and carefully make sure the task was complete well the beginning was strange we were both naked and the first strips of modrock looked small and unusual and out of place on the body, breaking up the colour and texture of skin at first we could move easily, gradually we began to become encased, it was difficult, muscles cramped, pain in nerves, heavy breathing, a challenge, to care for eachother i wasn't thinking about my own body but focusing on eiks, and how my actions were changing it as more and more plaster accumulated it was the skin that started to look strange i felt like i was trying to heal him, like each piece of plaster would help jj said it looked like we were trying to fix eachother, two people trying to fix their relationship, solidifying themselves together, but foreve breaking, with each long reach to eik some of my own plaster would fall, an impossible task to be coated together it was interesting when our bodies met and were trapped for some time in different places, connected the structure we were connected in was constantly changing and reworking itself, only some parts of the plaster stayed throughout there were build ups of tension and pain and releases when we would part and kindness when we came back to continue our task i didn't feel like i was trying to fix the other body, but heal it, that's how the action felt strips of plaster were placed with kindness and intent the word fix sounds too subjective, fix to what new state? for whom? heal is organic, and to me more objective, to heal something is to restore it to it's natural state? or to peace? fix suggests something was broken, and broken suggests it was wrong, broken never sounded positive to me i think to heal is the opposite of to destroy and destruction is not always bad

we were engaged in a slow slow process of healing and destroying the structure we created around our bodies

breaking out was beautiful

don't try and fix things you might be trying to fix something for yourself heal instead, it's better to be a healer than a fixer

[psorengo]

bone of your sternum was the whole world for me in those moments and your breath went into my body straight out of your heart the blood flowed round my face and sticky into my mouth we were conjoined in one mass but more than anyone had ever known before one organic being your body could have gone on forever silken, rising, stretching, telling me stories in every twitch and every turn you were the sweetest i had ever known you said let's dance around eachothers bodies you were the sweetest i had ever known

[psorengo]

and therein, there, in the throbbing pulsing belly of the people, smooth and unsoiled, skin so soft, the pores oozing, milk sweat babe, ripe beads dripping like pearls, a flowing roseary, i'd pray words to you so sweet or the the sun scorches my heated back, rippling feathered surface sore, and lusting. i feel the tear, the tear of a hot sour summer breaking from me, filling each breath of air and gasp of breath and exhalation with pleasure, like paprika dusting on the salt of the earth, the salt o your tongue and the scent of this grass. and there, i see you, lying deep and buried, beneath a dream, lost, to plastic bellied angels and famished children. for this is the scheme of our dreams my friend, and is nothing compared to our conciousness, alive and wild eyed, wired to the belly of thought and process. timed to gods stopwatch. we are all counting down to a sweet white light disintegration, so awake child, sweat child, and live in the beauty of your own reality.

[psorengo]

subjectivity

when all is subject to subjectivtity it becomes objective in it's permanent transformation into otherness, by it's constant subjection to flux and change.

objective in it's subjectiveness.

an essence is lost, objectively everything becomes innately meaningless when relentlessly submitted to subjectivity.

when we relate ourSELFS to objects consumed and actions performed in a subjective manner we too become as the objects as the actions.