---------- Practical: noise is the thing been expelled by the empire. noise the thing becoming to music: be organized by the empire. be accepted. noise is the thing unbearable. it has been kicked back into subconsciousness. sometimes be fished up from a dark night and be plasticized in a visible figure... be named and goes into circulation. noise is also join in the circulation actively. it's the thing makes leak in the circulation. noise farewelled to its primal chaos in order to protect the chaos. it is sound of flash and it is sound of machine. it is particularly sound of flesh and machine exchanging each other. funeral is a festival where people meet together. the voice of the nation is expressionless. it was formed by generations of TV presenters and now was inherited by all voice dub actors of the auto commercials: cars have no expression as well. cars look like aristocrats who looking down to this mediocre world. poetry is the part hasn't been understood. poetry is tear and saliva. it exists without looking for a reason. poetry is a useless unburden. it release energy from air then return more potential. poetry is supposed to back to nonsense. but perhaps there are only few know what democracy is. even less know what movement is. most people are just released to street from their life. it doesn't look like a discontent but a celebrate to possibilities. a carnival. "i'm falling in love with you who i don't know yet." isn't it? in fact, there is no such common ideal for all. though everyone had hope. that was a hope not yet plasticized. a hope contains all possible directions but plasticized in particular event at a particular moment. a feeling of really alive. the world is fresh. there are spontaneous shouting and bodies move after these shouting. a feeling of wholeness: not just from demonstration or clipping hands for demonstrators but from this universal common attention: not common singing but common listening built a community. people believe that they can believe. and therefore act. after a short run, people was about to throw themselves to the distance. at tjis moment democracy came as an exposing other-shore. it has barely taken the role as object of the desire. indeed, after industry revolution, all silence are high-pressured: make a small range of vacuum with technology and culture in the ocean of noise. the fall of feeling is to be cured by the expiration of de-effective of language. what most people can do was just make money. it looks like they are trying to make the meaning of the world empty. and then transform all relationship between body and materials into equality symbols. a lowest form of sense of security. this circulation is absorbing noise, dirty words, dream talks and foreigner languages as investing to a full range sound market. there is a great benefit in the time of post-olympics. everything is allowed except the ones not excepted. all poetry are foreigner languages. to be ones own foreigner. the reality is fucked up. we need the truth immediately. no more communication. amplify the meaningless fragments to their limits. capital and ideology are collecting and guide the loosing noise. but noise is also looking for form as there is no such primal situation of noise. noise is a result of modern time. once it born, it ride far away from the harmonious and chaotic Tao. violence is end. erotic starts. no more withstands between ideals but only struggles of technics and power. they become to noise itself: an ironic fake religion. small noise: their own noise of cheap equipments, fragments of everyday life: mediocre sounds. what do you wan to express? it's a paradox of going to silence via language: just as surrealists improve reality in the sur-reality. to sum it up, poetry doesn't need to be understood: to be lost in language is as be lost in society. that makes man touch and smell his world as animals: lost is arrive. a century of noise is continually defensing the politics of nation and advertisement. it has got rid of all the meaning, especially its own meaning, as a sacrifice for protect the nothingness of origins of everything. it's not a war between left and right or black and white but a game between unknown poetry and visible politics. |