A simple example might be when you’re at a bar, timeless group location, and someone asks you “We’re conducting a survey of public opinion that looks into the importance of Cultural and Ethical Diversity, Multiculturalism and the assimilation of migrants”. If your response is “What?”. Then your friend might translate or rephrase the question and ask you “Is multiculturalism important to you?” and you might respond, “Yes”.
1.The roof is warped and bubbling
2.An indescribable light blue
3.A chain resting on a toilet seat
4.The sun setting red
5.A smoke machine billowing from a tea-pot.
1.Soft, mellow lemons
2.Roasted, ground coffee beans.
3.My own socks and the sweat.
4.White powder doesn’t smell – it drips salt & lime – intoxication
2.Two breakfasts; cheese, eggs, beans
3.Light roast coffee, tart, bitter
4.Orange in a cocktail
1.The cool of room temperature water.
5.The smooth metal outside of a plane
1.”What is that ringing sound?”
4.An explosion of coke
5.Laughter of friends
My stomach is full of beans. It’s a good feeling, not too uncomfortable you know? It’s nice getting back in the swing of things. I had an OK day, missed a deadline, got shouted at – but it was all OK. I have just the right amount of plans in life – to get me from here to there. I’ve always been envious of people who are “steady”. Got it all ticking along. I want my routine to be so that if it’s interrupted, it’s a blessing for others. Like if someone was to stumble into my garden, they would be teleported into another world of majesty, beauty and effort. This reminds me; I should probably purchase a big red Japanese style gate, similar to those found at the Inari in Japan. Gifts are great.
The couch, I was paralyzed. Lyric-less beats played on and ricocheted around the room softly, gently. My two new friends invited me to share. My head lolled and my breathing slowed. They asked me what I saw. I gushed unfinished sentences. Spewing nonsense. There was no beginning, no entry point to capture all that I was seeing, feeling, hearing, remembering, knowing, say-saying. No doorway, just a revolving wheel, the waters of my mind flooding over senses freely. I lolled left, an ugly black-eyed face. Always there, so often friendly, asking and caring. Distant and coming closer; searchingly it glinted, eyes, nose, fore-head glinted, narrow and sharp.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s blue and indescribable’ I said.
It was a three colour stroke, with a ghost like a chess piece in the middle. It had depth and a shadow, lines that hinted at three dimensions like a corner of a room.
The grounding space was the roof that we all sped towards. Intersecting lines, warped past as I blinked slowly. Too slow.
‘The roof is warped, warped and bubbling’.
How could it not be that things keep happening all at once.
Constant waves, the tumult of action. Repercussions awash.
Smashing explosions of surf blasting force into rockfaces.
Eroding, barrels upon barrels curl and grip at sand with clumsy fingerless effort.
As the surfs retreats into the great body it folds and kicks up.
Explosions in the sky. Whitewash. Salty multidirectional pulses.
Blood tasting, eyes rolling, humans, cattle, the ocean.
Only for a time are we still, forgetting the tempest. Soaking up peace until the rush begins, all over again.
Idetect – as a utility of representation, can be used in reference to negative speech. For example, it may be used to describe this example’s definition of ‘Gallantry’…
Polite attention or respect given by men to women.
“no young man offers to carry this burden for her: such gallantry is out of fashion”.
“No young man” implies something, but does not state something as fact.
idetect – invisible I
detect – visible I
IDETECT – The miscarriage A
I detect is the unseen presence of letters in every action. While this presents a similar difficulty to that of representation, the meaning highlights the dissembling nature of subjective unawareness. All the while an instance of Idetect, misses its meaning through inferred absence, whilst acknowledging that anything perceived as cryptic or mystic are, self described in their presentation.The written word then, is a script of pre-informed meaning. Once agreed upon, this evokes what the authors and readers can be made aware of, which is always the ‘other’ the presence of a similar self of infinite iterations and stances. Usage of text and the run-on of symbols, allow for regressive and transformational inaccuracies. So common are these discursive practices that when asked to trace thoughts the warren of reason draws out a gaze and demands the script of idetect. This task, in and of itself, floods with imperfection and poor copies. Flavours and significance are then devoid of extra-lateral symbolic inference. Idetect is all that is missed in writing. A lost letting, both symptomatic of cultural differences as well as historic mistaken identity. An excavation here is required, to dig down into the layering, and then finely brush through the dust. As all you would need to miss a letter, or lose your fitting in the wrung of a ladder. A moment, a mistake are all that it takes to run an mis-errand.
So which letter is missing?
When I get the opportunity to speak to people about Tasmania, there’s always a common thread, some recurring topics that resurface time and again.
1. The lifestyle/standard of living/quality of life; and
2. The close proximity to the bush.
3. The beautiful natural surroundings, clean air, fresh water and friendly community.
4. In Tasmania you aren’t a small fish in a big pond – You have a voice that can make a difference. People will listen to you and remember your name.
5. The local sense of adventure. Each of us have a willingness to explore, but our tolerance is different depending on where we are from and where we live. In Tassie we have perfected the balance. Free-time, Safety and Convenience are the trinity that welcomes everyone to explore the world they live in. In Tasmania you are welcome to explore the land, delve into it’s deep history and challenge yourself and grow in ways you didn’t know were possible.
Stats are booming- treaties, toilets, bellies and rooming. Bubbling pipes break and splinter entrenched fellows, dugouts and drops. Running taps. Evil explosions that make your glands ache. Ebbing pain flaunts it’s way across your face, turning your teeth, grinding and hollowing. Dried bones of my humanity scatter along the old highway routes. My dollars are worth so much.
Your time and energy is robbed by my priori. Second class. Toilets smelling of polished brass. Brash attempts to flatten nature. Gurgling harrowing screams that hollow me out. Pipes and all.