erhellender Moment

One account of the naming of the Eureka estate says that syndicate member William Steele rode out with a group looking for a suitable headquarter, and reaching a hilltop announced ‘Eureka I have found it!’ Another story says the name was made up of letters from the names of all the women in the party.
                                    Quelle: http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/keyword/eureka

streetart advice of the day!

schön gestrichelt

Wem das ewige Hinterherkriechen in den Gedankengängen anderer Autor_innen an diesem trüben Sonntag zu mühsam ist, der kann sich Dank Nicholas Rougeux auch einfach an der grafischen Darstellung der Punktion von Klassikern der Weltliteratur erfreuen.

Hier z.B. die Satzzeichen aus Hermann Melvilles "Moby Dick" in order of appearance:

Moby Dick in Satzzeichen ©Nicholas Rougeux

Sobald die Lust auf's Lesen wieder erwacht ist, kann man ja in kleinen Dosen mit input anfangen, etwa mit dem Artikel zum Projekt im aktuellen WIRED Magazin.

Kreativere könnten einen eigenen Textes beginnen, unter Einhaltung der vorgegebenen, melvillschen englischen Original-Punktation. :-D

  

RAIN by HONE TUWHARE

Kia ora aus Neuseeland!

Hier mein Lieblingsgedicht des großen Maori-Dichters Hone Tuwhare, mit dem ich nicht nur die Liebe zum Regen und den Worten teile, sondern auch den Geburtstag.

TAGE goes New Zealand

  

Realität & Fiktion

  

Wenn es doch so einfach wäre…

# today

Luis Camnitzer, This is a Mirror, You are a Written Sentence, 1966-68, 
vacuum-formed polystyrene mounted on synthetic board, 18 4/5 x 24 3/5 x ½ ". © Peter Schälchli, Zürich.


      

PARADISE

 - Or the simultaneity in the non simultaneous

by Elisabeth R. Hager

Translation: Katharina Moos

At the other end of the world it is as bright as day. When you just switch off the light so that your body may recover, from joy&sorrow&the work of a day, when at your place the lamps just go out, they go on again there. Then the sun shines again there, then the wheel of life has already turned into a new forenoon there. & your clammy little fear that all would sink in the endless sleep, that forever would last a very very long night, is mocked at the same moment already by the very first bird choir at the other end of the world.

Life in the place of desire is deceivingly similar to all you know and you can imagine. Desire disenchanted, smashed the dream, no comfort of a better world. They all run there, too, after the things that ought to make them complete, myriads of half-empty glasses, poor sods all over the world...

The world is disenchanted, the glass is half-empty, and still the enigma of time remains. How does it work that in one, two, thousand places in the world the light goes on exactly NOW? How much of the same is there between You and me, between this & that, between here & there, where never anybody looks? Who boozes NOW & who rejoices NOW & who sleeps with whom NOW & when not & who has the last laugh? & if only it gets morning again anywhere else at exactly the same time, that is NOW NOW NOW why then this much too serious struggle?

Only so many hours in the plane, and you are already at the end of the world! There, all is different and all is the same. All can be different, all is the same. The flush works the other way round. All is the same. The cars run the other way round. All is the same. & as everywhere else in the world, too, the humans hang helpless as they are & yet also glad at times down from earth into the sky.

TAGE III

29.12.2013

2pm-9pm

ohrenhoch Berlin

Come as you are

Frau mit Botschaft
gesehen bei der 40-Jahrfeier des Opernhauses von Sidney
20.10.2013

20 pairs of shoes

The shadow
Of my hand on the paper
Doesn't match that "concept of identity"
You were talking about the other night
When we tried to catch metaphors
In the bipolar tree

After a nap or two
I find my hair, long and knotty
Like roots in the air bridging the globe
My desire for 'dahoam'
While you are quoting Lord Byron

In the bipolar tree

The kettle sings
The rockingchair swings
We constantly listen
To the language of things

& we  keep bying shoes
For a baby that doesn't yet walk

Back in Tangier

  

                           for Paul Dombroski

In the shabby little café

at the harbour of Tangier

the place we used to sit

is empty now...

I don't dare to sit there

it makes me sad
     
  

The cat you used to feed

at the harbour of Tangier

tiptoes by with blank eyes

a belly full of kids

the stomache empty
   

You filled my heart with orange juice

at the harbour of Tangier

today I'm tossing my coffee

& take a header in the sea

to follow you