Thursday, March 1, 2012

State sponsored Art


Robert Wyatt, Free Will and Testament
(Shleep, 1997)

Given free will — but within certain limitations — I cannot will myself to limitless mutations. I cannot know what I would be if I were not me, I can only guess me.

So when I say that I know me, how can I know that? (What kind of spider understands arachnophobia?) I have my senses and my sense of having senses. Do I guide them? Or they me?

The weight of dust exceeds the weight of settled objects. What can it mean, such gravity without a centre? Is there freedom to un-be? Is there freedom from will-to-be? Sheer momentum makes us act this way or that way. We just invent or assume a motivation. I would disperse, be disconnected — is this possible? What are soldiers without a foe?

Had I been free, I could have chosen not to be me. Demented forces push me madly round a treadmill. Let me off please, I am so very tired.


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