LEAF STUCK IN WINDOW, reflection.

One of the leaves remains attached to the plant but is trapped under the closed sash window adjacent to the plant’s pot. To accommodate their constriction the leaf and stalk are drawn at an unnatural angle towards the base of the window frame. It has been in this state for three days and the portion of leaf caught outside is now dead. The portion on the inside of the window is presently alive because it maintains a slim connection to the roots of the plant, but is yellowing and will die shortly because of fractures to the three major arteries leading to its stalk, which has already begun to weaken. The portion of leaf entirely hidden within the wooden frame will soon disintegrate and become indistinct from the untreated wood of the window frame. The houseplant’s remaining leaves flourish in the domestic air.

(This follows my discovery of April 23, below)

Cooking in a Bedsitter

I bought a second-hand book on Saturday called Cooking in a Bedsitter. (The plan was to mark it up like Language in the Modern World but it isn’t quite suited after all.) I don’t live in a bedsitter now, but I used to, and I used to relish the solitariness and the makeshiftness of everything. It was one room, and in the corner of it was a sink with one working tap (the hot tap, which only ran cold) and a very bad immersion heater above it which ran either cold or steamingly, hand-scaldingly hot. Next to the sink on a knee-high table was an unhappy baby belling, and next to that on the floor an indifferent fridge.

Hoarse

The Donkey Brays

Apparently we can describe water as being extraordinarily sticky.

Apparently between Deleuze, Agamben, Hegel and Heidegger we can read the following things.

The donkey brays, the duck quacks, the rooster crows. What does the human do? Human beings do not have a ‘voice’ of this kind because it has been replaced by meaningful discourse. Human language is an articulation of the vanishing trace of the animal voice at its death. Human speech is founded on a thing that is removed. Speaking beings and living beings are split. Speech and voice are split. In the gap of the split another voice appears: He that speaketh in me. The voice becomes a double negative: firstly it is the ‘having been” of the original animal sound; and secondly it cannot be spoken by the originary of its taking place. It is no good that speech has this negative foundation. Speech will continue to be founded on death as long as it refers back to the voice and as long as He that speaketh in me continues to have existed.

(Free) Range Chicken

I spent Saturday morning at Freightliner’s Farm near King’s Cross. We’re preparing some children’s workshops and public artworks to install around the farm over the next couple of months, and the aim this weekend was to find out more about the farm so that we can have a better go at integrating our work into the community that’s there. The people there say the chickens are bored, for instance, so we are looking into devising some chicken-sized activities for them that won’t cause them harm or worry. An eleven year old boy showed Savvas and I how to feed the geese, ducks, rabbits and guinea pigs, and then how to shovel manure into very big bags (just the best, juiciest bits), which we did for some hours until all the shit-related jokes were out of our systems.

I’m thinking about volunteering there on a regular basis for a while, not just because of the healthy work and the easy atmosphere, but because there really is a community there, and it would be a shame not to get to know how things work and how people feel, so we can avoid

Forest

Yesterday I made this: (a tomato holder)

and this: (a plant cup)