The Speech a.k.a. Huh? Wha? DUH!!!

I drank too much coffee one night.

So then I said to myself – what is the dialogic relationship between language as carrier of meaning and memory as a reconstruction of perceived meaning?

Then I said to myself – Get a life.
It's Saturday night and you're online, reading about post-modernism.
Your computer is too slow.
Your brain is too wobbly.
You need to free up some hard disk space.
You need to buy a few more RAM chips.
Haha, what a stupid pun.
Ok, for a start – free up some disk space.

Then I went rummaging among file structures long forgotten, folders long neglected…

I found 1.9GB of forgotten video.

Then I said to myself – Here is some 'found' material. It is 'found' in the sense that it has been lying forgotten for a few years. It is time to allow the 'other' to operate…

I said – Arranging this material is a process of re-visiting a set of events that occurred. No one can say for certain what really happened, least of all 'the eye' staggering around via the camera. So the 'edit' of the piece is about memory and the impossibility of capturing it objectively – the frame, the 'eye' - preclude any attempt at clinical documentation.

But what does it all mean? To ask – but what does this all mean, is to miss the point entirely.

Ha! Convenient.

It's not a documentary, it's not rehearsed. It's a docudrama of some perverse variety.

A polyvocal clash…

You are full of crap – I said.

I say – I have had too much coffee.

Then I said – People always object to all the foul language in my plays.

I say – I often use foul language as a means of conveying psychological violence. Yes, it's a self- defeating paradox. My characters curse to draw attention to the constructed psyche that resorts to cursing. I foreground swearing as a linguistic genre and rob it of the ability to hurt, hoping to draw attention to my characters – who are often hurting and hurting bad – the reasons for this hurt, constitute the 'meaning' of the piece.

Then I said – All right. That's a lot of rubbish. How can you possibly use language to carry 'meaning' if you're busy robbing it of meaning? What kind of writer collapses language? You might as well drill a hole in a boat and try to row it at the same time.

I said – Uhhh… Well… Ok. Let me just pause that paradox loop for a moment.
So if we're in cacophony, in polyvocal mayhem... does an attempt at structured communication polarize the communication? Or does it all sink into Ionesco like yak-yak-yak-blah-blah – much like the Orator who appears at the end of The Chairs?

In linguistic mayhem, how can 'meaning' operate?

So then I sat and edited this short.
And I deny all responsibility for it.
And I remain intrigued by the argument.
And it's brilliantly stupid stuff... Especially without the preamble!

And I have had way way to much coffee…



NSFW - Contains coarse language. Requires audio. Video quality is rubbish night shot.
ROTFL - Too funny man... Hehehehehe...
As a Nobel Laureate once wrote : "quaquaquaqua with a white beard quaqua outside of the time of the extent that from high of its divine apathia its divine athambia its divine aphasia"