as soon as you put a camera on
someone you take them out of who they are
people are coerced
theyre skinned alive
worse-cases theyre eviscerated by the devises that record
them
in his ‘81 interview by Paris
Review writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez said The problem is that the moment you
know the interview is being taped your attitude changes . . . I immediately
take a defensive attitude
then his created-attitude is reflected
in his spoken words
and then again in his words to print
a cameras cold eye opens and captures
reality
No
the moment you know youre being filmed(reality television off-camera coercion by directors and writers -- because reality must have directors and writers -- horseshit) youre acting
nevertheless that reality has been
gobbled up for more than a generation(a degeneration he called it) by . . . by
. fuck it!by Gobblers no tastebuds
no nose blinkered (Darbys dose comes to mind)( No You
can look it up Also see Thomas
Thistlewood )
he wasnt keen on Gobblers or those
aspects of the Internet the Book of Faces and all the rest trotted out Menu items
he tried hard to fly low low How low can you go*Limbo under their prying and prioritised radar(a
second horseapple) which made him wish there were Victory gardens
yet(considering the Long War they were in) so he too as his father and uncle
did could speed to the cobblestone street with a shovel in hand and scoop up the
warm plops dray horses dropped behind the ice vegetable and delivery wagons
they pulled
he was perturbed that anonymity
was a casualty of this
perturbed that his privacy was deemed
unimportant and that everyone should either have a right to him or he should be
forthcoming with the cast of characters(tagging) and settings he interacted with
and among
Shakespeare did warn him All the worlds a stage And all the men and women merely players
still he thought these circumstances would
likely astonish the prophetic Bard
a small voice inside his head asked
Marquez Shakespeare
Victory gardens Long War horseapples
people knew what those were right
if they didnt
hed inform them
pith them
snag-hooked burred pithy bits that he could pass off as inane harmless a dribble that stained their shirtfronts
Whas
that That there
Oh that Thats
Rimbaud
he had access to them via a cashiers mundane interaction of taking their money for vice
he could talk until their
purchase was sacked and they escaped out the automatic doors
he busied them abruptly as they
approached the counter so they wouldnt conceive of the cameras overhead filming
them that they remained who they were
if only for that moment
immutable
immutable
Thank you
Youre welcome (not that they knew what he did for them because he selfishly did it for himself)
1757, Day-between-Two-Ts, 28 9.
16
0930, Friday,
30 9. 16
"All the world’s a stage, / And
all the men and women merely players; / They have their exits and their entrances,
/ And one man in his time plays many parts, / His acts being seven stages. At
first, the infant, / Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. / Then the whining
schoolboy, with his satchel / And shining morning face, creeping like snail /
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, / Sighing like a furnace, with a
woeful ballad / Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier, / Full of
strange oaths and bearded like the pard, / Jealous in honor, sudden and quick
in quarrel, / seeking the bubble reputation / Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then
the justice, / In fair round belly with good capon lined, / With eyes severe
and beard a formal cut, / Full of wise saws and modern instances; / And so he
plays his part. The sixth age shifts / Into the lean and slippered pantaloons,
/ with spectacles on nose and pouch on side; / His youthful hose, well saved, a
world too wide / For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, / Turning again
towards childish treble, pipes / And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
/ That ends this strange eventful history, / Is second childishness and mere
oblivion, / Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."
