SOTTOGOVERNO

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

 

thursday

"Absolute encarceration. The New Zealand day. A subconcious clot. Ordinary New Zealanders' faces buckle. Worry lines and pavlova. Dairy hearts , sheeps brains. Absolute closure. The 'cunt' and 'faggot' of the ordinary New Zealander. Optionless thursdays and mainstreams of mediocre blood and rugby piss. The finger pointed, the clod of beef firmly rooted, the righteous and the real of New Zealand. The vein thickly coated, the posteur bent in submission, the face homogenous and avoidant. The voice slurred and mumbling, ne'er lording it about. Never a smart cunt. Never a wanker. Fate sealed and finances assigned. Options and options. Skills and experience. Never a wanker though, a good man. The clod of beef firmly placed. Flatmate fathers and mothers and flecks of vegemite and the arts. Brats raised on butter get what they want. Better stock get the good jobs. This was his 11th year on a benefit. This was a personal failure. He would record adventurous types of music and sometimes individuals from other countries would order titles. Sometimes he would find a good domestic client. Their favourite quote would be 'there is no depression in New Zealand'. No, this is no longer the early ninetees. There are shitloads of jobs out there. Take off the blinkers, mate. "

"Would someone just wire him ten grand. We know what we like and we'll support him %100. Come back to our property in Central Otago. Bring a friend, bring your collection. You've done all this work while living on a slap in the face piece of shit wage. You are to be commended. Look, I won't lie to you, we're stinking rich. Anything you want, money is simply no object. We understand your needs and trust your decisions. We know how you work, and we want your work to thrive. "

You could see the hate and loneliness in his puppy fat. The anger and resentment was something he had been collecting, item by item, quietly and consistently.

"I knew my place. If I was going to get nothing out of this, when the populace would look on, knowing full well of my situation only to do nothing - perhaps a grimace or sneer or one of those 'i hear you man' half smiles - then, why not expose them?"

" Understandable - fairly selfish though. A naieve outlook".

" Yeah"

"Did you write this drivel?"

"Yeah"


The well dressed couple simultaneously lit up a second cigarette. James lazily regarded the loose-leaf manuscript on the couch.

"What are you trying to acheive with this" James asked, gently pushing the well-drawn smoke out of his mouth, his eyes sitting tightly in his sockets.

" Linear deconstruction. Displacement of subject. "

"I see."

"Windows, really, small paintings badly arranged and marketed poorly. "

" Absolute meaning in the mess."

James lightly brushed Lorraines' shoulder. "Like I said How, come back to our property in central Otago. Bring a friend. We'll support you 100%. what do you need? Equipment - a technical crew? We can fully furnish your every whim How. whatever work method you use, we'll respect. You need days, weeks of down-time to recharge the creative engine - take as much time as you need. The cult of youth is a farce. Be old, don't be afriad to move slowly. Take your ease - we repsect the vision within How. Any transport issues are now non-issues. We own a string of studios in 26 cities worldwide. Whatever you want to do - just tell us what you need. "

"Perhaps a personal allowance could be set up for me? "

"Sure, just name a figure.

"Okay, to fully activate my ideas, to satiate corporeal needs and pay the bills - would $1,000 PW be fair?"

"Thats nothing, How."

"Okay"

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