Centurion is supposed to be historical fiction about the disappearance of the Legio IX Hispania in the third century in something like the Battle of Teutoberg Wald but it kind of lapses into … semi-fantasy. There is a lot of snow and awesome alpine scenery and fun costumes. Basically the only reason to see Centurion is for Dominic West in one of his typically movie-stealing supporting roles (as “General Titus Flavius Virilus” — really!) and Etain, the “guerra picta” played by Olga Kurylenko. Etain doesn’t speak, takes the wolf as her attribute animal, and endures a strange sort of Penthesilea-like death. She has fantastic Pict ordnance and body decorations.

I was sort of half-waking up, half-dreaming about the movie when the song “Signs” came on dataheaven.us… I haven’t paid much attention to Bloc Party previously but I was blown away by this particular song. Maybe it was just the combination of sound and imagery but it really shook me up.

What do these two things have in common that together they should make such a resonant impression? I don’t know.

Here is the link to “Signs” on Soundcloud, and a snippet of lyric: “I  could sleep forever these days because in my dreams I see you again.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxuZ-zcL3E0

]]> http://italiangreyhounds.org/errata/2012/03/18/yeah-whatever/feed/ 0 http://italiangreyhounds.org/errata/2012/02/08/franz-marcs-birthday-aphorismen-82/ http://italiangreyhounds.org/errata/2012/02/08/franz-marcs-birthday-aphorismen-82/#comments Wed, 08 Feb 2012 14:19:54 +0000 Archivist, University of Polyleritae http://italiangreyhounds.org/errata/?p=782 [...]]]>

“I saw what the moorhen sees as it dives: the thousand rings that encircle each little life, the blue of the whispering sky swallowed by the lake, the enraptured moment of surfacing in another place. Know, my friends, what images are: the experience of surfacing in another place.”

{ Ich sah das Bild, das in den Augen des Teichhuhns sich bricht, wenn es untertaucht: die tausend Ringe, die jedes kleine Leben einfassen, das Blau der flüsternden Himmel, das der See trinkt, das verzückte Auftauchen an einem andern Ort, – erkennt, meine Freunde, was Bilder sind: das Auftauchen an einem anderen Ort. }

Franz Marc, Aphorismen 82, 1915.

The images are Vier Füchse, a postcard from 1914, and Liegendes Pferd, a water color from 1911.

We went to look at the American Modernism show at the Tampa Museum of Art but mainly to experience some avant garde, modernist — experimental, really — music presented by the University of Tampa’s  Minaret New Music Ensemble. One of the best parts of the event was Bradford Blackburn’s Ph.d. dissertation, Phrase and Rephrase 3/2, a concerto for Harry Partch Ensemble with live augmentation with Donald Martino on bass clarinet and cellist Lowell Adams. Our hearts were stolen, though, by microtonal guitarist, composer, and luthier Ron Sword.

This was one of the best things we’ve seen in Tampa. The park outside the museum is very lovely too and gets a lot of use, even on a cold Wednesday night.

Kermesse Jette

Chapter 3: The Vacation

They desperately needed to stop.

“Daddy, Daddy!” screamed Tony in a voice of desperate pleading.

They were on the Interstate, about twenty miles from the nearest gas station, and they had just left Burger Junction and Auto Palace. Tony needed to stop.

“Tony,” Mrs. Jones said calmly, turning around in her seat to hit the teen with a flyswatter her husband had given her as a Mother’s Day gift. “You have got to understand that we are trying our best to make it to the gas station as soon as you can, but Iowa is a big, spread out place. If you need to stop that bad, we’ll pull over here.”

The other children screamed with laughter, tormenting their brother with sadistic cruelty, the same kind they learned from their mom.

Tony became enraged, taken by anger. He began lashing out, kicking the dog and shouting obscenities. The dog bit him back. Fido is a pit bull.

Grandma’s house was just down this oak lined street.

“Des Moines is such a pretty town,” Mrs. Jones said. “But I hate your lousy mother.”

Mr. Jones didn’t hear her, as he was chomping on a Mars Bar, noticing that there wasn’t really an almond in every bite. He slammed on the brakes, rolled down the window, threw the candy out onto the street and pulled out a Heath Bar in retaliation.

“Litterbug,” said Toniya.

“Nazi Swine,” Mr. Jones replied laughing.

“Look there’s Grandma!” Little Boy Joey bellowed. “It’s a Miracle.”

Grandma was there alright, all 350 pounds or her. Mrs. Jones grimaced in disbelief.

“That fat hippo,” she said, giving the old woman the proverbial finger.

She put down her Mighty Mouseketeer Comic Book, and opened the door, proceeding to roller skate up the driveway’s slight incline.

“Your mom can really skate,” Mr. Jones pointed out to the three children.

TO BE CONTINUED

Chapter 2

Something very evil had clutched the residence at 704 Howser Street. Something that hung over the little home like a black widow’s veil. Indeed, something hideous. Sure, it had happened before, but not in Astoria. This was spooky.

Inside the home, she could feel the presence of the evil force as it hovered over her. She could feel it. None of the appliances were working properly, the children had taken up the practice of walking through solid walls while chanting “Go Wisconsin!”, and sirens were piercing the air, their source unknown. This was most definitely frightening.

Actually, this evening was not unlike the previous few.

Only too clearly came the images of the hamsters in the bathroom, and the sailors in the atticway. She also knew the house still reeked of cheap beer and nachos. The smell was overbearing.

Her mind reeled back a few days as she tried to recall the event that might have triggered all of this, but all she could remember was the fight she had with her husband after he replaced their conventional front door with a paper barrier.

As she thought of the incident, her husband, coincidentally, came crashing through the barrier. The tearing of the paper was loud enough that it could have been a truck driving through the door.

Next came THAT voice.

“Hey! I caught that ball!” He exclaimed.

Immediately she knew that Frostie’s Angels had lost the big ball game. Her husband kept babbling about the outcome of the final play, but when he settled down, he asked her where his supper was. She pointed to the recession of the ceiling/wall above the refrigerator. There he saw a drooping wad of spaghetti, clinging for its survival.

“What’d ya do dat fer?” He asked, pointing his finger at her. There was a brief pause.

“I think we got ghosts.” She said, erupting into tears.

“What have you been smokin’?” he retorted.

With those words, the kitchen floor began crackling and crumbling beneath him. Through the crevice that developed, a little green man burst onto the scene. Was this an alien visitor?

No. It was Gumby.

To be continued…

4 Tesems (bas) et 3 hyènes (haut), origine: tombeau de Ptah Hotep à Saqqara.

Notes in the sketchbook XXVIII
— A pink rain fell over meadows.
— The air is like green glass.
— The girl [observed] looked into the water, the water was clear [as] crystal, the girl was crying.
— Trees had their growth rings, the animals their veins.

Notes in the sketchbook XXXI
The storm roared.
I entered the house and saw all
A tall woman red small black cat [playing] on the green table.
Kraak, lightning strikes the vehicle – the beautiful little cats were playing with the woman, she smiled – ah ah [poor] man and horse are [is] dead. [The man cries] [sky] the angel of fear knocks at the window; the [poor woman] I could shake the red heart of the woman and black kittens knew the green table – what it [?], red and black and green? Three colors give it a thought? If we give to the red heart shape, the black that [one of three interspersed] small kittens, green form of [a large square plate ?...] the square.

I meditate on that thought.
The red heart of the woman breaks.
It [comes] springs a [blood ...] [a streak of blood] A stream of blood [across the sky due] which falls into the river, it flows through the now red green pastures grazed by sheep or black.
The storm has withdrawn his hand from the earth.
The blue sky [?] Ogle like a gigantic glass eye the scene [of] red, green, and black, this thought is not it terrible? [...] Do you understand what the painters paint?

Notes dans le cahier de croquis XXVIII

— une pluie rose tombait sur des prés verts.

— l’air resemblait a du verre vert.

— la fille [observait] regardait dans l’eau; l’eau était claire [propre] comme du cristal; la fille pleurait.

— les arbres montraient leurs anneaux de croissance; les animaux leurs veines.

Notes dans le cahier de croquis XXXI

L’orage grondait.

J’entrai dans la maison et vis tout

Une grande femme rouge; des petits chat noirs [jouaient] sur la table verte.

Kraak, la foudre a frappe le véhicule — les petis chats jouaient avec la femme, elle souriait — ah ah [le pauvre] homme et cheval sont [est] morts. [L'homme pleure] [ciel] l’ange de la crainte frappe a la fenetre; [la pauvre femme] je voyais trembler le coeur rouge de la femme et les chatons noirs su la table verte — qu’est-ce que c’est [?], rouge et noir et vert? Trois couleurs donnent elles une pensée? Si l’on donne au rouge la forme du coeur, au noir celle [de l'un des trois entremeles] des petits chatons, au vert la forme [d'un grand carre plat?...] du carré.

Je veux mediter cette pensée.

Le coeur rouge de la femme se brise.

Il en [sort] jaillit un [sang...] [une raie de sang] un flot de sang [en travers due ciel] qui tombe dans la riviere, elle coule maintenant rouge a travers les vertes prairies ou paissent des moutons noirs.

L’orage a retiré sa main de la terre.

Le ciel bleu [?] reluque tel un gigantesque oeil de verre la scene [de] rouge, vert, et noir, cette pensée n’est-elle pas terrible? [...] Comprenez-vous ce que le peintres peignent?

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