Jen Hval Drafts

(I'm writing an article on Diamanda Galas at the moment, so I am inspired by her way of singing with a voice that belongs to others: the oppressed, and the dead. How related!!)

Galas says: in prison, you have no space, you have to invent it. I thought about that today, and I imagine the disembodied consciousness as an invented space. After all, the characters are denied space (as in sensing it...) And so I'm thinking my character will be finding a voice through the echoes of uncontrollable memories.

I recorded some stuff: a background noise and fragments of songs I know on top of it (at one point I had "Video Killed the Radio Star" going into "Apres un reve" by Faure, wot?). I don't know if that's interesting yet, but I thought this is an important aspect of how the mind works on its own: association, cut-up memories that form chains of memories (I recently re-read Not I as well).

The difficult part for me, is finding what this character has done and why she (of course!) is caught in the first place (for that, I probably need a bit more of the world, its politics etc). But I do know that I'd like to challenge the idea of the SENSELESS AS PUNISHMENT. Perhaps my character was never happy in a body? Perhaps she didn't know if she knew her sex, her place, her own self? And perhaps she has an interior dialogue about why she would want to come back?

I don't know yet, but I'll keep recording, that's always fun. Feel free to comment, of course!

Meanwhile, if people are curious, my own interior monologue is called singingwhale .
And here is my music :)

Senseless as Punishment!! Or not?

I think that it is perfectly valid to go with the p.o.v that the character may have wanted to become 'senseless'. That is a really interesting motivation. There doesn't really need to be much backstory to WHAT she did or HOW she did it, as what ever she did exists in the WHY. Keep going with that.

As for the background of the world. I would ultimately like that to be built up by the collaborative as we write. Make sure you check others works and the 'talking senseless' thread to keep upto date on any developments. Aside from that, I'm going to write a glossary by the end of this week and that might help you abit more too. Otherwise, let me know and I'll sort something else out...
Comment Submitted by Olivia Crang on 10 May, 2006 - 21:27.

In a children’s book
Once a favourite
There is a well
That whispers in the evenings
Triggered by the dark
A hum that lives only when the eyes are closed
It is very quiet, so you can’t really hear the words
You lean forward as if squinting your eyes on an eye examination
Trying to read the bottom line of letters on the chart

A O B H I T S D K

But somewhere in you
Something is awake
And understands what it’s humming
And it hurts
You don’t know why
Yet something is hurting

Full of words instead of water, the tide rises towards your body, and creeps up your back, through the pores like hair; thin threads
And into your bones, rummaging
And something is hurting
You’re being pulled in all directions, stretched, dissolved, until you don’t know sleep from waking

And all the while squinting

I don't know how long...

...but there was no time for a long time, and I didn't understand why, and
then I knew...

There was no heartbeat.

I had nothing to count
Nothing to quicken
Nothing to slow
Nothing to skip

Perhaps I can learn
Is there a time that is not body?

Incoming...
something very far away...something I forgot...
...a memory of soft grass, no...fur...

Loading...

An image

It is very early in the morning
The sun hangs low and flickers between leaves and windows like a bulb about to blow (or is it just how it appears to me now? the flicker of my memory?)
I rush; I am late and bewildered
On my way to the 15th floor in the Department of P., that's right
and I notice something lying next to the road, half hidden, in a back entry to a park in front of my building:

From a distance, it appears to be lazing about waiting for the sun
Its head gently tucked in under the first step
But here it comes, I get closer,
I can see that it's much too peaceful;
not a lazy cat

A dead cat.

On the step above the body, blood is smeared along the edge
(The movement of its head against the edge
Lighting a match
I remember that, matches)
Near the head: an empty beer bottle
Has someone killed it during the happy hours of the night?
Has somebody been drunk and felt like smashing something?
The beer can, perhaps,
and then the cat?
I don't think I did it
Yet this movement of lighting matches

I am late for work at the Dept of P., I remember
Like in a dream when you're trying to run through quicksand

In the evening, it is still there, in the same position, still dead, still, dead
Funny thing, that:
as if I've expected it to come back to life and lick its paws,
rise and jump into the street
and away
All on fire

I remember:
Some hours have passed
The blood corroding on the step
Seagulls and magpies busy plucking out its eyeballs
Trees had throwing leaves into its fur
Bugs munching on the edges of the swelling wounds
Crawling into the ears
and the mouth
The tongue out welcoming us like a red carpet
Always stretched when they're dead
Tongues

The body remarkably peaceful and soft
as if every bone has left the body
I don't remember a smell;
I sense nothing but the scent of green;
slightly bitter, slightly acidic, but from something far away, or just invisible

Sensing the scent of spring is a bit like the memory of rainbows

The fur so thick,
The body so soft
Bugs and leaves and grass covering it,
In layers
The world knows death
Doesn't take long
The world immediately invites itself in
Living things, picking at it, playing with it

I lie down next to it
Want to cover it
To spread from knots of black
And run over the dry fur
Like thick vanilla cream
I want to feel this closeness, to feel the soft and boneless
The soul must be in the bone, then
One by one left like rats from ships
Knucklebones and ribs,
Toes and the joints at the tail
I fit there

Incoming...
An image, and another, and another
Or perhaps just the two of us:

I love the first two pieces. They are abstract, which we don't really have yet, but still get the concept and world of Senseless across.

I do have some trouble with the third piece though. Firstly to do with staging and logistics, but more importantly, to do with the fact that I think the world she is in is situated too far in the past. Possibly even today, 2006? I know it would work against the general stream of consciousness feel that the piece has established, but I think you need to somehow try and incorporate the world of 2027, or even 2017, into the piece more. Let the inhumanity come out on both the story level and through the world of Senseless. Might be an idea to re-read the glossary, just to sink your teeth into those ideas first.

Let me know what you think about this somewhat large and overriding comment. It is just my instinct, and my attempt at integrating your final piece in with the other pieces and general world.

Thanks heaps.
Liv

Hey Jen, I've found all of what I've just read to be remarkable and I find myself confused as to exactly what we are trying to acheive or communicate to the audience about the world. I will speak to Olivia as well, but to any others out there reading this too, my question is at the level of trying to determine whther the construction of this future world is more important than the internal wonderings and sufferings of these disembodied voices who don't necessarily relate facts about the world they are disembodied from when they finally have an opportunity to communicate...what if they are not even aware that they are transmitting but what the audience sees is the random transmission of a frequency? Maybe this question should also be in the body of talking senseless..I will transfer there too.

Hey jen
Just wanted to ask if it would be alright to get sent your paper on Diamanda Galas? I'm facinated on what that research and paper might say to me and my own work...would it be possible to send it to my email address once you've finished at rochellewhyte@yahoo.com.au ? If this is a sensitive question I do apologise. Thanks and I look forward to reading more stuff.
Rochelle

I am not sure that a dead cat couldn't be located in 2017. Cats have been dying for a long time and will probably keep on dying. I couldn't see anything in this piece that was particularly grounded in our time. Nothing that was particularly sci fi either.