The Signall https://youtu.be/qyhdxsV1QiI video In the midst of industrial haze and misalignment, the signall exists, always and forever, cutting through the debris of language, indicating its presence to everything passing by, and to those astute enough to read the books and pamphlets of the natural order of things and organisms, already tottering. I make this monument to the signall. In all cases, I make these texts and the inert of the industrial order making and raking the present absence of control, of good human language. And in all cases, I wonder if this makes any thing possible at all, if these texts might not exist, and to better benefit, than accompanied by mute and perplexing video and other shards of evidence, that, yes, this is occurring, this is an occurrence. In other words, could the texts stand on their own, as testimony without the visible which, after all, can be manipulated into falsehood, especially in these digital times? In which case, perhaps the thing to do is cover your eyes in relation to this, after converting the text itself to something spoken, in the aural domain, as gesture, for that is what it is. Or an other way to think this, does an illustrated book of philosophical meanderings mean anything at all? The signall in this case is a group of lights on the side and before a building, lights which seem to flash in code or in relation to each other. I think, perhaps like humans, the lights are triggering each other, just as wars and genocides do. Or they're warnings that such might be the case. They seem at least now to be cause without effect, effect without cause, as if the natural order of things is meaningless. But it is not. Perhaps the best and deepest way to think of life is that it is the creation of meaning, far more than our feeble attempts at tracking the world are such. That meaning, in other words, enriches everything from the molecular to the communities of life-forms within, upon, and above our planet, that humans, instead of generating meaning, are destroying it. We are surely heading towards the barrens, taking everything with it, the tragic deserts and entanglements of tragedy are proof of this. We bear witness to meaning which we ensure bears down upon us, a tragic melange now with no discernible origin or beginning, and a tragedy whose end, never coming completely, is always already churning its way towards us, already in sight, in site. To bear witness is to bare witness as well, to make one vulnerable to occurrence; we stare towards the setting sun, towards the brute insistence of the signall, buried in layers of the real. (As if slowly emerging, as if that has always been the case.) __ _______________________________________________ NetBehaviour mailing list NetBehaviour@lists.netbehaviour.org https://lists.netbehaviour.org/mailman/listinfo/netbehaviour
