For the happy man! - Collected writings DEPRESSION: Ed Atkins
For the happy man! - Collected writings DEPRESSION: Ed Atkins For the happy man! - Collected writings DEPRESSION: Ed Atkins
Our courteously HUMAN bodies, apart from areas of glabrous skin, are peppered with follicles which produce thick terminal (pubic, -lash, pits) and fine vellus (scalp) hair. Varying quantities. I wanted to ask whether you would concur that most (predominantly blithe) interest in hair is around hair growth, hair types and hair care. Whereas you might rejoin – or at least redress, reset – with a sentence like: hair is an IMPORTANT BIOMATERIAL primarily composed of protein. Notably keratin. To varying degrees, most mammals have some skin areas without natural hair. The ventral portion of the fingers, palmar surfaces of hands, soles of feet, lips, labia minora, and glans penis. On the smooth, bald road to cadaverousness. Presumably the tips of penises used to be covered in hair. Presumably the palms of hands used to covered in hair. Presumably the lips of vaginas used to be covered in hair. Presumably the soles of feet used to be covered in hair. Presumably the button-mashing tips of fingers used to be covered in hair. Presumably the walls of your bedroom used to be covered in hair. I wanted to put to you a thought about the formal cogency of the eyelash as a typeface – to put to shame the contrived efforts of my hand. That equivalence: of eyelash to
discrete line to slight-inked line to compelling glyph – that ‘I’ that points back to itself, a chink in the curtain through which a mirror might be glimpsed. Only exploded, expanded to encapsulate the entire person. Like yet more eyelashes, braided together into a double helix, centrifugally spun to life. I wanted to speak of a cursive comprised of a single, sweeping line – written in skin, on skin and under skin; a line of dead, tinted, coiled skin, drawn on to the most sensitive ground. Held in place in raw, dermic proximity. Subsequently, I wanted to say something regarding sex and drains and in relation to us. As in, it could well be the drains. Or us. The smell a consequence of our peculiar communion. Some invisible gaseous symptom, blurted out in a rush of hob-heat. As in: I love you. As in, I love you. As in: an abattoir in July. Which is what I wanted to say – what I wanted to ask in saying so: to ask, to imply. You wield what is equivalent to one of those bolt guns for thumping pig’s brains off cliffs. Or one of those pneumatic forelegs for riveting your audience by the thigh to this chair. I wanted to say – confidently, unquestioningly – that I love towards you.
- Page 31 and 32: Or tears, of course 2013
- Page 33 and 34: (Flat palm butts flat door - though
- Page 35 and 36: tion is his own) O! - This always-a
- Page 37 and 38: Else flattened by the interminable
- Page 39 and 40: As in: light-like curves that pass
- Page 41 and 42: Liquid crystals running terminal co
- Page 43 and 44: the fuck away - and then STRAIGHTAW
- Page 45 and 46: ness. I conjure the very medicine t
- Page 48 and 49: Warm, Warm, Warm Spring Mouths 2013
- Page 50 and 51: And no provision has been made for
- Page 52 and 53: And this whole thing a concession,
- Page 54 and 55: And it’s not too much to imagine
- Page 56 and 57: And bullet-time, really, is a lifes
- Page 58 and 59: gallon or so of PVA semen. Dispassi
- Page 60 and 61: Inexpensive. Which is part of it, t
- Page 62 and 63: This is no longer an experience, bu
- Page 64 and 65: A heavy mood that turned away from
- Page 66 and 67: (Is this thing on?) And a trellis o
- Page 68 and 69: Into the cool water. This one goes
- Page 70 and 71: This one goes out to your singular
- Page 72: I don’t want to hear any news on
- Page 75 and 76: I wanted to ask whether you thought
- Page 77 and 78: legibility. A primordial story of s
- Page 79 and 80: owner of the eyelash, your lover. B
- Page 81: The smell was certainly sexual, I t
- Page 85 and 86: oily substance not unlike jojoba, f
- Page 87 and 88: muscles) Averting our eyes from one
- Page 89 and 90: late to be a fucking lie told badly
- Page 91 and 92: fingernail, most likely. Fingers re
- Page 93 and 94: great prairies of skin are, in each
- Page 95 and 96: the same mistake again. The dead ey
- Page 97 and 98: -Resembling the lichen that seems t
- Page 100 and 101: A tumour (in English) 2011
- Page 102 and 103: punctuation and that peculiar synta
- Page 104 and 105: and waning produces a horrific pull
- Page 106 and 107: frozen, unknown. It’s not mine, t
- Page 108 and 109: pink, marbled-looking veneer inspir
- Page 110 and 111: notch at its highest point with a c
- Page 112 and 113: [...] If it’s like this in the mo
- Page 114 and 115: the crew: Fletcher, the navy techni
- Page 116 and 117: scenes remind us that this isn’t
- Page 118 and 119: Grotesque, just like this text here
- Page 120 and 121: The tumour, spanning many acres now
- Page 122 and 123: TEETH, and a battle is pitched betw
- Page 124 and 125: A cave again, this time somewhere i
- Page 126 and 127: The underside of a banana slug. The
- Page 128 and 129: taxidermist, so as to preserve its
- Page 130 and 131: a golf ball. I fucking hate golf, y
discrete line to slight-inked line to compelling glyph – that<br />
‘I’ that points back to itself, a chink in <strong>the</strong> curtain through<br />
which a mirror might be glimpsed. Only exploded, expanded<br />
to encapsulate <strong>the</strong> entire person. Like yet more eyelashes,<br />
braided toge<strong>the</strong>r into a double helix, centrifugally spun to<br />
life.<br />
I wanted to speak of a cursive comprised of a single,<br />
sweeping line – written in skin, on skin and under skin; a<br />
line of dead, tinted, coiled skin, drawn on to <strong>the</strong> most sensitive<br />
ground. Held in place in raw, dermic proximity.<br />
Subsequently, I wanted to say something regarding<br />
sex and drains and in relation to us.<br />
As in, it could well be <strong>the</strong> drains.<br />
Or us. The smell a consequence of our peculiar<br />
communion. Some invisible gaseous symptom, blurted out<br />
in a rush of hob-heat.<br />
As in:<br />
I love you.<br />
As in, I love you.<br />
As in:<br />
an abattoir in July. Which is what I wanted to say –<br />
what I wanted to ask in saying so: to ask, to imply.<br />
You wield what is equivalent to one of those bolt<br />
guns for thumping pig’s brains off cliffs.<br />
Or one of those pneumatic forelegs for riveting your<br />
audience by <strong>the</strong> thigh to this chair.<br />
I wanted to say – confidently, unquestioningly – that<br />
I love towards you.
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