Compositions

My Job is to Sleep

“You are so involved in what you are doing that you
aren’t thinking of yourself as separate from the immediate activity.”
‍
Flow is an optimal experience. When you do what you love with
full attention, it comes quite fast. Still it is only a few that have the luxury to experience it on a regular basis. The average work, school and parent don’t seem to be able to deliver circumstances where flow easily arrives.

- What is it that launches you from your bed, an itch in the centre of your brain?
‍
‍- In any situation, I am always looking for the ejector seat. I try to use that.
‍
‍- I keep one pencil behind my ear and one between my teeth...
‍
‍- It’s like a toothache, but a good toothache.
‍
‍- I keep one pencil in my hand and one behind my ear and one
between my teeth...
‍
‍- If it is not you, then who is it?
‍
‍- I never wanted to write this.
‍
‍- I never wanted to think or say or write this.
‍
‍- The only difference between improvisation and editing is speed.
You could spend 10 years or 10 minutes on the same poem.
The results could be the same. Lowell and O’Hara.
‍
- I realised that if I took on several interns I could cut out the middleman.
‍
‍- Someone else to do the thinking.
‍
‍- One of my interns, their job is to waste time.
‍
‍- This is my invisible hand. This is my marketplace.
‍
‍- It’s like love.

‍- When I got married I covered the room with post-it notes and 3x5s. I planned out the relationship from start to finish. These are our 20s. This is where we will go. Here are some spaces for photographs. These are our 30s when we will have children. This is me dying in a hospice. This is you tearing a napkin in the waiting room.
‍
- I think what I’m trying to access is... It’s like making a perfect catch. You think you’re in control, but you’re not.
‍
- When I had children I covered the room with post-it notes and 3x5s. Now you are at nursery. Now you are at school. Here is a space for photos.
‍
- The most important thing is to find someone with compatible pathologies. When we meet a potential mate the first thing we ask should be ‘How are you mad? This is how I am mad.’
It is important to check that you ways of being mad tessellate.
‍
- You need to be able to slow down your heart.
You need to be able to die, temporarily.

- If it’s not you, then who is it?
‍- If it’s not me, then who is it?

- My job is to sleep.
‍
- After some time, via creative accounting, I became one of my own interns.
‍
- One of my interns, their job is to be me.
‍
- I keep one pencil in my hand, one behind my ear and one between my teeth.
My job is to sleep.

Hypnosis

This piece combines texts from current hypnotisers
with sentences from the most horrible "hypnotiser" we know.

Sit comfortably.
Close your eyes.
‍
Your mind is alive, alert and your body is relaxed, totally relaxed. Even though I am giving you the suggestions,
you will always be in control.
Take a deep breath, and let it out.
‍
Again, breathe in relaxation, and breathe out tension.
Every sound you hear helps you get more and more relaxed.
And again, breathein relaxation and breathe out tension.

And now you imagine a landscape, a widelandscape with mountains, a blue sky, trees and animals.
An ocean of red colours and redflowers.
With wolves that are attracted to wolves,
finches to finches, storks to storks, mice to mice.
‍
Shining red colours and red flowers.
Romping children in the wilderness, wide ways,
like a beautiful painting that becomes reality.
A land, where you are save.

And you think about the power and the genius of youth, which in inexhaustible fertility distributes thoughts and ideas.
All potent thoughts grow on youth's ground.
You see a meadow of red flowers.

And you look at all these colours and you get a feeling of warmth. You let the oaks be oaks.
‍
The fox is a fox, the goose a goose and the tiger a tiger.
Never shall a fox be found, who in harmony with his essential nature has human feelings towards a goose.
‍
Just like there will never be a cat with an affection for mice.
The one and only reason for the cultural extinct is the mixture of jew-

Roundabout

There is something magical about indirect solutions to problems.
Stop eating to get rid of colonisation or giving persons love who hurt you.

Interlude #1

If this character can't get compassion he would be just fine with getting your attention.

I have committed multiple suicide attacks,
shot john f Kennedy and martin Luther King,
skinned the jews, murdered the indigenous peoples,
kidnapped children, nailed christ to the cross.

Planted the bombs in Brussels, bombed the twin towers.
Sacked Troy, blamed Iraq, drowned the refugees
and made the rich richer.
I am a self- proclaimed Martyr.

Can you at least hate me?

Fear & Buggy Thoughts

Often well-meant actions
trying to ‘convert’ nationalist uses questionable methods.

(Lyrics not done yet)

Fairy Tale

Since once identity is always transient any analysis
about it tends to be one step behind.

- I was a prince. I left the palace disguised as a poor peasant woman.
‍
- I was a poor peasant woman. I left my family’s log cabin disguised as a prince.
‍
- A wizened old man gave me a scarf. He said it would make me irresistibly convincing.
‍
- A hag gave me a phial of liniment. She said a single drop would make anyone I gave itto doubt themselves.
‍
- I walked for hours.
- I walked for days.
‍
- [Together.] I ate only olive paste from a small wooden container.
‍
- At the top of the hill.
- At the back of the cave.
‍
- I met the oracle.
‍
- She was staring into space.
‍
- He was asleep. I gently shook him by the shoulders.
‍
- In this world there are only oracles. You follow one oracle’s advice and it leads you toanother oracle.
‍
- Go backwards. Retrace your steps to the meadow where the silver light reflects in thecattle’s drinking trough. This is the field where you died.
‍
- Go onward. Don’t stop until you find a badger in a choke-chain collar tethered to a post, wheezing and spluttering. This is where you will find your mother.
‍
- Either this is all there is, or I have fallen foul of the whole oracular caste and they aredeliberately leading me round in circles.
‍
- If I could but undo the harm I have caused others with my selfish and reckless behaviour.
‍
- If I could but destroy my enemies for what they did to me and make them feel one tenththe indignity.
‍
- On the 7th oracle’s advice I walked East through the desert.

- I began my journey across the desert at its Easternmost edge.
‍
- After two days, maddened by the heat of the days and the cold winds of the night, in themiddle of the desert I met a charming and attractive peasant woman.
‍
- At the desert’s centre I met a fierce and beautiful prince.
‍
- Begging your pardon. I am less than nothing. I am lower than the woodlouse. But I have only half the water required to survive the rest of the journey.
‍
- What is that to me? he said. You ought to have prepared better for the crossing. I have enough water to sustain me and me alone to the edge of the desert and not a drop more.
‍
- Seized with rage, I grabbed his canteen and before he could stop me, I plucked off its seal and poured all of his water into the sand. He fell to his knees and began to scoop the wet sand into his mouth. Then he spat it out.
‍
- You mad bitch, I said. You’ve killed us both.
‍
- He stood. I took him in my arms.
‍
- I love you, I said. I see now where all of this was leading.
- I too, I said.

- We turned.
- We walked North.
- We walked South.
‍
- It was like the Oracle said.

Crushed by a Booshelf

The destructive power of mind-wandering is a scientifically proven thing.
‍
During mind-wandering, problems easily get multiplied dimensions, huge amount of unsatisfying time is spent, things get planned that doesn’t need to be planned and good solutions become a rarity.

- Whenever one of my children does something cute, my mind automatically goes to what I’d say in a press interview if he suddenly died.
‍
- A terminal illness for which I set up a crowd-funding page to pay for experimental overseas treatment.
‍
- Abducted at a supermarket.
‍
- Road traffic accident.
‍
- Crushed by a bookshelf or chest of drawers insufficiently fastened to the wall.
‍
- He brought so much joy and light to our lives in his too short time on this earth.
‍
- He was taken from us too soon. I loved him more than words can describe. I will live now in a shadow world. Every minute will be a test of my endurance.
‍
- Maybe it’s overexposure to broadcast media, or my attempt to be grateful, really grateful, for what I’ve got whilst acknowledging its transience. But it’s a bit fucked up, isn’t it?
‍
- Is it or is it not within the range of everyday, functional neurosis? That’s what I ask myself.
‍
- In a zombie movie when the protagonists try to shut a door but it won’t close because of all the zombies’ arms, protruding, gesturing and grasping... I think that’s what we’re describing. Thoughts.
‍
- The day you can tie a knot between two of your eyelashes is the day you can control your thoughts.
‍
- What are we to make of the information that we are worse than beasts because beasts cannot transgress?
‍
- I am in a supermarket. I peel the cellophane from a giant turkey, remove the neck and giblets and I walk behind an old woman and plunge it over her head. Her screams are muffled by the turkey.
‍
- How we pity the legions in the institutes for the criminally insane who have bridged the gap between the intimation and the action.
‍
- We do not know what to do with them. They do not know what to do with us.

- They do everything. No filter.

- Shove the cyclist.

- Snatch the man’s phone and throw it into the river.

- Mount the curb and drive straight into the pet store.

- Masturbate under the trampoline.

- Their actions are a stain we recoil from like disease. Like thought.

- I drink a 2 litre bottle of water because it is important to stay hydrated. In the police station, Interview Room 2, I do not like the questions, so I unzip my fly, take out my penis and piss on the tape recorder. I am wrestled to the ground, still pissing.

- I am put under surveillance. A policeman watches me, slowly plaiting his beard. It must be a gentle renunciation, he tells me. Meet your thoughts with violence and they will overpower you.

- Sometimes I have an image of a clearing in the centre of a forest. The ground is thick with soft grass. We are surrounded by healthy, flourishing trees, but the moonlight is so full, the stars so defined, we can see each other with perfect clarity.

- Nothing ever happens here.

Interlude #2

Most problem seems insignificant
when looking back.
‍
When Jan Hallman was fifteen years old, he wrote this piece, feeling alone and desperate. .

I'm just a clown with a guitar
you're just a bad excuse
‍
I know tomorrow will be better soon as we wake up
I don't feel so abused
‍
and yesterday has been bitter
and today is new
is new
‍
and yesterday it's been the weather
and today it's just you

don't you want it all
don't you want it all sometimes
don't you want it all sometimes
don't you want it all, Ophelia?

Nutmeg

If big emotions are cooking inside of you it often gets ventilated in very peculiar moments.
‍
Sometimes the emotions simply have to dance their own dance for a while. It’s easy to make up plans and theories about mindfulness but it’s hard to make them have a lasting impact on everyday life - especially since ideals and theories most often cease to have power when we need them the most.

There is nutmeg on your cappuccino. Did you even ask for nutmeg?

It seems foolish of the barista to assume such an unusual taste would be appetising to just anyone, so maybe he got your order mixed up with someone else’s.
‍
It is best to start with something small. Pick a leaf from a tree. Tear it. Hold it to your face. Taste it. What are you directly experiencing? Maybe you don’t want to pick a leaf. I am going to suggest that you do it anyway.
‍
The vibration of energy known as myself is vibrating in a way which does not give the vibration of energy known as myself pleasure. But what is pleasure to a vibration of energy? Did the leaf you picked feel pain when you tore it? I very much hope not.
‍
But for now there is the baby, and your new wife and the sense that even your best actions now form part of an enormous betrayal. The vibration of energy known as myself believes himself to be party to an enormous betrayal. Resist metaphor.
The vibration of energy known as yourself should not be likened to the vibration of the muzzle of a discharging automatic weapon.

The vibration of energy known as yourself should not be compared to a rabbit shuddering with myxomatosis. The vibration of energy known as yourself should reach up to a low-hanging branch and pluck another leaf.

Gambler

Your life’s work is to underline every sentence of every paragraph in every book in the library. After a year I’ll find you weeping on a paternoster. Oh for another portal fantasy. Then you will give a lecture. It is surprising how much you can learn from watching someone weep for an hour will be one of the audience feedback statements. The more vampiric among you may already have drained the vital energies of the person sitting next to you. If not, act now.

On a wall outside the theatre the mortar is crumbling. It freezes overnight and thaws during the day and as a result it is crumbling. I begin to pick away at the mortar between two bricks and sprinkle it on the ground. This leaves a space between two bricks which I begin to work on with my keys until I have dislodged not only one brick but the six bricks surrounding it. The cross shaped space looks like the night sky. Now we will crawl into it.

I am in love with a censor. When the censor refuses me I climb the trees outside her apartment, throw popcorn at her windows and cry.
I realise that none of my characters have ever even met one another before, and that this is ridiculous. Do I have hopes, fears and desires? Do I mock the very idea of hopes, fears and desires? What is there left for me to mock, then?

I think I am afraid of admitting to my hopes, fears and desires, the way a cat is afraid of admitting that it has just found a delicious scrap of meat, i.e. the cat is afraid that somebody will take away the delicious scrap of meat. It fills the cat’s head like a white shriek. Now apologise. You must apologise. I must apologise.

Wire-frame Arcade

The long letter was to his sweetheart,
About or to or written on what was left of the pier.
Terminal stress without hyperbeats, anyway,
It was eleven o’clock, an unheard of hour.
When one of his friends betrayed him
by unkindness or neglect it was apostasy;
Not so with you. That the river might miss
The party, every table in its ghost disguise.
They should make the bottles spikey
That we might appreciate the cost.
Say you will. What is it with you?
I wonder, anyway, post-anthem.
Rather one winds up discussing content;
Prithee now think on a parent’s cares.
Sometimes he would dawdle by the cranes
As if distracted by a cactus, no really,
Everything comes down to somebody
Just stopping suddenly before they carry on:
Small wonder the nametags will need nametags
If that’s to be your preference. The reader stopped
and the tears… subscription required.

Selige Sehnsucht

This is an answer to the beautiful poem Selige Sehnsucht by Goethe. It has a similar core but with more questions asked. Arguably closer to your everyday life than a utopia which just might or might not occur.

But what does it mean, the death in life? What makes you so special, moth, winnowing the dust of yourself, enslaved by appetites neither you nor I can articulate?
‍
So much, I think, excuses our behaviour;
throwing yourself at a lightbulb or looking
down someone’s top.
- Dress it up however you want: Artistic temprament, dark halo round a flame, until we grow suspicious of everything.

Maybe we have wandered off from the tour
but only to futz in the margins, so eager to avoid the cliff edge that we never see the view.
‍
When we’re inside each other that is the ancient field, formation of stars, backstage, backstage, conceiving as you were conceived,
‍
But it’s getting late. It’s getting late to be so beautiful.
Everyone is waiting for you. The bus is idling.
This is the last call for a passenger with your last name. Who are you to keep them waiting?
Don’t they die to something just like you?

To be a Star

The number of people who look up to celebrities is surprisingly high in relation to how many celebrities seem to enjoy it.

to be a star. that's just gigantic.
you are so big, so important,
so incredibly bright.

it's like you have your own gravity.

there is always somebody on earth who watches you right
now and that is so amazing.

of course, sometimes you are a little lonely, you are isolated.

but that's okay, because you are visible on one side.
one side of you is visible all the time. and there are so many other stars and every star shines it's own way and is so beautiful. and as a star you always know, that one day you will explode. you will dissolve. and that's funny, because when you burst you become a black hole and then your gravity gets stronger and stronger but there is nothing near you you could suck inside, because the world is light years away and you can't tear down all the humans, who stare at you every night and think: "you are my star. you are the one i want to be. let me be like you. look, i can shine as bright as you. why are you acting so irresponsibly? my children are taking you as their god so behave like it. always act according to a maxim which can be adopted at the same time as a universal law." i am a universal law.

Interlude #3

A interlude about everything and nothing.
With questions left unanswered and a melody taken from a yellow toy-robot.

My Job is to Sleep

Hypnosis

Roundabout

Interlude #1

Fear & Buggy Thoughts

Fairy Tale

Crushed by a Bookshelf

Interlude #2

Nutmeg

Gambler

Wire-Frame Arcade

Selige Sehnsucht

To be a Star

Interlude #3