How many takes? She was very sweet. She was a comedian. She was very shy. She was fuck me. She was very uncomfortable. She was convinced, she was not very sexy and pretty. She didn’t have an aura of sexiness about her. There was some magic about her, she would play at it. She would burlesque it. She seemed like a lost child. It seemed to her like Alice in Wonderland and she could not believe it. Anybody was very serious about her. She really felt she didn’t have the inner qualifications to fulfil the image of a sex goddess. She thought that the whole thing was a lie, because it was not her. She would never feel worthy. She was very very difficult. She was vulnerable. She was weak. She was teary. She was struggling. She was falling apart. She was hurt. She was an addict. She was needy. She was difficult. She was in pain. She was adorable. She was drunk. She was nice. She was childlike. She was late. She was lovely. She was hanging on. She was calling me. She was calling everybody. She was caring. She was unprofessional. She was sexy. She was beautiful. She was funny. She was doing the thing that was wanted of her, she was not doing what she wanted.
You hear insects all the time everywhere. You are scared of insects. They are violent in their multitude. Their amount is unexpectable, unknown small horror that creeps. Their force is their poison and need to go under your skin. To eat you to consume you and move on to the next body.
Africa is scary. It is enormous and endless and dark. Endless in its blackness, noise, violence, liveliness and uniqueness but we like to see it as one block because we must understand within our rational frame all, even the things which don’t fit the frame in any way. We need to force all into our frame to comprehend and control and use. All that we can’t control, what can we do with it?
Ethnic sounds, drums, stomping, whipping, singing. Animal sounds: roaring. Human sounds: shooting. Nature’s sounds: the wind, eruptions, the grass, the rain.
Cacophony distilled normal, a harmony, a naming. Making order, giving advice, giving comprehension and guidance, harmony like for a choir with a conductor. Do not make a mistake. You will be punished. Who are the people who punish? Who are the people who are punished?
Coffee cantata, tsinasil signifies the sounds of whipping of Jesus. Wondrous voices made with instruments invented. Giselle is losing her mind. Think that sound.
Majakollektiivi Timanttimetsä 