{"id":738,"date":"2013-04-12T18:17:32","date_gmt":"2013-04-12T16:17:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=738"},"modified":"2013-05-03T01:46:20","modified_gmt":"2013-05-02T23:46:20","slug":"11-a-grounding-in-numbers","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-vdgg\/11-a-grounding-in-numbers\/","title":{"rendered":"11. A Grounding In Numbers"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nYour time starts now<\/strong><\/p>\n

Your time starts now
\nwithout a question,
\nwithout a clue,
\nyour response will attest
\nto suggestion’s power, so strong
\nand growing stronger.
\nWith self-belief
\nyou’ve pulled through but you belong here no longer.<\/p>\n

Fly by night, it’s over; day by day it’s done.
\nWas it simply oversight that’s left you overcome?
\nWhile you’ve been distracted –
\nplayfully, no doubt –
\nyour time’s been running out.<\/p>\n

Your time starts now
\nand that’s the poser.
\nYou’re going to need
\nall the help you can get
\nfor the ride’s nearly over.<\/p>\n

All that information,
\nall that warp and weft…
\nfor all your patient fortitude you’re patently bereft
\nof clue, of hint, of notion,
\nof answers, even vague.
\nYou’re ploughing forward nonetheless
\nas though by simple doggedness
\nthe far side’ll see you saved.<\/p>\n

Your time starts now
\nand yes, you’d best begin it,
\nhowever long
\nyou’ve held back,
\nyou’ve demurred,
\nget on track, pace by pace,
\njust go on,
\njust go further…<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Mathematics<\/strong><\/p>\n

Here be numbers transcendental,
\non an imaginary axis spun,
\ndecimal places without limit
\nand zero and one.<\/p>\n

Mathematics,
\nsimply pure beyond belief.<\/p>\n

e to the power of i times pi plus one is zero
\ne to the power of i times pi plus one is zero
\ne to the power of i times pi is minus one
\ne to the power of i times pi is minus one<\/p>\n

A single function, exponential,
\njust one addition must be done…
\nmultiplication in completion
\nof zero, of one.<\/p>\n

Mathematics,
\njust so „wow” it brooks belief.<\/p>\n

(You’d better believe, you’d better believe it.)<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Highly Strung<\/strong><\/p>\n

The beat, the beat at my temples;
\nmy pulse, my pulse in a rush.
\nI’m feeling increasingly mental,
\nlegs shaking , my face flushed.<\/p>\n

The lights so bright in a dazzle,
\nthe pumping that thumps at my chest.
\nI’m feeling increasingly frazzled,
\nneed some comfort, need some bedrest
\nor some kind of intervention,
\ncold sweat beading up on my brow,
\nthe hairs on my neck at attention.
\nI don’t know why but somehow<\/p>\n

I’m highly strung, I’m stressed as hell,
\nI bite my tongue, I hold my breath as well.
\nThe iron lung, the diving bell…
\ntime to depressurise, my nerves are shot to hell.<\/p>\n

The beat, the heat is astounding,
\nthe pressure, the tension full-blown,
\nthe static is cracking around me.
\nI can’t hold on, I can’t let go…<\/p>\n

I’m highly strung, panic attack,
\ncan’t do this one, can’t go on with the act.
\nI’m frozen on the topmost rung,
\nI can’t go on, I’m just too highly strung.<\/p>\n

Hold her steady as she goes,
\njust be ready, on your toes,
\nhold her steady…there she blows!<\/p>\n

The case is shut, the song is sung,
\nthe wire’s been cut and the acrobat’s well hung.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Bunsho<\/strong><\/p>\n

I’d just done the best work
\nto fall into my hands for quite some time:
\nof night oil I’d burned much,
\nmade sure both style and content were sublime
\nSo I put it forward
\nto the public forum
\nin anticipation of my due acclaim.<\/p>\n

And meanwhile, by contrast,
\nI’d penned a eulogy, pure workaday,
\njust hack work, just dashed off,
\npacked full of prolix puff and sad cliche….
\nNo-one can really tell
\nwhen their hand’s been played out well
\nand I don’t even know
\nhow my own story goes
\nor if it’s worth a jot.<\/p>\n

I can’t see my stream.<\/p>\n

What I thought was perfect,
\nwhat I thought was polished,
\nno-one thought it worth much
\nand they made that clear.
\nWhat I thought was worthless,
\nmerely repetition
\nsomehow tugged the heartstrings,
\nbrought them all to tears.<\/p>\n

I can’t see my stream.<\/p>\n

No-one can ever know
\nwhat of their own’s their very best.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Snake Oil<\/strong><\/p>\n

Best of intentions, fresh-faced devotees display,
\nsat at the feet of the master,
\nhoping that this is the one true way.
\nEager awareness,
\npicking the wood from the trees,
\nonly belief is important,
\nonly obedience can set them free.<\/p>\n

Here come the paraphernalia,
\nhere come the catch-all refrains,
\nrepeat ad infinitum.<\/p>\n

Slavish devotion, that’s how it usually presents,
\nin an impossibly pompous
\naddiction to doctrines that make no sense.
\nAnal retention to an astounding degree,
\nself-absorption is total,
\nmaking obedience compulsory
\nif they want to reach the inner mystery.<\/p>\n

Welcome to the bats in the belfry,
\nthe buzz-words echo around,
\nrepeated ad infinitum.<\/p>\n

Brainwashed and bound to believe in
\nthe orthodox text, slogans on t-shirts,
\nthe punters can’t wait to be told
\nwhat to think of next…
\noh, what’s coming next?<\/p>\n

Well, nothing is coming and nobody here goes
\nin search of the questions posterity might pose.
\nThere’s only one answer the believers can allow…<\/p>\n

Yes, teacher knows best, teacher knows best.
\nLet’s put the teacher to the test.<\/p>\n

There’s only one answer the disciples will allow out.
\nCultish convention repeated again and again
\nuntil the words have no meaning,
\nuntil the means have become the end.<\/p>\n

What starts with self-obsession ends up in self-denial,
\nthey just so want to believe…
\nslaves to the snake oil of this particular world,
\nelitist and self-referential,
\nthe comfort’s in sharing the secret word
\nwith the picture blurred…
\nthe companionship of the herd.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Embarrassing Kid<\/strong><\/p>\n

Embarrassing kid looks into the mirror
\nand grins like an idiot at his own face.
\nFor as long he lives he will not be delivered
\nfrom the stuff that he did, from his teenage mistakes.<\/p>\n

I can barely believe it
\nhow I went and let the old school down.
\nYeah, whatever can I have been thinking of?<\/p>\n

Embarrassing kid, I squirm at the memory,
\ntry to bang down the lid on the can of worms.
\nIt remains pretty strange and uncomfortable territory
\nwhere my secrets are hidden, however absurd.<\/p>\n

I can hardly conceal it,
\nhow my ashen face got drained of blood.
\nYeah, everybody can have a damn good laugh.<\/p>\n

Embarrassing kid, you don’t know the half of it,
\nbut I’d stake a few quid you’ve got gaffes of your own.
\nTake a look at yourself and you might have to laugh a bit…
\nbut the teeth that you grit, well at least they’re your own.<\/p>\n

And yes at the end of the day
\nwe get what we’ve given away,
\nyou bet: our eternal embarrassment.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Medusa<\/strong><\/p>\n

Welcome to the coils,
\nthey’re here to set you free
\nfrom anguish and dull toil.<\/p>\n

And she says
\n„What you see is what you get from me.”<\/p>\n

You’re welcome in her world,
\nit’s clear you’ll never leave,
\nshe’s a transparent kind of girl.<\/p>\n

And she says
\n„What you see is what you get from me.”<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Mr. Sands<\/strong><\/p>\n

Soon as you like, ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.
\nIn a moment there’ll be a test of your endurance.
\nStay in your chairs in the event of a dramatic pause
\nplease be aware nothing gets covered by insurance.<\/p>\n

One final thing:
\nplease take the trouble to read through your notes,
\nit’s important that you know where you’ve got to go to.
\nWait a moment, maybe the usherette’ll show you.
\nSuch excitement, these are the hoops you’ve got to go through…<\/p>\n

The noises off that turn you on stage whispered from the wings,
\na stifled cough, a joke that bombs, a smoldering fuse wire string.
\nWhen Mr. Sands is in the house the alarm bells start to ring.<\/p>\n

Everything’s in code
\nin a world we barely know
\nand the truth is only slowly revealed…<\/p>\n

With best intentions I have strayed far off the beaten track
\nand of attention I displayed a quite spectacular lack.
\nNow Mr. Sands is in the house and the panic button’s smacked.<\/p>\n

Well, Mr. Sands is in the house: commotion in the stalls
\nand, from the gods, unruly shouts that echo round the hall
\nYes, someone’s let the secret out…the safety curtain falls.<\/p>\n

And as I look across the stage the thought that first occurs
\nis less that we have come of age and more that we’re preserved
\nto pass our time in different shades of ignorant reserve.<\/p>\n

Everything’s in code
\ntill the moment it explodes
\nwe suspend belief, get ready to go
\nfor the playout of the show –
\nhere it is for all we know
\nMr Sands is always ready to roll<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Smoke<\/strong><\/p>\n

Best be careful, maintain a tight grip,
\nYes, be careful and keep the mouth zipped.
\nBest be careful, there’s no smoke without fire.<\/p>\n

Clearly you don’t know where you’re going
\nBut the beaten track behind you runs for miles.
\nYou’ve blundered through the jungle
\nLike a hyperactive child.<\/p>\n

Just be careful and think the thing through,
\nYou must be careful of what you’re linked to –
\nJust be careful, there’s no smoke without fire.<\/p>\n

You held your inattention
\nAnd your standing’s now as suspect as can be,
\nThe charges telegraphed and tracked conspiratorially.<\/p>\n

Just be careful of where your mouse clicks,
\nYou must be careful because the mud sticks –
\nJust be careful, there’s no smoke without fire.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

5533<\/strong><\/p>\n

You can make a matrix pattern out of almost anything
\nTracing causal imperfections in the information flow,
\nCounting out the footfall of professional identity.
\nAnd the number is…
\nFive-five-three-three-double-two-three<\/p>\n

As the primacy of digits ticks the boxes
\nSo the codes that they unlock begin to run
\nAnd the synapses are snapped in to attention –
\nThe observer, the observed become as one,
\nReeling out the numbers
\nThat are mapped in short-term memory,
\nSo you key them in…<\/p>\n

Five-five-three-three-double-two-three<\/p>\n

(Ten, six, four, three
\nSixteen, seven
\nTwenty-three)<\/p>\n

Five-five-three-three-double-two-three<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

All Over The Place<\/strong><\/p>\n

So, driven to distraction
\nBy witless repartee
\nAnd wittering conversation
\nOf deep banality,
\nEventually
\nHe seeks out interaction,
\nFresh eccentricity,
\nOn closer observation
\nNothing’s all that it seems to be,
\nNothing’s more than it seems to be.<\/p>\n

He scattered himself all over the place
\nWhile hiding behind closed doors
\nAnd day by dull day fell more off the pace –
\nA life suspended in live pause
\nHe gave of himself in fractional clues,
\nOblique synchronicities
\nBut nobody knows how alien he grew,
\nHow, drained away behind his open face,
\nHe’d lost his identity.<\/p>\n

Now nothing else is left behind,
\nJust the fallen side of the sky,
\nA thousand miles away from home
\nI feel the cold ghost breath fly by
\nOut of the dream.
\nNow the image blurs
\nOf how we seemed,
\nOf what we were.<\/p>\n

\"Przewi\u0144<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Your time starts now Your time starts now without a question, without a clue, your response will attest to suggestion’s power, so strong and growing stronger. With self-belief you’ve pulled through but you belong here no longer. Fly by night, … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":517,"menu_order":11,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-738","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/738","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=738"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/738\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1383,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/738\/revisions\/1383"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/517"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/659"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=738"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}