(Source: rbnyw, via dirtyprettything)
Her lips glossed and eyes shining, a pair of enormous dangling earrings casting a grid of shadows across her graceful neck, the film Sedgwick was never more appealing than here. Poised and elegant, she acts as though it’s tea time on Mars. Sedgwick never stops talking, unless it’s to draw on her cigarette or pull a face, presumably in response to something she hears her video self say. The four layers of Sedgwick discourse become a murmuring burble in which only isolated phrases (”We had better times than anybody else,” ”I don’t believe it”) float to the surface of audibility.
Becoming in a sense her own audience, the ”live” Sedgwick often seems startled, distracted, even sometimes distressed by the effect of having her own voice whispering in her ear. (”It makes me so nervous to listen to it,” she exclaims at one point.) As its title suggests, ”Outer and Inner Space” visualizes a fragmented attention, a schizoid disjunction between public and private selves. Never less than animated, Sedgwick appears to approach hysteria — perhaps annotating her video monologue, perhaps freaked out by it.
(via sterlingroger)
Under silver wing
San Francisco’s towers sprouting
thru thin gas clouds,
Tamalpais black-breasted above Pacific azure
Berkeley hills pine-covered below—
Dr Leary in his brown house scribing Independence
Declaration
typewriter at window
silver panorama in natural eyeball—
Sacramento valley rivercourse’s Chinese
dragonflames licking green flats north-hazed
State Capitol metallic rubble, dry checkered fields
to Sierras- past Reno, Pyramid Lake’s
blue Altar, pure water in Nevada sands’
brown wasteland scratched by tires
Jerry Rubin arrested! Beaten, jailed,
coccyx broken—
Leary out of action—“a public menace…
persons of tender years…immature
judgement…pyschiatric examination…”
i.e. Shut up or Else Loonybin or Slam
Leroi on bum gun rap, $7,000
lawyer fees, years’ negotiations—
SPOCK GUILTY headlined temporary, Joan Baez’
paramour husband Dave Harris to Gaol
Dylan silent on politics, & safe—
having a baby, a man—
Cleaver shot at, jail’d, maddened, parole revoked,
Vietnam War flesh-heap grows higher,
blood splashing down the mountains of bodies
on to Cholon’s sidewalks—
Blond boys in airplane seats fed technicolor
Murderers advance w/ Death-chords
Earplugs in, steak on plastic
served—Eyes up to the Image—
What do I have to lose if America falls?
my body? my neck? my personality?
(via alwaysaquarterlifecrisis)
