“Resilience”

Presented as part of a lecture performance of Margarete Jahrmann enacted together with Marian Kaiser at the neue Gesellschaft für bildende Kunst, Berlin in January 2017. We introduced 10 events into the Technopolitics Time for the Transmediale show “New Paradigms.”


RESILIENCE: Brainwave Reading – Thought Transmission_ sneak preview dedicated to Nikola Tesla, Berlin 2017 from Margarete Jahrmann on Vimeo.

Resilience.

Reading my own
brain scan results,

while hooked

to the machine.

An endless sheet
of paper.

Too many numbers
to count,

too few letters
to tell a story.

Two steps forward
one step back.

I guess, I have a
decision problem.

Cannot stop.

Stop.

Stop.

I wanna know what
they know.

I read, while
being read,

what is being
read.

Interception

does not mean,

they catch your
inner thoughts

and feelings.

It means,

there is no
inside.

Even my own
reading of

my own reading

is an exterior
interference.

If I could only
concentrate,

establish a
circuit,

stable,

mild,

calm,

buzzing.

Right now, it’s
more like I left the tab running.

Stuff comes out
top,

disappears in
some hole,

comes back out
top.

I am the sound
the water makes when falling.

A whacky native
American name for a landscape.

Reminds me of the
ticket seller at the overland bus stop in Nevada,

who once told me,

my Indian name
was “too many questions”.

Need to focus,

try a song.

“The telex
machine is kept so clean,

and it types to a
waiting world.“

The streams of
characters waver.

I try a different
song,

then listen to a
fugue for half an hour,

hoping for
mathematical clearness,

but cannot not
think,

what a cliché
this is.

Pop works better.

Sign of the
times.

I ask myself,
whether they are as confused as I am.

Brazil

I study the
latest paper roll

and put a
cigarette out on my chest,

right next to the
left nipple,

then try again on
the right.

A severed left
nipple

seems to cause an
increase in

As

and a drop

in Bs, Cs, and
Ds,

while

Fs

and numbers

remain

rather static,

unimpressed

by screaming.

A fly comes
across the ceiling

in a lovely
parable,

slightly dented,

bent

the way

my lower back
archs,

when I try to lie

flat.

I once saw a
film,

in which

a fly

hit a typewriter

and was squashed

by the typebar,

turning

a t

into

a b.

As a consequence,

Archibald Buttle

is being tortured
to death,

instead of

Archibald Tuttle,

who is not

being tortured to
death.

Something real
ends up in the script.

And this has made
all the difference.

Now, what does it
even mean

to get the wrong
man?

Tragedy and
comedy are written in the same letters,

but really,

they are

both

just improbable
appendices of bureaucracy.

A fly in the type

simply makes the
whole story.

It is not true
that

the system

cannot process

contingency.

It just does.

It’s people that
can’t.

The system has
done exactly,

what it was
supposed to.

It’s reality that
suffers.

I wonder,

what effect

that insect has
on my routine.

And whether

the effect

on the sheet of
paper

is more severe

than the effect

it has on what
I’ll do

in a couple of
minutes,

and whether

there is

any difference.

This is not a
film.

The scene of the
man in front of the monitors in Afghanistan.

Im Gras liegen.
Unter den weißen Schirmen vor grün, dahinter Berge.

Strafkolonie:
Kafka: Inscribing into brain.

Inskription in
Körper.

Das Einschreiben
der Zeit in den Körper, das Ausdrucken und Ausdrücken der Wellen. Die
Proust-Geschichte: Eine frühe Neuroästhetik. Und Kafkas Einschreiben.

Film drehen. Mit
Margarete.

People make love
and talk relationships vor den weißen, großen Sendeantennen in den Bergen.

Berge und Daten,
Höhen und Tiefen, Wellen und Berge:

Die weißen
Schirme, als würden sie den Bergen zuhören.