The Flooding

From Thee Uncondemning Monk: 

Well do we have a story for you (most of the juicy bits are being held back until we know how this plays out and will be continued on St. Stephen's blog Shitty Bear's Corner).

As many of you may know, we here in Johnson City, NY to be exact, the dwelling place of St. Stephen (ov Thee Uncondemning Monk) has been hit by a Flood. To get you started on this devastating event see this New York Times article, Flooding Persisting in Southern Tier... or here, from our local Press & Sun Bulletin, Broome County could take years to recover from flood damage looking out our back door

As of now we do not know when the power will return, we heard it could be another five days (as the substations are all out). St. Stephen would like to say that, as of this moment, he is alright, the three family building has power via the generator (we will keep it running until we either have to return it, run out of money, or ideally, the power comes back on). And that there are many peoples that could use your help. We are doing all we to ensure that St. Stephen does not have to not have to abandon his apartment (but stuff is stuff, we will survive and do what needs to be done to keep ours safe).

UPDATE: "Our Building Might Be Condemned. This is how it looks," says St. Stephen.St. Stephen has recently spoken to NYSEG (electric and gas) and this was their opinion. We will know for sure as soon as code get here, but it does not look good at all. Updates to follow, as we are able.

All things considered, please consider donating to Thee Uncondemning Monk. Or visit our store... perhaps we should make up some flood shirts... got to keep going some how, and as we said, besides the little family we have and some members of TOPI (One True TOPI Tribe), no one (State or Fed Government) has been quick to respond; we are told FEMA will be coming... but we can't wait... we need to move now...

Our Burning Heart

"We have come to tell you, we have come to announce, we are here, we have been here, we are coming, and you know why…" --St. Stephen

"To see our hearts is to look inside, to let the inside out is to be divine" -- TOPI proverb

"I want you to understand that is was not Jesus Christ that I went looking for among the Tarahumara, but myself... I know I was born otherwise, born of my own works and not of a mother... I was born only in my own labor-pangs and if you could only do the same for yourself (letter to Henri Parisot, from Antonio Artaud, Trans. by David Rattry, 7 Sept, 1945).

By St Stephen.

The Sacred Heart of Jesus, the title given to an icon, which is not an icon. Rather it is a painting, and at once a signal, but for who? Who is it calling out to? It is calling out to no one and for everyone.

The famous image was wrought by José María Ibarrarán y Ponce, 1896.

"O' this burning beard, I have come undone"
--Clutch, "Burning Beard"

But we are not here concerning ourselves with the life of a painter, nor the stories of a life we never had the occasion to personally know. Towards the end of this article we will be speaking more personally about those who we actually know, in particular one that was left out, but whom we have decidedly taken in to our home. The impatient reader may skip down to that part: On the Personal.

What we will and will not...
But first let us say what we will not say and why we will not say it. We will neither involve ourselves with the speculations of guilt that "naturally"* surrounds the above art work, which may, or may not, have been evoked as repentance, as to utter the name of God, in the Highest, for forgiveness; we have no sacred cows, for we are sacred now(s).  

Presenting -- En Attendant Artaud: a Psychic Rally to Murder Magick

By St Stephen
The 3 September, 2011 is Antonio Artaud's birthday, an Anniversary of sorts. He would be 120 years old. In honor Artaud's life & work, Júlio Mendes Rodrigo is helping to put together a special event, with some quite intriguing performers, VortexSoundTech, Magenta Interior, and Sektor304.

In order to promote this event, which I feel would go otherwise unnoticed in the States. It probably will anyways, at least for the most part. I mean, who among you is into the Portuguese electronic scene? Or is aware of the work of Magenta Interior? Or even of the work of our guest of honor, Artaud? Well, not yet at least, but perhaps by the end of this blog all that will change. That is why I have decided to re-post the concert information, which was graciously provided by Rodrigo and company, not only because I have a deep respect for Artaud's work, a man that has made me laugh harder and say, "yes," more often the when i am having sex with the tooth fairy (for those who don't know its your mother who puts the money under your pillow; well, sometime its your father).

As an FYI, we, of Thee Uncondemning Monk, have been asked to make one of my weird little videos for in between the sets. It's no big thing, but for us it is quite an honor.

To be able, even in the smallest of ways, to bring more to light on the dark topic that is the life and work of Antonio Artaud, who is most famous for his impossible Theatre of Cruelty, is indeed our pleasure, and somewhat of a duty. Instead of attempting some impossible or inadequate summery of Artuad's work or of the impact that he and his writings have had, and continues to have on culture writ large.

Instead we shall examine a small, easy to ingest, piece of Artaud's corpus. We would say that we hope that it does not upset the reader's sensibilities and cause nausea, which usually starts with pangs in the head, but will ultimately end up moving into the stomach, upsetting an ulceration as it goes, until one is force (once again) to spill its contents on the floor; this is that floor...but that would not be the truth or respectful to our birthday boy. From Artaud's, Notes from a Theatre of Cruelty:

I employ the word "cruelty" in the sense of an appetite for life, a cosmic rigor, an implacable necessity, in the gnostic sense of a living whirlwind that devours the darkness; it is the consequence of an act. Everything that acts is a cruelty. It is upon this idea of extreme action, pushed beyond all limits, that theatre must be rebuilt.

So mote it be Artaud, so mote it be (which is just like saying, Amen brother, Amen).

After the event, our video will be re-posted on our blog site, Thee Uncondemning Monk (perhaps bookmark all relevant pages, as it sounds as if our east-coast readers might have some busy days ahead of them). It may well go on to be posted else where, but at this point we just do not know.

As we understand it, the concert will record and streamed live, perhaps via Ustream or Google+, so if you are interested in catching what we feel will be a quite memorable event, please visit their webpage; click here.  Now, without further ado, the performers. Taken in slightly augmented form from the blog-site, Die Elektrischen Vorspiele, we bring you the musical/visual performance and the celebration of Artaud.

En Attendant Artaud: a Psychic Rally to Murder Magick

When: 3rd ov september 2011 at 09:30h pm

Hosted by: Galeria Gabinete

Located: Rua Alfredo Pereira, 3 / 4560-502 Penafiel – Portugal

The Obscene, Transformations, and Art: A Non-Monologue

Greetings from St. Stephen

Today I want to present you with a small video on the subject of the obscene and art, as it concerns transformations. So, and perhaps, a little background is in order.

For about 5 years or so now, I have been making little video presentations as part of my academic work. Either of the last two words from the previous sentence, "academic" and "work", as such could be set in scared quotes, as these are simply questionable notions. In part, academic work is a struggle against these very notions. As such, and finding oneself at a college or university, in whatever position, does one want to be academic? And work, what is work? What does the university do besides normalize and promote some tired Protestant Work Ethic? 

I am being one-sided and flippant, but there is much truth to my last remark, I think. That is why we are here; we are the gonzo of the university, we have come... to find that there is no exit. So we must change from the only place we can, not from the outside we can never get to, but from the within of where we already are.

My video, The Obscene, Transformations, and Art: A Non-Monologue, is basically an edited version of the Nineteen-Seventy-One film, directed by Stanley Kubrick, A Clockwork Orange, with a non-monologue read "over-top" of it. A non-monologue is a monologue which recognizes the plurality of speech, a matter I will get back to in a moment. Perhaps in time I will release my essay under the same name, depending on interest. So input is very important to me, as it lets me know what you, the reader, like and dislike, and I even dare say, desire more of.

Continuing my thought on what it 'is' to be academic, I just want to say, that at one point in the video, I give a harsh critique of what the University and academia has done (not all my categories are not monolithic) to the legacy and work of Michel Foucault.

Foucault grabbing them by the balls

Continuing my explanation of a non-monologue, I feel the need to speak a bit about Maurice Blanchot, and his text, The Infinite Conversation, which is not a direct part of the video. Perhaps its enough to note that the first chapter of his text is translated as "Plural Speech: the speech of writing." Since I do not believe that I can do justice to his work in just a few brief sentences, I will simply quote, "The neutral, the neutral, how strangely this sounds for me" (Blanchot, The Infinite Conversation, 1993, Translation by Susan Hanson, page xxi).

a TOPY alter

What you will find in the video is my critique on what is obscene, its place as art, as transformational experience, and as a catalyst for exploring the limits of thought, of language, of experience... as such I speak of the work of Georges Bataille (here you can find the television appearance I referred to in my video), as well as the Chaos Magic Group, Thee Temple ov Psychick Youth (TOPY). The original incarnation of TOPY is defunct, and probably deserves a blog post of their own. Let St. Stephen know if this is something that interests you. As such: I invite one and all to comment on both the video, as well (and hopeful more so) on the content of the reading or whatever else comes to mind.

This video was shown at an upstate New York University, 2010. So here is the link to the video:

Pre-order a copy of The Immanence of Myth, published by Weaponized in July 2011.

Want to get lost: Greetings from St. Stephen

Wanna Get Lost? It just takes a few seconds. Where are you right now? Are you in a house? If so, where is that? On a street, perhaps in a town, in a country, on a planet, in a galaxy far away, in a universe, inside some D-brane? All our science and we are still playing the shells game, or Russian dolls if you like. "Turtles all the way down" as they say...
Allow me into introduce myself. My name is St. Stephen from Shitty Bear's Corner. 
We have no fucking clue (well that is not true, clues are all we have, that and models), what this this is, where we are, what we are doing (and what we think we are doing), how we got here, if there is even a point (since we are only a sliver of the existence we find ourselves in), and yet, we are. We are at least for now. Some say that we will be always. Hugh Everett III, the man who is now held responsible for the many worlds interpretation, is said to have committed suicde believing that his understanding, that his wave description of worlds guaranteed him immortality. Thats the myth (which maybe reality).

Recently (the older you get, I think, the longer that is, that is recently) they have released Everett's layman-paper, where one can find the deployment of an amoeba metaphor. The smallest of the animal models. And that is where you come in. That's where we all come in. We all come in and go out, but death as nothing, the annihilation of it all (as far as our experiences are concerned), like a sleep that one cannot remember, is for some a horror. For others the notion of nothing, of unawareness is a bliss, a resting release from the aneitxy, the tension of life, perhaps Freud is right about the death drive. At times it seems hard to deny, and yet to drive at death is to drive at life, through life (with a stoic stick, cap, and cape), to burn through life, but announced. It has been said often, even on this blog, we fail to live, yes, brother Tepper, the Tears of Eros... we look we ask, we act, what will sooth them? But then I stop (crying). I pull back.
Some claim to remember back to before their birth, but I am not going to draw myself into some past life debate, it will have its turn(s), I am sure. If there is time, and there is. I will go on, perhaps in others memories, but will I be real. Even now, my memories real are they wishes, only probable pasts that I remember for my secret purpose (to go on). What of the stuff of dreams and light?