CalArts Richard pg. 3

I know you will never believe this—but there is a thematic center to life which is being denied,

And therefore, catastrophe is just around the corner.

And what will be the form taken by that catastrophe?

It will be hardly noticeable

Then it will be no catastrophy


Why do I feel like crying?

Tell me

My whole life—since I was a child—my deepest wish was to have all my wishes gratified

But sometimes—I’m not at all sure what those wishes are that I hope to have gratified.

Is this the catastrophy of which you speak?

In each moment, at every small twist in the course of things, inside the tiniest event—catastrophy is hidden

Nobody can expect their wishes to be gratified

It is a catastrophy to give up on such dreams

--that’s what you mean by catastrophy?

You will be happy, unless really bad things start happening behind your back

If they happen behind my back?

You’ll feel their effects without knowing the source of things

The source of things is a mystery. OK? But I like mysteries.


Some people figure out ways to turn unhappiness to their advantage. You won’t be one of those peple. Howevere, you may be lucky. You may be, most of the time—happy. – well, luck in a certain sense

I am beholden to you for small moments of happiness.

You are a perfect person

No. You are the perfect person.

Please. Let me be a hero in somebody else’s eyes

What do you really have in mind

Here it is. The enlightenment of last chances

I have nothing in my head


OK. There is no higher knowledge. There is no enlightenment. The universe exists as a totally—impenetrable mystery. Yet here, locally, the mystery evaporates.

What does this man know that I don’t know

Once upon a time, in the past, there was a name for this thing which eludes, always, human understanding

But it was a bad name.

Since now, there is no name for this unknowable thing, do we say this is a good thing, that there is no name?

No. this has it’s unfortunate aspect also. Since what has no name, slowly vanishes. Not that it is not, forever invisible, and so there is no real vanishing of the invisible—but there is a vanishing of the invisible.

That unknowable—is no longer a void which promises the the end of this world. There is no longer the promise of the end of this world, except in catastrophy, and that is never somethig interesting. Catastrophy is never interesting. And an end to this world which would be interesting—that is something different which is, alas, no longer possible. So this world is here, as it is, and tere is no longer a name for that thing which is beynd human understanding, because there is noting beyond human understanding, and that is the catastrophy which tells of the end of the world.

What am I? I am in fact an angel, come to tell you that you must save the world by escaping from this world

If I escape


Then the world is not saved, because simply escape from the world and that does not save the world.

Wrong. If you escape, then the world—changes

To where do I escape

Here. Right here.

But when I leave, when I escape-Yes, you leave where you are

I am here

You leave

And where?

No where. Here.


My task, after all, is to be a human being

But you’ve acomplished that—

I mean, better than I am

No, you will never be better than you are now, this minute, this pathetic—human being thing—you’ve tried it. Does it work?

I suppose not.

That’s the wrong answer. It works. And now—you escape


You just—escae

If I don’t know how, then don’t escape

Why do you need a name for it

I can’t handle it if I don’t have a name for it

You’ll never be able to handle it my friend

Then I give up.

I’m waiting.

For what

I’m waiting to see you give up

I’ve given up

No. You haven’t given up. You haven’t given up. Can you understand that? Mean deeply understand that? You simply haven’t GIVEN UP

Do you really believe that some human beings have the ability to read other human being’s minds?

I wish it were possible

That’s not what I asked.

Why do you ask such things


See? I’m afraid of you after all

This isn’t the true subject matter that obcesses me

What subject matter obcesses you

I’ll never tell

You will tell. I will put pressure on you until you tell me

Ok. Some human beings have the ability to read other human beings minds

Ok. First you say that, then you say “help help help” and clutch your head between your two hands

If I refuse

If you reuse—it’s not a question of punishmet, it’s just a question of being denied rewards that are certainly due you—that you really truly, deserve.


Don’t you want such rewards?


And what do you want even more than you want the rewards of your desire

Well, my first impulse was to say—punishment—but I don’t really want punishment.

Slo perhaps—I should say—excitement


Yes. You want excitement. And from which direction should that excitement possibly arrive

I have my available directions

Right, you are a place in the exact center of many possible directions

To say something so obvious is to risk making mental telepathy a believeable phenomenon

It’s already believeable, but is it a fact?

In this case, in this time and place—yes.

After all, to offend you is to be of assistance.

Let’s shake on it—no—I reconsider my hand

Put those hands in the appropriate pockets

Here, I’ll make the space around the hand a space pocket

I know. You’re trying to cause an explosion

My explosion inevitably gets lost in the field of explosions, which-- invisible—nevertheless, wipes out the most important memories

I thought you were going to say something other than memories

Yes. But I collected my mental matter—

How many space pockets did you have to empty to come up with that tiny bit of mental matter

I can’t answer when I collect my thoughts

But you don’t

But I don’t, because I want to keep moving through space

And still you don’t

That’s Ok. If I’m not moving, something else is always moving


I don’t know

Doesn’t that make you happy?

I don’t know

This is dead soon.

You don’t know what I’m talking about, but that’s Ok.

Dead soon is dead sooner or later.

Here, match my happiness index. You too can spit on my life

Don’t think f me as peverse. Think of me as an angel. Light headed. Happy to be almost alive

It is, of course, the Messiah for whom I am waiting.

It is of course, the Messiah who knocks on the door of my house

It is true, of course, that a word is being chosen to name some other word.

God himself does the following

Hungry for mistakes.

Here is a new way to use the mind.

I am, I admit, hungry, very hungry

Can you keep up with me? Am I running vbery fast?

But—you haven’t started

Oh? Did I say otherwise?

Yu were entertaining the notion of running fast

Mentally or physically



I’m a physical person

Obviously not

See? That proves how fast I go mentally

I am no longer afraid

I am no longer afraid

This is a good time of the year

The real is what destroys you, make contact with the real and it destroys you

Everything that is real and wonderful, is beyond us

Not here. No way, here, to touch it

Look that fact squarly in the eye

Look for that silence, inside sadness

Accept that heaviness, felt, as the heaviness of the world

Amidst friend, you find yourself lying. You lie to your friends

To look beyod your friends, this is your only hope

You will never be able to express yourself

Friends are your prison

There are things here, not visible

You will never know what’s real, will you. Whatever you think is real, yu invented it. It’s not real

Guess what. I only like to sa things because they never say what I’m trying to express. Therefore I like to say things because they never say what I’m trying to say. Therefore I like to say things. Because I find it impossble to say things

Ok. Let’s put your arm in this thing. Now I’ll start to twisting. Does it hurt?


There is no need for this stuff.

But can it seem like normal stuff—even if there is no need for this stuff

Lok. I am floating over the city. I am twisting and turning in space—like a cloud that is a body of flesh and blood, but more various, more maliable than a normal humAn body

He had no reason to doubt the good wishes of friends

Yes, Christ was always good to me. Christ was, in a sense, not my friend, but the one who opened a door I needed to have opened.

He could indeed, show me the way to a better word.

His world and my world both,

Talking about happiness?—

Oh, I recognize that word

I haven’t compleed my sentence

Anything can be complete, in and of itself

Is that happiness, in your book?

I don’t choose either of those two possible faces

You push me into new territory, I suppose

Oh, I lost it

Lost what


I still lost it

If you lost it, it must be lost

Help me


How can I help you if you lost it

If I lost it, I need help

What did you lose

What did I lose?

I don’t know, but you know

I myself, I know what I did lose


My zest for life. I lost it

What did you lose, help me


No. You help me

You have to help me so I can help you

Please. Make me feel important

Certainly. But how am I to make you feel important

Allow the twists and turns of my mental apparatus to be superior to your own mental aparatus

In what way superior

That will be self evident,

But if I allow this, then it doesn’t follow that I am important enough to make you feel important

Ah. No system works

OK. Does anything work?

Yes. The moment of improvisation in response to a situation

Then a situation is necessary


This situation?


This situation is Ok

But what’s inside the situation

Well, waiting for an accident

Eventually, there is always an accident

But until there’s an accident—

Here it comes—


I said, here it comes

Until there’s an accident, there’s no situation

Ok. Plop. That was an accident

What was


No. That’s just something you choose to articulate, for understandable reasons

Yes. Think I was imitating an accident

(Pause, falls)


You can’t be a hundred per-cent sure it was an imitation



Faster, faster

I will never give names to phenomenon that insist upon visibility

Believe me, believe me. What I see I never name

I never name


You too, are around me now like a vocabulary

Can I punch out vowels?

Can I make explosions of milk and burnt lions

Who roar out?

I’m here for you.

I’m really here for you


My raincoat is packed.

The heavens allow everything

So I too

Close shaved

Knife into the face

As deep


Dressed in red

Dressed in red


Collected, but not mental

Oh no

A head

For that slow roll into space

That bounces

Yes, to what here, I have divulged

Shoot me

(Pause, smiles)

Visionary experience, please?


hello? Where are you hiding?

Yes, to what, here, I have discovered

Shoot me up

(Pause. Smile)

Visionary experience, please


Hello? Where are you hiding?

Do you realize what is happening?

The walls are falling down

People are alone in small apartments, surrounded by personal items.

Sometimes, pictures on the wall, a few, sucking at private dreams

Do you realize what is happening?

A certain number of trains are on time. Others miss

Things. . .miss other things

The beyond which is believable holds me

Do you realize what is happening?

Reasons for existence are tumbling forward

Special trains go even further—holes in time and space

Do you realize

Old light gives way to new light, and then it all comes round again in a fraction of a second

Music goes out through the ears

End of things arrives at a new beginning, and the wallpaper,


Crosses at all times a separate existence

Spent by wasting time

A man who is a giant, uses a knife to—

Nothing analyses the end of the world better than I analyze the end of the world

It’s time to give up on this

I know

What do you know

I know all about you


It’s time to give up on all this

And? What follows

What follows is total self-indulgence

This is work.

A certain kind of work, being done in secret

What kind of work/ Impossible to say

--It doesn’t look like work

It’s work. It’s very definitely work

What kind of work is this work

This work is definitely work


Is it thinking

It’s not really thinking, but it uses the mind

In what way does it use the mind

H, it uses the mind. But there is no way to say in what way it uses the mind


Then I don’t think it uses the mind


Prove me wrong




Yes. Now I am convinced

There is a hole in the middle of my thinking. There is a hole in my thinking that my thinking cannot touch

Use your thinking to touch that hole

No. When my thinking approaches that hole, that hotel vanishes

Then it’s obviously not a particularly powerful hole

Wrong. It’s a powerful hole. When my thinking approaches that hole, that hole vanishes

Then it’s no longer a hole

It’s a hole, and my thinking can’t touch that hole

I can try to attach myself to the desirable things

What are the desirable things

To what things am I attaching myself


This is not obvious


You are attaching yourself to the light in this room that makes things visible. Am I right?

Right again

Ok. I psyched you out


I am challenging your assumptions about me personally

I personally don’t think you have much of a personality

Pick up on my personal music, please;/

What’s available?

I don’t know

You don’t know

Teach me

Teach what

Whatever you have to teach me, teach me

What do I have to teach


I’m supposed to tell you what you have to teach


This is what you are teaching me—

I don’t say what I’m teaching you

How come


What are you teaching me

What am I teaching you

I have nothing more to say and I say it

That sounds good

He found his way in the dark

Why was it dark

Because—were his eyes closed?


Was the electricity off


Ok. So why was it dark

Here is a man who tried to be outside time. He is in time, of course, but he tried to be outside time

Here comes the boat

There could be different aspects of arrival and departure, but ‘here comes the boa’ means, in those sense, that which is already here.

(What boat)



Please. Hit me immediately

Why immediately

I don’t like to wait.


No. I will not move from where I am

I will not enter time, and or, adventure..

I can’t do it alone. I need your cooperation

I refuse to cooperate

You wouldn’t like a little excitement?

I spit on your idea of excitement


(refuse movement. Drift)

The most unlikely solution is the best solution

Here is a man for whom a play is being presented for him only

Here is a man, entertaining a variety of ways to withdraw from the forward motion of his life. Seeking timelessness. I.e., another dimension

I don’t want to know what’s behind this world

Protect me from knowing

(protect me from knowing our essential condition)

This keeps me from seeing what’s really there, thank God

Don’t worry. I put meaning into things at the last minute

First I cultivate a field,

Then I punctuate to reveal the meaning that has been growing invisibly in that field

Ah, this is what we’re after


Render this null and void!

Everything is worn out.

There’s nothing I’m interested in

Yet I’m interested!

That just means you’re interested in finding something interesting

We are at work against ourselves to thicken the brew of our productivity

So hidden collaborations produce---? What?

If consciousness were all, then it would be a one dimensional world

I just lost part of my brain

I have been cheated. Part of my brain has been taken away from me—as a result—I am on automatic pilot

Here we are

To breed

To proliferate

To make things happen

On and on

Pattern on pattern

Things change into other things

How should my brain (consciousness)

Insert into this mechanism

For withdrawal (escape)

The monstrous thing

Is that good and bad




My deepest feelings, hide, are expected to hide

Hide what

What can’t be known

What I don’t know is overwhelming to me. Thank goodness, I am being overwhelmed

Here, hold onto this


Oh, for stability

Do I want stability. No. I do not want stability

Then you’d stop talking

Oh no—

Please. That talking I hear is Mr. X in search of a certain stability.

No. Mr. X says things because he knows that in saying things he knows he’s always saying more than he thinks he’s saying


Get it?

The more I say the more I get de-stabilized

If you say so

I fifty pr-cent say so

So—grab onto this

Why not


Which direction do you want to start moving

Can’t you feel the slight twitch, coming from my hand

That twitch doesn’t seem to have any particular sense of direction


No I am the Messiah

Perhaps I am the messiah

I choose to hide this from you

I choose to hide

How live and think in this light that is indifferent to our existence

The quality of this light is indifferent to me and my efforts

What efforts are you making

Language is finished. We no longer use language

But you’re using it

Well, I’m using it to say it’s finished

But that’s using it

OK. I’m still using language, but it’s different because I no longer care to use language in a particularly good way—I just use it

But you use it

It’s just—a vector. Not a place to build palaces or cathedrals



A vector in language is still language

It’s a vector


This is a vector


This is a vector

(Thud. Pause. Thud)

That noise effects my body.

(points to head)

What part of your body is up here

No. That’s part of YOUR body, not my body


We shared that


Where did we share that

We shared that in lots of places


Ah. You could say we’re still sharing, even though that means in different places in the sense that a closed door has come between us


However, there are things that separate us more than closed doors. I.e. Is it possible that a vector could separate us? I don’t think so. I think we share all vectors even though we don’t know we share all vectors.

I can walk by myself. I don’t need help

You need help. Everybody needs help

Oh? Oh? What kind of help. Is this help? I don’t think so


Where am I going in this situation, please?

You will never be as smart as you are, right now

Look. Your mind is a mirror

Ok. Ok. For extra planetary influence. Ideas—make from sunlight itself,

And then take off

Take off

I can’t leave the ground

Take off!

I am afraid Germans are going to kill me

Leverage starts at the lower levels

There is no bounce

Somebody could be on top of this situation

X-rayed by my own hesitation

I am hard on myself, I know

Fructification until death

Why is it that violence is the only poetry left

Dying to one life is coming alive to a second life


Oh, nothing is guaranteed

But that “nothing is guaranteed’ is in fact the second life I was talking about

Right. You were evidently talking to me and I was only half understanding

Come into the world

Come into the real world

Come back into the world

It’s true.

I do resonate amongst these ancient monuments. But why are you following me?

For help, of course

I can’t help, my friend

I’ve never been led to believe otherwise.

Right. Use me

How can I do that

Use me

I’m very unhappy here.

Ah I do resonate amongst these monuments

Here in Egypt, where I do belong. Resonating amongst the pyramids

Please doctor, this is not your appropriate location

Really? I had best establish myself where I feel congenial.


I’m not going to allow anybody to question my motives, get it?

I’m not going to allow anybody to question my motives.

I want to be allowed into this room

I want to be allowed into this room, where everybody seems so intense

I want to be allowed into this room where, it is my intuition, spiritual issues take prescidence.

This may or may not be true, but I want to be allowed in such a room

When I twist my

Magic ring

Guess what

Guess what

Behind my back

Ice cold

Suddenly I recognize you

Behind my back

Speed rails

That’s what I climb up on

Speed rails

How can I get to feel

Good al over

What’s the best way to feel

Good all over

Radio city

Radio city

I dreamt I went

To radio city

Standing around while people do things

Lots of my life is like that

Standing around while people do things

There is a rumbling behind me

I am moving forward

And there is

A rumbling behind me


This twists in my brain

Thought it is visible

Only in my body


How to use this life

What use to best make of this life

That was my problem

How to use this life

OK. One easy answer is to serve others. But serving others could easily mean helping others to get through life in a way that was not making the best use of such a life

Rhythm helps. If there is a rhythm at work

This is not Good

This is not SUPPOSED to be good

My body has to be stressed in a certain way—in order for my mind to have original thoughts which keep my brain lively.


I need something to lean on

Let’s hear an idea

This beautifully set table, gives me ideas about how to seduce people

The question is, is being here, conceivably as exciting as leaving here or arriving here.

I don’t think so. Being here is simply not as exciting as leaving here or arriving here.

Even reduced to it’s most local level. Being here in this room. If it’s a mere room, it can be now and then exciting. But leaving this room, or entering this room, is this not more exciting than being in this room

What’s it like—to live in this house?

We live (simultaneously) on two planes, searching for the point at which they meet.


language-conscious image)

(Why did I leave out (forget) the word “simultaneously” (ehrenzweigh. Katz-irrational bkk)


talk of faces eyes

enter police—take this drug! How dare you practice analysis

Because, the construct is great poetry, into which reality can transform itself)

I could never manage to be alone with myself

Wrong. You are alone right now

Do I see through you?

Look into my eyes

Ah. Then I do vanish

What’s left when you vanish


I am alone with myself without knowing I am alone with myself.

I don’t know how to be creative

I’m here, but I’m not being creative

Try harder

If I try harder I’m not creative

Then do the opposite

Wait a minute


You do the opposite

The opposite of what

The opposite of what you’re doing right now

(other exit)

Now I feel creative. But there’s nobody around to give resonance to my creativity


Come in

If I start following your orders—



It’s Ok. In fact, what difference does it make since you could possibly prompt me into something interesting

You mean, some interesting adventures?

Yes—it would be my adventure, after all—even if you were the one who made it happen


My options right now are limited

Offer me a drink

That’s not enough

Ok. I’ll press my luck

(Pause. Both exit)

This piece of furniture will have to stand in for that. . .magic object that I could easily call my revelatory encounter.

Now wait a minute—

if I walked out into the street,

would I be even more likely to encounter

something that could genuinely change my life?

I don’t think so.

And in the same way—

If I sit or don’t sit—

Somehow, there had better be a category that doesn’t

Partake of either of these two opposites

Then I’ll be on to something big,

So let’s find out.



I expected to enter bearing gifts

That would hardly be appropriate, because anything you could conceptualize as a gift would place me under unfortunate obligations


Then why don’t you go.

Now—should I or should I not go

Then sit down

Hey—I’m not discussing the opposites I somehow intuit

Then you better make radical changes

I’d like to, but I don’t know how


I certainly don’t know how

(Pause. Both exit)






Emptiness wanted to enjoy itself

Made (tiny) universe

All that arises

Is to circle back to enjoy emptiness

But: louts just as a DELAY

To that return.

That delay = consciousness

Delay—I flash, lurch. Voice phrases


(Mr. X and Mr. Y are sitting at the edge of something bright, turbulent, and impressive. They sip drinks and smile. Other people stand around, ready to serve them more drinks, whenever they desire more drinks than they are now drinking.)

I know you will never believe this—but there is a thematic center to life which is being denied, and therefore, the real catastrophe (I mean—the real catastrophe) is just around the corner.

And what will be the form taken by that real catastrophe?

Because it will be real, it will hardly be noticeable.

Then it will be no catastrophe.

That may be correct.

Ok. Why do I feel like crying?

You tell me.

Because I am about to e unhappy?

Oh no, you will be very happy—unless, or course, really bad things start happening behind your back.

If they happen behind my back?

You’ll feel their effects without knowing the true source of things.

The source of things is a mystery? That’s Ok because I like mysteries.

Some people are lucky. Some people figure out ways to turn unhappiness to their advantage. However, you won’t be one of those people. However, then again, you may be lucky. You may -- most of the time— be reasonably happy. Well, that’s lucky in a certain sense of the word--

Then I am beholden to you for small moments of happiness and mystery, because the truth of the matter is-- I don’t really want to know what’s behind this world. Do protect me from knowing such things.

Do you understand, my friend, that you have just lost part of your brain? You have been cheated, my friend. Part of your brain has been taken away from you. As a result— you are on automatic pilot.

Automatic pilot? Humm. . . Then it follows that I myself don’t know those things that are overwhelming to me. Thank God--

Here, hold onto this small morsel of emptiness--


For stability of course. All these words that go bouncing back and forth between us—isn’t this just Mr. X talking to Mr. Y in search of a certain stability? Or do Mr. X and Mr. Y says things because they both know that in saying “things” they are always saying more than anybody else (--Mr. Z in particular) thinks they are saying?


Get it? The more I say the more you and I get de-stabilized!

But is that desirable?

Of course! That is highly desirable!

You mean—tumbling from these comfortable chairs—

Unfortunate, isn’t it. But these mere pieces of furniture will have to stand in for that magic object we could easily name our revelatory encounter. But wait a minute--!

(He rises, and opens a door)

If we were to walk through this door, out into the dangerous streets, would we be even more likely to encounter something that could genuinely change a person’s life?

I don’t think so.

Probably not.

(Mr. Z walks through the open door. Mr. X and Y are visibly startled. Mr. Z says—don’t be alarmed. I expected to enter bearing gifts, but there was a miscalculation--)

It would hardly have been appropriate, would it? Because anything you, sir, could conceptualize as a gift-- would place me under unfortunate obligations.


Why don’t you go away?

Wait a minute—maybe he should not go just yet--

Then he should sit down.

Maybe we should make some radical changes, and he should sit down and we should go.

No, I don’t think we should go.