on the subject of mutant butoh

Someone said to me the other day: you do know what’s going on in your blog, don’t you? It’s very forty-ish.

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They say we all have a book inside us. It’s true. An autobiography, at least.

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It is interesting to note that most of the memories captured here are at least ten years old. It suggests that a certain amount of time must have elapsed before you find yourself in a position to ‘look back’ or ‘reflect’.

You will not be able to reflect on what happens tomorrow the day after tomorrow.

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This document is connected to its sister document, The Yellow Fever Pages.

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The Yellow Fever Pages were mostly fiction. Fact filtered through fiction. These stories became too dense to be continued. It was a doomed attempt to process events as they occurred through the medium of fiction. An intense, daily process which gave way to the more tranquil task of filtering history through the medium of literature.

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So often things go in threes. They were onto something with the trinity. One’s a start, two’s a continuation, three suggests a conclusion. These pages will now give way to The Mismaze. Another space, which may be more sporadic, containing elements of the previous two and something else which has yet to be discovered.

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Why should a blog last forever? If texts were infinite we’d have to live forever.

Both Yellow Fever and Mutant Butoh would be best read by being printed out, mulled over for a couple of days, which is all they’d take, digested with a mug of tea or a cup of coffee or whatever else keeps the mind company whilst the reader reads.

They could then be put away on a shelf with some companion texts to keep them company, until someone across these idle curiosities and dusts them off. Teases out the connections that lurk within their pages, paragraphs, words and thoughts.