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ex:lab - Caustic Ophelia
07:48
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Caustic Ophelia
[from The Brick Dialogues]
– Let us acknowledge it.
[Long pause]
– A spore of pollen inside a balloon.
– Glass of fashion, mould of form.
– A drum inside a bloody room.
– The whole world becoming stone.
– Did you think it might rise?
– I wanted to sink.
– Here’s rue for you; there’s none for me.
– The eyes of poor Ophelia. Blasted ecstatic.
– Whatever worm eats or impregnates–
– I sucked that honey–
– under that bed–
– his breezy vows
– sweet bells jangling
– caressing my river’s silvery skin
– disordering the petals you plucked
– these petals I plucked from the wind
– mulching – always something turning to rot, or–?
[Pause]
– The blue bacteria.
[Pause]
– Blasted mulch.
– She’s drying out.
– Dying to dry out.
– Caustic wit?
[Pause]
– Eat me. It’s heat-seeking.
– An open coffin within which many rivers.
[Pause]
– Heartbreak hotel. Caustic soda. Copper. [Pause] Ophelia!
– What?
[Pause]
– Nothing.
– Nothing will come of nothing!
[Pause]
– Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet ladies.
– Good night.
[Pause]
– This artificial heart.
– What of it?
– It’s not nothing.
[Pause]
– Good night, good night.
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2. |
Caustic Ophelia Re-mixed
05:46
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3. |
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Caustic Ophelia
– Let us acknowledge it.
– A spore of pollen inside a balloon.
– A drum inside a bloody room.
– The whole world becoming stone.
– Did you think it might rise?
– I wanted to sink.
– Here’s rue for you; there’s none for me.
– Your eyes, poor Ophelia! Blasted. Ecstatic!
– Whatever worm eats or impregnates–
– I sucked that honey–
– under that bed–
– his breezy vows
– sweet bells jangling
– caressing my river’s silvery skin
– disordering the petals you plucked
– these petals I plucked from the wind
– mulching – turning to rot, or–?
– The blue bacteria.
– Blasted mulch.
– She’s drying out.
– Dying to dry out.
– Heat-seeking.
– An open coffin within which many rivers–
– Heartbreak hotel. Caustic soda. Copper. Ophelia!
– What?
– Nothing.
– Nothing will come of nothing!
– Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet ladies.
– Good night.
– This artificial heart.
– What of it?
– It’s not nothing.
– Good night, good night.
Text: Rolf Hughes
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ex:lab Ghent, Belgium
ex:lab creates new experimental practices, pedagogies and performances, often involving improvisations and/or collaborators who share a sense of indifference to conventions.
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