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It
was born an accident. Sometime between the end of 1998
and before the Spring 1999. There are difficult traces
of the
incident but I once
heard somebody talk about a wild party where people got drunk
and started defecating en masse, all at once, in the middle
of the living room. This is what I was told. This is what
has been repeated from generation to generation, mouth to
ear, to whomever in the family had the strongest gift.
Son
d'une tondeuse à gazon
qui se met en marche.
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In
its memory banks, I did find records of a party: blurry visions
of Gallic madness, echoes from the water pipes, swirls in
the toilet bowl, sounds of somebody running on porcelain
tiles.
It didn't stop at the party. There were other events, each one more displaced
than the last. It seemed like they had been concocted in a laboratory, with
collaborators dressed in baby blue tunics. There were illicit actions, all
documented and saved
in repertories, phone calls that re-routed into nature, noises on the other
side. There was a dance ritual, performed solo, circles drawn into the wall
with screws
and wooden sticks, a public debate over transcriptions (scratch, scratch, sniff,
sniff), an alimentary activity turned into a cultural gesture. Un morceau
de bois tombe sur le ciment.
Quelqu'un
crit dans la nuit. Un verre se brise, une fenêtre? Des
voix qui chuchottent des secrets inavoués perdus dans
une crypte souterraine. |
Then there was a robbery. All files were stolen
and all documents disappeared. All that remained was the site as stage.
Soon, other documents were produced to substantiate the loss: from a
police report, a retrospective collection of disseminated facts was drawn.
But it decided to forget. It finally left for America. This must have
been the Summer of 1999. At the beginning, it received guests from its
former shell, but it felt it wasn't the same anymore. So it went into
hiding. That was the only way for it to be free. Without definition,
without history, without ties to any other system, it could try to attain
a state of plenitude so longed for. it wished to fall asleep but couldn't
because there was so much to do and a queue to render. It was so late
already....
Before it disappeared, it told me its name. It
was incomprehensible from the cacophony of the city, but it sounded like >>MTRX-E. |
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