Fluidity, Flux, Flood
Like children drawing faces on car windows
Tracing the condensation of their breaths,
We repeat the moves, the gestures of imagination, the evaporating lines of possibility,
We build towers of sand and gravestones of air,
We join the crescendos of collectivity without
Knowing where they will lead us,
We journey to the places of ecstasy, following guts and ears and sixth or seventh senses,
We are the partycles
The basic unit of party matter,
Partyculate matter, partycle metaphysics, partycularities & peculiarities,
All colliding with unrandom randomness,
The kinetic potential of raving mammalian materials,
The magic of recombination, of placental envelopment,
The pulsing warmth of a freshly written love letter.
Fluids flow, flux fluctuates, flooding overwhelms,
Constant change as a cemented principle, highs and lows to be expected, and a tendency to toomuchness is constantly being renegotiated,
The electromagnetism of existence, of extinction, of experience,
The elixir of sound,
The grooves of vinyl landscapes yearn for the metallic caresses of a longing needle,
Finding stillness in the sandstorm, the concrete in the chaos,
Between the renewal of the equeenox and the slippery serenity of the solstice
“Without the light, no chance; without the dark, no dance.”
So we melt like broken swords, into shapeshifting, molten rivers of quicksilver,
“If teardrops could be bottled
There’d be swimming pools filled by models”
art: @bethisms – music: foot and mouth
So who are our models? Our roles? Our moulds?
Opening our ocean eyes, our third eye clitorati,
Our new, sense-making organs that absorb the world and diffract macrocosms,
In the era of teratogenesis, which monsters are running the ball?
Rain on my parade, said the frog to the cloud,
Moisturize my sadnesses, remind me of my tadpole youth, lubricate my amphibian nature,
Layers of skin, liquid, skin, boundaries for transpiration
The stomata open wide, ready to emit and to receive,
What are the dimensions of desire?
Where is the sensuality of breath?
How do vibrations awaken tears?
Why are we so afraid of our deepest wants?
Turning fears into feargasms is where the journey ends and begins.
Enter Apuro and hang out. Kneel, lay, linger and add the contours of your body to the countercultural choir we will all be a part of, the soloist and the backing vocalists are interwoven here.
This year, we gather to feel the fluidity, the flux, the flood. We acknowledge the aqueous gifts from the skies, that mold and reshape our habitat, for this was a year of volatile flows.
We gather around the watering hole, to quench the thirst for uncovering, we heat up the timid yearning for transgression against the static iceberg of dominant thought. We gather to erode the monolith of monoculture, and to plunge into pools with murky bottoms, we bubble, we skate, we float.. we swim.. we cruise..
Apuro is the countercultural stage at Waking Life, where peculiar performances, weird werkshops takes place.
We come to Apuro to question, to wonder, to connect, to attempt to transcend the boundaries that have defined us to date.
We gather to erode the monolith of monoculture, and to plunge into pools with murky bottoms, we bubble, we skate, we float.. we swim.. we cruise..