by Andrew Lovatt

In the old days, when feet walked real earth and kicked up dust, the spores rose in the air and got sucked in through our noses. The image changed under the influence of another sense; became informed by a contrary or complimentary message. But it didn’t last long. The possiblity of escaping the tyranny of images faded. We are grown to love the image. Open our eyes and be in wonder. Close them and dream images in even more vivid color. We look for a richness. We are hungry for something unspoken, unseen. We seek. An image arises. Fades into another. We are always on the road of hunger. Have forgotten so many millions of images. Yet some become our familiars; treasured icons of our hungry yearning. A mirage in our journey. An oasis in the desert of our vision. We are starved the moment we are born. Image. See. Look. We go on. Put our faith in finding the big meal. The image that will marry us to our desire forever. We wish to be owned by our image. We wish to belong.

A Piece of String

The old man drew a curved line in the sand. A sign showing the wave of things. Sitting in the bleaching sun. A dry finger pointing. He uttered something, but it needed translating into two hundred and seventy five languages. It came out wrong. Slightly different in each. The meaning lost or gone fuzzy. Not quite precise. But the image remained. Became a symbol. Was shown around the world. Became inexplicable. Something to ponder. Does it have meaning? A piece of string. Something to unite the image. Something to tie it to the next. Or to another image of an entirely different order. He tried to show something but the image ruled. It always rules. It doesn’t need Logos. Happy is the mind lost in the shopping mall of never-ending images. Drunk on one and then another. We don’t notice. It slips under our noses. We desire the new. An image gets stale to the eye if held too long. Besides we are not trained to hold or consider or investigate. The next slips in with such an ease we don’t take note. We fall into it willingly. Hungry for image. We have no will to stop. No idea that it’s possible or desirable either. Image is life. No image is death, even though black can also be considered an image. There is no escape, ordinarily anyways.

Excerpt from The Hungry Image, an argument in progress.

UT-TER

November 28, 2009

Mauri Mask

Mauri Mask

To ut-ter, is to speak

… the line of language

by Andrew Lovatt

To utter is to “make sound”. It comes with its own meaning.

An utterance grows from a sound. (Or is it a sound which is born from the will to utter? ) A single tone becomes an utterance by changing into two and more tones. The line of language extends from the word. Just as a tone flows into polytonal expression, these compound sounds form words which flow into meaning. This sequential expression of polytonal sounds attempts to convey the meaning of something which is essentially unspeakable. It is the convention of the sequence and our acceptance of it which makes language understandable. We agree to agree that these utterances, intoned in a sequential line approximate or evoke to some degree something we wish to express.

“a song is not a Nightingale

if it is sung by a Bear

Each rock in the universe

embodies its own unique sound”

Notes: An intonation is the sly intelligence at work in language.

The Tyranny of Image

April 9, 2008

by Andrew Lovatt

In the old days, when feet walked real earth and kicked up dust, the spores rose in the air and got sucked in through our noses. The image changed under the influence of another sense; became informed by a contrary or complimentary message. But it didn’t last long. The possiblity of escaping the tyranny of images faded. We are grown to love the image. Open our eyes and be in wonder. Close them and dream images in even more vivid color. We look for a richness. We are hungry for something unspoken, unseen. We seek. An image arises. Fades into another. We are always on the road of hunger. Have forgotten so many millions of images. Yet some become our familiars; treasured icons of our hungry yearning. A mirage in our journey. An oasis in the desert of our vision. We are starved the moment we are born. Image. See. Look. We go on. Put our faith in finding the big meal. The image that will marry us to our desire forever. We wish to be owned by our image. We wish to belong.

Excerpt from The Hungry Image, an argument in progress.

New Online Edition

July 21, 2007

Here are some rich new collections just published online – click on title or pictures or here to view all. Enjoy! Your feedback is very welcome – email hereAndrew Lovatt, Editor
PHOTOPOEMS
Irras Han photo Journey
the movement between
by Irras Han
POETRY COLLECTIONS
Taking Shade
with Buddha

by Mark Murphy
click here to read poems by Padraig McCormack Electric Elegy
for the Mad
by Padraig McCormack
click here to read One of Many Preludes by Robert Bohm One of Many
Preludes


by Robert Bohm
Spring Rain
in Italy

by Robert Marcacci
Subtle Delight
by Michael Lovatt
click here to read Robert Gibbons' Beyond Time Beyond Time
38 poems on
moments of passage
by Robert Gibbons
sonja broderick live poetry reading on deaddrunkdublin Bog & Other Poems
10 live readings – audio
by Sonja Broderick
click here to read Theodore Best's The Law of Falling The Law of Falling
4 poems about
gravity & place
by Theodore Best
click here to read Rummy Parl by Rebecca Lu Kiernan Rummy Park
61 poems of
loss & longing
by
Rebecca Lu Kiernan
MUSIC
click here to listen to music by Donnacha Dennehy Grá agus Bás
excerpts & compositions
by Donnacha Dennehy
VIDEO PAINTINGS
click here to view animated paintings by Konstantina Chochlaka Aim & Finger
inspired by the music
of John Cage
by Konstantina Chochlaka
STORIES – FICTION
Strange Stories
& Curious Characters

illustrations by Jonny Voss
by Alan McCormick
stephen moran picture on deaddrunkdublin.com 3 Stories
+ audio reading of
“The Silver Circle”
by Stephen Moran
russell bittner stories on deaddrunkdublin.com The Girl from Baku
6 stories of desire
by Russell Bittner
click here to read Darran Anderson's Life After Godhood Life After Godhood
and other outraged stories
by Darran Anderson
I, Caroline
Up up up
The Sea Saw
by Nuala Ní Chonchúir
DIGITAL GALLERIES
Ossian Lennon
Digital images in new Flash player, with music by Andrew Lovatt
click here to view ethiopia pictures The Light Within
60 Photos of Ethiopia
by Chris Martin
Dead Drunk Dublin & other imaginal spaces is published when the muse moves and the fates allow from Dublin, Ireland. To contribute or send feedback, email the editor@deaddrunkdublin.com.

the editor of deaddrunkdublin
Please see www.deaddrunkdublin.com for the full website. this space is to blog on… and announcements of new editions.

…and you’d think that having a free blather space would suit the Irish no end, being folks who like to banter and generally carry on verbally! Which is why you’ll find the mobile phone in the hands of nearly every Irish person from pre-teens on up… as if the technology was invented with just themselves in mind.

…and here’s the drift of it all – that there is more in the message than the mere words: the form of speech in Ireland is decidedly Gaelic, dressed in Hiberno-English. As if they’d take this foreign Anglo vowel thing and twist it and use it ’til it didn’t sound like the original at all, at all. When we hear Irish English we’re hearing the rhythms of Gaelic and the wit of the Irish mind.

That’ll do for a start. Welcome… and don’t forget to check out our main site!

Andrew Lovatt
editor
deaddrunkdublin & other imaginal spaces

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