Thursday, April 27, 2006

The Talismatic Effect

Does the title of this post refer to the post-punk retro-grunge swinger band from Boulder, Colorado?

No, not really, although I guess it could be that too.

The term "talismatic effect" is one I am making up, although I am sure others have coined it. It's kind of Joycian in that it points to both the talisman and the telematic. Think of Joyce in Ulysses, where he writes:
Binding too good probably. What is this? Eighth and ninth book of Moses. Secret of all secrets. Seal of King David. Thumbed pages: read and read. Who has passed here before me? How to soften chapped hands. Recipe for white wine vinegar. How to win a woman's love. For me this. Say the following talisman three times with hands folded:

It none too subtly points to an experience that transmits itself as an object lesson in history, that is, no matter how much you try to turn it off, it still feels like you are making (personal) history, which - being selfaware of the fact that you are doing just that - projects you into an alterative state of mind, one that is astrologically favored and seemingly has magical protective powers.

It's somehow connected to that sense one has when creating a new THING in the world, where what coheres in a style of "telekinetic body intuition" is at once frightfully present but also "unnoticed" - as it has to be - since the duration of the experience as well as its growing intensity inevitably lead you to believe that what you are making has (personal) significance, and that something major is about to happen, that you are possibly on the verge of releasing yourself, of leaking yourself all over the distance that keeps getting shorter as the time draws near.

You feel it coming as if it were you coming, like Molly at the end of Ulysses when she loses normal consciousness and lets her body do her thinking for her:
O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

Metadata: , ,


Post a Comment

<< Home