by Karen Christopher
I am distracted by the blind spot in my eye
In the left eye, an area of dotted frenzy, like the white noise
positions on an old-school television dial
unassigned or untuned — unaddressed — for those of you who
never saw that kind of thing
I distract myself
walking down the street to see the kingfisher by the creek
too many stops for a chin wag
a flash of blue-green and a long beak is worth more today
than another person wording on on the state we are in
distracted by the workings of my brain I miss a stitch or I add one
how does that happen, these faults cause faults that twist the work or cause unravelings
how did I not see it, losing track in the middle of a row
or at the end when because of an involuntary mind wander I have no idea whether
it was one row or two I have done
if I have breakfast now
I wouldn’t write this line but
without breakfast I lose the power of speech
sun from behind the blanket of cloud
all tulip-turn to face it
how does idea travel
If it is not Friday it must be Thursday.
the static on the dial is replaced by a binary of signal or no signal
no half light, no in-between without wireless fidelity but
writing that shows me that it isn’t true
as I write I find the in-between is the stall and the pile up of juddered words
the frozen expression caught in the ice or the sudden lava flow of signal density
going out on a limb, I’ve closed the gap
false statement leading to flash insight
remarkable reversals allowed here
and it isn’t wireless fidelity either
go look it up it may have started with ALOHAnet
then boosted by WaveLAN to connect cash registers
eventually it became it became it became it became
“IEEE 802.11b Direct Sequence” the master distractor
the rain falls without remit all day
the water finds every last rivulet a home
puddles become ponds become lakes
a brace of shoulders, an archetype of angels
a rush to Friday in the middle of the week
a snail presses through a plastic garden grid
the front of the shell easily fitting
now stuck in position, the whirl too thick to make it all the way
horns wandering this limbo
sticky
He says to his mother
I’m in the territory of Ukraine. I’m a prisoner of war.
via WiFi I can repeat it as long as the signal holds
a woman tells the soldier get out of my country and when he doesn’t she says then take these seeds and put them in your pockets so at least sunflowers will grow when you all lie down here
driven in a vehicle called distraction we don’t know where it goes
there’s no fuel but it drives on fumes providing the sensation of go is all it takes
and somewhere we arrive, is it inability to concentrate, obstruction, diversion, amusement, derangement, mental distress, agitation, wildness, insanity
and the president says this country was formed not by religion or ethnicity or geography but as a consequence of idea
never fully lived up to that but never walked away from it, we’ve never abandoned that idea
how to arrive how to come home how to be home how to leave home how to stay home how to build home how to share home
Friday I wash my hair.
Karen Christopher is a collaborative performance maker, performer, and teacher. Her company, Haranczak/Navarre Performance Projects, is devoted to collaborative processes, listening for the unnoticed, the almost invisible, and the very quiet, paying attention as an act of social cooperation. There have been six Haranczak/Navarre performance projects, five duets and a festival. The most recent duet is Always Already, an 8-hour performance installation made with Tara Fatehi Irani.
Entanglements of Two: A Series of Duets, co-edited with Mary Paterson, is a book of essays focused on the form and practice of the work of pairs in 14 different ways by 14 different people across different disciplines. She was a member of Goat Island performance group for 20 years. www.karenchristopher.co.uk
Something Other 