OFLUXO

A gelatinous saudade has created its own forever-amnesia. Time has been more liquid, free-floating, moves quick with disaster and then gets stuck for weeks on end in gooey epoche. Whatever you call it– the long 90s, the infinite now, the end of history, the altermodern – it all has the speed of a lava lamp. Lacking memory, it can only offer aleatory repetition and viscous non-savoir. The shapes the lava lamp generates aren’t trying to repeat the shapes that came before, but they often do.

When the oracle finally goes to speak, marbles start dropping out of his mouth and rolling along the floor. The oracle can’t get the meaning out. The harder he tries to mouth the words the more marbles keep falling; and the more the noise sounds like a chanting murmur. Soon, the marbles carry and become the message. The bouncing, clicking, animism rolls away.

The marbles are whispering to each other as they roll. It is a vibrant, permanent murmur that exists between them. To us, it is all noise without a signal, but deep down we know that it has syntax. We just can’t make sense of it. We listen in but we haven’t been invited to the dance.