Caramblogage

The May Issue is available at  Modern Graphics in Oranienstr., Berlin.  It's all about lines.  Below: The April Issue of the Book of Faragh.  The comic I chose for this month was "L'Arabe du Futur 2 (1984—1985)" by Riad Sattouf. If the first volume is anything to go by, the second one (in French this time) should continue to be a thought-provoking journey through a youth in Syria and France. 

This IGAF (Is Goodness a Fashion) series explores, from a non-expert point of view, the social, economic and narrative ramifications I see developing from the COVID-19 crisis, worries, but also hopes for a future that the current shock to the system may result in. via Raul Krauthausen  :) I don't know what to say about media in relation to COVID-19. A couple of reasons: I quit most social media a few years back, a move I regret and don't at the same time, and I don't watch TV- not even streamed evening news. So my perception of the way this crisis has been reported has been shaped by articles I chose to read in media I follow anyway, both in the mainstream and otherwhere, Youtube and, more recently, Twitter. This is a very unusual position for me to be in, as I usually try to gain as broad an overview on media practices in shaping the narrative in this kind of situation. But, even as I reload the various news feeds and blogs I'm following every minute, this is ...

This IGAF (Is Goodness a Fashion) series explores, from a non-expert point of view, the social, economic and narrative ramifications I see developing from the COVID-19 crisis, worries, but also hopes for a future that the current shock to the system may result in. https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/oureconomy/following-coronavirus-money-trail/ The response to COVID19 demonstrates the role of publicly funded bodies in the resolution of public and economic moments of panic- the role of governments and geographic unions, of a global response to a pandemic, of a healthy and workable health care system that is universal and the ability to effect universal solutions to specific problems. There are some "temporary" measures that, no matter whom you ask, will be described as "human". Time to wonder and wander, to crystalise your path, to engage with friends and loved ones, to not work- to, for a while, not operate within the rules of the market. It is a short break befo...

At the supermarket, paying for shopping. The cashier feels the need to convey how exhausted she is. The bank: "We're sorry it took so long. Our people are dealing with a really heavy workload" Talking to friends: "My body feels so tired… my mind is having a hard time keeping up." On the street, a random person feels the need to inform me how exhausted they are. I reciprocate. It's the new hello, and we do have it in common. Chronic fatigue is an indicator for depression. tire (v.1) "to weary," also "to become weary," Old English   teorian   (Kentish   tiorian ) "to fail, cease; become weary; make weary, exhaust," of uncertain origin; according to Watkins possibly from Proto-Germanic   *teuzon , from a suffixed form of PIE root   *deu-   (1) "to lack, be wanting." Related:   Tired ;   tiring . From: https://www.etymonline.com/word/tire?ref=etymonline_crossreference 

For about five minutes, everyone knew his name. Then they did not remember. Louk DeSalam, branded a dissident by the state, had, one day questioned the widely accepted wisdom that socks had to be burgundy on Wednesday and be labelled with the day of the week. He had been able to continue his subversive charade unnoticed for years, so the legend goes, by hiding his socks underneath his trousers. The day he finally snapped, fifty guardians had pursued him through the back alleys of the city, the chase ending on Square 83. After a brief, but impassioned speech, they piled on him, pulled the offensive sockware off his feet and led the barefoot anticitizen to Redefinition Context 12a. People posted the arrest on Media, but quickly desisted when they realised Media would not amplify the story- it was unimportant. And so it became unimportant to them. Though he was forgotten, socks were now puce on Wednesdays. And Wednesday was now called Medwekken, which took some getting used to. A...

It was a quiet, peaceful, predictable time. All the songs were about love, and peace, the soy eggs on the breakfast table and 176 shades of lavender. The news spoke of growth, the glory of the nations and endless, invisible victories. Time was devoted to communal reflection on publicly accepted (and officially endorsed and corrected) opinions. Art was abstract, fluffy and properly integrated into the market. Everyone knew their exact value, as determined by the "Citizen Points" system, daily tasks and privileges, as assigned and earned through that system. And the big numbers generated by the economy buoyed the general optimism of the era, which in turn bulled the market, which in turn buoyed the big numbers- it was a healthy, reciprocal cycle.   No-one really liked each other, but everyone somehow got along- of course, people had long ceased to talk to each other directly. Such unmediated communication had beed deemed harmful, unsafe and untrustworthy by the majori...

This is a question.g

Tweet, tweet, tweet, Insta, Post, Status, Snap, Selfie. News flickers over the screen, at ever-increasing speed. A soap opera with a cast of familiar characters, changing occasionally to keep things fresh. The topics of the day are political theatre, the exciting effects of interference in otherwise unremarkable lives, the slow melting of the planet and how to keep yourself safe online while maintaining enough back doors for surveillance to follow you.   And kittens on speed wearing pirate costumes. "Why did I not know about the tiny discovery that changed the world?" Are You Not Distracted?

With no further comment, we move on.

Every life consists of many deaths and rebirths- some of them are choices, others are conditions.  The death of the child- often killed and relegated to fond memory, making way for a more practical evolution. Learn to suffocate that child, put it in a coffin and carry its weight on your back. Its ghost will haunt you for the rest of this life, but don't worry- you will die too, and it will return. And then, you may find yourself happy.  Death Tarot Story Having left the tree from where he hung, the Fool moves carefully through a fallow field,  head still clearing from visions. The air is cold and wintry, the trees bare. He knows he has  started on his spiritual journey in earnest, but feels strangely empty and profoundly sad, as  if he has lost something.  Before him he sees, rising with the sun, a skeleton in black armor mounted on a white horse.  He recognizes it as Death. As it stops before him, he humbly asks, "Have I d...

"Get a Life!" she said, and left. What she did not realise was that, from his perspective, she did not have one at all. "A Life" is something everyone has had, or will have had by the time they die. How they choose to fill it is a series of personal choices and coincidences that lead to a patchwork made up of labour, leisure, relationships and knowledge (to name a few components of this weave). The quilt matches others- or it does not. What is generally implied by this suggestion is: "Why is your life not like mine- something I can understand." Some will follow up on this suggestion. Others will not. Either way, this does not change the fact that they have a life. How they share this is up to them.

1. You can imagine how important food is to me- a vital ingredient to a life that does not lack in variety or flavour. When I make it myself, I usually know that it will be good- more so when I set my mind to making something yummy. It has many side-effects, part of which is a feeling that is very close to flow- the knowledge that you know where you are and what you are dealing with, surrendering yourself to combination and action unhampered by thought. And the result- it is even more rewarding as it has a tangible, edible outcome- is an excellent example for instant gratification. It smells delicious and fills you up with a warm feeling.  In this ongoing art installation, the artist will perform the act of cooking without ingredients, without additions or, indeed, food. They will undertake to cook only water and salt, necessary to sustain basic life functions. This ongoing performance, conceptualised in solidarity with those who use their hunger to protest all over the...

Love is a big word that has been filled with so many meanings that for me to strain its contours by doing more than writing it out in pretty letters is to do it a disservice. There is much to discover about the content of the word- go out and find it for yourself and fill it with your own meanings, which only experience can give you. Like religion, discovering love is deeply personal- books and people can help guide you, and give your understanding a foundation and context, but what love ends up being for you cannot be determined by anyone but you. Maybe we need a new word for love.

Nizar Qabbani  wrote his epic poem "When Will They Announce the Death of Arabs" in 1994. He was living in London at the time, far from his native Syria, watching the world he had grown up in and represented as a diplomat from afar. America had launched operation Desert Storm - a storm that lasts to this day-  two years prior, and marked  1993 with the launch of 23 cruise missiles  on Iraq. Qabbani will die of a heart attack in 1998. In 18 stanzas, he explores the wishes and dreams he once carried, describes, however tribes and nations at war, that believe that secret services (like a cold, or a headache) are part of some heavenly order. He bemoans that the idea of the "Arab Nation" (possibly derived from the Pan-Arabist ideology that was crystallised during the Nasser years) has never come into being. He has been trying to draw a picture all his life, but his crayons have been taken away. He has watched wars- on TV, he has tried to imagine the idea of a peac...

A verbose pirate. An eternal child, fascinated with triangles. An archeologist with formerly triangular breasts. A post-apocalyptic hunter. A monster hunter . A plumber and his brother. A man in the wrong place . The Kid. A witch wearing her hair as an outfit. An indoctrinated space saviour . A vampire.   Bricks.  A Dog and a Rabbit (at the same time). The Death Salesman. A Cyborg with a fancy coat. A Hacker. A Prisoner. The ruler of an ancient race. Amoeba . Most gamers have led multiple lives and inhabited many number of bodies. This sounds esoteric, but considering the number of characters invented for, or translated into gaming, magic is not required, save for the suspension of belief and its recreation. The key phrase is “role-playing”, the freedom to recreate yourself in someone else’s image, and discover how it aligns with the perception of your self.  Playing a particular character can be compared to assuming a role in a play, or fil...