WORLD-SPORT: Act 1, scene 4.1

MANILA, 2007

PREPARING TO COMMANDEER THE GRAND HOTEL ABYSS



[Reuters: l-r: MILOU, WILLY AUTONOMOUS, ARCHANGEL TOAL, ____, TINTIN, GAY ENOLA, HUMBROL DISASTER OLIVE DRAB, TABAQUI THE DISHLICKER, HADDOCK.]

[CITALOPRAM and THANATOS have proto-retrogressed to GAY ENOLA and WILLY AUTONOMOUS, respectively. TINTIN feels a premonition of another nosebleed. ____ worries that she is underdressed. MILOU has developed both Blitzkrieg and “deep battle”. HADDOCK emerges as in an erotic dream of the void.]

HADDOCK: Is it the possibility of change that is jointly despair and resistance?

[ARCHANGEL TOAL weeps demonstratively.]

MILOU: [licking lips.] how, dear ____, can such ardour be manufactured once a paralysing self-diagnosis of ‘stupidity’ has been made?

____: I am given cause to wonder what your, Milou, investments in a potential answer to this question are. Your text is merely a behaviour and therefore the character of the solicitude here is obscured to me. That is to say, I do not know whether you (or it, your text) implicitly profess to be yourself (itself) caught up in the dilemma proposed and are asking for a way out (a question therefore analogous to: how will I utilise this sheet of sandpaper to disintegrate this super-stardestroyer) or you propose this as some neutral sociological diagnostic of a material data-set ‘we’ are anonymously as participant in as any divulgible ‘you’. Why is the specificity of this intention important to me? You persistently drag out a humanist instinct in me which assumes that somewhere latent in the apparent neutrality of your interest in these issues lies the claim of an individuating instinct. The fact that you feel competent to stake a knowledge-claim in the normative manufacturing processes of ardour suggests a self-claim of a sort, if griddled-free of the identificatory complaisance so persistently vilified in your own practise. The pertinent negative question embedded in yours might be: If such ardour cannot be manufactured under the condition of knowing stupidity, what are the manufacturable forms of ardour left for the ethically conscious consumer?

TINTIN: I, for one, take issue with this idea that stupidity and ardour are somehow incompatible. Take that thing you had with the fence…

____: One, I might suggest, is despair itself. Haddock seems to think there is some cause for optimism here.

DELOYT$TUSH: I am only one individual glassy hillock on the sandpaper. I cannot know the world-historic significance of the micro-activity I contribute to the material process of history. I can only trust the limitations of my own competence to negate if I wish to attain the bleached out disintentionality of true prior being where I cannot be held responsible to know anything.

____: Same difference, then. Let’s do it and say we didn’t. Let’s not do it and say we did. Let’s not do it and say we didn’t.

GAY ENOLA: I can trick you into getting an erection.

WILLY AUTONOMOUS: Go on then.

GAY ENOLA: The government says it is al-Qaeda terrorists and the Taliban that are killing civilians and troops... the government's comments will please Nato.

WILLY AUTONOMOUS: [violently erect.] I fail to see how I have been ‘tricked’ here.

____: I don’t know, maybe I’m just not like you guys. I don’t feel the contradictoriness as some kind of constraint or bottle-neck in production. It’s just there as an attitude we can wring our hands in, or not.

[Enter TABAQUI THE DISHLICKER – all in one skisuit, socks, nerfhead etc.]

TABAQUI THE DISHLICKER: Look at it really fucking hard. Bastard scansion like screwing a claymore into amber, and all you could see was mirrored your desire for (qualitatively) not unreasonable love from a (quantitatively) not unreasonable handful of dolts. Be free to love yourself through loving me in your own way without fear of prejudice or intolerance, we both profit by the arrangement and the sum total of love is refracted always towards those who will love you for it in turn, i.e. ultimately for themselves. See loving me as an investment.

HADDOCK: .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. --..-- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. --..-- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. --..-- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. --..-- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. --..-- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. --..-- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- .... . .-.. .--. -- . .-. .... --- -. -.. .- -.-- . .- .... --. . - .... . .-. --- ..- - --- ..-. -- -.-- .... . .- .-. –

HUMBROL DISASTER OLIVE DRAB: Hey, you’ve got friends. Don’t give up.

TABAQUI THE DISHLICKER: But what is love. Formally, the endless questioning as to the essence or identity of love is an air bubble for frantic lips away from particularity, which can be represented as roadkill or drowning on your last continue. The time has come to have a long, hard look at the facts (facts cannot be close-read so relax, your gaze must be lethal but not particularly attentive, unless you wish for it to appear so). Fact A: as demonstrated re: love, profitable love is our ultimate concern.

MILOU: Somebody give me a Viagra.

TABAQUI THE DISHLICKER: This is why I no longer care about behaviour. Behaviours are discreetly entrained by the managed social contents of space, which (like your behaviours) are always imperceptible until you cause a glitch in the system. You walk into a restaraunt and find yourself asking for food. The Ugandan proprietor looks at you as if you had asked for a titwank. Think about it.

[All become pensive. TABAQUI THE DISHLICKER and HUMBROL DISASTER OLIVE DRAB coincide and annihilate after dinner as if beautifully destined to do so.]