Translating notes : 1. Originally written in Spanish for Teatron. You can find the original post by clicking at the bottom link 2. When the article mentions translation and paraphrasing, it is referring to the translation into Spanish of the Sky TV video, not the translation of this article into English.
BREXIT Aperitif
Just to break with an aperitif. Or as Owen Jones would say, a snack, and what Owen must’ve thought… “The good thing about being surrounded by pricks is that you can get the shit out of there”. The latest best pr4mance that I’ve seen was yesterday at Sky, I think it has viralized already. You can see it anywhere, here too:
Owen preempts the signs with this 23 J performance. In the midst of pro con pre post Brexit campaign, Owen, day by day commentator of European situations, close follower of Spanish politics, leaves the TV set, he leaves the frame and plays with the vibrational power that emanates from the action of getting out.
Meanwhile, the dominating figures of the set remain exposed in the coitus interruptus of their grand heteropatriarchal spunk. (Garzón, A dixit) :
Mi apoyo al entorno de las víctimas de Orlando y de las dos mujeres asesinadas en 24 horas. Víctimas de la misma lacra: el heteropatriarcado
My support to the environment of the victims of Orlando and of the two women murdered in the last 24 hours. Victims of the same plague: heteropatriarchy
— Alberto Garzón (@agarzon) 12 de junio de 2016; Twitter
As Owen kept trying to frame the Orlando attack as a homophobic attack, battling against the ISIS frame, the Islamic World frame, the Terrorist frame or whatever frame they tell you, any of those tales don’t really matter prick– was more or less saying Owen, I am paraphrasing – the thing that’s important prick, is that there was hundreds, thousands, denormativised worlds be them of the type they may, infinite intersections, molecular sexualities (Deleuze dixit), this was not an attack to the good people of the West, this was an attack at the interruption of the hetero-normative. The other two kept going at it again and again bent on the same idea: Owen dear, you are stuck by yourself in a narcissistic conspiracy – I am paraphrasing, I can’ t be bothered to translate*, never in life a translation is a translation in any case, any thing said is a paraphrase, any thing done is a Para-action, any thought is a conjugation (Sontag dixit) – k, so let’s get on with it, as the duo of posh pro-patriarchal pigs, classists of gender, number, colour, agenda, and fellatios, continued to be bent on the idea that Owen was an ephebos Narcissus gazing at his own ‘original’ mindset, Owen could not sit still on that sofa-TV Set, already there was in that moment two TV Sets, the sofa on which Owen was dancing and the supra TV Set of 4sq meters full of terrorist frames, fundamentalist frames, extremist frames, organised group frames, ketchup frames, mustard frames, two hotdogs with lots of onion please frames and all of that media eyewash.
* translation of video English to Spanish
Breivik, just to put an example that fails to rhyme with Brexit, was not a Catholic fundamentalist when he murdered 78 people in Norway. The media defined him as a psychopath Neo Nazi, but what Neo Nazi or what turds in vinegar? – What psychopath Neo Nazi, if he is a Christian fundamentalist? – But the Christian fundamentalist frame was not convenient Vaseline for that shovelling. However, this American homophobic is loaded with Middle-Easternising adjectives – I paraphrase Owen – who if anything, is a U.S. Product in any case, in any case an American membrane, in any case a cell cultivated by the US organism, in any case a maximum exponent of the Westernising culture, in any case. Meanwhile the dynamic duo could not hold their heteronormative farts.
In Biomechanics, what Owen performs is called an Otkas, which is nothing more than the contraction of the rectus, no, I meant that is nothing more than the contraction or the contrary action to an action. If we take a vector, the Otkas is a vector that goes in the opposite direction to the main vector. It’s easy to imagine this in 2 dimensions, it’s an entire different thing to perform it, which is in the end to take it to 3D. But that is one of the big secrets of any action executed: to understand its contraction. To go up when you intend to go down, to pull when you want to push or in a more nationalistic sense, to get out of Europe under the title of a referendum to reignite the colonialist flame. On the TV-Set, in the full blown up image of Live Telly (There is nothing more live than Live Telly), Owen develops a whole Otkas of several minutes to then execute the ultimate action, which is nothing else than to get the shit out of that pigsty.
In a more poetic tentative, what Owen performs is an action of leaving in the full swing of a referendum where the UK is going to ask itself if it is going to end its enrolment to the EU. A legit but stinky question lobbied by a select group of extreme right wing parliamentarians. Each reality fucks with its context and in this case, we are talking about a world superpower fleeing the hell out of a rotten Europe. No babes, you stay here cleaning up the crap, it’s partly yours anyway. It is not the same thing for the UK to ask itself whether or not it should leave Europe than it would be for Greece or Spain or Portugal or Romania. There is nothing more wreching than seeing a superpower escaping from the quagmire. But Owen is not a superpower Owen is like you. Owen, in this performance, is a 4th dimension, a phantasmatic vector running in a straight angle to the three classic vectors. A space-time that moves parallel to that media squirt that labors itself into making physical realities in the form of turds.
Owen understands on that TV Set, as the mud continues to swell, that the best thing he can do is to get out of there. To get away from there not so much to save himself, but as a vindication of that other phantasmatic reality: the reality that shapes in the head of the Telly-viewers. The escape that Owen performs on that TV Set, the EXIT that Owen performs, the molecular fleeing that he develops in those few minutes, opens a subsequent micro space in the form of a spectatorial caesura; a place of rest for the eye of the beholder. In the middle of so much obscenity, a cavity implodes where the eye that watches is able to seclude from that TV Set of evil. A turning of the head that immediately makes the peak audience drop down. Two stooges remain rumbling on screen, and in a moment post to the adrenaline escalation, there is always that trembling in the legs, the shaky shaky baby. Nobody listens to them anymore and they loose fuel ignoring the main action, which takes off its earpiece and disappears from the frame. Another universe takes place in the heads of the spectators.
Lately I’ve been observing in the passing of this city, how the idea of leaving begins to ferment. When you leave a discussion halfway, your body enters a strange place. But when you detect that you are moving in parallel realities in relation to the surrounding, to continue to discuss, to rattle for a space, to go out to the street to put up a fight, to shout louder, to try to convince, becomes a pile of mainstream pater nostrum reflexes. Per contra, to stay quiet, to erase your traces, to disappear, to assimilate anonymity, to make oneself an amalgamate of rocks and corals, to assemble into new geographies, to dissolve in the air, is in the end, to get to terms with one’s own phantasmatic reality.