An excerpt from the Dada Manifesto by Hugo Ball, read at the first public by Dada soiree, Zurich, July 28, 1916.
Each thing has its word, but the word has become a thing by itself. Why shouldn’t I find it? Why can’t a tree be called Pluplusch, and Pluplubasch when it has been raining? The word, the word, the word outside your domain, your stuffiness, this laughable impotence, your stupendous smugness, outside all the parrotry of your self-evident limitedness. The word, gentlemen, is a public concern of the first importance.
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If you know anyone with a collection of old Doom Patrol comics, you might enjoy Grant Morrison’s run, particularly the Brotherhood of Dada sequences.
I’ve been having a killer problem with insomnia of late. For a while I was dealing with it by writing. (Frex, my contributions to Weirdlings were largely done when trying to sleep).
Bu tthe last two nights I discovered that writing demands linearity and continuity, which winds up keeping me awake.
Dadaism – specifically improvisational dadaism – seems to be the answer. I think I dropped off last night during the debate between the two factions of the SPL concerning the correct method to burn heretics. At some point I couldn’t tell if this was absurdism, or else my real work life.
So the next tiem you see me, if I’m well rested, it is your fault.