Multidimensionality of time — hybrid notes | Michael Dickel
So, she walks onto the stage below the rows of chairs in the bar. Glass-noise filters from the bar in the back, the sound of drinks ordered, mixed, taken up.
She performs — Not linear or flat-world geometry mere 1 or 2 dimensional mirror. Not even or odd three dimensional many-splendored dimensions Spreads out from big bang all possible directions dimensions collapsing back. Self on itself singularity time time bubbles toils, boils, foils us all strings film pressure folds wave goodbye dimensions High energy held in your sighs time pressure builds lost this loving feeling larger-on-the-inside dimensionality experience flows on the emulsion surfeit of surfaces surf faces surface breaking wave bubbles roiling time dimensions
The judges take a moment, hold up their cards when the MC asks. She has an almost perfect 10, only one of the five judges holding up a 9. What the hell.
The chose me randomly to serve as a judge. I held up the 9. The history of us untraceable in the heart of her performance, not linear, always bubbling, moving through bubbles, bubbling up — narratized into linear experience only in our minds.
Memory, counter-memory, memory counters create, un-create, re-create our narrative(s) for us of us, each discrete, lost as its found, foundering in the deep sea of possible and probable. The experience more randomized, spirals — spins — spreads — chaotic, fractal rather than narrative, she explains to me as we leave the bar much later that night.
She had won the competition, slammed her poetry right up against me. Us. Her. The other slam competitors.
Memory, counter-memory: Jesus Hernandez, Chicago 8 / 7, erasure a part of every narrative, I call.
Memories: gas station, Maryland/ Chestertown and Quakerneck Landing, train ride, walking/ running through black neighborhoods to Old Town. Okay, also Hernandez, she responds.
Counter-memories: MLK, Jesse Jackson, Black Panthers, “outside agitators”, whispers relegated to the alley call.
So many narratives, she answers.
As we walk to our car, she performs her poem, “Long Silence.” I join in.
(Time) less (dissonance)≠ (harm)(money), I reflect.