The Song of Babble

After becoming fascinated by John Cage’s numerous writings relating to chance and improvisation, I had a yearning sense of wanting to recreate that enlightening self-insight made by a randomness that, for Cage, was inspired by words I don’t understand like ‘Zen Buddhism’, ‘Fate’ and ‘I-Ching’, whatever they mean.

John Cage I knew of as a composer, although personally I know little of his music. But his writings are just as—if not more than—fascinating than his musical arrangements (I don’t care for music). He would write four lectures on the same topic and superimpose them onto each other. He would write out as many personal anecdotes as he could in one hour. He would rewrite other people’s writing using a careful process. I believe he did this because it gave him answers to questions it seems, which is what I want also. This work is in tribute to him.


Recently I have been trying to face the issue of accepting certain parts of myself, parts I do not like to recognise. I do not know if this is related but I have been praying more, not because I am religious but because it gives me comfort in times which are very difficult.

I have hastily recorded some of these prayers. I have then transcribed them, cutting out any interruptions or inaudible parts due to my wailing. I have added twenty-four spaces after every pause to give the text space (I am twenty-four years old). I then measured the width of each paragraph and divided the sections into four (my lucky number) columns to get more space. I then stagger overlayed each of these prayers and printed this vertical paragraph, measured its width and folded it inside four times. I then typed up this text, replacing unreadable words with a hyphen. I then cut out the words or parts that didn’t make sense. I then cut out any boring parts, added some parts and then took out the hyphens.

The four prayers were about the death of my grandparents, an old anecdote about meeting my ex’s dad, the one time I vomited in a swimming pool, then just a general moment of weakness, all interspliced with bawling, blubbering and whimpering.

Okay so it, okay so the, okay so it, intervention, I don’t believe in intervention, my take, take, take my prayers, prayers. Don’t need novel space? Freethinking? Inside me is. Inside me is, is and, the internal collector, who causes tones, that I don’t, understand, that I don’t understand, quite understand. A collection of one, often, as I often alone, the I wish I could, and. I wish I could scrub the words off and returnto this texture, it’s, please, please don’t compare me, my, boring eyes. My, the, electronic fingerprint, has has been disappeared, my has been completely wiped and soon, any paper trail will disappear, and I will live far, live far away by myself, in cabin, a cabin, far from foreignstrangers. To this, this yogurt tastes out of date, interests wain and moult, couldn’t collect, couldn’t be a collector. Texture don’t translate. I’ve, my hands are, I’ve decided to become a hermit, I, my hands are cold. Hockney-esque tree. It’s, I am, It’s hurting me. A collection of one,come, for.
I pray, Don’t believe, pray for a reprieve, believe, I don’t believe in intervention. My family have lied to me, my family have lied lied lied to me. Recently, I’ve, Recently, believing, I’ve recently revoked not believing, lied. To, bear more fruit, to compare bears more fruit, to object, less to obtain, and, more, and, more an object to, to be. I am hand, wearing a hand sweater hand knitted cardigan sweater. Nobody, believes to seem to believe me, it, is, it is, it is too late, too late for me. Back in the 90s I was in a very famous. I was huge. It’s, it’s an act of, offaith. Often, two, am I am, I am often of one, two free. Sensing This, I can sense that pain, they’re, them, they are anchors that drown you, you. Iwant you to to tell me that, tell me ‘You’ll do okay’, that I’ll be okay.

My, my friends falling, silent judgements of me. Fall, to fall into your arms. I bury all things, here. I bury all things here. Delivering, I trust inturmoil, Knowing me, they know me as a failure, failure of, with failed ambition (pigeon trainer). Do, I’ll do my best to deliver, there, is, snow out, outside, on the grass and the trees.