The Unknown Shoulder

by Brendan deVallance

Internet Cafe
In conjunction with Randolph
Street Gallery & TelePoetics
82 E. Third Street
New York, New York
November 17, 1995


This performance series was transmitted to Chicago and from Chicago to New York via some kind of primitive computer video transmission. It was interesting and odd all at once.

NEW YORK - CHICAGO - HUNTINGTON BEACH Telepoetics featured a link-up with the Internet Cafe, 82 E Third St, between 1st and 2nd Avenues in Manhattan's East Village. The Chicago site was Randolph Street Gallery, 756 N Milwaukee Ave.The event showcased the Chicago voice in performance art and performance poetry. Chicago emmigres in New York joined present day Chicagoans so the audiences in both cities could listen, watch, and compare. New Yorkers included: performance artist and 8-track guru Brendan de Vallance; slam poetry champion and "Big Goddess" Lisa Buscani; Letter eX founder and poet Deborah Pintonelli; musical world-traveling poet Lydia Tomkiw; and raconteur author of "Bricolage Ex Machina" Carl Watson. Current Chicagoans included performance and videopoet Jean Howard; Katherine Boyd in her performance as the "Deer Lady"; Bryn Magnus of Chicago's Curious Theater Branch with a story of Wisconsin; and David Kodeski and Lusia Strus, both from "Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind".


The Script



Idiots Deal (real)

Junction holdings and reasons for it
I get a bleak sound rattling
Inside the me I want to be
and Junk hop holdings
I will do as I am told
Fall into the clear and unknown
Do you junk the job up now?
Or do you stand the fire to hot to know the heat of pain?
I get the hot undone and weathered
I am peace
I am sweater
I am the feel falling heart
will you heart the job down stone?
and real the real to all reals
of lost and stupid deals

Fear of Crap

Heaven Jumps in
my fear of crap
Razors sharp I jut (cut) my face
fear of crap
The desire to leave a hole for a self
my fear of crap
Come back to the night
fear of self unknown
I got a typo here
call it poetry
fear of crap, fear of self
Afraid of my phobias
my fear of fear itself
My trick stop crack pot blab off
fear of self, fear of crap
Fear of crap
leaves me standing at the gate
no room to maneuver
or produce the end of waiting
I release my sound to squirm inside
my hands decide for themselves
what will be done and rejected
I sit back and watch in fear
fear of crap left standing
fear of crap remade
fear of crap derailed
not left standing w/ wheels


Paper Calls My Bluff

Paper calls my bluff
and I react to it
The blankness of it drawn like
drink up a straw
The pencil, in cooperation with the paper, works against me as I think
Flow is interrupted by my thoughts
As a junk shop deal flows against
my heart
Everyone is out to get me and the proof is in the blank page that stares me down and fills my head with defeat
I hear it
I hear it calling
I hear it calling me
Paper calls my bluff