Duplo, as we have established, is a means of controlling errant thoughtforms crafted by doodle. The battles for 'control' take place on the frontiers of imagination to be later committed to artwork - panoramic battlescenes on A4, tragi-comical diptychs in general workbooks, 3D cyberpunk Nod Gods as bitmap images on floppy disk, Blu-Tac dioramas or theatrical hand-play. Duplo can be seen as an aid to keep the Nod Gods malleable. If left unchecked the Nod Gods can occupy inconvenient places in the mind's eye. Confusingly, at one stage Duplo itself - with the bespectacled cod-authoritarian Duplo officer at its helm - seemed to become too powerful and a counter-force was required to restore equilibrium and provide enhanced drama. This counter-force was called 'T'. The 'T' force took the form of a loosely connected group of bandits with anti-Duplo sentiments. 'T' characters were frequently caricatures of real-life aggressors and muse-stiflers (bullies and teachers) inadequately equipped to fight against the imaginative weaponry of Duplo; the results were gory and semi-amusing. Recently, somebody asked me why I continue my involvement in Duplo (as one solitary supporter, now that my co-doodlers have long since forsaken me), and the answer is hard to explain - and my situation must be odd to them - but essentially the continued threat of aggressors and muse-smotherers makes innovative Duplo counter-offensives vital actions. I tell them that to abandon Duplo would be mind-suicide. Therefore, my thoughts remain with Duplo.I may be unemployable and on the dole, yet I don't consider myself unemployed: I work every day as a mediator at the membrane between the thought-world and reality. I valiantly argue this point with the Job Centre staff bi-weekly. My micro-codices are stealthily deployed daily in public places: supermarkets, post-offices, bakeries, betting shops, charity shops, gyms, launderettes, promenades... It is a thankless task, but at least I'm making information freely available! Recipients of this handmade guerrilla art-info are swayed, either consciously or subconsciously, to appreciate possibility. Possibility: the fluid in which the muse swims.
Despite having a Masters degree, I find myself literally trawling the gutters for coloured bits of paper I can make collages from. Street confrontations abound. Crime beckons too. Information is like oxygen - without it, brain damage inevitably follows. Without information, our ideas are suffocated at birth and our words become structurally unsound. In the previous post, I hinted at how quality information (being the juiciest of academic journals and research papers) is kept out of reach from the "unemployed" by libraries, universities, private companies, etc. Obviously, information must be sought and fought for to stave off braindeath, so it becomes necessary to turn 'information voyeur' and contort oneself into legally dubious postures.
Some information can be found freely by looking in bins, but being noticed by certain people triggers wrath. Some particularly spiteful young clods assail me as "the wasteman", often throwing things at me and grunting unintelligible put-downs should our paths cross. My one singular mistake was to engage them once in polite conversation after they called me a "tramp" during a bin-dive, whereupon I explained my qualifications and the need for information. This angered them for reasons unbeknownst. These are the kind of malicious gargoyles that would rouse the eugenicist in even the most warm-hearted humanitarian. Their dads are abominable kunts as well. Thought of the Nod Gods strengthens me during this kind of altercation. At the age of 27, it seems utterly unbelievable that I should be regularly tussling with groups of tearaways in alleyways... But anyways... 'Twas ever thus, alas. To me, anybody who stands in the way of research is allied with 'T' forces and will therefore be met with Duplo and the Nod Gods in full force! By drawing a scene with the flailing aggressors represented in ink, a kind of voodoo is enacted. This is evident when those same aggressors are later encountered and are seen to behave sluggishly: fey and defeated. Is it really voodoo or just a coincidence? Thoughtforms are strange things indeed and may even engineer coincidence on my behalf. But more information is required... And that information is out of reach... At least, for now... (!)
