Badaude

May Day Poster

I've had a few requests for copies of my Oxford May Day poster, which has been all over Oxford bus stops during the last month or so. 

I can't get hold of original posters at this size, but am making a limited-edition signed and numbered giclee print (10 prints only) of the poster, size A3. They're printed on conservation grade paper with pigment inks so the colours will probably be brighter and last longer than the poster version. If you'd like a print, they're £25 + £5 p&p in the UK, £10 p&p for the rest of the world. You can pay by Paypal or UK cheque, or if neither of these options work you can buy me books to the value of the price of the poster + postage. Get in touch if you'd like one - badaude-at-gmail-dot-com.

Necessarily Fiction?

The last part of my 

(ish) for internet writing as writer-in-residence at Necessary Fiction. 

"I am more than painfully conscious that this is my last post for Necessary Fiction, and on a bank holiday too (though not across the world: that’s the virtue of the Internet). Am I still here? It being a day off and that, does the internet close its data banks? Did it close them during the disappearing hour last night when winter turned - officially - to summer?

I did disappear, as did this site, half way through the month: a gap of snow when I was stuck in Paris, lonely as anyone can be in this day and age. It took me an age to get out. Days later I still had WIFI: why did it take so long to transport my body?"

Read more here. 

If you're interested in some of the things that happen to writing on the internet, you should also read Bobbi Lurie at 3:AM magazine.

More MANIFESTO

...at Necesssary Fiction where I am writer in residence this month. 

I must have been thinking about Easter because a lot of fluffy chicks & stuff seem to have crept into this post later on. 

Find the whole thing here: In the meantime here's a egg-cerpt (sorry)

 

Ex-wife diaries #4 Farm/Fame

 

(…Back to my

, inside which my diary nests.)

 

But, wait - what about that film deal I mentioned in post 2? Well it could always happen. The strangest things occur on the internet, even the transformation of everyday life into something workable on a screen. 

 

You see I wouldn’t like you to think I’m being amateurish about my diaries or about this

I’m a professional - or, at least, always potentially. I have to make that clear before I begin. Am I being paid? Well, no, but I sit down at my desk in the morning exactly as if it’s my job to get out my laptop and begin to type. And I look professional, despite the fact you can’t see whether I am wearing pyjamas (which I am not). I’m a real writer - a pro, not a con, no more or less self-made than all the rest. 

 

What defines me as a professional? Is it being paid to profess, to be a professor? Imagine me being a professor: teaching a class, hands clasped around a stick behind my back, funny hat, black cape… But a professor isn’t named for the public role: a professor is always an amateur - literally a lover - of his profession: unworldly, absent-minded - any payment for what he does is incidental. Why should he feel the least anxiety? He has tenure. That come from the French, I think: tenir - the verb, to hold - and also, tenue, an outfit - that silly costume professors wear in order to look the business (not that I would dream of wearing any such thing, especially on top of my pyjamas). But then I wouldn’t dream, even in my most absent mind, of teaching anyone a lesson. 

 

Necessary/Fiction

I'm taking a dérive from my
 at Necessary Fiction...

"The internet picks at itself. Online I’m no exception. It’s extraordinary what you can find in your ear, in the corner of your eye: it’s amazing what detritus can be reused when it is categorised, listed. The essentials of writing for print, having been picked over and strained through the Net, lose very little except materiality and — all desire, all question – become more concentrated, more essential, more nutritious." 

Read more here... 

Tentative d'infographer un Petit-déj

I had fun working out the perfect formula for breakfast for the London Review of Breakfasts. 

(The fact that I wrote it in Paris is neither here nor there.) 

Here's an excerpt - if you'd like to find the solution to breakfast, read more here.

Breakfast is a matter of proportion.

Any proportion can be expressed and analysed mathematically.

Take the four basic breakfast ingredients: egg, bacon, tomato, sausage.

The first thing to notice is that they can be eaten in various combinations. The taste of each ingredient is enhanced by combination with another. This is one of the chief pleasures of breakfast. Some people prefer the taste of sausage with egg; others, bacon with tomato. Fewer will eat sausage with tomato, and almost none, tomato with egg or sausage with bacon. This can be expressed thus:

Interesting results can be gained from converting this into a Venn diagram showing the most popular combinations, which expresses a fascinating and pleasing circularity accounting, perhaps, for the continuing popularity of the four basic ingredients (please ignore the central shaded area on the diagream below, which we shall come back to later).

 

P̶R̶I̶V̶A̶T̶E̶!

"(Was I TOO LOUD?) Even now, a few days later the word,  

 

is as big and as hollow as it ever was. Perhaps I could withdraw it, as one often does with things one writes online, pulling out the bottom card from a house of a conversations, an identity even. But will the editors at Necessary Fiction let me erase myself? Probably not. "The Internet’s not written in pencil, Mark, it’s written in ink." I can’t retract the word so, quick, better find something to fill it! Could I fill such a loud word up with whispers?

Why not? After all a pound of feathers weighs the same as a pound of lead..."

This is the second part of my manifesto(ish) for writing on the Internet at Necessary Fiction (originally intended for International Women's Day last Friday but their site was down). You can read the rest of the post here. 

Un voyage vers...

"Something you never thought might happen: after a certain number of years the being who has read all these neglected books will step from your bookshelves, will sit down at your table (conveniently adjacent), will make a cup of coffee at the machine, having seen you use it so many times, especially when about to tackle a book, and will light a cigarette, insubstantial as steam, the odour of which will affect neither your carpets nor curtains. It will be the opposite of you, your inverse."

On 11 March I talked a bit about Oulipo with Lauren Elkin and read a story (extract above) at Shakespeare and Company Bookshop Paris. My story was inspired by George Perec's Voyage D'Hiver and its many responses, some of which can be found here, and also by Perec's and contemporary Oulipian Anne Garréta's essays on bookshelves. Referencing the Voyage D'Hiver tradition as well as hinting at Oulipo's obsession with 'potential' literature, I called it 'Un Voyage Vers...' (A Journey Towards...)

I made a limited edition of signed and numbered prints of the story, hand-lettered, with the above illustration. A few of the sepia edition of 10 are still available at the till at Shakespeare & Co. I also have an edition of 10 in rust as shown above. The print comes in the form of an A4 size booklet with the pic on the front so you can put it on your wall when you've read it if you feel inclined. If you'd like one, they're £7 - or a if it's easier buy me a book from here. The price includes postage anywhere in the world. Please get in touch by leaving a message below or emailing badaude-at-gmail-dot-com. 

Here's pic from the event. Seems like we had a lot of fun.

(thanks to Shakespeare & Co for the photo)

 

Oulipo as always...

I'll be reading something, and talking to Lauren Elkin about Oulipo tomorrow, 7pm, Monday 11th March at Shakespeare & Company bookshop, Paris. Please come if you can.

 

It's sound

I can be found talking about Paris with Adam Biles & Kit Caless here on Resonance FM's wonderful show, Mapping the Metropolis. 

Towards the end of the recording I also read a story about sex & shopping (probably slightly less exciting than it sounds). 

The Paris photos below are from my Tumblr project, The Sky Over Europa.

 

MANIFESTO

I guess everyone should write one...

Here's an extract from my first post as writer in residence for Necessary Fiction. 

But, wait! First I would like to pause for a moment in order to enjoy being here in my kingdom, which Necessary Fiction has accorded me (for a while at least). It is as wide as the Net and as nebulous as the Cloud. I can’t even see to its edges and here I am, the queen of it. Or maybe I’m not its queen: at least I shouldn’t be, as I don’t approve of that kind of political setup. Under the circumstances I will have to rebel against myself. As I can’t see anyone else here (though I hope you are) the struggle will surely not be very long or difficult.  

If I am going to rebel, I feel that I should express my aims in an appropriate document - for how will I ever progress unless I know all about where I want to end up before I get there? So, firstly, I will write this word, big and black. Here it is:

 

If you'd like to, please continue reading here...