Paul Virilio, L'insécurité du territoire
Paul Virilio, L'insécurité du territoire

Daniel L Potter

Culture Industry Conference, Cornell University, 1987


Reading Paul Virilio on an airplane: contagious process, invasion, virus, illuminating contours of the now, hurtling through the medium of the message. Contour though lacks the quality of motion that Virilio wants to give to spatial terms and categories. What he reveals is not precisely the contours of our world, but its tendencies, contours leaning or even taking off in a certain direction: contours in motion, as aerial vehicles are houses in motion. Tendencies are vectoral viruses probed by a new science — dromology. It is, literally, the study of…

Bob Potter (1934–2010)

June 10, 2003

Bank of Amerika Burning Check Poster Isla Vista
Bank of Amerika Burning Check Poster Isla Vista

A third of a century ago, our forefathers … and foremothers — and fore-motherfuckers — hippies and yippies; speed freaks and Jesus freaks; Students radicalized by their professors; Professors radicalized by their students; Anarchists, Pacifists and Registered Republicans; Flower Children, Franciscan Friars and pissed-off Football Players; Marxist-Leninists and Proto-Feminists; Surfers, Sorority Sisters and Sexual Revolutionaries; Space Cadets and Vietnam Vets; the Hare Krishna and the Woodstock Nation; Visionaries in all colors and Mindblown lead guitarists of non-existent bands; not to mention winos, transients, alcoholics Anonymous and Otherwise, the Chairman of the Sociology Department and…

To come to an understanding of the predicament, there is much to be unearthed, and much to be washed away. Running into these persons who would not have been encountered in any other way, the intuition stepped in and led you there. There were signals, gestures of the universe opened to you, there to be read and responded to, there beyond the feeble hand and tongue, untranslatable except simply as here. Shooting into the light.

Here, listening to Kate Bush with no other intention than to do some preliminary work of sorting out my life. This is the work that…

Bon anniversaire Chris!

What else is there to say? Everything’s been said. Birth and death like an oroborous, the legendary snake eating its tail, where the date July 29, 1921 superimposes itself on another date, July 29, 2012. The two dates merge in an origami fold. Inside the fold is an extraordinary life and a wealth of extraordinary works. Inside is a cat, stretching its paws to the sound emanating from the speakers, a cat reclining on a keyboard. Inside is a love affair with cinema, and a Japanese bow to Kurosawa, Tarkovsky and Hitchcock. Inside is a spiral, a…

Saltshakers everywhere
In slow motion
Fall off a table
All salt once tears

In gemstone homes
Reunite bare-footed
Walk on sand floors
In nirvanic stupor

Each pauses to hug
An ether being
On a Persian rug

Chris Marker, Sans Soleil

Notes on Sans Soleil

Daniel L Potter

Originally published on

Rien ne distingue les souvenirs des autres moments: ce n’est que plus tard qu’ils se font reconnaître, à leurs cicatrices.” — Chris Marker, La Jetée

“History is essentially longitudinal, memory essentially vertical. History essentially consists of passing along the event. Being inside the event, memory essentially and above all consists of not leaving it, staying in it and going back through it from within.” — Gilles Deleuze, Cinema II

Time Travel

This viewing, the sixth or seventh, I decided not to take notes, but to let the film wash over me, and the friend and…

Medium = Message

The story begins. I am typing in a deluxe get-out-of-the-way editor, web-based, and already enjoying it. There are no icons—none of the familiar trappings of WYSIWYG. On the flip side, there are no line numbers either, and the background isn’t black with syntax highlighting. So we are in a new era editor. Here I move forward in words as in time, exploring the emptiness while filling it slowing with somethingness.

A new paragraph emerges. As it should. Driving home tonight with a Blender’s shake in the brand new German automobile, the dashboard lit up neon red, the Bluetech…

Bela Tarr, Sátántangó

Daniel L Potter, Berlin 1994

Returning to Berlin after the wall, after the fall of the GDR, flying through time and space to reach the destination of more travels, film journeys through the wealth of images, imaginaries and sound gardens that only an international film festival can offer. . . To see Berlin again after leaving in July of 1989 is to discover the palimpsest of history, the threads of events that are laid down in the time of absence. What is exciting about the Berlinale, of which this year (Feb. 10–21) presents its 44th incarnation, are the perceptual distortions…

for mm

naxos they gather at the nexus
when the bar
spills them out on the street
of island number two
already it is over
poignant he is smitten and must
let her go off with another
after days of skin her aroma her rose
between two dreams
walking his way
he gestures the acceptance
of femme fatality
he is leaving the next morning
on the ferry (she remaining)
stage one
of the return to berlin
and longs for her
eyes upon the restless
mediterranean where all voyages
are round trips
while she weaves and unweaves
till time moves neither
forward nor back
and his home subtly morphed
under the accumulation
of days
the weight of absence
sex impatience…


Blind Librarian of Babel

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