Janitor 23: ”What’s up? Why? What’s the matter? Wherram Inow? Is it Ender/Hauser again? Most probably. Feeling my body again. Once more, that instrument begins to accumulate magic. A clear drum rhythm. Jungle, Underwood, Morse signs. Why do you say ‘Pièce touchée?’ Of course I am a touched piece. Mouse-round. Also, I am well acquainted with the phrase ‘touched and guided’. The lifeless becomes material, and the material is dead. Sometimes. Also, I know the expression ‘birds of a feather, etc.’.
This room, however, is completely new to me. Where did you say you awakened me? A human jungle, represented by two people, man and woman. And a third one watches. A little ménage a trois, vive la Frange! It’s clear that they only want the one thing all the time. While all around the scythes snig, and the old man separates the chaff. And so on. I should also masturbate right quickly, in order to know that I’m here. Yes, yes, I am magical! I translate everything into magic! Magic is my mother tongue. With my mother milk I have imbibed it. I’m dripping. It diffuses out of me into the world-ether. Or into the world, concretely? After all, I wasn’t only present at Musik konkret. I was present everywhere where I was needed, e.g. in the Freihaus too, in the Sargfabrik too. And they needed me, because I had tools. In the Freihaus too; in the Sargfabrik too.
So, now I’ll present this room as a long-play record. And stuttering scratch forward through the groove, beautifully exact, ever spiralling through the stratified objects, one back, two forward – I love this passage! –, one back, two forward, one back, two forward … Voodoo with the needle into the record body, in the jungle again. The things that evolve have a lot to do with me. I love this passage! But, could also be binary code, like ‘present–absent’, ‘enter–leave’, ‘full–empty’ … The two gentlemen Ender/Hauser know this, who have reawakened me as a janitor golem. But they will get their just desserts. What the others – somewhere else, of course, even if it’s the same room – will still get to see. For there are always innumerably many peepholes. In former times even, the sky was made of velvet with mirrors embroidered.
Senza fine, that’s not French!”
Ender/Hauser