GANTOB blog – Page 48 – From the GANTOBverse. Part of The KLFRS movement

32. META-FORM

Oct 25th, 2023

The Foundation Doktor is relaxing on a day off, after three gruelling 12-hour shifts. She has been reading 2023: A trilogy in her time off. She likes the references to children’s books. And she has spotted from GANTOB’s social media activity and pamphlets that that tradition has continued with Judith Kerr’s Mog and Julia Donaldson and Alex Scheffler’s Squash and a Squeeze* both mentioned.

The Foundation Doktor thinks that it is time to introduce a book that she enjoyed from her childhood – Cornelia Funke’s Inkheart. She loves the idea of characters stepping out of the page, into the real world. There are parallels with Pandora’s box, but she is confident that such perils can be avoided. No goat-themed villains for this blog.

The following day she is back on The Benefaktor’s ward, doing her usual rounds. She has a wrench, some brown tape and a change of clothes with her. She closes the door behind her, draws the internal blinds to the corridor, and forces the external window open. She steps out and jumps onto the grass below her, enjoying the softness after 23 years stuck in her paper prison. She tapes the window shut, aware of The Benefaktor’s querulous voice shouting from inside.

Changing out of scrubs into the clothes that she has carried with her she steps out into our world. She folds her clinical garb neatly and packs it down in her bag, placing her sandwiches carefully on top. Her paperback copy of 2023: A trilogy is slipped into the document section of her rucksack. She starts running.

The Foundation Doktor has Bill Drummond’s The Man on her phone. It is not traditional running music, but somehow it hits the spot. She is thinking through some of the reviews of the original 2023: A trilogy. A meta-narrative, beholden to its sources, purposefully creating confusion, understood only by existing fans of The KLF. She is keen to learn from that feedback, and extend the appeal of the blog. But that risks losing the KLF-centred readership GANTOB’s built up.

The slide guitar and upbeat acoustic rhythms take her somewhere else, so the pavement, tachycardia and dyspnoea are barely perceptible even as she increases her speed. She slips another phone out of a zipped pocket, and turns it on. The Benefaktor’s screensaver (a cat) fires up. She types in the too-obvious password, and dials GANTOB for the first time.

THE FOUNDATION DOKTOR

25 Oktober 2023

* Or KLFRS.com/gantob, pamphlet 8
31. KOLOUR/ LIFT/ FINISHING

Oct 24th, 2023

The Benefaktor has been posting in monochrome. Perhaps it relates to his new status in the GANTOB projekt. Voted off by the readers, returning to a dream state, or perhaps having Krossed. On the plus side, an “accident”, a possible death and a tricky relationship with reality will strengthen the claim that this is a re-enactment of 2023: A trilogy.

As we approach post 33 – the finale of the first part of this “trilogy” in 99 blogs, and a number with klear Bill Drummond konnotations – I need to do a bit of tidying up emotionally and practically in this post and my next. The Beneftaktor will do his thing in between. He has accused me of not being a “starter-finisher”. I have to prove him wrong, but I have a lot of video editing and packaging before I can make that klaim.

I am sitting on a bench in Kingussie, bursting for a pee, waiting for a friend to pick me up and take me back to The Manse. I rest back, appreciating the autumn kolours. I think about the challenges in opening up the kreative process for others to kontribute. Ko-produktion. This started with the book of course, with the questions and interactions feeding into the quotes section, social media aktivity and some of the pamphlets. The konnektions became an essential part of the project. But giving The Benefaktor free rein on the blog was arguably an act of trust too far. Our kontrasting/ konflikting styles have taken the blog in unexpekted direktions, but it’s hardly Lennon and McCartney, or Bacharach and David. There are more promising kollaborations elsewhere perhaps.

I traipse up the River Gynack to the public toilets. It’s a kalkulated risk. I might miss my lift as a result. I think about Yoko Ono Jr and the lonely figure she cuts in 2023: A trilogy. Everybody else seems to be having a party in that book. Similarly, I remember that I will not be going to Toxteth Day of the Dead this November. I am konfident that The Benefaktor will not be there either. Diffikult to spoil the party if you’re not there I suppose.

I check for notifications on the @gantob2023 Twitter and Instagram accounts. Loyal GANTOB follower Missiformation has solved The Benefaktor’s challenge from yesterday, and shared some reflektions about GANTOB. This gives me the dopamine hit I need. No messages from my lift though.

Reflektions by Missiformation, using template from GANTOB’s Kompanion Volume

GANTOB

24 Oktober 2023
30. WHITE ROOM

Oct 23rd, 2023

“Zeroing in on the cause of your fever will help us guide treatment”, came the reply, as a host of faces crowded around the bed. Yellow, red and brown tubes were filled, followed by two receptacles that looked like Lee and Perrins Worcester Sauce bottles. X-rays inspected on laptop screens pushed around on trolleys (“COWS: computers on wheels” they call them), rather than the light boxes you see on the TV; no more Dr Kildare. Worried faces. Voices above the beeping of drip machines, syringe drivers and an alarming hospital bed.

Urgent referrals, with the same questions repeated from the different specialists who visit throughout the day. Telescoping time, on lubricated joints, slipping in and out of dimension.

Still for a moment, after all the bustle, I look around the room, taking it in properly for the first time in daylight. Removing equipment and furniture from our view, the room is glaringly white, bathed in artificial light with the red alert storm outside.

Quietly working in the background are nursing staff, also all in white. Periodically a doctor or domestic pops in, uniforms providing additional colour. Offers of food are declined. Nil by mouth, under strict orders of the consultant.

Most of the day is spent sleeping, interspersed with bursts of sharp pain or nausea inducing trips along long corridors, also mainly white, apart from the occasional poster, often legacies from the Covid pandemic.

Jargon fills the air during ward rounds and when on the receiving end of the multitude of tests and investigations.

I work with The Foundation Doctor to capture the experience, dictating the words as she types away on her mobile during snatched breaks. Holding the little screen to my face she helps me select accompanying photos. Google Images usually rises to the challenge, with my amateurish snaps backed up since I acquired a smart phone.

Evening falls, and the room returns to its black and white as the lights are dimmed and blinds drawn. Doctors change shift, but The Foundation Doctor is back finalising this blog with me in her time off.

Certain details are still missing from my story, and other memories are tangled up in my fever dreams. Blogging is helping my recovery we agree, progressively documenting my thoughts as prompts for future “forgetful days”. Anchored in my bed I have a three-letter acronym nagging away, poking about inside, teasingly, just out of reach.

THE BENEFAKTOR, ABLY ASSISTED BY THE FOUNDATION DOCTOR

23 OCTOBER 2023
29. KONSOLATION

Oct 22nd, 2023

The Benefaktor beat me to it yesterday, in his unexpected return. I have seesawed between relief and resentment ever since. I’m glad he’s not followed the fictional John Lennon Jr’s fate at the hands of his equally made-up partner-in-crime Yoko Ono Jr (AKA the original GANTOB). However, it sounds as if he’s in bad shape, still in hospital more than a week after his fall, with physical limitations and significant gaps in his memory. This gives me some hope, however, as it is less likely that I will be implicated in his “accident”. I have sent him a message saying there is plenty of opportunity for both of us if he sticks to blogging on alternate days. If I am posting this as planned on Sunday 22 October then he has stuck to this plan.

I am fully occupied packaging up the products of my first joint venture with The Benefaktor, now that the double-sided frames have arrived: A re-enactment of The JAMs’ LP 1987. You may have seen the videos of the making🎥 and unveiling🎥 of the first prize. It was only after posting it I realised we hadn’t mentioned Curt Finks, either on the side with his Brent Goose Rock story, or the flip with goose photo. Curt would have loved telling us that the birds were not Brent geese. But he would not have been impressed with us “sampling” his work without mention of the author. I will perhaps rectify this on the second copy that I am packaging up now. But I will not be made to feel guilty about it either, because The Benefaktor and I have probably spent as much time reproducing the story in paper and glue as Curt did writing, and he and his wife Norah then endured tagging the birds in the East Anglian fens.

In contrast, it felt too easy cutting out strips rather than “snips”, and sticking whole rows of words in a single action. So we agreed on a “koncertina“🎥 approach to reduce the white space, adding texture and interest, mimicking the GANTOB/ Benefaktor original. This repeated the difficulties pressing the additional thickness within the glass panes into the chunky frame, and the screeching noise that transformed the cats to a bundle of teeth and claws. I close the doors before inserting. I also have a plan for the offcuts. I credit Curt in biro and keep packing.

GANTOB

22 October 2023
28. BLACK AND WHITE

Oct 21st, 2023

We interrupt this blog…

An old man, but not The Elderly Gentleman is lying in a hospital bed. He is aware of voices, pain, and a sense of vast expanses of time passing. Eventually he manages to open one eye, then the other. He is seeing black and white. Black from his left eye, which seems to be covered, and white from his right. He peers around with the latter. He is in a room. It is dimly lit, with lots of shadows. It appears to be night-time.

He hears a drone, or perhaps it is a low tinnitus. A door in the corner to the right is open, with bright light spilling out. He is suddenly aware of a silhouette in the doorway, which turns and puts out the light. The drone stops.

“I’m just here to take a blood sample”, explains the intruder. No, that’s not right, it’s The Foundation Doktor. He remembers her now, in her mismatched scrubs and turquoise stethoscope. Her Essex accent. He feels a wipe at the crook of his arm, the smell of alcohol, a band of tightness, a jab, some pressure combined with softness.

“All done. I’ll need to press for quite a long time because of the blood thinning treatment you’re on”, she whispers.

They talk for a few minutes. He hears about the circumstances of his admission, as if for the first time. But The Foundation Doktor has apparently told him this story many times.

He tells her the things that he does and does not remember.

Name – no.

Identity – The Benefaktor.

Address – no.

Phone number – where is my phone?

The Foundation Doktor has a look around, without success.

Employment – no. Hobbies – writing a book, or is that a blog.

Next of kin – not GANTOB. The name seems to come from nowhere.

Home circumstances – can’t remember.

“Anything else I can help you with before I go?”

The Benefaktor has an idea. He pokes around in his recent memory, like a medical student trying to find a vein, and finds a rich seam of information.

Username – tick.

Password – tick.

Content – tick.

So between themselves The Benefaktor and The Foundation Doktor start writing some new blogs and upload them under the cover of night, when GANTOB is asleep. Kreative Tyranny dictates that when a blog is uploaded, it cannot be undone.

THE BENEFAKTOR, WITH HELP FROM THE FOUNDATION DOKTOR

21 October 2023
27. FOUR HUNDRED

Oct 20th, 2023

Wednesday’s post was titled “400“. We have unfinished business with that number.

When I first talked to The Benefaktor about his initial blog posts, we landed on the idea that 400 would be a realistic daily kontribution, allowing some progress of the narrative with each blog. With 27 posts under our belt and the first stage of re-enacting Curt Finks’ story now kompleted, I have had an opportunity to reflekt on that.

We do not know the circumstances under which Curt Finks wrote his story Brent Goose Rock. We can speculate, however, on the basis of his sermon writing and repeated Fringe show, that he will have worked away on it, refining it, until he was happy enough to cut it up and send it to the literary journal. He won’t have had spellcheck or other tools we take for granted. There may have been a tight deadline.

In the process of destroying and rebuilding his story word-for-word The Benefaktor and I could see typos and areas for improvement, for example in avoiding duplication of words such as “looked” or “threw”. The Benefaktor added in a “glanced” at one point to avoid such repetition. We took pleasure knocking Curt’s story about a bit, improving his work.

Creating a well-crafted 400 words without such errors is a skilled task. I am reminded of this every time I look back at a piece I have written under the principles of self-imposed Kreative Tyranny. The pressure of writing a story or blog before rushing out to a meeting, or any of the other challenges of modern life, means there will always be room for improvement. I’m writing today’s blog, for example, before diggers arrive to install new broadband.

I read over my previous work with a sense of trepidation, knowing I will stumble across inkonsistencies, mistakes in analysis or interpretation, and genuine howlers. Take my first announcement as GANTOB at the end of July. At just 150 words it konfused quite a lot of people. It was too wordy, had too many questions and answers. C’est la vie. A recent blog (23. Twenty-three) revealed a typo in the book, in a short Bill Drummond quote. Talk about careless. But we soldier on.

I am not going to kommit to zero-error blogs, or perfekt books. What I will do, however, is promise to read and respekt all writing, and try to treat typos tolerantly.

GANTOB

20 October 2023

Cover image for today’s blog is from earlier GANTOB aktivities (with Margate Bookshop)
26. ROW

Oct 19th, 2023

The Photographer was on the warpath. He looked like his 8-year-old self in a classroom squabble, a 75-year-old row in the offing. I slipped my phone back in my pocket, stomach rumbling with the late hour.

“An early evening celebration” was the wording on the wedding invitation. We all knew this was to hide The Photographer’s wrinkles. However, my behaviour meant that fury had ironed out any evidence of age. Perhaps that had been his intention.

I was aware that in contrast to my pallor in the church I was now flushed, uncertain whether from reciprocal anger, childhood memories, or embarrassment as I saw my wife looking on. I could not use my near faint as an excuse.

I stammered out an attempted explanation, as I too slipped three quarters of a century to my 7-year-old self. My excuses were not going to help, but as usual The Photographer’s disgruntlement dissipated now that his regularly practised show of petulance had been performed. He slunk back to his new wife, and I accompanied my old wife to our car.

The reception was no expenses spared. It was completely dark by the time the speeches were underway. My wife and I sat at the edge of the tent. I positioned myself so that the screen of my phone would not be reflected in the windows. I typed in the email address from the pamphlet, wrote out a rather convoluted message about finding the plane under the bridge, its rediscovery in my suit pocket earlier that day, and the fact that it had almost caused a fight with one of my oldest acquaintances. Perhaps echoing this last point, but without repeating The Photographer’s foul language, I asked what “it” was all about.

A reply came during the speech from the father-of-the-bride (who was considerably younger than The Photographer). It read: “Many thanks for your email. I had wondered what had happened to that plane. I last saw it plummeting to a ledge on the bridge at Waterloo Place, as one in a series of disappointing launches. I had worried that somebody might attempt to retrieve it, but if I understand your message korrectly it sounds as if gravity eventually had its effect. I have had a series of questions on a similar theme – do you have any kontext to add kolour to your applikation. Yours, GANTOB”.

Why all the Ks? I wondered.

THE BENEFAKTOR

19 October 2023

As retrieved by GANTOB from WordPress draft posts
25. 400

Oct 18th, 2023

Curt Finks (not his real name), my late father-in-law, was well known to a small group of loyal followers at the Edinburgh Fringe (1970s and 1980s). What is not so well known, until recently, is that he also wrote short stories and submitted them to literary journals of the day. You can find a fuller history of one of his stories – Brent Goose Rock – in the Kompanion Volume to my book. While unpublished, and indeed uncertain whether it was even considered by the editor, the story survived the closure of the literary journal, and was returned in its original “snipped” form to my husband Ali.

The envelope containing the story arrived a few days later, and was left unopened while we debated the next step. Ali opened the envelope in his study, calling along the hall of The Manse for a tray when the contents spilled out. We read the accompanying letter again, with its “suggested order”. The intention of Curt Finks was that the reader would reconstruct the story, using the “snips” which had a number on one side (1-400) and a word on the other. The tiny pieces of paper measured 24mm by 4mm, and appeared to have been produced on a typewriter, with pencil marks to guide cutting.

We spent two evenings painstakingly recreating the story, turning over the snips to read their number and putting them in order. There were heart stopping moments when we appeared to have lost a snip, only to find them under the tray, stuck almost magnetically to another piece of paper, or once turning round on the wheel of Ali’s desk chair. I took notes as he did this, neatly reversing the roles of the protagonists of Brent Goose Rock.

After I cut things up, and stuck them on a sheet in random order, The Benefaktor did the re-cutting and re-sticking, playing to his strengths as the “details man”. See what he did with the repeated “looked” (turning it into “glanced” with some spare letters from an earlier draft).

The Benefaktor and I discussed how to recreate the interactive component, after typing in the words. Between us we snipped up ten copies for recipients of my book. But we ran out of time, so others had to recreate their own version of the interactive tale, asking a friend to snip up the numbered sheet on their behalf and put it in the envelope. We talked about Banksy’s self-destructing art. Another kommentator noted parallels with Bill Drummond’s work on Richard Long’s A Smell of Sulphur on the Wind. After such effort we wanted to share this more widely, so recreated a version for social media, recording our own solution for posterity.

GANTOB

18 October 2023
24. BENCH

Oct 17th, 2023

I found a bench in the graveyard above the church. All was still. I could not hear proceedings from the wedding ceremony. I put my head down between my legs and tuned in to the clicking of my metal heart valve, comforted by the thought of the ball rolling backwards and forwards in its little cage. Click, click, cli click. Like the tinny rattle from a teenager listening to rap on a Walkman three rows behind you on the bus. There was traffic sound audible from the cobbled road a block away, and a river. I was starting to recover.

After a minute or two I was back on my phone, reading through the Kompetition pamphlet. A different phone: “For the next thirty minutes I’m going to give you a special phone number”. From a quick glance over both sides of the sheet there was no phone number. There was marker pen scrawl on both sides and a layer of Calton Road grime. The graphic in the centre of the sheet, thickly bordered in black, like a funeral announcement, was a cartoon pyramid and the words “THE KLF RE-ENACTMENT SOCIETY” printed above a more densely populated section in smaller font.

The KLFRS announcement shown on the pamphlet plane

I heard the church door opening. My head still between my knees, I craned my neck and saw two ushers talking quietly, pointing to the drivers smoking by their cars. I read faster. “How can I improve my swimming skills?” and “Will AI develop empathy during 2023?” An email address. On the other side some detail on books that I did not recognise, some unknown names and very familiar places – Jura, Laggan, Newtonmore, Cape Wrath. A circuitous route if ever there was one. At the end: “the Kompetition rules over the page”, and I am back to swimming and AI.

Familiar faces were leaving the church, and I could make out the groom (AKA The Photographer) and, as people’s heads moved, the bride. I shifted along the bench to make myself less conspicuous and kept reading. My own wife’s voice appeared like Jiminy Cricket, advising me to return to the church and join her to exit the church and congratulate the happy couple. I kept reading. Dusk was falling. I was an old man recovering from overexerting myself. I heard the crunch of gravel, and a yell. The Photographer striding up, shouting “What the F*** is going on with you?”

THE BENEFAKTOR

As retrieved by GANTOB, adding some asterisks

17 October 2023
23. TWENTY-THREE

Oct 16th, 2023

We interrupt The Benefaktor’s pontifications to focus on the number 23. I am a late konvert, so have little emotional attachment to the number, but know it has almost religious importance to some. Other novices to the topic might want to update themselves at some point, but it is not really necessary for today’s blog. Just be aware that it is likely to be of significance to some readers, and we should respekt that unreservedly.

In the Kompetition for my book (which was conveniently titled GANTOB), published on 23 September 2023, there were to be 23 recipients, to mirror the fictional book of the same name referenced in the link in the preceding paragraph. The “23” were selected on the merits and general interest of their question on how to improve the remainder of 2023 for themselves or others. These 23 copies were numbered to allow recipients to identify the specific quote chosen to answer their question.

There were another 18 other copies issued, but these were unnumbered. That was simply a measure of my generosity/ weakness. Many questions were well phrased and thoughtful, but were just a bit too specific to be of more general interest. I had developed an affektion for these unsuccessful applikants, so I sent them all a kopy. The “18” will hopefully find a quote in the book to answer their questions.

One of the successful applikants asked: “since it’s now 2023, will someone please explain to me what the fuuking fuuk is going on? In 23 words ideally…”

This was the first question of several received on a similar theme. Apologies that I was unable to include the rest, but it would have resulted in a rather repetitive book.

The quote I selected in response was:

“Cherish these natural wonders. Do not let selfish men or greedy interests skin your country of its beauty, its riches or its romance.”

(Theodore Roosevelt)

It felt like an appropriate quote given the events of the year up to that point, and the way that the world was heading. I would substitute “country” with “world”, to strip the quote of any potentially nationalist konnotations.

Photo of Grapefruit Are Not The Only Bombs (GANTOB the book, pages 38-39). GANTOB notes that the Bill Drummond quote should read: ‘For me starting the day without a pot of tea would be a day forever out of kilter.’ Apologies to Mr Drummond.

I have permission from the applicant to write this. Quite clearly the world is in a considerably worse place than it was even on 23 September. We must hold on, however, to the importance of beauty, (non-pecuniary) riches and romance in its widest sense.

GANTOB

16 October 2023