Online Journal Archive


Intimacy of Death, Pt 2: Department of Ultimology

Intimacy of Death, Pt 1: Juliet Jacques, You Will Be Free

Lou Lou Sainsbury, ‘The Holes in My Bedroom in Space’

Interview: Patrick Staff

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. IX. Species of Spaces | 29th May 2020

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. VIII. Following your steps by Foivos Dousos

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. VII. How to Draw Hands by D Mortimer

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. VI. Part 2. The Viscous Interview

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. VI. Part 1. Who knew it would come to this

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. V. Huw Lemmey / Songs for the End

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. IV. SW15 FEM

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. III. Fires Burning in the Gym

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. II. Songs for the End: ‘Sexual Healing’

Warm Yourself By My Trash Fire, Vol. I. No Light Ever

Interview: Army of Love






Lou Lou Sainsbury, ‘The Holes in My Bedroom in Space’

15th September 2020

A response to ‘earth is a hole in space’ by Sun Ra
Written by Lou Lou Sainsbury



Sun Ra, ‘earth is a hole in space’ from The Planet is Doomed, 2011


So where do you wanna go tonight?

By the time I am 60 I know that I will have learnt how to listen to the voices in the holes of the trees. There are holes in the trees in my bedroom in space, don’t you know? By the time I am 60 I will have learnt how to listen to the holes in the trees.

Can you, can you... So where do you want to go?

You can see them, only if you squint. Churning butter, a gooey mucus, a dribble from the stem.

Because I’m so happy you’re here with me. You’re hearing it. You can hear it, right?

I can hear them. So does my mother. So does my sister.

By the time I am 75, I will have learnt how to be held by the cradle of the satellite, of the holes of the trees. It’s a psychic transmission. They have their own technology. This music is great. I heard you can write it. Or play it like an instrument. I’ve heard they play it, it’s an instrument.

I can’t hear it now. I only hear it when we go out at night.

You can see them, only if you squint. Only if you squint slow now no. NOT So where do you want to go tonight?


Sweat, dripped, elastic, it’s a sign of you rubbing against me. When I’m 97, I will have learnt how to sing with the voices in the holes of the trees. There’s a choir out late, in the hole in my bedroom in space.

When I’m 107, I will have heard the church collapsing, in the trees. The Hole is the church that is collapsing.

Can you hear it?

Have you taken those? I’ve heard we can save these for healing, they last quite a long time, I keep them in my pockets so that we know we are old.

Those holes you gave me, I keep them in my pockets, so that we know we are old.

How are you feeling? Kiss (I love you) Kiss

______

By the time I am 32, I will have found that my face is hiding in my negative space,

The Hole is my cunt in my negative space,

My negative space is the Hole in my asshole,

By the time I am 3, I will have learnt that my face is the Hole I feed,

By the time I am 26, I will have heard my cunt speaks harder in my negative space.

So where do you wanna go tonight?

Shall we go to the mucus at the base of your throat?

I can hear it when you sing, limp hanging, a cement grinder, a severance, a lick from the sleep of my eyes, in the holes on my face. I can hear it, when you’re asking me –

Shall we go there tonight?

I can hear it at the base of your throat, the Hole to the asshole, my cunt in my bedroom in space. Shall we be the mucus in the base of the Hole’s throat?

By the time I am 165, I will know what it is to be mucus at the base of the Hole’s throat, in the holes of the trees in my bedroom in space. It’s wet there, the transmission has a tongue, maybe you can blow them a kiss.

Where do you wanna go?

We’ve been together for so long, where do you wanna go? Kiss (I love you) Kiss


______

Shall we go there tonight?

I would like us to go where we can be wet,

But how are you feeling?

By the time I am 400,

By the time I am born, I will have learnt that I am – Not.

That I am Not, in the voices from the holes, in the trees in my bedroom in space.

I can hear the music, I think it’s over there. Wet long fingers, push back, sodden, horses in the dark. By the time I am 4000, I will have begun to learn where the music is coming from.

So do you wanna go there tonight?

Just a couple feet away. The holes in the trees, their voices are spirals, fingers and the root to your feet.

Look how they paint their fingernails, those trees, the ones in the negative space. It’s still wet.
Kiss (I love you) Kiss

By the time I am 8000, I will know how to kiss the holes in the trees in my bedroom in space. It’s not a big deal, it’s a kiss alongside the rest.



Lou Lou Sainsbury (she/her) is a trans artist, filmmaker and writer based in Margate, UK & Rotterdam, Netherlands. She self-identifies as a time traveller, making things that unwrite histories of living beings into mythopeaic dreamscapes, informed by queer & ecological activisms. She often seeks intimate approaches to understand technology, power, and how living beings transform within these worlds; using sloppy words, noisy performances and unstable images to create tricksterish fables for utopian thinking.

You can see ‘The Holes in My Bedroom in Space’ as part of Lou Lou’s solo show my home is the place i call myself a mother at Well Projects, Margate.

Liquid explores expressions of intimacy in the private and public realms, in our digital and offline lives.