The origin of

by Diktgymnasiet

In 2018 I caught a virus, and my body hasn’t been the same since. The virus infection caused a severe form of post-viral illness from which I still haven't recovered. Although there are holistic approaches and a few (herbal) medicines that may or may not ease some of the symptoms, from a medical point of view, there is no cure. This is the same case for any and all post-viral illnesses, including ME/CFS, Long-Covid, Chronic Lyme, and so on.

Without much previous knowledge of medicine, it’s been truly shocking and frightening to learn of the extent that post-viral illness has been neglected by medical research both historically and presently. Since the history and politics of chronic illness would be too exhausting and expansive to write about here I’ll just leave it at that. But it’s important to mention.

Diktgymnasiet was started out of necessity, back when I first got ill, functioning as a coping mechanism to the fundamental changes to my life inflicted by chronic illness. Of course, it also affected my art and writing practice, for example, I wasn’t able to read or write properly due to serious cognitive dysfunction. These activities are still only possible within an extremely brief timeframe. So if reading and writing isn’t a cognitive possibility, what does this mean for the writer?

Thus, the idea of Diktgymnasiet came about, as a way to explore methodologies that attempted to slow down the writing process. Instead of writing with a pen, device or computer, where writing by default is fast, I experimented with writing using scissors, glue, printed text and paper, which is a significantly slower process. This slower pace of ”writing” inflicted as a direct result by the change of how writing takes place, was making writing possible again. The methodology, in itself developed as a result of cognitive dysfunction, ended up being a vehicle for a writing practice where concrete poetry and non-language intertwine with the framework of self care, recovery and disability justice.

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diktgymnasiet welcomes any narrative except the fascist one, and yes, capitalist narratives are (crypto)fascist.

where did the dots go?
they looks like stars
thus
they only come out at night?

in the meantime 
you’re getting commas
falling from the sky
falling on you - the readers’ - scalps

,,,, ,,         ,,, ,,, ,,,,       ,,,,,,  ,,         ,,,  ,,          
’’    ’’’          ’ ’’           ’’ ’               ’ ’’           ’’ ’
  ’          ,,’.         ,,’               ,’’   ,’’        ,,  
,             ,,          ,               ,,                  ,,        
 ,,          ,,,        ,,,                 ,,  ,,,        ,,,             
, ,,         ,          ,               ,, ,,         ,, ,,,          ,    
,    ,       ,          ,                 ,,          
 , ,    
,           , ,        ,                 ,,              , ,        ,             
,            ,                             ,          ,                                          
,,           ,        ,,                 ,                ,        ,,       

commas look a little bit like raindrops don’t they?

idiosyncratically, commas
could
be seen as a symbol
of climate crisis
which
in scandinavia
defacto has resulted in
increasing amounts of rain
which
only will continue
to increase

, ,,,       ,,,     ,  , ,     ,  , ,          ,      ,

,    ,     ,     ,  , ,       ,,      ,  ,,      ,  , ,          ,       ,

, , ,     ,        ,          ,       , ,          ,       ,        ,

,    ,       ,          ,                 ,,           

     , ,    

,           , ,        ,                 ,,              , ,        ,            

commas embrace unfinishedness,

semantically the comma
is a pause, which points
to “what comes after”
which in the case
of climate crisis would mean:

catastrophe and our
collective structural
response to it

dots on the other hand
like to act like
they are finishing things
which might be true but
they are stars

.                                .                            .
                                             .
                    .                              
                                     .
      .                                                     .
.                     .                               .
                                        .
.
       .                                                        
   .                   .                                   .


there’s artist book ”prix nobel”
by carl-fredrik reuterswärd
from 1966
where he rewrote a text
by hemingway 
keeping just the punctuation marks


diktgymnasiet rewrites ”prix nobel”
conceptually
by walking in the rain
by looking at the sky
at night

.

someone is flying in my dream
it's me, i look a bit like an eagle


the machine recording my sleep is broken
i suspect it never worked

i suspect it has the same accuracy as freud
an old friend once said that one should read freud as fiction
that way his texts become so much better
but i haven’t tried that yet

.

USING EXCLUSIVELY CAPITAL LETTERS IN WRITING
TYPICALLY WOULD BE THOUGHT TO
RESEMBLE ‘SCREAMING’ OR ‘SHOUTING’

It’s fun to think about what this would mean for any regular text:

That every sentence starts with a short scream?
That ’I’ always should be pronounced louder than other words?

diktgymnasiet sometimes be screaming
although today, a more laid back
approach
is preferred
in reverse - what did bell hooks think about not using capital letters in her name?

Note

This text was written on an iPhone, while horizontal, partly using a Speech to Text device. There were many pauses. The text was edited with help from Jenny Richards.

Images:
Utan titel, Diktgymnasiet, Collage på papper, 15 x 15 cm, 2023

About the artist

Diktgymnastiet is a visual artist and writer based in Stockholm, Sweden. Their work - using various pseudonyms - have recently been published by Gutslut Press in Los Angeles, and performed/exhibited at The National Poetry Library at Southbank Centre in London, Kohta Kunsthalle in Helsinki, and Issues and Tensta Konsthall, Stockholm.