Or think about “The Black Tomcat”: Prologue: Ladies and gentlemen / brothers and comrades! / I am stone, glass, and steel / the spotlight’s beam of light / I am sound, and word, and canvas / even the stage manager / and: YOU. / Go ahead and laugh! / [blah blah blah] / Brrr – nyek – poot. Scene: The earth. The sky. In the sky: The Sun, The Moon, The Stars. But they are not lit up. The sun is leaning against some mountain. It is dark. A dark figure stumbles forth with a lit lantern, holding a long pole. This is “A.” “A” with the long pole [ambles over to the mountain, brumbling, poking the Sun with his pole]: Sun rises at five thirty-five. Sun: inches higher. Semi-darkness. Motors: sputter up; machines: rev up. Voice: Our father who art in heaven … Bell: tolls three times. Something emits a terrible screech. “A” with the pole: A-oo-ah-ah-o [Moves forward forward to hang placards at stage front, inscribed as follows]: [Long live (you cynic!) the absolutely holy cosmic number] An electrical centipede rolls his girth through the air. “The creative processes are negation processes – a short lived jolt.” The sequence will be arranged according to a certain raising to the nth power, and their diminishing properties belonging to specific objects and their complexes and the letters a, b, c, d, designated by these same objects. The raising to the nth power of properties associated with objects, will be designated by the indexes 0 to 12. All elements will figure in the given group, and at the same time its minutely small quantity will be designated by the index 0. Groups will be designated by the letters A to D, and at the same time transitional groups [in analogy to the transitional colors in the colors of the spectrum] will be designated by two adjoining letters. Groups with a majority of c elements divide, as we shall see later, into two sequences subsequently merging with each other, and for this reason, properties assocated with objects and designated by c will be of two types: c’ and c”. A degree in the direction of diminution is designated e.g. b12c. The pond is cloaked in duckweed and clotted in plastic bags. A rotten smell rises from the water. Bubbles break the surface everywhere, making audible pops. A large rock protrudes from the muck. It blinks. Acid-green caterpillars crawl around violent roses. It’s like an alien gardening show in which human beings, supermarket shit and electrical engineering are fused together, cut into pieces and dissolved into puddles of goo. Ideally you want to use this stuff outdoors and let it cure for over 24 hours. For example, they make a sound when the soil is dry and a different one when it’s wet. This, too, was one of the functions of the otherwise merely unfashionable and ostentatious glazed and gilded frames Francis Bacon used. This is a Megan Boyle sonnet: What if that was my spaceship and I missed it? Did I mention that I have been given two lamps? The punchline is usually funniest to the person telling the joke. In 500 years people are just going to type like ‘e;oiweu w pwe sdsp lp;l brbr’. Drove without a plan in the direction of what felt like home. I’m also currently working on trying to find just exactly where the hole is in my air mattress as it slowly deflates beneath me. Lately I have found the process of “working” far more interesting than the work itself. According to the ear-worm currently inhabiting my brain – better known as Iggy Azalea – the word I’m looking for is perhaps better known as “the hustle.” It’s like handprints in wet cement: [all curtains down] “Antler, orange, bat ear,” said someone in the ghosty night, the spot we all carried on our foreheads, and we all saw the bird of paradise consumed for lunch. O little bird, he stammered, will I be a meteorite? I, the universal human, greet you in the milk-headed cosmos! Don’t you yet notice / a shimmer on bad zero, won’t you walk there / and be the shadow unendurable now calibrated. She entered quickly into a ritual play during which she would eventually destroy the object […] She would often accompany her own actions with cries of “stop it” – burst out laughing and repeat the action. Next, a horrible thing happened at the dragon clouds which muse in the river should seem! they say! should seem! they sway! and about every mile or two a golden pylon, a herm demon of Atlantis, raising its hands in ecstasy, perfume drifting from its flowery skullcap, in the rueful gorge, with their cameras pointed hastily, perhaps their posture could be should seem! they say! should seem! they sway! contrapposto. Oh but the talk is lively lithe: numero bingo ball foam omen nomen numa lumen: I am in love with the bland desire of the fly. The fly with its … shapes. How did you think you could ever contain me, when I have my spirit animal, and have even harvested its magic quality? I shudder. The inordinate love of the fly for chicken blood on the cutting boards of my youth! Do you think I would surrender that image to your country? A thousand flies meld to a bloody pig carcass on a hook in a closet at a party. This is clearly a kissing game. The highlight is probably the 16-minute sequence toward the end where Dave has his pivotal encounter with the black monolith, catalyzing a next-level mode of existence and featuring an uninterrupted medley of The Knife, Air Supply & Duran Duran, though my favorite arrangements are the live Orbital track with its audience cheering on cue as our heroes approach the Moon, and the broken pieces of Heart and Alphaville that soundtrack a panicked Frank as he spirals into space; all of this is reminding me of my favorite all time representation of Eros, “433 Eros”, an S-type near-Earth asteroid, Lake Tahoe-size. No such ambiguity exists in the Powell case. The police released cellphone video yesterday, and it is absolutely chilling. Powell emerges from the convenience store with a pair of canned drinks. He seems a little confused – puts them down, paces around, and so on. Then the police show up in a white SUV, and jump out, guns drawn. Powell backs away, says “just shoot me” a couple of times, climbs up on a retaining wall, takes a couple of steps in the direction of the police … and then they shoot him. Total time between the police arrival and his death? About 15 seconds. Yet a term is itself already an individual, or at least something capable of being individualized, something that can be the cause of an absolutely specific existence, something that can lead to a proliferation of many new haecceities. Legend has it that they escaped from a shipment at JFK in the 1960s. They hang like green jewels from bristling stick nests high in the Gothic gate.
[Note: Sources: JBR; János Mácza, “The Black Tomcat” (tr. John Bátki), in Between Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central European Avant-Gardes 1910-1930 (eds. Timothy O Benson and Éva Forgács); Dragan Aleksić, “Tatlin: HPS [Horsepower] + Man” (tr. Maja Starčević), in Benson and Forgács; Stanisław Ignacy Witkiewicz, “Aesthetic Sketches” (tr. Klara Kemp-Welch), in Benson and Forgács; Allison Cobb, Green-Wood; Acid-green … Bacon used: various, quoted in Dennis Cooper, “Terrarium Makers”, at DC’s, 22 Aug 014; JBR, but see next; Megan Boyle, “from LIVEBLOG”, at Everyday Genius, 22 Aug 014; Alexandra Wuest, “Working On My Shit: The Art of Distraction”, at HTMLGIANT, 22 Aug 014; Sándor Barta, “The First Gathering of the Mad in a Garbage Bin” (tr. John Bátki), in Benson and Forgács; JH Prynne “Biting the Air”, and Dr James Kent, epigraphs to Lawrence Giffin, Christian Name; Lanny Quarles, “Mutheomai Etidorpha Hojas”, at Jellybean Weirdo With Electric Snake Fang, 22 Aug 014; William Keckler, “Anomal Condom”, at Joe Brainard’s Pyjamas (The Sequel), 22 Jul 014; Dan Hoy, “The Music Videos of Dan Hoy’s Stanley Kubrick’s 2001”, at Montevidayo, 22 Aug 014; Gordon Hull, “‘In a lethal situation, they used lethal force:’ The Myth of the Myth of the ‘Angry Black Man’”, at New Apps, 22 Aug 014; Gilbert Simondon, “The Genesis of the Individual”, at MECHANT-MACHIN]