Zeitgeist Spam

"No reason to get excited", the thief he kindly spoke / "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke / But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate / So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late".

For Rose.

In the House of the Hangman 1333a

OK. Dr Alimantado had been following the greenperson for three days now. Beckoned by a finger made from articulated runner beans, he had sailed over the desert of red grit, the desert or red sand, the desert of red stone. There was a razorstorm coming in. It was the deep dark, unexplored except for robotic visitors. All you know I know and all I know you know: careening astronauts and bank clerks … “You have confused the true and the real.” This is the freezer door obviously expertly concealed. But there’s my own form / It’s today / Normal door, bucket design: / Larger wavering mode seems possible. No. But “Jottings and memos having to do with what anything in the world consists of should be made large, even enterable.” The workers we’ve spoken to, including police guarding the scene, uniformly say that Exxon’s told them that they’re cleaning up “crude oil” (they’re aren’t, or weren’t; they are/were cleaning up highly toxic tar sands bitumen and being lied to). I don’t think this is what Negarestani meant when he wrote, “Be a hydro-leak engineer; make things leak out.” Be that as it may, in his preface Rolland notes that Istrati’s storytelling prowess proved so irrepressible he’d interrupted the narrative of his own suicide note to weave in a few choice tales. Love this book: it’s 70s astral projection / occult action all the way, and yes, that cover scene (teddy bear chopping off own head then going on to axe an armadillo-rat) actually happens. I smell something, and taste it, and wish I had more of that. I hear you, I’m listening in, this is impossible. There are scraps of two thousand, soon we can’t remember it. I feel something besides scraps of tin men. God damn these voices are telling us what we need to know. Alalalala alaluivalve. Alalalala alaluivalve. Alalabalamat. Phone rings, it’s Rose in tears, time out. The news is terrible. But each place is well and each well a hole. --- / ... -..- --.. / --.- -..- ..- / .--. --- -... ..- -.-. ..- / .... ..- -... / -..- -- --- / --- -... -- --- / ..- / - ..- ..-. . -.. . .-.. . ...- --- -- ..- -.. .-.. ..- / --- / -.-. -... . ... -. --- I only know what people said and sometimes wrote and sometimes didn’t say and sometimes didn’t write and only now,. ..- -.- -..- / -- ..- -- -.-. -..- --- .-.. / -.- ..- .--. --- - --- / .... -..- --- -... --- / -.- ..- .-.. . -.- --- / ... --- -- --- / -.- ..- -- -..- - . --- -.. / --- -.- -..- / -- ..- -.. - ..- -.. --. --- -... / --- .--. --- / -.-- --- -.. --. / -.-. --- -.-. ..- / -- ..- -.. --- -.. --. . .... / - . -.- ..- -.. - --- ... . -.- --- -.. / - ..- -.. --. --- -.. / .-- --- -.-. --- -.. --- / . -.. . .-.-.- / [Exeunt omnes.] -- --- .... / .... ..- / .... ..- -... / .... --- -.-. --- / - ..- / -... --- -- --- / ..- --.- -..- . .-.. --- .-.. . ...- --- .... / ..- / .-.. --- -- --- -... / -.. --- .... .... --- .... / -. --- -- ..- -.. .... / -.-. --- -.. .... / ..- -.. ...- ..- ... -. ..- -.-. . - --- .... / .--. ..- ... --- / -.-. --- -... -.-. --- .... / - --- -.. - --- / --- --- .... / -.. --- .... .... --- .... / .... --- -.. .-.. --- .... / ...- . -... --. ..- -.. .... / .--. --- -... --- / --- / -- --- -.. -.-. -. --- / - --- / . -.. .... --- ... ..- -.. .-.. ..- / -.-. -... -..- .-.. --- ... / --. -..- ..- -... -... --- / -- --- - / .-. ..- -... ..- -.-. -... --- / ..- -.. .-.. --- --- / --.- -..- ..- / ..- ... ..- / .-. --- -.. -. ..- .-. ..- / ..- / - . --. --- / ... -. ..- / ..- --- .... .-.. ... --- -.. - / ..-. --- ... --- / ..- -- / .--. . ..- - --- - ..- / - --- / -.. --- .... .... --- / . - --- .... --- .... / ..- / -.. --- .... .... --- .... / .--- --- ...- ..- -.. .... / -.. --- --- / .--. --- .... .... --- / ..- .... .-. --- ... -. ..- -... / -- --- .... / - . --.. ..- -... / ... -. ..- / --.- -..- ..- / -.. --- --- / -- ..- / . -- .--. --- -... .-.. --- / ..- / .-.. --- -- ..- / --- / -.. --- / .--. . --- -... / - --- .... / -. . .--. --- .-.. ..- .... ..- .... / .--. --- - ... --.- -..- ..- / .... -..- --- .... / ..-. --- .-. --- .... / -.. --- --- / ... . --. --- / ..- -.. --.- -..- --- -.. .-.. --- / ...- --- .-. ..- / .-.. ..- -- / --. --- -... --. --- -.. .-.. --- .... / .--. --- -... --- / -... ..- .... .--. --- -.. - ..- -... / .--. --- -... --- / -- . -- / -.. --- --- we referred to it as enargeia because it’s destined from the sun who thunders with his spear plucking feathers off a flower.          A little yellow bird. Or when we do facts explode. .-. --- ... -- / .-.. . -.. ..- / .... . / .... --- / .... -..- .--. --- -... .-.. ..- / --. -... ..- .... ..- ... . ... ..- / - ..- / ...- --- -... .... .-.. --- / - ..- / -... --- -.-- .-.. -. ..- --- -.. / ..- ..-. ..- .-. .-.. ..- / - ..- / - -..- -... ..- -... ..- / .--. ..- -.. .-.. -... -..- / ..-. . . . / ... -..- . / ...- . .-.. ..- --- --.. / .-. -..- . Knocking without. - --- .... / --- / ... ..- -- .--. -... ..- .... --- / .-. -- - - --- / -. --- -- ..- / --- / .--. --- -... .-.. / .-.. --- .-.. ..- .... / -..- -.. . -....- .-. --- / . / .... --- ... --- / -.. --- / --- -.-. .... .-.. --- -.. .-.. / --- . ..- --- .-.-.- / Flourish. -..- -.. / --- -... ..- . - ..- / - ..- / - --- -....- ... ..- -.. .-.. / ... . / ..-. --- / .-. --- -- .--. --- -.. -.-- . --- .-.-.- / [Knocking within.] .... . / .-.. -..- / ..- .-.. .... / ..- ... / --.- -..- ..- / - --- .... / ...- . -....- ... - -- -.. .... / ...- . -.. ..- / -.. --- / .--. -... --- .--. / ..- ... ... .-.-.- / We wear iron masks. .... --- ...- --- .... ... --- -... - --- / .-.. ..- -. ... . -.- ..- ... . /-.----....-.----..----../--.-..-...-..--....../-..--.---..---..-/..--..--...-.-..--.. / [... (...) Enter Ghost.] - . ..- / .... --- -.. -.. ..- / . .... .-.. / ..- . -.. / - . ..- -.-. .-.-.- / -..- -.. - / -- . .-.. / .... ..- 

[Note: Sources: JBR; Ian McDonald, Desolation Road; Alastair Reynolds, Revelation Space; C J Cherryh, Foreigner; Samuel R Delany, Dhalgren, and George Stanley, epigraph to same; JBR; Keston Sutherland, Ode to TL61P; CJ Martin, “Untitled #1, 1/16/12”, “‘Unused Cover, 1983’ (from Rhyme Eats the Words: Work, Kids)”, “Untitled (from Rhyme Eats the Words: Civilization!)”, at Elective Affinities (Michael Cross writes in an email, “My very good friend and comrade, CJ Martin, who is also one of my favorite poets in the world, just experienced an incomprehensibly tragic loss. His father Tommy and grandmother Ann were victims of a tornado in Texas on May 15th, and his mother, Betsy Davis, was just released from ICU.” If you want to help, see Michael’s post, at The Disinhibitor, 23 May 013); JBR; Madeline Gins, FB post, 23 May 013; “Dispatches From Exxon’s Spill Zone, April 11”, at Tar Sands Blockade, 11 Apr 013; JBR; Reza Negarestani, as quoted in punctum books FB post, 23 May 013 (re: Andreas Burckhardt, A Sanctuary of Sounds); JBR; Scott Walters, “Panaït Istrati's Kyra Kyralina”, at Seraillon, 14 May 012; Darren Bauler, “Keeper of the Children – William H. Hallahan”, at Theater of Diminished Faculties, 23 May 013; Name, A Novel, at UbuWeb; JBR (gist of call: A has cervical cancer; her friend across the street with whom she knits, the one with the 3 yr old, has stage 4 cancer (don’t know what kind; Rose just found out an hour ago); her co worker’s son’s disease has no treatment, he’ll be in a wheelchair by the time he’s 6, and dead by 20 if good luck holds; they signed T’s dad’s final directive … ); Sam Truitt, “from Dick”, as quoted in “PEN Poetry Series: Sam Truitt”, email rec’d 24 May 013 approx 5:59 AM PDT (Thank you, email, just what I needed after Rose’s call)]

In the House of the Hangman 1333

Somebody stood on a nail or on to the pillow over the nail I lay my sleeping head so the hiss in the airlock is just the muzak stimulus to echo; the last speck of SucraSEED glints on the vinyl, in fact, you care for the dog, or in the Chicago of the Kogelo of Elysium, la verité flambée cloaked in blue cheese, it’s cancelled. The hall of crumpled Chamberlains is, however, filled with windows, and from inside you can look out and see bright pink flowers. They’re attached to the trees in the museum’s west garden, which is a nice place to take a break from all the Very Serious Art — not just because it’s lovely, but because if you sit for a while, you’ll hear something: an installation by Louise Lawler, titled “Birdcalls.” Julian Schnabel’s last name becomes the warbly, guttural “Schnaaaaabel.” Joseph Kosuth’s last name takes on a light, airy tone, as if Lawler were launching the word like a balloon into the sky. “Aarrrt, aarrrt, A-a-aaartschwager!” she cries, the W of wine looking so much like UR that I did think it said come in and try our urine. Time for a joke: A tourist wanders into City Lights and asks Shig Murao if he is Chinese. “No, I’m not a Chinese American,” he tells the tourist. “I’m an American Eskimo.” He pulls out a wooden eggbeater he bought in Chinatown, twirls it between his palms, and explains to the tourist that it’s a Buddhist prayer wheel. I don’t find this funny and am heartened but I don’t speak Russian and what look like Emergency Exits are feasting wedges of antimatter like in that famous book of early postmodern theory Learning From Los Alamos. Tonight you will text me with something like “Intense solitude becomes unbearable only when there’s nothing one wishes to say to another." You’ll text me again before I answer and tell me that the quote is from ‘Americana’ by Don DeLillo. I will look at my iPhone light up then check my Gmail. While I’m going through my spam inbox, trying to figure out how to get off all of these subscription lists (Macy’s, PETA, Sierra Club, ModCloth, Urban Outfitters) that I thought were a good idea to sign up for at some point, you’ll text me a third time and say something like, “I just finished a margarita. I am dining at alone at Plaza Azteca.” The mighty T. Rex may have thrashed its massive head from side to side to dismember prey, but a new study shows that its smaller cousin Allosaurus was a more dexterous hunter and tugged at prey more like a modern falcon. One event occurs, a distraction, something else, a lull (the nap), then that initial event comes back (the second phone call), the response being similar, but slightly modified (the answer ‘maybe’ turns to ‘no’): that transition noted by Messrs. Olewnick and Pinnell, from the more fervently questing, noisier moments of the second disc to the … let’s call it ‘emptying out’, of the third disc: “that bleak and beautiful plateau.” Time passes, then – how could it not? and not be felt. Four hours is a long time – an investment, if you will. So here, minimal events occur in overlapping waves and blocks, difference felt or sensed in slow transition rather than obvious signalled cut (as, too, in Eliane Radigue’s infinitesimally-shifting drones). Press play. Ambient sound, the distant echo of piped music a là shopping-mall. Footsteps, the unnatural echo of cold, large spaces – bunkers, the underground; or the hum of machines in nuclear bunkers, technological support after the technology above ground (progress-making bombs, the motion of history) has had its say. OK. Is it 1 minute 25 seconds before the music starts or are we 1 25 in? Sine wave, Sachiko, Rowe coming in underneath almost straight away to adorn, to complement, his buzzing suddenly switched off before the drone becomes too comfortable. Jolts, clangs – electronic, acoustic, hard to tell, both merging into indeterminate similarity in the echoing space – the drone building, louder, lower swellings, volume building, simultaneous ephemerality and enormity of the edifice (all it takes is one of the musicians to twist a knob, flick a switch, pull out a cable, and the thing will collapse – like removing one of the foundations from a building and then building again from the collapsed structure, the ruined edifice, a new building in itself). The dull buzz of an exposed cable-end, the inscrutable ‘om’, still that sine wave, slowed-down shamanic wail, taped voices, manipulated groans, nothing? You HATE SPEECH? Voice as halo, tho (and?) ‘words don’t go there’, as Fred Moten says of Cecil Taylor’s poems.

[Note: Sources: Keston Sutherland, Stress Position; Jillian Steinhauer, “Skewering the Egos of Male Artists at Dia:Beacon”, at Hyperallergic, 21 May 013; JBR; Giles Goodland, FB post, 21 May 013; Richard Reynolds, as quoted in “City Lights at 60: Shig Murao”, at Abandon All Despair Ye Who Enter Here, 21 May 013; Kevin Davies, “Karnal Bunt”, in Comp. (must be one of the best poems of the last few decades); like in that famous … theory: JBR; Tonight you will text … Plaza Azteca”: Gabby Gabby (Gabby Bess), “Dining Alone At Plaza Azteca”, at Banango Street 1; “Allosaurus Fed More Like a Falcon Than a Crocodile: Engineering, Anatomy Work Reveals Differences in Dinosaur Feeding Styles”, at Science Daily, 21 May 013; David Grundy, “Listening to Sachiko M”, at Eartrip 7 (re Keith Rowe / Otomo Yoshihide / Toshimaru Nakamura / Sachiko M – Erstlive 005 (Erstwhile, 2005)); JBR (w/ a ref to an ancient writing by Robert Grenier)]

In the House of the Hangman 1332

Grant summarizes the importance of such a geology in the following way: “If geology, or the ‘mining process,’ opens onto an ungroundedness at the core of any object, this is precisely because there is no ‘primal layer of the world’, no ‘ultimate substrate’ or substance on which everything ultimately rests.” I mean, the stitches that melted from my ripped open cunt tasted like mint and changed color when I peed. I peed with the door open because this is bounty. The universe has a fat lip. “Bewray the repricon, outstent the naze.” Occupy Our Homes reports, “All enterances blocked, we have taken the streets, arrests have begun.” 17 as of late afternoon, May 20th. The village fortune-teller is a middle-aged woman with two gold teeth and a diamond ring — status symbols earned by her supernatural perceptions. Grabbing a deck of playing cards, she arranged them on a thin blanket in front of her. I immediately drew an ace of spades. She screwed up her face and made a noise like she’d just seen a horse kick a man in the nuts. Apparently my pick meant I wouldn’t find my lost camera. I asked her how she got her powers; “I was very sick when I was 18,” she told me through a translator, “then three spirits took pity on me and cured me of the disease. They have stayed with me ever since and help me tell fortunes.” The city is a mammal vision / Jack Pumpkinhead laughs with the Tin Man / The city is a mammal vision / in peaks of fog / Jack Pumpkinhead is laughing with the Tin Man / and / an AXE / chops through it all / innocent as the smile of a cougar / clean as the smile of a snake / I’m the hand of the squid / there’s a planet of thieves in a nerve cell / there’s a planet of fiends in a nerve cell / every pebble sings and raves / I / / AM / / THIS THING / / / OF / / SPIRIT, peace out Ray w/ Jim, Jean Harlow & Billy the Kid but please let it not be that utopia with doves and waterfalls and soft white clothes and doors that open as soon as they are approached and please let it not be that utopia with all in harmony and accord and please not that utopia of agrarian fantasy, with all of us in touch with or at peace with the land, working the land together or weaving together in some endlessly temperate and agreeable climate, caught in simple pleasures, eating simple wholesome food and please – just as strongly, please – not that techno utopia where no one works at all since the machines – ever more clever, resourceful and skilled – are doing everything, hidden in basements, miniaturized or concealed behind the walls and not that utopia the flattening of creeds, races, genders and all that into one single humanity and not that utopia of original ignorance, Adam and Eve, the nakedness that is not nakedness no thank you and not that utopia of free love or boundless and open desire or that hallucinatory psychedelic utopia of the human dissolved into the universe and not that utopia of the virtual, with its useless pretended transcendence of flesh and biology and again please, not the satisfaction of all desires and not the exhaustion of all need and please no to the utopia determined by sense no to the utopia determined by utility no to the utopias of knowledge, understanding, and progress please not the uniformity of consent or that of placidity no to the erasure of anger please not the utopic reduction of human space to that of a prison in which all needs have been anticipated, prescribed, provided for please not the reduction of everything to the realm of the solvable please not some banality cotton-woolled and perpetuated ad nauseam not either theocratic order or rationalist decency not some medicalised or genetically modified utopia in which all personalities and physicalities have been balanced, remixed and extended forever in a calculation of chemicals and genes please not the utopia of the old and wise and please not that utopia of the young and the carefree not for us that which can be dreamed or imagined, described or spoken of and not for us anything that can be caught in the noose of the 26 letters (called an alphabet).

[Note: Sources: Ben Woodard, quoting Iain Hamilton Grant, “Mining Conditions,” in The Speculative Turn: Continental Materialism and Realism (eds. Levi Bryant, Nick Srnicek and Graham Harman), in On an Ungrounded Earth: Towards a New Geophilosophy, at punctum books; JBR; “The Last Five Centuries Were Uneventful”, as quoted in Melissa Broder, “Sunday Service: Jenny Zhang Poem”, at HTMLGIANT, 16 Dec 012; TS Eliot, as quoted in Hugh MacDiarmid, “In Memoriam James Joyce, from A Vision of World Language”, as quoted in “Epeolators All”, at Languagehat, 20 May 013 (“I have no idea where Eliot wrote ‘Bewray the repricon, outstent the naze,’ if in fact he did.”); JBR, but see Jodi Dean, “Occupy Our Homes: 17 arrested”, at I cite, 20 May 013; Nathan A Thompson, “I Tested Out Three Cambodian Spiritual Practices”, at Vice, 20 May 013; Ray Manzarek Michael McClure and Big Mix 2011-08-10, DOLPHIN SKULL, “The Last Waltz”, at YouTube (JBR “transcription”, typing on the fly while listening, combined with the printed text); JBR (RIP Ray Manzarek); Michael McClure; JBR; Tim Etchells, “A utopia of dispute might be better”, at NOWHEREISLAND, 10 Mar 012]

"Song" by Allen Ginsberg (posted for any number of reasons ...)

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,

but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love--
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
--cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:

the weight is too heavy

--must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.

The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye--

yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.

In the House of the Hangman 1331

This is how molestation works. It’s like being strangled by invisible hands that exert the softest, most irritating pressure. A silk glove covered in cut diamonds. But I grew up. We all grow up. We survive even if we don’t survive that well. There are levels. Some people develop eating disorders or drug problems. Some people become frigid or are addicted to sex. Some people can have sex but not love; some people can’t hold down jobs because they cry when people don’t smile at them or they are scolded for missing a deadline. Some people can’t stand the sound of other people breathing or chewing. Some people can’t listen to the radio, because disembodied voices is the same as having the lights out and all your senses dispersed. Some people can’t smell certain brands of lotion. I can’t drive on the highway. I have a phobia. I believe the laws of physics don’t apply to me and that my brakes won’t work and that when I try to make them work my car will crash into the car in front of me and I will eject out the roof and explode into a billion particles. “Ages pass slowly, like a load of hay / … / The color once known as ‘ashes of roses – ’/ How many snakes and lizards shed their skins / For time to be passing on like this, / … / As a change is voiced, sharp / As a fishhook in the throat.” Do not lie or lean on me. Stranger, to tell the truth, in dog years I am up there. Equally problematic are the terms of the loans. Unlike almost every other kind of debt, student debt is nondischargeable through bankruptcy, and collection agencies are granted extraordinary powers to extract payments, including the right to garnish wages, tax returns, and Social Security. The market in securitized loans known as SLABS (Student Loans Asset-Backed Securities) accounts for more than a quarter of the aggregate $1 trillion student debt. As with the subprime racket, SLABS are often bundled with other kinds of loans and traded on secondary markets. As for federal loans, they are offered at unjustifiably high interest rates — far above those at which the government borrows money. Maybe this is why William Keckler says, “When I try to figure humans out, I am miserable. When I clean a wall, I am happy.” Or why Conrad notes and quotes: “Frank Samperi would have been 80 today ... ‘Hapless, I shall take / my little bag of necessities and move closer / toward the ivory gate —.’ My voice comes out of me as a begonia, in spite of the world’s pain. It’s not a big deal, I guess, or at least it’s nothing I can change. It’s a begonia. My swan puddles a toss we plump and my voice finds its tongue in writing. The world divides into facts. My tongue divides into fingers. Any one can either be the case or not be the case, and everything else remain the same. And the train arrives amusing the rain and asparagus by quoting a garden of earthly delights. The fact is, we travel over oboes to get at a humor clarinet. Let us examine Bach. Let us examine our constructions of reality. There is knowledge that I love, knowledge that I hate, knowledge that I love and hate, knowledge that resembles coal, knowledge that resembles treasure, knowledge that resembles nothing, if I plug a cord of knowledge into a wall, I see that it becomes electricity. I remember hearing a story that might not be true: Isak Dinesen eating nothing but white grapes, oysters, and Chardonnay until she died, presumably in a fur coat. The Apartment of Tragic Appliances is a literal place in which a hapless, portable dishwasher “heats residue only to reimagine cleanliness as an art project.” I saw a book the other day but didn’t open it. It was called, Is God Happy? I assume it was some kind of weird science fiction, but, as Guy put it, “Perhaps the system carrying the database has the capacity to create meaning as a form of homeostatic buffering.”

[Note: Sources: Jennifer S Levin, “Walking in the Light”, at Jennifer S Levin, 16 May 013; John Ashbery, “Vetiver”, at Intertwingled, via Susan M Schultz, FB comment, 19 May 013; CD Wright, “Personals”, at Intertwingled; Andrew Ross, “NYU Professor: Are Student Loans Immoral?”, at The Daily Beast, 27 Sept 012, via Ned Stuckey-French, FB comment, 19 May 013; JBR, but see following; William Keckler, “(My) (Philosophy)”, at Joe Brainard’s Pyjamas (The Sequel), 19 May 013; Conrad DiDiodato, “Happy Birthday, Frank (for Claudia)”, at Wod-Dreamer: poetics, 19 May 013; John Olson, “Tractatus Tarantella”, at Tillalala Chronicles (cancelled post); JBR; Lucy Corin, and punctum books blurb for Michael D. Snediker, The Apartment of Tragic Appliances; JBR (Is God Happy? is by Leszek Kolakowski); JBR, but see next; Guy Taylor, FB comment, 19 May 013]

In the House of the Hangman 1330

& as for           we who love to be abused / wearing white lipstick in markets & knowing the prices of the grapes & the melons / holding black orange pale blue & pink plastic products made in Hong Kong & not failing in conversation / reading Marx in the park & touching his cock / ice creaks & the water level rises / they still pretend to stand outside the world / by mental epidemics of the right / in the Perpendicular Gothic style / next week when we’ll be interviewing our / last universal common ancestor / asking if roses are red in the dark / I wonder if the hardware comes with Love / my heart is a park of albino deer. THEIR FOOTSTEPS DECREASE IN THE DISTANCE, THEY ARE RUNNING; AS THEIR STEPS FADE, THE PLANE BLOWS UP … WHEN THE EXPLOSION SLOWLY DIES AWAY, WE START HEARING THE USUAL NOISES OF AN ANIMATED NIGHTCLUB, VEGAS STYLE, COMNG IN ON THE OTHER SPEAKER, TILL IT FILLS ALL THE STEREOCHANNELS; if you’re going to give him the drugs / you should give everyone in the courtroom the drugs / and the first world could not have been the first to feel the Predator watching Tremors. As The Book of Barely Imagined Beings has it, “The four horses regurgitated the French horns, which played nocturnes at our wedding.” “It was a Monoprix special,” he’d explained, planting a moist kiss on her desiccated forehead. Studies show the wind alone / rarely courses the gorges and scours / the gulches of the western desert, / our desiccated inland sea, / home to Atomic City, / poor Shoshone. OK. [With reference to Jabès’s The Book of Questions] A host of imaginary rabbis. They have names (‘names of listening’), but are not individualized, They are not characters. Not even the shadowy kind of character that Yukel is (‘you are a shape moving in the fog …You are the toneless utterance among anecdotal lies’). Most of them do not speak more than once, though a few are allowed to dispute for several pages. Even then they do not really become persons. What they say is not necessarily consistent. They do not represent a position. They are not authorities. Gabriel Bounoure calls them ‘candidates for presence, but hesitant to quit their status of shadows’. Voices, rather. A chorus. Of commentary and interpretation. Of exchange. a chorus that points to the phenomenon of voice as such or, rather, to the phenomenon of changing voice, changing pespective. In a rhythm of voice – absence of voice – voice. This is why, in his later books, the rabbis, privileged interpreters though they are, disappear. They become absorbed into the white space between paragraphs, between aphorisms. The piece received media coverage due to a lawsuit in the mid-1990s, when an art museum in Randers, Denmark was accused by collector John Hunov of causing leakage of a shit can that had been on display at the museum in 1994, when collector John Hunov of causing leakage of a shit can that had been on display at the museum in 1994 accused an art museum in Randers, Denmark. Allegedly, the museum had stored the can at irresponsibly warm temperatures. But enough of that. I want to be friends with whoever created John Rawls’ A THEORY OF JUSTICE: THE MUSICAL! I like collecting fallen vowels, aaaaaa aaaaaaa aaaaaaaa aaaaaaaah aaaaaaauugh aaaaaagh aaaaaaahhhh aaaaaaugh aaaaagh aaaaah, the day went from flute to flute, BLACK EYEBROWS, a fragment of a _________________, and witness the witness the witness the ______: Is that the merda, or what!? ^____________________— I love ... » Top Picks · » ________ · » {=merka} X: Witness also the Colossus, ..... two been out of true. Ụ Ụ Ụ Ụ Ụ: _________________________________ dayindayout dayindayout. The next page is “a little time to accept it.” The next page is “a little time.” “I must lose it to ___________”,  ___________________ akimbo hymnal ______________ || || | || ||| || || || Insects and frogs grind their own songs from the surrounding forest. Like ______________, it seems so long ago, Like Lo, ____________________ embraced by a multitude of imperceptible moons, God’s credit card, Satan’s expense account, eight of the bones, “_____________ “um”, “ah”, “um”, “ah”, “um”, “ah”, “um”, “ah”, “ums”, “ah”, “ums”, “ah”, “um”, “ah”, _________________________, SMALL BLUE. Here is a 3D printed doll, cloned from a real human’s head, that you can never unsee. Whatever you do, don’t make eye contact … Oh you already did? Because this is what happens … Just kidding! These are just some recently printed 3D heads on a stick drying off or something …

[Note: Sources: Petrarch, “191”, “325”, in Petrarch (tr. Tim Atkins); Petrarch, “101”, “106”, “107”, “109”, “112” (tr. Peter Hughes), at Litter; Pierre Joris, “The Entropy Caper / Or The Return Of Jerry Cornelius”, in Romulan Soup Woman (Damn the Caesars Suspended); Justin Katko, “What We’re Gonna Eat, E.G., The Golf Courses, Etc”, in Romulan Soup Woman (Damn the Caesars Suspended); JBR (The Book of Barely Imagined Beings is by Caspar Henderson); Carol Novack, “Eating Habits of the Poor”, at http://carolnovack.com/ Carol Novack, and “A Perfect Day for Pamplemousse”, at Mad Hatter’s Review 13; William D Waltz, “Brian’s Brain”, at jubilat 15; JBR; Lars Iyer, and Rosmarie Waldrop, Lavish Absence, as quoted in Iyer’s “[With reference to Jabès’s …”, at Spurious, 16 May 013; Wikipedia, “Artist’s Shit” (the 1961 piece by Pierre Manzoni); MS Word’s recommended reorganization of the previous; JBR; David Winters, “I want to be friends with whoever created John Rawls’ …”, at Hugging the Horse, 18 May 013; JBR, 50, more or less as prepared for My Sadness collab with Anne Gorrick, 18 May 013; “Human Doll Cloning is So Hot right now in Japan”, at Messy Nessy Chic, 17 May 013]

Ray Manzarek Michael McClure and Big Mix 2011-08-10 (RIP Ray Manzarek)

Mayday Manifesto reissue

Mayday Manifesto reissue (by Lawrence & Wishart)

A re-issue of the text of the Mayday Manifesto, with a new introduction by Michael Rustin. Our aim is to offer this both as a historical document of intrinsic interest and to remind readers that the intellectual work of presenting the possibility of a more democratic, equal and just society has a long tradition in our country.

 

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In the House of the Hangman 1329

Now this next bit is reblogged from Rhizome (Hat tip to Sam): To mark the launch of McKenzie Wark’s new book The Spectacle of Disintegration, Verso Books have offered Rhizome readers in the UK a chance to win a 3D printed Guy Debord action figure. The figure is part of a limited edition run of 200 made by Wark, who was inspired to delve into maker culture because of Debord's own investment in craft as evidenced in the twelve handcrafted issues of Internationale Situationniste. (You can read more about this in Brendan Byrne’s recent interview with Wark on Rhizome). It’s important to note that you can also make your own Debord figure based on Wark's 3D model, which will be released under a Creative Commons license. The prize will go to first person with all correct answers to the quiz below. Two runners up will receive a complimentary copy of the book. The competition is open to UK residents only; entrants must email [enquiries AT verso.co.uk]. Please put SPECTACLE COMPETITION in the subject line or your entry may not be counted

1.The Critique of Everyday Life is a seminal book that opened up a whole line of critical thinking about the small, everyday situations outside of the factory walls and beyond the official political sphere. Who wrote it, and in what year was it first published?

2. McKenzie Wark calls the experience of the everyday in our time the disintegrating spectacle. He is adding a fourth kind of spectacle to the three described by Guy Debord. Writing in the 60s, Debord thought both sides of the cold war were just variants of spectacle. Later, he thought that states such as France and Italy had combined elements of both into a third kind. What were the names Debord gave to these three variants?

3. The Surrealist leader André Breton wrote a poem, published after World War II, dedicated to the famous utopian writer Charles Fourier. Breton’s poem starts out with the narrator noticing a flower placed beneath his statue. During the Occupation, the Germans melted it down to use the copper for munitions. On which Paris street was that statue?

4. Debord’s comrade Raoul Vaneigem was rather more influenced by Surrealism, and via Surrealism by Charles Fourier, than some other Situationists. He even edited a paperback edition of Fourier’s ‘queer theory’ manuscript, The New Amorous World. What was the name of the Fourier-inspired utopia Vaneigem wrote about in 2005?

5. The great art historian T. J. Clark, who was briefly a member of the Situationist International, once recalled a demonstration in London which found him on the steps of the National Gallery in London. He and his friend debated there which painting within they would feel obliged to consign to the flames should the people ever storm through those illustrious portals. The masterpiece that Clark would have chosen was painted by whom?

6. The Situationist Gianfranco Sanguinetti pulled off a stunning prank in Italy, by publishing The Real Report on the Last Chance to Save Capitalism in Italy. Purporting to be from some insider to ruling circles or someone cognizant of ruling opinion, it argued that there was no harm in admitting Communists into government, as the Communists were not a revolutionary party, but were already acting in the interests of power in keeping workers in line. Under what name was the& Real Report issued?

7. Next to Guy Debord, René Viénet is the best known Situationist film maker. His détourned films have a lightness and charm all of their own. His film Can Dialectics Break Bricks? uses a martial arts film as its raw material, and by gently moving a few minutes of film around and dubbing the actor’s voices into French, Viénet turns it into a critique of the Stalinization of the left during ’68. Who directed the film on which Can Dialectics Break Bricks? is based?

8. Debord’s ‘70s films Society of the Spectacle and Refutation of All Judgmentswere a quantum leap forward in complexity over his earlier cinema work, in part due to the resources of his new patron, Gerard Lebovici. Who was the film editor with whom Debord worked on these films, and who was the other famous French director with whom she worked?

9. Besides being Guy Debord’s second wife, Alice Becker-Ho wrote some very interesting books on the influence of Romani language on the ‘jargon’ of the dangerous classes, and as an important source for words not only in French but in other European languages. According to her glossary of jargon, what is the meaning of the word ‘baron’?

10. Besides his many accomplishments in the arts of writing, editing, cinema, and revolution, Guy Debord was also a game designer. On the writings of which military theorist did he claim to have based The Game of War?

11. Who was the member of the Situationist International who thought the SI should attempt détournements of porn and comics? Who praised Latin American militants for taking over an electronic BBS system? Who advocated fake issues of well-known periodicals? Who thought any militant thinker should be as capable of making a film as writing an article?

12. The Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Yale had the holograph manuscript of Guy Debord’s Society of the Spectacle on display for a while. Did that manuscript and other items from Debord’s papers end up being sold by Alice Becker-Ho to the Beinecke, or somewhere else?

[Note: Sources: JBR; Michael Connor, “Guy Debord Limited Edition Action Figure Giveaway”, at Rhizome, 17 May 013. When I originally posted this at ZS, I rec'd (via a link) the following comment:

Stunted Publicity

“If a rock falls on your head it does positive harm, but shame, disgrace, reproaches and insults are damaging only in so far as you’re conscious of them. If you’re not, you feel no hurt at all. What’s the harm in the whole audience hissing [at] you if you clap [for] yourself? And Folly alone makes this possible.” Erasmus, Praise of Folly

It seems to us that a response is necessary to this impudent and silly provocation. Silence on the part of people like us – who have spent many years and a great deal of effort trying to understand, enrich and act in accordance with what remains vital and relevant in the situationist critique of spectacular society – would only allow those unfamiliar with, newly informed of or hostile to the legacy of Guy Debord and the other members of the Situationist International to think that impudent and silly provocateurs such as McKenzie Wark are the only ones who are interested in this legacy today.

But what kind of response is called for in this instance? Let’s look at two of them: one might respond seriously, and denounce it sincerely and violently; or one might respond facetiously, and pretend not to be outraged by it (one might even pretend to find it amusing). There are advantages to both approaches: the first would have the merit of showing that not everyone in this world is a silly twat who thinks that life is but a joke; while the second would have the merit of being easier on the writer (there are so many outrages these days and it can be hard to be outraged by all of them all the time). And of course there are disadvantages to each of these approaches: the first one carries the risks of being dismissed as evidence that one doesn’t “have a sense of humor” or that one sees oneself as the exclusive holder of the “the truth” about Debord and the situs, and thus a kind of authoritarian; while the second one might very well encourage the perpetration of other, even more impudent and silly provocations.

So we have chosen a response that allows us to both laugh and tell the truth about this stunted publicity for Wark’s newest book. The class-consciousness of our era has made sufficient progress to demand, using its own means, an accounting from the pseudo-specialists of its history who continue to eke out a living by exploiting its practice.

19 May 2013

Brendan Boehning (Danish Society for Comparative Vandalism, Denmark)
Bill Brown (NOT BORED! USA)
Anthony Hayes (Notes From the Sinister Quarter, Australia)
Alastair Hemmens (Marblepunk, England)
Grant McDonagh (Ultrazine, New Zealand)

To Contact NOT BORED! Info@notbored.org]