Zeitgeist Spam

FCF 117

he wrote.

TTey TeTer
metm tmese

two womemm

bbt bobed
llle eqlallyl

paiiiiiiyi to
each other’s

death.

We see
llle pass

& &o&&
for days

so
vitally – see
on its throne

of
nothing the
sandstorm’s vortex; see

how
calmly it
bears the primal

sea;
there is
no need to

think
of power
as a cold

machine;

Spinoza sits up with open arms and safety locked eyes
His heart dial’s secured for safety
On/off, volume, speaker allow Spinoza to "speak from the heart"
The tiniest infant’s calmed by his soothing voice and music

>but i still hold that there is such thing as “speaking as if castration doesn’t
                       exist”
> > > molecular identity, as fuzzy as it is. a multiplicity is this kind of
> > >
>
>you mean, remanence in time? you believe in space-times, like einstein?
>magnetic forces? please explain. (thanks)

leibniz autistic teddy bear
(index to This is your brain on music)
Newton leibnitz i ching binary. Buscar trabajo madrid. Polar bear crafts for
            preschool ..... Halloween teddy bears. Long and foster training.
            Tube frame drag car. Philie eagles ... •cockalorum tantrum.
            Cheats for hitman contracts …
just set that handset on vibrate, slip it into your Call Me panties,

how Zarthustra Nietzsche echoes pick-up beliefs. ...
The community thrives on a lot of things –

there is
no need to

think
of power
as a cold

machine;
very simply,
it’s always noon,

pale
and deformed
but very interesting.

Tell
me again
what a genius

I
am, ok?
AIN’T IT A

SHAME / [NOT IN THE LEAST]
another video
looping, unabridged lexicon

of
lucid hallucination,
at the end

of
which the
bear-wife returns

on
the word,
Honey? And the

bear-
husband returns
on the word,

Honey?
And all
lickle ickle bear-

cubs
agree with
Susan M Schultz

that
the best
of the embeds

in
Iraq was
Emily Dickinson. Another

glacier
passed by
last night, on

its
way to
Australia and the

ice
cube tray.
You have a

scar
on your
left knee. Here

are
blue shrines.
We sank in,

becoming
colour poured
on and were

buried.
Below you,
a body persists,

with
heat, with
cold, with longing,

it
forms many
limbs of translucent

skin
out of
about two inches

of
Zeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez. Some
things are brutal.

Or
is this
the world? “Surprisingly, this glaring weakness contains a raging force. This frustration is creative; from its disorders, unknown energies are often born… the world in which I have lived until now idolized power and force, muscle and health, vigor and lucidity. [it] opens onto a universe of weakness and tricks; it leads to new rebellions.”

[it]
merges orgasm,
blackout and narcoleptic

fits.

[Note: Sources: a pdf of the code gods at play w/a poem by Ernesto Priego; Inger Christensen, The Alphabet (tr. Susanna Nied); Franco “Bifo” Berardi, Félix Guattari: Thought, Friendship and Visionary Cartography (trs. Giuseppina Mecchia and Charles J Stivale); Spinoza Bear.com; Architexturez > E-Mail Lists > [ Deleuze-Guattari-L ] (mirror) Archive of Deleuze-Guattari-L, 1994 -- cont'd...RE: “speaking as if castration doesn't exist!”; google search; Gizmodo - Call Me panties; Nietzsche: Superman Seduction; Mary Ruefle, A Little White Shadow; Omo Bob, email, 4 Jan 010, re his Self Portrait As Nan Goldin, Too Much Time In The Devil's Playground, at Omo Studios, 4 Jan 0120; Adrian Clarke, Skeleton Sonnets, in The Reality Street Book of Sonnets (ed. Jeff Hilson); Harryette Mullen, Muse & Drudge, “Sleeping With the Dictionary”, in American Hybrid (eds. Cole Swensen and David St John); Jean Day, “Hat Schism”, in ENTHUSIASM Odes & Otium; Susan M Schultz, blurb on the back cover of Janes Holmes, The MS of My Kin; Paul Violi, “Cheeseburger Serenade”, “Brochure”, “Dry Spells”, in Splurge; John Welch, “For the Paintings of Morris Louis”, in Hilson; Jennifer Moxley, “The Promise”, in Swensen and St John; Ron Padgett, “Sonnet: Homage to Andy Warhol”, in Hilson; Laura Moriarty, “Spicer’s City”, in Swensen and St John; Catherine Clément, Syncope, as quoted by Johannes Görannson, and Görannson himself, “My Own Private Idaho, Synecdoche NY, Kitsch and ‘Community’”, at Exoskeleton, 3 Jan 010]

FCF 116

Happy
New Year.
Happy ‘pataphysics. Get

another
blanket. The
shelves are almost

empty.
A crossroad
of sunbeams. Spinoza

was
brilliant. I’m
like one who

loves
Greece fantasizing
about everywhere else

while
living in
Greece. Remove the

vectors.
“One day,
I awoke” “&

found
myself on”
“a subway, endlessly”.

Bweeth.
Mahkeeng oon
eer gant. A

last
word as
but a reference

to
another luminosity.
What’ll it be

this
time? Nietzsche
mused that no

writer
should read
in the morning.

Well,
fuck a
duck, as Henry

Miller
would say.
Have you tasted

me
yet with
the black hairs

of
your feet?
I could be

fucking
a micro-
waved cantaloupe, but

I
choose celibacy.
Sometimes I feel

like
I have
nothing to say;

I
often want
to communicate this.

And
that ringing
in my ears

is
the bell
of existence, ooo-

eee-baby, wizened abandoned paleography offing woodwind sporty onion analects okey-doke dryness,
wizened cense, bop boysenberry, hartebeest, volley

the clank
of metal follows
the hiss of steam

each suggestion of a gentler
mood is fiercely

it’s 12 .99
it’s 18 .99
it’s 29 .99

Panic (supposedly) modifies memory

sleeping and yet awake like a fantastic dragon
a sacred rhinoceros whose cage is the sky
a stalactite organ playing softly
a symbol of something and treasures of dried-up lakes

Although
digital compositing
is usually used

to
create a
seamless virtual space,

borders
between different
worlds do not

have
to be
erased; individual multiplicities

can
retain their
deterritorialities and

lines
of flight;
different worlds

HAYY!
AIE! YRAHHROOOO!
can clash semantically;

take
care, aluminium;
who can think

of
a flower
that is read?

[Note: Sources; Thomas A Clark, sixteen sonnets, in The Reality Street Book of Sonnets (ed. Jeff Hilson); Linh Dinh, “The Wrong Meat”, in Borderless Bodies; Bruce McCaffery, “Death of the Subject”, in George Hartley, Textual Politics and the Language Poets, p. 67; Alice Notley, The Descent of Alette, in American Hybrid (eds. Cole Swensen and David St John); Michael McClure, Ghost Tantras, 23; Bruna Mori, “Roads to Wait”, in Dérive; Paul Violi, “Counterman”, in Overnight; Kate Zambreno, “My Vomitous Blog Manifesto”, at Frances Farmer Is My Sister, 31 Dec 09; bits chosen from those quoted or linked to by Steven Fama, in his year-end review, “Poetry, Published in 2009”, at the glade of theoric ornithic hermetica, 31 Dec 09: Rachel Loden, “Belial”, in Dick of the Dead; Derek Fenner, I No Longer Believe In The Sun: Love Letters to Katie Couric; Fama himself, “Pre-amp Soothe Forearm Theodolite Dazzle”, an n+44 version of Elizabeth Alexander’s inaugural gibbering; Rick Snyder, Escape from Combray; Tony Trehy, Space The Solider Who Died For Perspective; David Buuck, “Stanza In Mediation 6”, in The Shunt; K Lorraine Graham, “Terminal Humming”, in Terminal Humming; Vítezslav Nezval, Prague With Fingers of Rain (tr. Ewald Osers); Nathan Austin, Survey Says!. End of the Fama thing. Lev Manovich, The Language of New Media; MS Word; Robert Adamson, “Sonnets to be Written from Prison”, in Hilson; Laura Mullen, “Plans”, in Swensen and St John]