How do desires achieve speech? How do desire make speech fail, and why do they themselves fail to speak? This security geotextile is, in effect, an electromagnetic nervous system in the ground. Buried vocals covered with tape-hiss. Around The Dragon’s Broken Neck Hangs The Medal Of Saint Lazarus. Dragging a Dead Deer Up A Hill. * And it’s an imprint of Autonomedia, is that right? Or a separate project? Spinoza tells us there is only one substance, namely god or nature. From this we can logically conclude that Autonomedia and Minor Compositions are indeed part of a unified fabric of being, along with puppy dogs, your mother’s pool cue, and the entirety of the 1986 Mets. That, however, does not adequately describe the particular relation between different modes of becoming involved. The evaluation of compositional modes is one of history and time, which of course do not exist. It is as when Rimbaud says that “I is an other”: Minor Compositions is both a part of Autonomedia and a becoming-other compositional mixture of Autonomedia that is not totally of it, that is the other to the self that is Autonomedia. * Wasn’t that just a bunch of gobbledlygook? Perhaps. “What the philosophers have never understood is this: it is the unintelligibility of the world alone that gives it worth.” “Intelligibility.” What a word. So many I’s in it. The real ends up saving no Expenses, it dresses up as a mime and soars from the treetops. Oh, I love life. You can not take away from me. Nananana. I have space tights and shoes for the space I’m Miss Universe. Not in an arty way, but quite literally. She had a bomb in his head. Bend your knees. Saddle bags. I get a penis extender spam all the time, what a fucking nagging. Extend your penis. Extend your penis. Extend your penis. Take off your trucker cap. [...] Rule One: people with top pay are rubbish, / everyone knows this, it’s a law of nature. Rule Two: Diogenes / offered himself as a master, in the market, to any slave who needed / one. Rule Three: you do not see into the life of things, dimension- / less or not, except by harvest of data plotted against uncertainty. / Rule Four: justice is scarce ever the obverse of injustice, since / the one is the top end and the other the bottom. None of this it / must be said is the power of harmony even in charge fluctuation / or lifetimes except the desire integrate the variation of sep- / arate notice, that’s what spirit mostly does who where she went / bare in her forehead morning, only men write their socks off like / this: better to be clear than dizzy or cynic, not to refuse joy / in favour of rapture or contentment, the gradients are lateralized / in additive counterflow. [...] Seems thus pittanced ease against just, so thinking that for thus, missed shat for trust, mistook, under grave conditions no less which bloodied for hours some dumb serpent wheezed to bone-level diagrams of stumps, and in turning that path downward leans to frame the arousal of last cupidity, genuflected prior to a vision left wilting on the printer, left the lab soon after, get this seeming lost to frowning upon a gesture stacked and busty with strawberry tongue all the more of which that until then had not yet gone under, this, yet something not unsavory prolonged the gasp, bite clench, as if the inlay were interior parsimony, chevrons lately of desire came later in the last pass by otiose decorum, and this, yet not until bye accounts for procedural distemper, clouds of quartets in the pyrocentric tabula unfit for cheery entrance, sits down, blades lock into announcements of typographic patter, rump tipples in trails the crimped blood snuggie, talked to without circles of data to hold talked to like never before crass with blow nose and fruits of those fiendish time exchanges, lest in spring breed views to concrete music and value tacks settle into broke, term mantic swirly, and to sundryfold cheaters same sparkling fascia tends, nowhere spotted the pink noose slipping off the lofty dais, assurance registered into likeness, gummy and marrow, demi-gag to the apple of his throat, restores voyager spitum to the sweat before taste all roomy dancing … In future you cover your cost in void too empty to be lost, static at terminal velocity; on the opening night as light parts and you jump out to gravitate orderly to ballot the flattering flesh you missed resist arrest in its shattering petty larceny, who looming over a motto executed in the Ottoman style of the sex jargon recited by Ériphile at II.i.477-508, in the mannequins' scan of which smudged erotic jottings alleged in a hologram into the deep • private end of the primitive primary streak canal bound in stratified squamous • epithelium to descant many few billion one-liners into the hot squamocolumnar • junction with its teat cistern, a photocopy blurred into alienating aleatory poésie concrète by being roughly swiped back and forth with an aging raging hard-on for dysphagia over the scratched platen glass of the Canon MF8180C or Brother DCP-9045CDN all-in-one fax, printer and copier of the incomplete catechism that stubs out the real Shelley's “Triumph of Life,” the leading question “What is lite?,” under the table propped up at right angles folded until they froth, to triple accountability to an afflatus, doing as the banks just did, not as the banks just said, ... a dot whose innuendo comes too late ... I mean like ‘consult your physician if your skin starts peeling off’ and ‘some users of y experienced polka-dot sight’ and ‘some users of y experienced a fatal event. If this should occur to you consult your physician.’
[Note: Sources: Paul Ricoeur, Freud and Philosophy (tr. Denis Savage); Geoff Manaugh, “Drone Landscapes, Intelligent Geotextiles, Geographic Countermeasures”, at BLDG/BLOG, 7 Jan 012; Impossible Mike, a Hospital Productions compilation, Liz Harris/Grouper, as quoted in IM’s “The Essentializing Thread(s) of Musicks in our Head(s): ‘Favourites’ of 2k11”, at HTMLGIANT, 7 Jan 012; Minor Compositions, “ABOUT: Excerpts from an interview with AK Press”, at Minor Compositions; Nick Land, “Art as Insurrection”, as quoted by Tom Beckett, and Beckett himself, in his “As I've mentioned previously, …”, at l’amour fou, 7 Jan 012; Stina Kajaso, “Däns into the fire”, at SONOFDAD, 7 Jan 012; JH Prynne, Kazoo Dreamboats, or, On What There Is, Ryan Dobran, Confection, Keston Sutherland, “Ode to TL61P”, as quoted in Richard Owens, “Notes Toward a Reading List”, at Damn the Caesars, 7 Jan 012; Richard Lopez, “the language of drugs”, at Really Bad Movies, 7 Jan 011]
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