Thugs on the throne could have been Gus and Tina, Disco / rulers from B’klyn. The mirrors copulate at length. The didactic is with us always. In one case, he poured liquid silver into the ears and mouth of an opponent. Lipsync nonfiction. I don’t know where my horse is now. I am correct and circular and softly made of everything. Oh Miss Gada-Nigi do not contemplate the stars. The perfect weather in Poussin’s Spring is far more alarming than the storm in his Winter. Your body is a long silk bag / full of lightweight batteries / arranged on the floor / so it touches the floor / in the maximum number of places / … / and there are weekends and desires / gestating in your throat / pink and hairless / like mammals. Wild! Comics, people, is where the real philosophy is being done today. The careerist linguaphiles like Žižek and the rest are fun to read, and they have important things to say, but it doesn't take an intellect the size of the sun to analyze and diagnose the problem. Life is fucked, because it is outrageously complex and more or less physically a bad idea. It's sad, but incredibly funny really. Thought-provoking anyway. And I do sort of dig Mallarmé’s prissy Aesthete's ‘impotence’ and meta-theory. Everyone is trying their best, but the crotch, the crotch is what will deck the monster of the ages, not that sad old grey mashed up piece of chewing gum called the human brain. Doh! Being is an affect of a particular local organic complexity / singularity. Our institutions will have to reflect an infinite assymetry slash singularity approach if any of our collective ‘imperational’ designs are ever to be ‘corrected’ ... or it could just be that Tinguely and Deleuze had it right, All machines in fact run, or work, as a part of their own general non-functionality. My hands are staple removers with metal fangs. But thou, old ragpicker, who come in the enchanted morning, I have given thee a noble name, I have named thee Dostoevsky. Looking again at ‘The conception of the event after the event runs slowly thru the cloud cover’ I realise that I omitted the bold type emphasis probably because this is used in conjunction with exclamation marks which raises the question of whether bold type increases emphasis or is being used to give a different kind of exclamation and whether or not two exclamation marks would have had the same effect. “The camp was built, intentionally, on the sandy soils of western Poland, along the banks of the Bóbr River. And sand is difficult to tunnel through. Very difficult.” The tongue is important. But who thinks about a tongue? It’s just there. It’s not like a penis. Spaceship earth. If earth is a spaceship why doesn’t it have levers and buttons? And the light turns green. I’m not exactly sure what the app is for, but I think that’s the point. The upside-down breast turns into a suction cup, used to attach things to a window, memorabilia, or something stained-glass, perhaps. Cloaca and Beethoven, putridity of a monster gray gas tank. WARNER’S SUGAR. SURF BATHING. Retain a bit of syrup (as I liked to do with my blankie.) What I keep meaning to say is almost edible … brain waves. Everyone must eat but only scarcity is allowed in the control society. Left behind by fate, the world made relatable through a few names. My right tonsil looks like an ovary. James knows that "have you guys met yet?" really means "introduce yourself and then ask her her name in front of me because I've forgotten it and I don't want to look like a dick by asking her her name again, we've been hanging out for too long at this point …” We couldn’t get the prisoners out of the burning prison because we couldn’t find the guards with keys. Are these the last days of Zomia? What’s in your little black bag? A gigantic fertilizer plant and an automatic controlling device for example a growing.
[Note: Sources: Cara Benson, “excerpt from… ‘Funny. Considering how heated it was’”, at Dusie; José Rivas Panedas, “Café” (tr. Jed Rasula), in Burning City: Poems of Metropolitan Modernity (eds. Jed Rasula and Tim Conley); Ian Hamilton Finlay “from Interpolations in Hegel”, “from Detached Sentences on Weather in the Manner of William Shenstone”, in Ian Hamilton Finlay: Selections (ed. Alec Finlay); Daniel Nester, “The Arbor and lipsync nonfiction”, at We Who Are About to Die, 15 Feb 012; Jaime Birch, book title, and “Eight I ams”, in I don’t know where my horse is now, at Dusie; Jaroslav Seifert, “Miss Gada-Nigi” (tr. Dana Loewy), in Rasula and Conley; Heather Christle, “The Small Husband”, in Christle’s What is Amazing, as seen at Wesleyan University Press; phaneronoemikon, “WTF revisited…”, at Jellybean Weirdo With Electric Snake Fang, 15 Feb 012; Juliet Cook, “Red Shrink Wrap”, in Post-Stroke, at Dusie; Max Jacob, “Rue Ravignan” (tr. John Ashbery), in Rasula and Conley; John Armstrong, “Emily Critchley, 5 Poems on Blart 2”, at Bebrowed’s Blog, 15 Feb 012; Michael Welland, as quoted in Geoff Manaugh, “Liberation terroir: The Great Escape (1963)”, at BLDG/BLOG, 15 Feb 012; John Olson, “On The Tip Of My Tongue”, at Tillalala Chronicles, 15 Feb 012; An Xiao, “LACMA Lets You Play Exquisite Corpse on Your iPhone”, at Hyperallergic, 15 Feb 012; Shira Dentz, “U”, in black seeds on a white dish; Charles Galwey, “Stadium Concert”, in Rasula and Conley; Sarah Fox, “Fata Morgana”, at The Altered Scale Blog, 15 Feb 012; Thom Donovan, “What We Are Doing”, at Wild Horses of Fire, 15 Feb 012; John Sakkis, “Books Read 2011”, at Both Both, 15 Feb 012; JBR (paraphrasing a fireman at the prison in Comayagua, Honduras, where over 350 prisoners burnt to death 14 Feb 012); JBR, but see Frank Jacobs, “The Undiscovered Country”, at Opinionator/NY Times, 14 Feb 012; Shelli Victorino, “What’s in your Little Black Bag?”, at Hello Giggles, 15 Feb 012; Harold Abramowitz, “Electrical Appliance”, at Joyland Poetry, 9 Feb 012]