This, publicly, takes a love story and unfolds geometrically in ways impossible to fold. I-beams float, pivot, tap, meow. So hey I’m calling from a laptop in the middle, fuck what a piece of real estate, five star convenience, too hot to be comparable. Then I hear someone say: ‘We shall die in these bodies. This is the one thing certain of your place of death; you are there now, you sit within your corpse; look no further: there where you are you will die.’ My tummy is a little wavy now. :( For shizzle, John: can / a / falling / leaf / hit / a / dragonfly / ? From my vantage point, it was difficult to see the exact nature of the explosion, but it left a number of crop circle imprints. According to the press release, there were in fact four stages of explosions, starting with 40,000 rockets launched perpendicularly from MOCA’s northern wall. One of the stages carved out an “imaginary alien-god figure.” Critical for Žižek is the supposition that this trembling of the system remains after ;the system is gone — but when I try to theorize what “The Hole” could mean, I stupefy myself. “These hands weep for what they were made for. These lungs & things you recognize as things.” From the thesis that all things prehend, abstract, affect, or experience — terms I use as synonymous with panpsychism — it does not follow that those experiences are (a) anything like one another; (b) translatable into terms that can be exchanged without friction across domains; or (c) form some kind of underlying stratum through which all entities communicate. I could hear my breathing and it sounded scary, like I had left my earphones in, which I had, I had left them in. Here’s to the New Madrid fault because of a) its de-elevation of the top 7/8ths of the Appalachians caused by surrendipitous vibration sent thru asthenosphere in shuriken burp from the subduction zone up to Mt Katahdin Love Poem79 where an interactive hologram of J waiting atochronically into a latté in an ice cave at the peak with Old Zephyr Grip doing this “Ritual of Madness” was tragic enough when it was just being beamed overseas by the equally faux-levetating zen communist party-goers, but like unreal when b) river’s over that city: NOLA and the entire Ole Miss I Sip Ya Delta flushed out • entire sports bottle of HXII downed by parched J (thirst caused by tax on electrolytes incurred as condition of teleportation from Hazard KY to the calliope in the Delta Queen’s Texas Lounge mid-Aurora via real-time polypeptide-fueled circuit-bent Spectra Diode Labs® laser diode driver model #SDL 800 which motivated l’ooze [HXII] from pure Gatorade thanks to fork-bomb hacked onto the blueprint of SDL 800.n’s recoherence toggle by Livefree neo-con textual obscurantists on board from the get-go who guessed rightly that the quickest way to HXII was electrolytic deconversion and so conditioned J since ‘89 to favor Gatorade when travelling) projectile-frothed from her tongue onto carpet where stain was de-emphasized by absolute sublimation carpet-tek flash flood from quake upgraded to tsunami when river washed ov’r Queen and interacted with HXII molecules suspended over tricked-out Lounge carpet in a vapor trap • seeing this, three culturally significant Boeing reps jumped channel and opened port from Chicago to the Pentagon, suggesting thereby to the Joint Chiefs the possibility of HXII.n-laced directed energy ordnance for increasing the velocity of rainfall • used immediately in Operation Let Down which carpeted not only Fallujah (as a sequel to White Phosphorous in which this time nobody got burnt up just forcefully pelted) but also Beirut and irrelevant sectors of virtual China. “I’m pretty stoked,” Schaar said afterward. “I thought it’d take three days of trying it 40 times … I was definitely high enough and I could tell I was spinning fast enough, and right at about 720 I saw the coping and I was two to three feet above the coping and I got around that last 360, and I was just amazed.” The news didn’t relieve us, potentially drawing along a notch in a hot-pink stick what was folded in hot batter. Awake in a topography of this new gut, on wards in isolation but after all it is not actually quiet, the blades and beads, intestines in eyelids while still living. Clap on, clap off. Help, I’ve fallen into History and I can’t get up!
[Note: Sources: Michael Rerick, “(metal work)” in In Ways Impossible to Fold; cris cheek, “A flattering perception of”, at INVISIBLY TIGHT INSTITUTIONAL OUTER FLANKS DUB (VERB) GLORIOUS NATIONAL HI-VIOLENCE RESPONSE DREAM; Marlene Dumas (as quoted by Andrew Levy), Brenda Iijma, Thom Donovan (as quoted by Dana Ward), in Thom Donovan, “Feedback”, in The Hole; Danielle Jovan Buan, via Pentametron, 9 Apr 012; Timothy Morton, “OOO As First Philosophy”, at Ecology without Nature, 9 Apr 012; Tom Raworth, “Warm Autumn Problem”, in Collected Poems; An Xiao, “Cai Guo-Qiang’s Explosive West Coast Debut”, at Hyperallergic, 9 Apr 012; Christopher Schaberg, “Office Work, In The End, Never Complete”, at What Is Literature?, 9 Apr 012; Adam Robbert, “The Problem With Panpsychism”, at Knowledge Ecology, 9 Apr 012; Tao Lin, “[Wandering aimlessly near Union Square]”, at INVISIBLY TIGHT INSTITUTIONAL OUTER FLANKS DUB (VERB) GLORIOUS NATIONAL HI-VIOLENCE RESPONSE DREAM; Jamelia Wigmore & Amelia Gilmore, “Love Poem” (from Cathected Pissing • aka Dag Flute (Summer 2007), at INVISIBLY TIGHT INSTITUTIONAL OUTER FLANKS DUB (VERB) GLORIOUS NATIONAL HI-VIOLENCE RESPONSE DREAM; Tom Schaar, as quoted by Chuck Schilken, as excerpted at The New Enquiry, 9 Apr 012; Andrea Brady, “The Day Rate”, at INVISIBLY TIGHT INSTITUTIONAL OUTER FLANKS DUB (VERB) GLORIOUS NATIONAL HI-VIOLENCE RESPONSE DREAM; Leslie Scalapino, epigraph to Thom Donovan, “Our Insalvageable (Tears and excrement of wax …)”, in The Hole; JBR]