Is this what happens when you have the body of a stout gazelle and love Pasolini? I pick up my the Collected Poems of Frank O’Hara, not even to read, just to be close. Galileo swoops down from the sky, tender goes the song, swans high five, they can’t high five, the weak slap down the strong. This outline is not a series of various considerations on sundry objects; nor is it a step-by-step ascent from the low to the high. It is a preliminary sketch of the temporal-spatial playing field. Chilean soldiers knew this well when they broke the hands of Victor Jara, threw down a guitar and asked him to play. Floating rates of exchange remainder – the species of an eye with the neck of an owl – the Life of Riley – clean and jerk and reinflate – it’s 2:00 p.m. on a July afternoon. I wonder what John Keats would be doing if he were alive today. Would he still be couch surfing? Why is there a single wool glove on the bureau in the bedroom? A little paint goes a long way. The rustling precedes the mandibles. In an old poem one reads, “I regret that I’m not a star, running along the vaults of the sky, in search of the perfect nest it finds itself and earth’s empty water, no one has ever heard of a star giving out a squeak, its purpose is to encourage the fish with its silence. And then there’s this grudge that I bear, that I’m not a rug, nor a hydrangea.” But we must all dirk the slime of toil, hauling its commodified bed into a laugh since when was it anything else, the dawn will come and the banks will open and 47% of the United States is experiencing drought.
I am sick.
is a vacuum.
it follows that brushing one’s teeth in the morning, reading the newspaper, eating food in a particular way, walking with a certain gait, and choosing appropriate clothing are all plagiarized from a set of notions of normal behavior. But who is this we that is not me, for the subject no less than the organism belongs to and depends on a stratum? Now we have the answer: the BwO is that glacial reality where the alluvions, sedimentations, coagulations, foldings, and recoilings that compose an organism – and also a signification and a subject – occur. For the judgment of God weighs upon and is exercised against the BwO; it is the BwO that undergoes it. It is in the BwO that the organs enter into the relations of composition called the organism. The BwO howls: “They’ve made me an organism! They’ve wrongfully folded me! They’ve stolen my body!” That is, “Allow me, in conclusion, to congratulate you warmly upon your sexual intercourse, as well as your singing.”
[Note: Sources: Marriane Morris, “Untitled”, in Untitled Colossal Parlor Odes; Luke Roberts, “Colossal Boredom Swan Song”, in Untitled Colossal Parlor Odes; Martin Heidegger, Contributions to Philosophy (Of the Event) (trs. Richard Rojcewicz and Daniela Vallega-Neu); Richard Owens, “Working Notes on Ballad Practice”, “House of Sad Retreat”, in Ballads; JBR; Samuel Solomon, Life of Riley; John Olson, “Crimson and Clover”, at Tillalala Chronicles, 7 Jul 012; Maurice Blanchot, “The Experience of Lautréamont”, in Lautréamont and Sade (trs. Stuart Kendall and Michelle Kendall); JBR; Alexandr Vvedensky, “Rug / Hydrangea” (tr. Matvei Yankelevich), as quoted in Heather Christle, “I have been obsessed with this poem for a while”, at Heather Christle, 7 Jul 012; Josh Stanley, “Ode (for Frank O’Hara)”, in Untitled Colossal Parlor Odes; and US Drought Monitor; Zach Keebaugh, Kevorkian; Steven G. Ridgely, Japanese Counterculture: The Antiestablishment Art of Terayama Shuji, as quoted in Nada Gordon, “Stupor”, at Ululations, 7 Jul 012; Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, as quoted in “Schizophrenia of Zero”, at Fractal Ontology, 7 Jul 012; JBR; Muriel Spark, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, at The Bookbat, 5 Jul 012]