What? While the removal of bits of Henry’s hippocampi and parts of both amygdala cured his condition, it also left him with a sort of amnesia, the likes of which neuroscience had never seen: every 30 seconds his memory was completely erased. “On Sequins” begins: Sequins are mites of goodness lacking in the eyes. I personally have no experience with sequins. The first sequin gathers what seems to be a strange array of water, Arabic numerals, common weather, and fear of death; the second sequin is a kind of catalog of interactions with a series of shapes that seem to be taking over the world’s landscape because they can; and the third sequin is like a series of aftershocks, somehow calm in a posttraumatic sort of way. “THIS IS WHERE THE GUITAR COMES IN.” I know no chords, but I can strum and have it sound almost like music. 19 keys mean I can enter 5 mailboxes, 7 apartments, 2 offices & 2 elevators. I keep 3 keys of unknown origins & currently 9 bruises of unknown origins: 4 on my right leg, 1 on my right hip-bone, 2 on my left arm, 1 on my right elbow & 1 on my left knee. Why are your teeth not painted black? (Or perhaps jelluloid, or something else, as the terminology is still a work-in-progress.) “It’s the signals from the future I’m interested in. I dunno, maybe it’s different for you. The fact you get paid, I guess, the fact that you’re on a salary, does give you a point of entry that, for the time being at least, I don’t really have access to. To be unemployed is to be a stowaway, at best. From where I’m sitting, all I can hear is a dull metronomic beating, sentimental rants about extermination and terror and the like. What are the psychogeographical signals set off by a fascist mob, for example, what galaxies and rhythmic swarms are they colliding with. Absolute magnetic compressions. History as a separable particle, a damp electric rag shoved down our kidnapped throats. I dunno, maybe I’m wrong. I wish you’d tell me. I wish you were capable of saying just one word that would convince me all narrative structures haven’t been reduced to something as basic as a crowbar, a massive memory lapse, a constellation of chemical dirt and bizarre melodies that no-one is dancing to.” A kind of musical night is invoked. The natural habits of animals. Can animals think? The Skaters’ Waltz. “Weasel-face.” Leaves of the Ginko tree. The Critique of Pure Resin. “Blue-bottles drive me crazy!” Good-bye. I don’t want to talk about the NSA today, today they bore me, I mean they make me puke, same thing, “the technology companies, which participate knowingly in NSA PRISM operations, include most of the dominant global players of Silicon Valley.” So far, so familiar. Like Domino’s, the pizza that never sleeps. Like a hand job never means manicure no matter what McGinn claims it means. So it opens as if / stalkover batter in stark derange transgressed / in a freezed crate out / into intersubjectivity, history, utopia / squeeze-controlled out-emitted / joined nerve-like / whatever the parson calls for / particles in a jammed sandwich / give him his nose back / in abandoned self to not self / another schnapps anticipates / end caps propagated radial plane for axial trap / the next history the petrification and silence of / work mute emblematic sludge coded / by some stuffed idea shoved as subjectivity / as syncopated political gesture / liquidised in the spin of a manufactured garden / the drone as ‘the emblem of contemporary cynegetic war’, which is to say war that ‘bears an ideal of non-confrontation with death, and of domination without real combat’. This is of particular interest to me since it includes a transcript of an air strike mediated but not directly carried out by a Predator crew and its associated network / assemblage in Uruzgan province, Afghanistan on 21 February 2010, which killed 23 civilians and wounded 8 others. It’s the mediation that is crucial, though I’m not (yet) sure that what Chayamou means by ‘intermediaries’ in the passage from RP is quite what I have in mind: we’ll see.
[Note: Sources: JBR; James Baines, “The Man With The Thirty-Second Memory”, at Vice, 6 Jun 013; JBR; Emily Toder, “On Sequins”, Blake Butler, Jenny Boully, “This Is Where The Guitar Comes In”, Gina Myers, “Twenty-Seven: An Inventory”, as quoted in Butler’s “Shapes That Make You Dizzy”, at Vice, 9 Apr 013; Gary Shipley, and David F. Hoenigman, as quoted in Christopher Higgs, “Gary Shipley talks with David F. Hoenigman”, at HTMLGIANT, 6 Jun 013; Sean Bonney, “Letter Against Fear (Unsent)”, at A Fiery Flying Roule, 6 Jun 013; John Ashbery, in “John Ashbery: ‘The Skaters’ [from Rivers and Mountains, 1966] – a critical and genetic digital edition –“, at Text/Works; JBR; Barton Gellman and Laura Poitras, “Documents: U.S. intelligence mining data from nine U.S. Internet companies in broad secret program”, at Washington Post, 6 Jun 013 (“The technology companies … are listed on a roster that bears their logos in order of entry into the program: ‘Microsoft, Yahoo, Google, Facebook, PalTalk, AOL, Skype, YouTube, Apple.’ PalTalk, although much smaller, has hosted significant traffic during the Arab Spring and in the ongoing Syrian civil war. Dropbox, the cloud storage and synchronization service, is described as ‘coming soon.’”); Derek Gregory, “Theory of the drone”, at Geographical Imaginations, 6 Jun 013 (re Grégoire Chamayou, Théorie du drone); JBR: Leigh Alexander, “Domino’s, the Pizza That Never Sleeps”, at The Atlantic, 6 Jun 013; JBR (the philosopher Colin McGinn lost his job at least in part for sending a female grad student emails which included things like, and I paraphrase, “Last night I gave myself a hand job while thinking of you”, then claimed on his blog that he was referring to a manicure – weak, bro, incredibly pitifully weak. See “McGinn Leaving Miami Due To Improper Emails”, at Feminist Philosophers, 4 Jun 013, and Colin McGinn, “Morality, Reported Speech, and ‘Hand Job’: A Refutation”, at philospot, 6 Jun 013); Allen Fisher, “UNDERBELLY JUMP”, at Quid 10a (quite mashed up)]