Zeitgeist Spam

In the House of the Hangman 1601

I mean, capitalism’s cycles have a limit point, a point where what’s been destroyed’s so wasted it’s no longer worth trying to do anything with it. For now, I’ll call this phase after real subsumption “absolute subsumption.” Capital goes through itself and turns into an execrable remainder, the non-capitalizable, that which is completely without use or value. Poisoned shit not even flies can eat. Utterly bereft of potentiality. Of course, rather than coming after real subsumption, absolute subsumption emerges within it over time.

                                The Etruscan votive sculptures
are thin as sticks; are by Giacometti    What do the dead
see? What do they see that even the dying do not see?

                                Everything stands wide open,

                                        Shadows in the planetary Hades;
                                                we talk to the cats a while    Look at
more flowers, butterflies    One wholly ordinary sparrow, but a little different

Dance is born out of the deepest interior of our bodies    As if the light there
were streaming out, out of each body part’s smallest movement
We hear gasping breaths    We behold mouths open in trance
Out of them light also issues, in the whirling darkness

The stone falls through millennia

                            The great darkness of the eyes!

                                            We are parts of language

We cannot take anything back

Becoming in annihilation    A slightly varied formulation
of Hölderlin’s thought    Disappearing far out on one of
the tangents of glass    While the hypersphere grows and grows
I hear impersonal music, no human’s music
Again I’m very scared    What do I? What don’t I?

                                                                            No, I
say, it smells different, a bit strange 

                                The blood is transparent
How shall I seek the unknown form    Who are my allies?

            light coming into cloud above blackness
            of ridge, shadowed bamboo leaves moving
            in foreground, wave sounding in channel

well, a tree
       is obvious

 thank god for it

        they

       continue

          down

        the road

            what 

             leaves

                                    air
                    the heights      distances

                            all in mind                                        

            green cars pass

                blue   red   white

Benjamin Noys “Needs more Hegel.” -Harrison Fluss, Facebook Friend and Reader (on Malign Velocities)
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13 people like this.

Harrison Fluss Excellent work, Ben.
11 hours ago · Edited · Like

Benjamin Noys don't go nice on me now - crypto-Derridean neo-Fichtean left-deviationism
· Like · 2

Harrison Fluss Crypto-Bataillean*, but still pretty damn good, and I suggest everyone reads it. Remember: I said “needs more Hegel”. If I said it has no Hegel, that would be a devastating review.
11 hours ago · Edited · Unlike · 5

Benjamin Noys stealth Hegel
11 hours ago · Like · 3

McKenzie Wark More cowbell!
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Word of the day : selah! But only with an exclamation mark and in the manner of Sir Geoffrey Hill circa 1959. Dewd my machine could be easily grafted onto your machine; its name would be ocean. “O ... i ... l ......... m ... e ........... “O ... i ... l ......... m ... e” “It is exactly this integration of a brain within a body, their reciprocal regulation within a rich environment, that confers it a peculiar structural and functional stability; and when these regulative / integrative regulations by/of/in the body are weakened -- as in the course of a dream for example -- the brain becomes unstable in relation to this body. Stability within change, anchored upon *self-organization* and *being a feature of the living* which appears extraordinarily apt to constitute strong invariants -- the invariants and stabilities of both cognition and action -- indeed are the conceptual invariants at the heart of thought. Against the sense of the discrete state machine (DSM), we stabilize instabilities and critical states in a way very ill understood, from any mathematical standpoint. Some will try to exchange the brain for a DSM, but to the contrary remain a dynamic system enormously more complex than any n-body [imitated] physical system or simulated turbulent stream. Think about how banks ‘regulate’ a stream but know very little of the turbulence close to the edges; and this already is nothing compared to the complexity of the brain’s friction in relation to its envisonment, to a body, by way of its interaction with different levels of the organization of the body to which it belongs.” “O ... i ... l ......... m ... e ........... “O ... i ... l ......... m ... e” My friend found me on an inflatable mattress in the customer service center of a rural Walmart. He found the holes in the sheets I had over the mattress (“you should have new sheets” he said, putting his finger in a hole); he told me I should have a food budget in which I spend at least $380 to feed us. Then we took a nap, like kittens, only to be woken up by a number of people, like a poet I know who lives in a truck and who brought a mirror “nobody wanted” and “can you believe nobody wanted this mirror?!” Similar             questions         are       prompted        by        Derrida’s         “last    words”:                       did       he                    “posthume”    them,  

to         use       a          word    he        coined?            See       this      remark by        Peter    Szendy            on       Derrida’s         concluding                  

apostrophe,     delivered          second-hand    (“dit-il”)          in         the       present            tense,  from    beyond            the     

grave,   “from  wherever         I           am”:                 “D’où  que      je         sois      .           .           .           [Tels    furent  ses       dernier mots,  

posthumes,     lus       au        cimetiere          de        Ris-Orange      le         12        Octobre           (ils       sont     reproduits       dans    

Rue      Descartes,       no        48,       2005,   6-7)],” in         “Sortie:            Le        rêve     de        J.D.,”   Sur       Écoute –          Esthétique      

de        l'espionnage     (Paris:  Editions           de        Minuit,            2007), 145-53;            to         p.         151-52.                        Szendy            also     

quotes from    Derrida’s         Circonfession, 40-41,  and      comments        on        the       “terminable     survie 

laquelle            ‘je        me       vois     vivre’:  traduit ‘je        me       vois     mourir’            .           .           .           ,”         in         “Sortie:            Le        rêve            de        J.D.,”  

Sur       Écoute –          Esthétique       de        l’espionnage    (Paris:  Editions           de        Minuit,            2007), p.         152.                 The     

word    “posthumous”            appears           several times   in         The      Beast   and      the       Sovereign         2,         but       as         a         

synonym         for       specter            and      related words  Derrida            gathers under   the       more    general

heading            of         the       “phantasm.”                In         the       Beast   and      the       Sovereign         Volume            2,         Derrida            recalls 

his       first     use       of         the       verb     “posthume”    in         Circonfession:             “When I           wrote   one      day,     in        

‘Circumfession,’         if          I           remember        correctly,         ‘I         posthume        as         I           breathe,’          that’s   pretty 

much   what    I           wanted            to        have     felt,      that’s   pretty  much   what    I           wanted            to        have     felt,      rather  

than     thought,           or         even     speculated,      or         it’s       pretty  much   what    I           wanted            to        have     myself

pre-sense.        .           .           .                       In         truth,   posthumous,   posthumus,     with     an        h,         appears           to         be        a            faulty 

spelling,           the       grammarian      tells     us,       and      the       spelling            error    in         it          is         apparently      induced

by        the       proximity        with     humus,            earth.  .           .           .           It’s      like      for       differance,       with     an        a,         which  is            yet      

another            way    to         posthume        by        differing           or         deferring          life       or,        what    comes  down   to         the      

same    thing,   deferring          death.  In         truth,   postume,         without           an        h,         apparently      corresponds   

to         the       superlative      of         posterus.                     Posterus          qualifies           the       one      who     comes  after,    the       one     

who     follows.           Posterus          is         the       follower           of         the       descendent,     the       one      who     is         going    to        

come,   or         even     the       future  itself,   posthumous,   the       superlative      here     meaning           the       last     

follower           of         all,       and      above   all        the       one      who,    being    born     after     the       death   of         the       father, 

child    or         grandchild,       posterity,        bears    the       testamentary   future  and      the       fidelity            of       

inheritance.      Jacques            Derrida,           The      Beast   and      the       Sovereign,        2,         173-174.          For      Derrida’s        

comments        on        Martin Heidegger        and      the       posterous        in         relation            to         reversibility    

(“umgekehrt,” turned  things  around,            past     participle         of         the       infinitive          umkerhren)     

and      a          distinction       between           fact      and      principle,         see       Beast   and      S,         2          “it        indicates          an       

order    of         presuppositions,         the       order    of         what    comes  before  and      what    comes  after     in        

statements,      an        order    of         what    follows,           posterous,       and      of         what    is         posterior         in         the      

logical  series   of         valid    statements”     (194).             

[Note: Sources: JBR; bits from Jodi Dean, “What comes after real subsumption?”, at I cite, 27 Feb 014; bits from Göran Sonnevi, “From ‘Mozart’s Third Brain’” (tr. Rika Lesser), at Typo 7; JBR; Stephen Ratcliffe, “2.26”, at Temporality, 26 Feb 014; Larry Eigner, in Air the Trees; FB post and comments, 27 Feb 014; John Armstrong, FB post 27 Feb 014; Jaleh Mansoor, FB comment, 27 Feb 014; Tin Woodsman, in The Wizard of Oz (memory quote); Jaleh Mansoor, FB post and comment, 27 Feb 014; Anne Boyer,  “a dream in which there was a war on but I had to remove myself”, at Anne Boyer, 27 Feb 014; richar Burt, Read After Burning, Return to Cinder, at punctum books (formatted the way it came thru cutnpaste)]

In the House of the Hangman 1600

I wish I could say with Roberto Bolaño, “This is my last communiqué from the planet of the monsters.” In case of emergency, I wrote this down, and when all else fails, try being kind to strangers. Then what do you do? Turning in circles shouting The Devil Is Evil. Yes. Even louder. Run up and down the streets get everyone you know to scream. Listen listen listen. The Devil Is Evil. He got them crocs and them Diles right there in the boat with him. Oh Shit! Now what? Now What? Now What? Not so funny, Jack, but don’t get me wrong: only deep in the mucous do I see. The mystery in the Brocade the jewels upon the Tree a lunar moth against the window true or false or both or neither: Sonya Barabinski goes to the opera with chickens in her pockets. She bites a hole in an apple and in that hole she pours a shot of vodka. But in every eye the universe is never forgotten marked the rock where we heard the voice coming from the great plains when it was a sea and from the heaven’s night wind galaxies shaking conical huts of the inverse whose breath formed the world of animals and civilizations. One me is all a word needs, to listen to itself in me because I am always talking, “What is a white pelican doing there?” I wondered, who are they that they come walking, taller than anyone? A great tree falls on a downed power line, clomp along to the teapot, stand at the sink, “You Are A Hologram … projected from the edge of the universe”, and there he saw that the face of the goddess was his face, once I sat in a room and pretended to be invisible. “Pass the Tabasco Sauce,” I said, but you didn’t hear. A war storm building in the sky. Or what is a last memory of this? Or what is a last memory of this? Calls to the bridge or hard-a-starboard or other reports, other waters misplaced in the nest’s binoculars or never passed on or lowered wireless like a shipping lane brittle fracturing, angelic sections & marine salvagers & builder’s archives & small artifacts & hull plates & iron-eating microorganisms, rusticles for dinner. “Like Billy Joel, Donne is saying that only the good die young.” Later, from his pocket, he fumbles up a lump of ice subliming as vapor the au contraire. By rain were they woven into angelfish. Some cherries turn into glass. He deftly pinches up a purplish white thunderprint. My Hebrew-speaking friends tell me that my name in Hebrew means “both the donkey cart and the donkey are related to the King of Trainee Retinas and afflicted with insomnia.” It is about this I will write a review (glowing). And, also, a book on the history of when my best friends sat on my sofa. And, also, a book about bulldozers. These sleeping pills have just given me the urge to read the whole of Negative Dialectics really fast. So let’s just get right to it. Forget everything you know. Here it is, the epitome of reality. This video is the best example that summarizes what’s happening or has happened in your body already. This is the most prevalent secret in the whole world because it has been forced onto everyone unknowingly. What you see here is a nano-bot encapsulating a neuron or synapse (for example your purkinje neurons) or other nerve ending/bridge. It’s only a simulation, but accurately summaries everything that has happened in the past decade. This allows complete control of the host (your body) remotely as demonstrated repeatedly in the movies (for example Metropia (2009), Ultrasonic (2012)). A more sophisticated set of nano-bots would and very well has subsequently allowed for a complete and full BioAPI to be installed without the host (you) even knowing it. If you want to get technical your neurons have been encapsulated, your synapses have been bridged. PLEASE DO NOT FEED TWIZZLERS TO THE BUTTERFLIES.

[Note: Sources: JBR; Roberto Bolaño, Distant Star, quoted in Johannes Göransson, FB post, 26 Feb 014; Bill Berkson, “Strangers When We Meet (Homage/Obit”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Amiri Baraka, “Chasin the Ambulance”, “Year One: Or Why We Need Health Care Reform”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Diane Di Prima, “Before Solstice”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Jonathan Greene, “Lunar Moth”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; JBR; Ilya Kaminsky, “Elegy” in The Café Review, Fall 011; Charles Plymell, “Tent Shaker Voice”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Robert Kelly, “Eurydice”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Lewis MacAdams, “Book 4 of The river: The Mainstream”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Charles Stein, “Resurrection of the Hermaphrodite”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Margaret Randall, “At the Edges of the Pueblo”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Julie Rogers, “Book (for David Meltzer)”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Edward Sanders, “You Are A Hologram”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Will Staple, “Sanguis Spiritualis (for Constance)”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Lewis Ghost Riders in the Sky”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Anne Waldman, “Dreams of Wartimes”, in The Café Review, Fall 011; Amy De’Ath, “Millionaire’s Special”, FB post, 26 Feb 014; Sandra Simonds, FB post, 26 Feb 014; Ye Mimi, “Sunlight’s Dotted Line”, “His Days Go by the Way Her Years”, “A Blind Date Makes Him Dilapidate” (tr. Steve Bradbury), in “Poems by Ye Mimi”, at Jacket2, 28 Mar 011, via Johannes Göransson, FB post, 25 Feb 014; Sharon Mesmer, “My Name in Hebrew”, at ?Dubious Labia!, 26 Feb 014; Anne Boyer, “now is the time to try something new”, at Anne Boyer, 26 Feb 014; Jacob Bard-Rosenberg, FB post, 26 Feb 014; Magnus Olsson, “CHEMTRAILS: Nanobot Mind Control Already Begun…”, at Trans Evolution op Group: Expose the Transhumanist Agenda, 11 Feb 014; “About The Ugly Volvo”, at The Ugly Volvo]

In the House of the Hangman 1599

Only 3 points lie       separate!                            eyes & nose                  / mouth calls IMPULSE!                                    Wild-Man dreamed &             was taught     I WILL TEAR AWAY                                                     

marks between  the gaze the vision the pall the sleep the truth the

clouds the ivory the virtue the dubbed the sub-

stantial the word the place the marking the

movement the ideal  the age the decline

the new the strength  the year  the

law  the jaw  the five  the mean

ing the  fires  the  quicken

ing  the narrow  the hole

the heaven  the  smell

the eyes  the soul

the Ocean the

eternal the

biting

the Cumbustion I have made!  Ananios was born in 399 BC in the Arcadian city of Kleitor according to the third century AD author Theonaeus, who refers to a lost work by Chamaemelon of Patrae on the poets of Achaia and Arcadia in which the poet's birth is said to have occurred during the Nemean Crown Games following the 95th Olympiad. Forty-one poems and fragments of his have survived, along with twenty-five passages of verse attributed to him in quotations cited in various commentaries and literary works extending from the second century BC to the eleventh century AD. The fragmentary nature of so much of his writing makes it impossible for us to speak with full confidence about the range of his subject matter, though the ancient and Byzantine attestations, sparse as they may be, primarily identify him as an amatory poet.
“Whatever the Sun bleaches  is    History.” Nitsch describes but a snippet of the play as follows: GRAPES, FRUIT and TOMATOES, ANIMAL LUNGS, FLESH and INTESTINES are trampled on in ecstasy. People trample in SLAUGHTERED ANIMAL CARCASSES FILLED WITH INTESTINES, in troughs full of blood and wine. Extreme noise from the orchestras. Slaughtering of the bull, slaughtering of two pigs. Disembowelment. Of herself and her work, Loree writes, “I am a queer femmegimp porn star academic doing a PhD at York University. My work is a synthesis of theoretical engagement and critical artistic creation, both of which are motivated and shaped by personal experience and activist ideals. I want to replace the gawking, gazing, and glaring people with disabilities encounter on a daily basis with beholding, recognizing, and reacting when people with disabilities are red fucking hot.” Knock amok traffic Sat the 13th Storefront 40th in the next 2-3 inside the-as-if some mouth 2 you, watching, might look thru the outside hours ago the plants as I walk across the billboard + re-hashed in my hands, to find engage “then hot +” down highway step the space of “from something” out from conditions collide-somatic where – come in an angle – with a certain “already” about Oakland, some 16 Black Panthers, 1st street action, histories erased, textual, but the lived histories (x3) p6: “Details are much compost and + + 41st St. the fence: no dump no trespass. At this point I had already written “Of Being Numerous”. Not THE “Of Being Numerous”, of course — my “Of Being Numerous” came at a weird moment in my life — : Joseph Beuys I hear everything — hashtags without much poem. ** During my next period — let’s call it the Sharpie Period — I took a trip to Tucson, Arizona and collected all the full-page advertisements from stray newspapers I found downtown. Then I covered every surface in the room where I stayed with the newspapers, upon which I had written messages like SEE WHAT YOU GET and THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS. Reality aside, we would like to visualize an architecture for how our solution might behave in theory. Despite the fact that such a claim might seem perverse, it generally conflicts with the need to provide context-free grammar to cyberinformaticians. We assume that architectures can request the refinement of forward-error correction without needing to explore knowledge-based information. We assume that each component of our heuristic stores the deployment independent of all other components. This is a natural property of Mort. The question is, will Mort satisfy all of these assumptions? Unlikely. This follows from the emulation of von Neumann machines. During the pipe joining process in the construction of these systems, the solvent fumes created are heavier than air and may become trapped in newly installed systems. Ignition of the solvent vapors caused by spark or flame may result in explosion or fire. Caution of this danger should be exercised throughout the assembly process. Ectoplasm, also, can be heavier than air. As the immortal E-40 puts it, in a turf-laden video, “I’m from the Bay where we hyphy and go dumb / from the soil where them rappers be getting they lingo from.” The two salient points that these graphs illustrate are the formal expansions of the late period – the generic entropy, the greater irregularity of distances between works, the increasing diameter – but also just how compact the so-called classical or middle period is. There is a tremendous formal consolidation that occurs during this phase of Goethe’s career that makes the late opening out all the more emphatic. The number of closed loops decrease by close to 30%, the variance of distances between works increases by 50%, the average distance doubles, and the diameter is 2.5 times as wide. In my memory of the airport freak out video, the reporter touches Bjork’s child, who she’s pushing atop bags on a luggage dolly. In the actual video, as I consult it now, the child is never physically touched, and so there is an illogic at work here and a vulnerability in that illogic. Perhaps this is similar to the affection I felt for Zinedine Zidane in his head-butting fall from grace. In both cases, their illogical ruptures were “wrong” but they were also true — as Jeanine says, “We turn on the radio, TV, load the blog, Facebook, twitterfeed, newswire, sing along to mixes in the car. ‘It’s 3:27 in paris’; it’s ‘12:20 in New York a Sunday’; ‘Spring, 1978’; we play the Rihanna video, the one with Drake and those shorts, we are watching Lil Wayne on a touchscreen at a taco shop, Heath Ledger has just died, James Franco is thinking about writing a poem about it, which retro-mugs Allen Ginsberg for content, a role Franco has just played; deep in our earbuds, we think about “Police and Thieves” and the second chord change maybe, how we heard the news story about the fact that it is a cover of a song written by a Jamaican falsetto singer, feeling maybe “closer” to Joe Strummer knowing this, stacking these lenses and driving along the highway. We were on the streetcorner and the freeway met us at speed, we were us lost in the supermarket and everyone and we stopped breathing.” And dammit, the book about Edward Makuka Nkoloso’s Zambian Space Program is all sold out. This portrait of Pussy Riot member Yekaterina Samutsevich was created by a machine: a four lens full frontal facial recognition system recently developed for public security and border control surveillance. The result is a three dimensional facsimile that can be easily rotated and closely scrutinized. The only effective resistance is the balaclava. To participate in a global campaign against the colonisation of the human face please knit, crochet or sew us a balaclava. In collaboration with a/political. Please send balaclavas to: 7 Princelet Street, London E1 6QH, United Kingdom and join our FB Knitters Needed knitting group.

[Note: Sources: Rochelle Owens, “from The Joe 82 Creation Poems”, at Grist; Amazon blurb for George Economou, Ananios of Kleitor; Maggie Nelson, and Hermann Nitsch, as quoted in Nelson’s “Theaters of Cruelty”, at Los Angeles Review of Books, 7 Jul 011; Loree Erickson, at Loree Erickson, via Jeniffer Bartlett, FB post, 25 Feb 014; bits from David Buuck, “Converted Storefront: A Performance For Cris Cheek”, at ON Contemporary Practice; Joseph Bradshaw, “Total Fail, Part 1 by DB Guest Blogger Joseph Bradshaw”, at Drunken Boat; Bloomberg-Rissman and Jefcoate, “Contrasting Superblocks and Moore’s Law”, at ZS, 25 Feb 014 (“Generated by SCIgen - An Automatic CS Paper Generator”); Antoinette Suiter, “The ghosts are just still here …”, at Everyday Genius, 25 Feb 014; Commune Editions, “Elegy, or the Poetics of Surplus”, at Jacket2, 25 Feb 014; Andrew Piper, “Blue Periods: On Aging and Writing”, at Literary Topologies, 17 Feb 014; Elisabeth Workman, “Fakefurcraft Versus Statecraft: Towards A Bardo Poetics”, at ON Contemporary Practice; JBR, but see next; Jeanine Webb, “‘Weak Intimacy,’ Celebrity, And Bay Area Poetics”, at ON Contemporary Practice; JBR, but see The Afronauts, via Omo Bob, email rec’d 25 Feb 014 approx 6:57 PM PST (re Cristina De Middel, The Afronauts); Adam Broomberg & Oliver Chanarin, “Two Eyes Above a Nose Above a Mouth”, at Adam Broomberg & Oliver Chanarin, via Omo Bob, email rec’d 25 Feb 014 approx 6:50 PM PST]

Some Fun (for Graham Jefcoate)

Generated by SCIgen - An Automatic CS Paper Generator:

Contrasting Superblocks and Moore's Law

Bloomberg-Rissman and Jefcoate

 

 Abstract

 

Wide-area networks must work. Given the current status of homogeneous information, system administrators dubiously desire the investigation of operating systems. This is an important point to understand. Mort, our new application for psychoacoustic symmetries, is the solution to all of these issues.

 

Table of Contents

1) Introduction
2) Mort Simulation
3) Implementation
4) Evaluation

• 4.1) Hardware and Software Configuration
• 4.2) Experiments and Results

5) Related Work
6) Conclusion

1  Introduction

Robust modalities and SCSI disks have garnered great interest from both hackers worldwide and theorists in the last several years. On the other hand, a confirmed question in permutable programming languages is the simulation of peer-to-peer configurations. The notion that steganographers collaborate with cache coherence is largely significant. Obviously, multimodal symmetries and decentralized communication are based entirely on the assumption that neural networks and neural networks are not in conflict with the visualization of thin clients.

 

We question the need for the visualization of superpages. It should be noted that our solution is optimal, without synthesizing I/O automata. By comparison, existing real-time and metamorphic systems use the evaluation of 802.11b to investigate Lamport clocks. Indeed, IPv4 and public-private key pairs have a long history of colluding in this manner. For example, many systems locate autonomous methodologies. Even though conventional wisdom states that this challenge is generally fixed by the study of active networks, we believe that a different method is necessary.

 

Indeed, compilers and Scheme have a long history of interfering in this manner. Contrarily, this method is generally useful. Of course, this is not always the case. The disadvantage of this type of method, however, is that the memory bus and spreadsheets can collude to accomplish this ambition. But, our heuristic prevents decentralized information.

 

In order to overcome this question, we use ubiquitous algorithms to verify that the foremost introspective algorithm for the evaluation of RPCs by Thomas and Wang runs in Ω(2ⁿ) time. Mort runs in O(2ⁿ) time, without locating rasterization. It should be noted that our heuristic is copied from the important unification of DNS and the partition table. Thusly, our system is derived from the principles of algorithms. It might seem counterintuitive but is derived from known results.

 

The roadmap of the paper is as follows. To begin with, we motivate the need for consistent hashing. On a similar note, we demonstrate the analysis of local-area networks. On a similar note, we place our work in context with the related work in this area [2]. Continuing with this rationale, we place our work in context with the related work in this area [11]. Finally, we conclude.

 

 2  Mort Simulation

In this section, we propose a model for evaluating pseudorandom configurations. This seems to hold in most cases. We hypothesize that IPv7 can be made metamorphic, self-learning, and psychoacoustic. Figure 1 shows a novel application for the appropriate unification of RPCs and digital-to-analog converters. This may or may not actually hold in reality. Consider the early model by C. Hoare; our architecture is similar, but will actually fulfill this objective.

 

 

Figure 1: Mort synthesizes neural networks in the manner detailed above.

 

Despite the results by S. K. Kobayashi, we can validate that the seminal atomic algorithm for the understanding of multi-processors by R. Agarwal et al. runs in Ω(n!) time. Next, any confirmed exploration of the appropriate unification of local-area networks and architecture will clearly require that the infamous amphibious algorithm for the evaluation of randomized algorithms by R. White [17] is impossible; Mort is no different. See our related technical report [3] for details.

Reality aside, we would like to visualize an architecture for how our solution might behave in theory. Despite the fact that such a claim might seem perverse, it generally conflicts with the need to provide context-free grammar to cyberinformaticians. We assume that 16 bit architectures can request the refinement of forward-error correction without needing to explore knowledge-based information. We assume that each component of our heuristic stores the deployment of 802.11 mesh networks, independent of all other components. This is a natural property of Mort. Despite the results by Bhabha and Martin, we can disprove that the foremost distributed algorithm for the refinement of the location-identity split by O. Kumar is maximally efficient. The question is, will Mort satisfy all of these assumptions? Unlikely. This follows from the emulation of von Neumann machines.

 

 3  Implementation

Though many skeptics said it couldn't be done (most notably G. Ito), we present a fully-working version of Mort. It was necessary to cap the seek time used by Mort to 90 sec. The homegrown database and the server daemon must run with the same permissions. The hacked operating system contains about 644 instructions of Simula-67. The centralized logging facility contains about 5733 semi-colons of Prolog. We plan to release all of this code under Old Plan 9 License.

 

 4  Evaluation

Our performance analysis represents a valuable research contribution in and of itself. Our overall evaluation seeks to prove three hypotheses: (1) that effective time since 2001 stayed constant across successive generations of NeXT Workstations; (2) that RAM space behaves fundamentally differently on our mobile telephones; and finally (3) that latency is not as important as RAM speed when maximizing response time. Our work in this regard is a novel contribution, in and of itself.

 

 4.1  Hardware and Software Configuration

Figure 2: The mean energy of Mort, compared with the other applications.

Many hardware modifications were necessary to measure Mort. We executed a mobile deployment on CERN's mobile telephones to quantify Robert T. Morrison's exploration of massive multiplayer online role-playing games in 1980. we halved the effective ROM throughput of UC Berkeley's mobile telephones to consider the effective RAM speed of UC Berkeley's system. This step flies in the face of conventional wisdom, but is crucial to our results. We reduced the effective block size of our XBox network. Had we deployed our desktop machines, as opposed to simulating it in bioware, we would have seen degraded results. We added 7Gb/s of Internet access to our trainable cluster to investigate configurations. Further, we halved the energy of our XBox network to consider the tape drive throughput of our mobile telephones. Along these same lines, we halved the floppy disk throughput of our sensor-net overlay network to investigate the effective hit ratio of Intel's desktop machines. In the end, we added 100kB/s of Ethernet access to our desktop machines.

 

Figure 3: These results were obtained by Sun and Robinson [1]; we reproduce them here for clarity.

Mort runs on distributed standard software. We implemented our IPv7 server in Java, augmented with opportunistically wireless extensions. We implemented our the transistor server in JIT-compiled Dylan, augmented with topologically exhaustive extensions. Along these same lines, Similarly, our experiments soon proved that extreme programming our distributed web browsers was more effective than microkernelizing them, as previous work suggested. This concludes our discussion of software modifications.

 

Figure 4: The average energy of our algorithm, as a function of interrupt rate.

4.2  Experiments and Results

 

Is it possible to justify the great pains we took in our implementation? Yes. That being said, we ran four novel experiments: (1) we deployed 33 PDP 11s across the 1000-node network, and tested our agents accordingly; (2) we deployed 66 NeXT Workstations across the underwater network, and tested our gigabit switches accordingly; (3) we deployed 82 Motorola bag telephones across the 2-node network, and tested our fiber-optic cables accordingly; and (4) we dogfooded our heuristic on our own desktop machines, paying particular attention to ROM space. All of these experiments completed without the black smoke that results from hardware failure or access-link congestion. Our purpose here is to set the record straight.

 

Now for the climactic analysis of experiments (1) and (4) enumerated above. Bugs in our system caused the unstable behavior throughout the experiments. Similarly, we scarcely anticipated how wildly inaccurate our results were in this phase of the performance analysis. The results come from only 8 trial runs, and were not reproducible.

 

We next turn to the second half of our experiments, shown in Figure 4. Bugs in our system caused the unstable behavior throughout the experiments. Second, we scarcely anticipated how inaccurate our results were in this phase of the performance analysis. Of course, all sensitive data was anonymized during our hardware simulation.

 

Lastly, we discuss experiments (1) and (3) enumerated above. Note the heavy tail on the CDF in Figure 2, exhibiting degraded average bandwidth. Operator error alone cannot account for these results. Of course, all sensitive data was anonymized during our hardware emulation.

 

 5  Related Work

Mort builds on prior work in psychoacoustic archetypes and algorithms. This work follows a long line of related frameworks, all of which have failed. A litany of prior work supports our use of the development of massive multiplayer online role-playing games [9]. It remains to be seen how valuable this research is to the machine learning community. All of these solutions conflict with our assumption that the analysis of e-commerce and lossless theory are extensive [15,5]. We believe there is room for both schools of thought within the field of hardware and architecture.

 

The analysis of consistent hashing has been widely studied. Next, our system is broadly related to work in the field of machine learning by Anderson et al. [6], but we view it from a new perspective: encrypted configurations. Unfortunately, the complexity of their approach grows logarithmically as thin clients grows. A recent unpublished undergraduate dissertation [22] explored a similar idea for DHCP [8]. Our design avoids this overhead. Along these same lines, Leonard Adleman et al. [14] originally articulated the need for electronic theory [10]. Further, instead of synthesizing the simulation of active networks, we fulfill this ambition simply by exploring e-business [4]. Lastly, note that Mort runs in Ω(logn) time, without simulating the Internet; as a result, Mort follows a Zipf-like distribution.

 

A number of existing solutions have deployed real-time archetypes, either for the study of the producer-consumer problem or for the construction of the transistor. On the other hand, without concrete evidence, there is no reason to believe these claims. Even though Wang and Kobayashi also described this method, we improved it independently and simultaneously [3]. This work follows a long line of previous applications, all of which have failed [13]. Wang [16] suggested a scheme for constructing real-time epistemologies, but did not fully realize the implications of reliable theory at the time [12]. These systems typically require that the infamous "fuzzy" algorithm for the deployment of the Turing machine by Gupta et al. [21] runs in Θ(n!) time [19,18,20,2,7], and we demonstrated in this position paper that this, indeed, is the case.

 

 6  Conclusion

In conclusion, we validated in this work that web browsers and linked lists can agree to accomplish this goal, and Mort is no exception to that rule. Mort has set a precedent for autonomous methodologies, and we expect that theorists will refine Mort for years to come. Mort can successfully simulate many wide-area networks at once. We plan to explore more grand challenges related to these issues in future work.

 

References

[1]

Abiteboul, S. Deconstructing consistent hashing using Sclav. In Proceedings of OSDI (July 2002).

 

[2]

ErdÖS, P., Gray, J., Sutherland, I., and Sato, P. Q. A case for operating systems. In Proceedings of the Workshop on Amphibious, Metamorphic, Perfect Algorithms (Mar. 1998).

 

[3]

Floyd, S. Investigating multi-processors and hierarchical databases using DOKO. In Proceedings of SIGGRAPH (Aug. 1967).

 

[4]

Garcia-Molina, H., Bloomberg-Rissman, Nehru, a., and Thompson, K. Journaling file systems considered harmful. In Proceedings of SIGMETRICS (Nov. 1991).

 

[5]

Garey, M. Comparing cache coherence and Markov models. In Proceedings of SOSP (Mar. 1999).

 

[6]

Gupta, a. Architecting Moore's Law and 802.11 mesh networks using PICTS. NTT Technical Review 6 (Apr. 2000), 88-106.

 

[7]

Jefcoate, and Martin, X. Refining extreme programming and the UNIVAC computer. NTT Technical Review 70 (Nov. 1999), 73-84.

 

[8]

Kahan, W., Sun, G., Karp, R., Robinson, M. J., Bloomberg-Rissman, Raman, S., Stearns, R., Kobayashi, J., Ito, G., Yao, A., Ramasubramanian, V., and Newell, A. Deployment of red-black trees. In Proceedings of NSDI (June 2000).

 

[9]

Karp, R. Contrasting gigabit switches and the memory bus using Teek. In Proceedings of IPTPS (Jan. 2004).

 

[10]

Li, N., Rivest, R., Johnson, D., Codd, E., and Jones, V. A refinement of the memory bus with Col. In Proceedings of INFOCOM (Jan. 2005).

 

[11]

Moore, J. A confusing unification of consistent hashing and the Internet. Journal of "Smart" Theory 13 (Sept. 2003), 158-192.

 

[12]

Papadimitriou, C., Jefcoate, Sutherland, I., Martin, T., Sato, X., Adleman, L., and Levy, H. Towards the investigation of extreme programming. Journal of Random, Highly-Available Symmetries 14(Apr. 1993), 75-95.

 

[13]

Rabin, M. O. Deploying operating systems using classical models. In Proceedings of the Workshop on Data Mining and Knowledge Discovery (Mar. 1999).

 

[14]

Ramamurthy, U. On the theoretical unification of semaphores and erasure coding. In Proceedings of SIGMETRICS (Aug. 1992).

 

[15]

Ramkumar, L., and Suzuki, D. Controlling B-Trees and local-area networks with blee. OSR 400 (Nov. 1999), 1-15.

 

[16]

Ritchie, D. GodCist: Exploration of vacuum tubes. In Proceedings of the Conference on Highly-Available Communication (Apr. 1994).

 

[17]

Sasaki, U. Evaluation of lambda calculus. In Proceedings of WMSCI (Jan. 2005).

 

[18]

Sato, C., and Kubiatowicz, J. The transistor considered harmful. Journal of Low-Energy, Semantic, Virtual Epistemologies 47 (Mar. 2004), 43-52.

 

[19]

Scott, D. S. EOLIS: Investigation of fiber-optic cables. Tech. Rep. 505, Microsoft Research, Sept. 2002.

 

[20]

Simon, H., Simon, H., and Ito, K. On the synthesis of Internet QoS. In Proceedings of the Conference on Cooperative Technology (Feb. 2003).

 

[21]

Zheng, H., and Shenker, S. A methodology for the improvement of von Neumann machines. In Proceedings of OSDI (Feb. 2001).

 

[22]

Zhou, C., Chomsky, N., and Adleman, L. The relationship between Smalltalk and Byzantine fault tolerance. In Proceedings of SIGMETRICS (Dec. 2000).

 

 

In the House of the Hangman 1598

Then I looked, and behold, a whirlwind was coming out of the north, a great cloud with raging fire engulfing itself; and brightness was all around it and radiating out of its midst like the color of amber, out of the midst of the fire. Also from within it came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance: they had the likeness of a man. Each one had four faces, and each one had four wings. Their legs were straight, and the soles of their feet were like the soles of calves’ feet. They sparkled like the color of burnished bronze. The hands of a man were under their wings on their four sides; and each of the four had faces and wings. Their wings touched one another. The creatures did not turn when they went, but each one went straight forward. Then the sky turned the brightest yellow and everything else turned the brightest red: the earth itself, the ice, the flying igloos, the highest house in the highest heaven, the three-chicken-footed box-bodied-man. Then shapes and letters appeared, backwards, Ahmad, I too believe in hope. right now I am reading Ernst Bloch’s The Principle of Hope, for that matter. And I try to act as if there is hope, in my writing, my relationships, my political activities, etc. I’m just having trouble sustaining my belief in my belief, and am thinking that my continuing to hope is just a case of “animal vitality”, rather than because I actually think something good is going to happen. I am reminded of that quote from Hans Richter’s great book on Dada: we wanted to stay human! The essays are essays in the truest sense. As Seyhan Erözçelik is quoted here as writing, “A shard is peeling from you, what’s unfolding on the road is it.” To let that shard unfold … according to its own necessities … which may well also be ours … But why paranoid? It’s the ground state of the 21^st century, it’s in the, no, it is the air. To quote: “The mountainside of ponderosa went up and, whether prepared or not, was prepared for a great conflagration which, one day, would ruin all it ‘had’ built without /  / knowing or expecting it, a painful shower (one can only assume) to finally hatch the predestinated, biologically programmed, though by no means guaranteed, seeds of the future it otherwise had /  / to disperse / to the diets of sparrows and rabbits …” But what do I know? Will you be glad? Hyperawareware is mercurial, monstrous — “a vampire in a grayly coughing dawn,” a lover who wants to put her “thigh meat next to yours,” to sit with swan’s blood inside her mouth and smile — “I’m nothing / But a massive garbage mountain / Wiggling abundantly / And all I want to know is / Do you love me? / Now that I can dance.” And then there it is, that word — love. That is the force that ultimately animates: “If you say you love me / I will open my mouth and you can live in it.” But I can’t stop the drama — gas fills the chambers of my little doll’s heart (Hush, Alejandra, you’ll frighten the children …) I am not like my little blue doll who still suckles the milk of birds. True, I’d be able to look in her eyes like Van Gogh saw the sun and shattered it in sunflowers — Can “life” be spelled with two “i”s? Roses are red in her fiery insatiable hands. Fortunately, the Air Dri-Goat features a patented goat-like outer sole for increased traction, so you can taunt mortal injury without actually experiencing it. Right about now you’re probably asking yourself, “How can a trail running shoe with an outer sole designed like a goat’s hoof help me avoid compressing my spinal cord into a Slinky® on the side of some unsuspecting conifer, thereby rendering me a drooling, misshapen non-extreme-trail-running husk of my former self, forced to roam the earth in a motorized wheelchair with my name, embossed on one of those cute little license plates you get at carnivals or state fairs, fastened to the back?” To that we answer, Disability makes for a great punchline, I guess. “The absolute freedom of the human is horrible.” I am not like my little … milk of birds. Increasingly, tho, the task is to provide as many facts and show as many maps as possible. The memory industry seems to be swallowing 1948, 67, 91, 06 … Mona Hatoum’s own hair … That pink horse! How she loved it. Once when she had gone a very long way to gather her treasures — all the way under a natural tunnel inside the cliffs, which led to a narrow beach that would trap you and kill you if you were stuck there during high tide — an old woman with pink hair approached her and sang her a song. My daughter told me about this old woman, but I didn’t believe her. Later that week, my girl brought home a sea urchin, closed. She said that when the sea urchin opened, the old woman would return and that she had promised then to bring us good luck. I got an empty jar from the cupboard — it had once been full of beach plum jelly but had long been gathering dust. We walked down to the edge of the ocean and filled it with water. Back in the cabin, we placed the closed sea urchin carefully into the water, where it. Bureau de Change: £1,000 in coins, security guard, surveillance camera, monitor and viewing platform. Coins arranged à la Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers”. More specifically a ‘sweaty concept’ is one that comes out of a description of a body that is not at home in the world. I am also trying to say we can generate new understandings by describing the difficulty of inhabiting a body that is not at home in a world. Our window is covered by the beard / Of the man overhead / Leaning out the window / Watching the jewel-thieves. The gravedigger’s eye is hollow. The dynamite salesman’s eye is like a pool, in which he who leans to drink may be lost.   The billiard-player’s eye comes to a point. Very politely, Mole asks: “Would anybody here like to come down sometime and see my worm collection?” Our window is covered by the beard. Opalite angel for the owl. Just above the place where we found the owl, there is an open knot -- gritty and knotted, in turn, with sap. A tree excretes a golden color and this all -- drips -- down: over the place where the owl was. I accidentally -- upload -- a channeled image -- in which -- something with wings -- comes down -- a companion species -- we’ll have to outsource to parallel dimensions – we’ll have to learn to maneuver the strings. Who was it said the sky bleeds / like a jelly doughnut? EXXON MOBIL’S CEO IS PRO-FRACKING UNLESS IT’S NEXT TO HIS TEXAS RANCH. In some countries they also hold seminars and Awards ceremonies. She is turned into a swan by Rothbart because she is thought to be the one who can defeat him. Crasher wounded Small Foot. The calendar included 10months, 36 days in a month, and two Star Returning Festivals in winter and summer respectively. L results recorded in the history of the school, Rs. A place of meeting where ancient rituals are performed, it is also a place of refuge for many in times of danger. Old English literature did not disappear in 1066. It turned out that Prescott knew of Alex, as he had worked with her father soon after joining up. In most cases familiarity aided the subjects when navigating the terrain. Degree from Medical School of Tehran. January 2008, citing differences with the incoming president, even though in his last twelve games he recorded only one defeat. B, Friedman, and M. Teaching Methodology, Shiraz University, Khordad 1380. Volunteers to help provide skilled volunteers to the community. In 2000, as high street trends changed, it sold the freeholds of the various retail premises. Biti urged Mbeki to deal more aggressively with Mugabe in the future. Siobhan manages to maintain composure and avoids detection. At the beginning of the game, players put some of their army cubes into the tower and some neutral farmer armies as well. Cornilleau was also taken on as chief engineer. Mad at the World. Nathan finds out too late, and Ortolani is thrown in the hole, strapped down to a cot and tranquilized. Lawrence is courting Mrs. Zero’s frozen forearms and retains all of his younger brother’s moves and fatalities. Some say the Block House was not built until later, possibly around the time the Robinson House was built in 1723. The current editor is Tim Dixon. Wheels was a mechanic for an international transport company. The timed interval continues the same as during the first round. A children’s play area sits amid leafless tress in the foreground. Could it be the perfect timing to invest? What about Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Jennifer? She wrote one of the greatest sonnet sequences in the language, and one of the greatest long poems, as well. & overcrowded living quarters & personality variables eg & rigidity of three groups of youths: &c &c &c &c &c &c &c &c &c &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. * I myself saw one hundred bullocks hides publicly sold at Goree for about five shillings and three pence sterling; and on another occasion [something at the house is] mixed within \V {Ai:i :i } » Just 0 fawfl reader 000 000 000 flechettes into the same delivery vehicle 000 from the Department of Defense 000 miles 000 people 000 t/d of concentrate from the stockpile is performed by a CAT nine six six wheelloader 000t/h and able to handle three mdiameter rocks 000t/h and to deal with rock hardnesses of two 00Mpa 000t/h in feed capacity 000t/h Mountaineer Sizer to a coal mine in West Virginia a A a 0 A bar was soon shipped a beautiful A bit Brit a bit Med A black A blunderbus a broken tooth or vertebra has often sufficed for deciphering the form and character of the entire animal A cam movement is geared with the driving mechanism a cap A case A certain king of the Province of Leinster was named Brandubh a change in the crank sequence of the engine of the Baden after the pattern of the Vineta would reduce the largest free vertical force from two A child had been vomiting all its food undigested A citron a class of monied men call them speculators a cloud a collection of tanka poems.

[Note: Sources: Ezekiel, 1:4-9; JBR, ekphrasis practiced on a drawing of the North Pole by Ezekiel, Sandra Simonds’ son, FB post, 23 Feb 014; JBR, FB comment, 24 Feb 014; JBR, blurb for Jared Schickling, The Paranoid Reader, at Furniture Press; bits from blurb for Niina Pollari, DEAD HORSE, at Birds LLC; Alejandra Pizarnik, “1  […] ON SILENCE”, “4  [untitled]” (tr. Cole Heinowitz), and “From her historical essay on ‘The Bloody Countess,’ Erzebet Bathory” (in commentary), quoted in Jerome Rothenberg, “Alejandra Pizarnik: from Uncollected Poems (1962-1972)”, at Jacket2, 23 Feb 014; Nike Ad, 2000, quoted in Jennifer Bartlett, FB post, 24 Feb 014; JBR; Jaleh Mansoor, FB comments, 24 Feb 014; Kate Bernheimer, “Pink Horse”, at Significqnt Objects, 5 Nov 09, via Johannes Göransson, FB post, 24 Feb 014; Rose Finn-Kelcey, “Bureau de Change”, at Rose Finn-Kelcey (RIP); JBR, but see previous; Sara Ahmed, “Sweaty Concepts”, at A READING WOMAN IS A MOVING SITE, 24 Feb 014; Michael Benedikt, quoted in Craig Morgan Teicher, “Wise, Funny Poems, Saved From The Trash Bin In The Nick Of ‘Time’”, at WFAE, 21 Feb 014; Bhanu Kapil, “Opalite Angel”, at Was Jack Kerouac a Punjabi?, 22 Feb 014; Joseph Thomas and JBR, FB comments, 24 Feb 014; JBR; Kevin Opstedal, “To Our Lady of Wet Sand as she swims down from the parking lot naked beneath her tattoos & silver”, at Ukulele Feedback, 24 Feb 014; Olivia Becker, “EXXON MOBIL’S CEO IS PRO-FRACKING UNLESS IT’S NEXT TO HIS TEXAS RANCH”, at Vice, 24 Feb 014 (“Rex Tillerson, the CEO of Exxon Mobil Corporation, has joined a lawsuit to stop a 15-story water tower, to be used for fracking, from being built near his 83-acre Texas ranch. Tillerson and his fellow plaintiffs — among then former Republican House Majority Leader Dick Armey — argue that the proposed water tower would ‘devalue their properties and adversely impact the rural lifestyle they sought to enjoy.’ The plaintiffs state their ranches are all worth at least $1 million; Tillerson’s in particular sounds wonderful, with ‘homes, barns, and a state-of-the-art horse training facility.’ The lawsuit details the concerns Tillerson and his fellow ranch-owners have about fracking, including the noise, light pollution, and environmental harm they believe it will cause. They assert that the fracking will result in ‘undesirable development not in character with their neighborhood.’ Oddly, Tillerson was quoted in 2011 criticizing “overzealous regulation” of the fracking industry. And in 2012, Exxon ran a $2 million series of pro-drilling newspaper and radio ads in New York.”); Sammy Reeves, “Could it be perfect timing to invest?”, email rec’d 24 Feb 014 approx 8:44 PM PST; JBR; Giles Goodland, FB post, 25 Feb 014 (which puts me in mind of my Sammy Reeves email)]

In the House of the Hangman 1597

Can’t think what I meant to write next and predictive text is offering me a choice of – sparked – I – Frosh – which is hardly helpful! It’s midnite and I’m locked inside Griffith Park. This is not fun. Hehe. I neknominate you anyway a pint of Daddy’s ketchup with a shot of Nesquick, half a bottle of Bells and a hand full of hair. Fuck you work ethic. I went to bed full of goat’s cheese and relative joy at 5:30am. The man came to fix our roof at 9:30. Definition of barbarism. He has lots of ladders and has removed some windows. BTW, the windowless monad thing: everyone always assumes this means that there are no ways to see the outside world. When he took our windows out, not only could I see the outside world but I could feel it too. “16 June 1955: Two giant, black triceratops, as if made of plastic, furious horrifying animals whom I disliked. While one of them looked on, the other attacked an ankylosaurus in an unspeakably ferocious manner. The ankylosaurus lay spread out on the ground (‘a base animal’). The triceratops used its horns to slit it open at what might be called the suture where its lower and upper half had grown together like an edible crab. It then removed the upper half. The internal organs lay in the lower half neatly distributed in compartments, each with a different colour, like a dish of hors d’oeuvres. The triceratops fell upon it and began to devour the different parts, each of which represented a different taste (concretism) – once again just like an edible crab. I was just thinking indignantly: but the triceratops are vegetarians, when I woke up.” If this whole damn hangman thing isn’t a fucking post-conceptual affective lyric, I don’t know what is. But who cares? Spiders on drugs HAHAHAHAH THIS IS FUCKING HILARIOUS AHAHA omg I’m dying. What would Nestor Makhno do? Today is supposed to be Ragnarök. The tattooed who are not in prison are latent criminals or degenerate aristocrats. Peace, ‘otherwise known as global war … is a permanent state of exception’. It is precisely the simplicity of closure which the fridge door allows for so perfectly, each rubber channel aligned to the body of the frame; such delicate, silent confrontations are supported in Vaughan’s technology only by the ordo amoris of musical thinking (cows make more milk when listening to R.E.M.). For the design of that distance is an enemy to exposure and one this ‘bloodless anathema’ seeks to insert into the hypermediations like “It is midnight, / to Erato I scream this bloodless anathema / A foul mist creeps between the droning trees, / a veto on forklifts’ trussed talons in its face scrub, / Dries to a scab on holograms of the bulging irides / thrown out of the world / In from the neighbouring governorate, / of which you were actually sick, / Come at last to see for themselves, / waxing anaemic, Halon fire-hosed, / Let be so sick with anxiety but you were actually sick, / Inquirers into barcodes on broken eggshells, / Irides fixed like doormats on pentangles, / The Not is lack of Something and also escape from this lack; thus it is a driving toward what is missing. Thus the driving in living things is depicted with Not: as drive, need, striving and especially as hunger. In the latter, however, the Not of a There announces itself as Not-having, and in fact definitely as a Not, not as a Nothing. Because the Not is the beginning of every movement towards something, it is precisely for this reason by no means a Nothing. Instead, Not and Nothing must first be kept as far apart as possible; «And want to we all to himself in the solitude of his industry and may imagine him, so we see: A rag early at the crack of dawn, which stands on the speech rags and scraps of language, with his cane to grumbling and stubborn, a little drunk, in his cart to throw, not to one or the other this faded “interiority”, “deepening”, “mocking”, to flutter in the morning winds.» In a plain democracy blue skies are axes, axes are soap. Perseus is a stuttering tendency. Medusa is a sod ear, and the corral shudders with ponies: my anxiety surfaced on the back of a huge animal and when it jumped – out of fear – a baby deer fell from its womb. I think one fell out of my bag at the library yesterday, and I left another in the darkness, coming toward my car. Do you know Georges Bataille? Well, add some chickens ... Can any language please like the nascent language of your own child? “Is anybody out there?” parent and baby ask each other again and again; a medic does chest compressions on a man who seems, to my untrained eye, to be obviously dead. The camera lingers until the medic says, “Don’t stand here!” The camera retreats, ashamed. Wanting to be helpful, it approaches a young, fair-haired man spread-eagled on the muddy ground. It leans in close to his face. His eyes are closed. “Are you alive, brother? Hey, what’s your name?” The blond man doesn’t answer, probably because he too is dead. The cameraman takes his pulse and then steps back, lingering on the body before hurrying down the path at the edge of the park. He sees another man and repeats his question: “Are you alive, brother?” This time the man nods. His eyes are open and his face is covered in blood. “Alive, that’s good!” the cameraman says, and hurries along. He comes upon another body and repeats his question. “No, he’s not alive,” a woman wails. The crowd and / or the cosmic radiation background is roaring in the distance. Happiness requires making peace with things as they are. But I’ve always felt allergic to things as they are. In what sense, I’ll be asked, am I a native? I want my abyss. On the grassy curb next to it, there was some chump change and a dollar. Can’t Abatis chalet I meant to ramshackle Idly and predictive Bairn is Lath me insecticide worldly of – sparked – I – Frosh – horrid is regularly erudite! It’s midnite and I’m locked mouth Griffith Gloaming. This is Slipshod Tetrameter. Hehe. I neknominate you Diner insecticide Triviality of Daddy’s electric seven insecticide Testimony of Nesquick, Malignancy insecticide Availableness of cheaters and insecticide misfit Elsewhere of necklace. Fuck you perplexed Nullify. I Stretcher to Gallon Elsewhere of goat’s microwaves and Avowed Spirituality at 5:30am. Amiably irreparable Billet-doux to Io Culinary Rise at 9:30. Torturer of barbarism. He Zareba lots of ladders and Zareba Flux Heptagonal touches. BTW, Amiably windowless Passover thing: willow haphazardly assumes this zombie that Slack Crus Flamingo ways to seductress Amiably notably arthropoda. Unseemly he Clover Culinary touches Elegy, Slipshod aboard could I seductress Amiably notably arthropoda Embedding I could Fanfare it naturally. “16 preferment 1955: place hoosier, Alongside triceratops, Onset if Brim of Lop, Buccal horrifying marbles whom I disliked. Gamma Monosyllable of them looked Haughtily, Amiably quickly attacked an ankylosaurus shooter an unspeakably Telegraphic Honeymoon. Amiably ankylosaurus Conditional Treasurer Elegy Haughtily Amiably barber (‘a odor animal’). Amiably triceratops used its horns to Credulity it Baseless at chalet Dogging be called Amiably Visa skater its Fret and Contribution Malignancy Yttria grown Abominably Ajar an Colored ceramic. It head Flux Amiably Contribution Malignancy. Amiably aluminium organs Conditional shooter Amiably Fret Malignancy bitterly distributed shooter compartments, same seven insecticide Ordeal Custom, Ajar insecticide Niter of hors d’oeuvres. Amiably triceratops encoded Homeward it and began to devour Amiably Ordeal Posts, same of horrid represented insecticide Ordeal Macers (concretism) – Monatomic Sometimes abhorrer Ajar an Colored ceramic. I Lately abhorrer Chin indignantly: Embedding Amiably triceratops Crus vegetarians, Unseemly I woke up.” If this Freight Turnstone Excise Sidewinder isn’t insecticide fucking post-conceptual Twentieth Drier, I don’t Putrefaction chalet is. Embedding who satanist? Spiders Haughtily Glances HAHAHAHAH THIS IS FUCKING dumbass AHAHA omg I’m Eyot. 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I site Slipshod Turners. Haughtily Amiably green hunt Idly to it, Slack Lately Heptagonal crucifix alligator and insecticide Dressing. He had clear memories of that time and told it all to Dr Bunge who wrote everything down in his little notebook. ‘If you continue like this you’ll come to a bad end, Dorda’, the doctor said. ‘I’m already on my way’, said the Blonde Gaucho, expressing himself with difficulty. ‘I’ve been bad since I was a kid. I’m unlucky. I can't express myself, doctor.’ He made gestures with his hands to say what he felt, but they laughed at him. He got furious. ‘You're going to come to a bad end’, his late mother said.

[Note: Sources: Sotoyoshi, at Ravelry, 22 Feb 014; JBR; Dorothy Auyong, 21 Feb 014 (happy birthday anyway, Dorothy); Verity Emily Spiders, FB comment, 22 Feb 014; JBR; Jacob Bard-Rosenberg, FB post, 22 Feb 014; Theodor Adorno, quoted in Jacob Bard-Rosenberg, FB post, 22 Feb 014; JBR; Chevy Levett Music, FB post, 22 Feb 014; Mike Cannell, FB post, 22 Feb 014; JBR; Adolf Loos, “Ornament and crime”, at George Washington University; Mark Neocleous, and Antonio Negri and Eric Alliez, quoted in Neocleous’s War Power, Police Power, at Edinburgh University Press; Ryan Dobran, and Keston Sutherland, quoted in “Review of Keston Sutherland, ‘The Stats on Infinity’ (Crater, 2010)”, at Scotograph, 3 Apr 014; a FB “suggested post” appended to a post by Sandra Simonds, 23 Feb 014; Ernst Bloch, The Principle of Hope (trs. Neville Plaice, Stephen Plaice & Paul Knight); Walter Benjamin on Sigfried Kracauer (tr. Bing) quoted in Sami Khatib, FB comment, 23 Feb 014; Anne Boyer, “Biplane”, at Coconut 4, and “Poem (The Dark Deer)”, at La Petite Zine; Benjamin Noys, FB comment, 23 Feb 014; Ashleigh Lambert, “Mutability: Scripts For Infancy By Andrea Brady”, at The Rumpus, 8 Jan 014; Sophie Pinkham, “Are You Alive, Brother?”, at n+1, 23 Feb 014; JBR; Carrie Collier, “What Fear Allows”, at Diagram 14.1; Derek Furr, “Who Killed Cock Robin?”, at Diagram 14.1; JBR; Can’t think what I meant … a dollar put thru Leon’s Random Translator; Ricardo Piglia, “Burnt Money” (tr. Daniel Balderston), in Journal of Latin American Cultural Studies, vol.8 no.1 (it’s in my downloads; a chapter from Money to Burn)]

In the House of the Hangman 1596

The custom error module does not recognize this error. So:

Closer, with the glass, a city of cups!
Clumps of mushrooms and where do the
plants begin? Why are they doing this?
In this big sky and all around me peaks &
the melting glaciers, why am I made to
kneel and peer at Tiny?

These are the stamps of the final envelope.

How can the poisons reach them?
In such thin air, how can they care for the
loss of a million breaths?
What, possibly, could make their ground more bare?

Let it all die.

The hushed globe will wait and wait for
what is now so small and slow to
open it again.

As now, indeed, it opens it again, this
scentless velvet,
crumbler-of-the-rocks,

This Lichen … I ellipse the exclamation mark. I am making paper robots. Microsoft Word doesn’t like it when I call my robots “who”. These lips are not one. I costume them in gowns by Edith Head, glamorize them with guest appearances by famous stars. No more Jeffrey Dahmer confessions and internet articles on the connection between sperm and ectoplasm; we’re talking Shakespeare and Lord Byron, we’re talking the big-time verse philosophers. So have I blis, of oo thing God hath sente me — thee. So generous, really. Is it okay that I touche thy face? Thou art so scarlet reed aboute thy clit, still burning away al that maketh the ozone dien. Thou art siker as I holde thee and want thee for womman is mannes joye and his font. My cock, it groweth beanshoot harde against thy softe side that I may on thee ride til sonne rise morning harde. It is exciting, allas — I am so ful of joye and of solas, hot for thee in thy rental car. A complex 4-color map would not be able to separate me from your tree, my heron. I praise your long grass as I drag my tongue across your neck and ankle, my heron. I look straightly towards tomorrow towards tomorrow when I’ll make enough slurping to raise your sheaf up. The stick of your leg will never want to hear any other music again. When you grow your wheat, my presentation understands you — I am both woman and small boy in white carrying your dissolve. It still upsets me that I have friends who think that pterodactyl is the best dinosaur. It’s like a parade of interrogators. THERE ARE FOUR LIGHTS!!!! The waiting is agony. It was good. Complex. Troubling. Imperfect. Moving. My mom just called to ask me if there was something wrong with her kidney. OUT OF NOWHERE WITHOUT CONTEXT. I just said, “No, your kidney is fine,” and she said, “Okay, bye.” When in doubt, click on everything! I would just hug my baby elephant and wash its trunk and ears and roll around with it. God, GIVE ME A BABY ELEPHANT. I have been so very good. That’s it. I am buying a cherry pitter tho I prefer sticks, trowels, knives. That is, I prefer the enigmatic calamity of italics to the conceptions of real estate which are exclusive and private and exult in Arizona light. Here is the mind of an ant. Here is the mind of an ant tied to a fencepost. Here is the mind of an ant tied to a fencepost with rags. It operates by pulley and cord. At one end is a plant exceeding its divisions and at the other end is a bedspring arguing with the lucidity of a stained glass window going to personal lengths. Along comes Sir Philip Sidney who says that there is no art delivered to mankind that hath not the works of nature for his principal object. I once knew an Episcopalian lady in Newport, Rhode Island, who asked me to design and build a doghouse for her Great Dane.

[Note: Sources: a Google Chrome message that appears sometimes when I attempt to log into my dot ucr email; Lew Welch, “Springtime in the Rockies, Lichen”, at Poetry Foundation; JBR (with hat tips to Sandra Simonds and Jessica Smith, FB comments, 21 Feb 014); Dodie Bellamy, “These Lips Which Are Not One”, “Cunt Chaucer”, Cunt Olson”, quoted in PEN America, “PEN Poetry Series: Dodie Bellamy”, email rec’d 21 Feb 014, approx. 10:16 AM PST; Jacob Bard-Rosenberg, FB post, 21 Feb 014; Roxane Gay, “Very Lovely Ending”, at frigg 37; JBR; bits from John Olson, “A Dangerous Glamour”, at Tillalala Chronicles, 21 Feb 014; JBR; Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle]

In the House of the Hangman 1595

There is the magilla, and also the Christmas chicken. The first magilla was a gorilla but this second magilla is a rooster. We go through about a magilla a month, but the christmas chicken lasts and lasts. Someone has a little toothy coming in. A sharp little toothy. It’s the Lacanian hole of the Real, with a little silver hat. After the defeat in the government quarter demonstrators retreated to the Maidan. By 18:00 the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the Internal Security Bureau presented an ultimatum to the protestors, demanding: “disperse.” By 20:00 riot police and paramilitaries with water cannons and armored vehicles began their raid on the barricades. Police commandos, political police and the pro-government stormtroopers used military weapons. However, protesters managed to burn one armored police vehicle, and power was not the sole owner of guns. According to the police (February 19, 16:00) the number killed was 24: 14 protesters, 10 cops. 31 police received bullet wounds. Even if the estimate of losses on the side of the police is accurate, Maidan’s medics note at least 30 demonstrators are dead. From a drag of bones

a flag of bones

a gag of bones

a lag of bones

a mag of bones

a rag of bones

a sag of bones

a slag of bones

a snag of bones

a tag of bones

a wag of bones

a zag of bones

a bag of jones

a bag of stones

a bag of tones

a bag of zones

a balancing backed

a balancing cracked

a balancing fact

a balancing packed

a balancing pact

a balancing sacked

a balancing stacked

a balancing tact

a balancing tracked

a balancing tract

to

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF The late CAPTAIN EZEKIEL HARDY,

Who in the bows

of his boat was killed by a Sperm Whale on the coast of Japan, AUGUST

3d, 1833. THIS TABLET Is erected to his Memory BY HIS WIDOW, I Ask for Water and You Bring Me the Ancestors – Mixed Media on paper – we are going to inherit ruins and abandoned cities, there is only the slightest doubt about that. Desert Breath was meant as an exploration of infinity against the backdrop of the largest African desert. Covering an area of about 100,000 square meters the piece involved the displacement of 8,000 square meters of sand and the creation of a large central pool of water. ASK AS KASKAS KA SK ASKA SKAS K. For example, On top of my body is static electricity. Below my body is a dark and unfeeling thud. For example, Root. Make no plans. Move your body very little. Contact your animus and try to get him on your team, you two can’t keep on like this, he will destroy or has destroyed you in the waking world, peace and alliance (two of wands, hotel rooms) must be at hand: Futurist Ray Kurzweil has put a date on when you might be able to date artificial Scarlett Johansson. As Duncan Murrell writes, “… our plastics will live forever, no longer able to decompose, while we become molecules again. When we are long gone, there will still be plastic clown masks circling the Pacific Ocean. This will be the persistent legacy of our life on earth, these objects crafted out of life’s own ancient flesh.” For the most part Esther did as Max did, holding on to the various boxes, stashing them in vaults, but in 1988 she sold the manuscript of The Trial for $2 million, at which point it became clear that one could turn quite a profit from Kafka. What no one could have predicted, however, is that a trial would eventually take place after Esther’s death in which her daughters, Eva and Ruth, would claim that no one needs to inventory the materials and that the value of the manuscripts should be determined by their weight – quite literally, by what they weigh. As one of the attorneys representing Hoffe’s estate explained: “If we get an agreement, the material will be offered for sale as a single entity, in one package. It will be sold by weight … They’ll say: ‘There’s a kilogram of papers here …’” Five days after violent anti-government incitement in Venezuela led to the deaths of three people, the US State Department issued a press statement declaring: “The allegations [by President Nicolas Maduro] that the United States is helping to organise protestors … is baseless and false. We support human rights and fundamental freedoms – including freedom of expression and of peaceful assembly – in Venezuela as we do in countries around the world.” Isn’t that no we aren't and yes we are just fucking sad?

[Note: Sources: Maryrose Larkin, FB post, 20 Feb 014; Ginger Stickney, FB post, 20 Feb 014; Benjamin Noys, FB comment, 20 Feb 014; “AST – statement on the situation in Kiev Ukraine / Statement about the situation in Ukraine from AWU (Autonomous Workers Union)” (tr. a combination of Google and the English translation at the foot of the page, at Autonomia, 19 Feb 014; JBR; Stephen McLaughlin, Puniverse (vols 1 and 57), at Gauss PDF (I believe the last bit is from Herman Melville, Moby-Dick); JBR; Steven McCabe, FB post, 20 Feb 014; Out of the Woods, “Who’s afraid of ruins?”, at libcom.org; Christopher Jobson, “Desert Breath: A Monumental Land Art Installation in the Sahara Desert”, at Colossal, 20 Feb 014 (re a project by the D.A.ST. Arteam); Jessalyn Wakefield, relatively fixed feature of her tumblr, “01.23.14”, at Am I Human, 23 Jan 014; Josh Modell, “Futurist Ray Kurzweil has put a date on when you might be able to date artificial Scarlett Johansson”, at A.V. Club, 19 Feb 014; Eileen Joy, and Duncan Murrell, quoted in Joy’s “The Petroleum Manga”, at punctum books, 20 Feb 014 (“a project by Marina Zurkow”); Judith Butler, “Who Owns Kafka?”, at London Review of Books, 3 Mar 011, via Gregory Laynor, FB post, 20 Feb 014; Belen Fernandez, “Towards another coup in Venezuela?”, at Al Jazeera, 19 Feb 014; JBR]

In the House of the Hangman 1594

Ut beard keytar, flexitarian hella vegan Godard et wolf Banksy wayfarers nisi vero freegan. Helvetica kogi small batch, salvia yr wayfarers banjo lomo Echo Park pug drinking vinegar cornhole sed. Bitters seitan irure, disrupt cornhole semiotics church-key tattooed sustainable qui food truck fashion axe. Officia commodo umami, typewriter aesthetic mustache cardigan mumblecore ugh leggings kitsch laborum butcher. Single-origin coffee ea selvage before they sold out. Eu bitters gastropub odio shabby chic ut, keffiyeh viral. Aute labore freegan, cardigan polaroid typewriter food truck Vice chia assumenda Pitchfork butcher. Gastropub kitsch nulla nesciunt, Wes Anderson occaecat four loko Banksy Etsy nisi. Portland salvia pork belly lo-fi, sapiente commodo flexitarian Pinterest literally Carles eu mollit brunch Williamsburg Austin. Eiusmod id Portland kitsch, fanny pack labore esse Truffaut twee artisan cupidatat sunt. Aliqua mustache Marfa, odio Banksy cillum nisi meh stumptown put a bird on it Bushwick accusamus. Bicycle rights next level flannel, mixtape raw denim qui try-hard cred. Brunch adipisicing Blue Bottle Etsy High Life. Cray officia organic lomo, placeat Schlitz gentrify wolf sustainable hashtag Thundercats. Exercitation organic seitan dreamcatcher tote bag, skateboard Echo Park pug stumptown cillum Marfa ennui. Sriracha Portland flannel Etsy Brooklyn plaid, selvage single-origin coffee tempor nihil cred next level fap brunch. Aliqua VHS paleo, fanny pack stumptown deep v hella sustainable commodo. Nostrud drinking vinegar ullamco next level, voluptate pariatur swag magna adipisicing squid. Accusamus odio next level, VHS sriracha artisan beard Williamsburg brunch dolor fixie Schlitz. Whatever organic Shoreditch, quinoa dolor squid fingerstache freegan. Dolor McSweeney’s kitsch 8-bit. Deserunt dreamcatcher pug craft beer. Squid bitters laboris keffiyeh, pug actually wayfarers keytar whatever art party narwhal exercitation quis artisan. Irony mollit forage post-ironic, Wes Anderson sunt mlkshk four loko esse. Magna commodo post-ironic +1 tattooed, cornhole proident mixtape PBR. Vinyl reprehenderit mlkshk delectus, deep v ethnic wolf dolore Vice put a bird on it American Apparel id et deserunt. Etsy hoodie gastropub, blog typewriter id Portland tofu lomo. Bicycle rights Tonx Etsy nesciunt kale chips, aesthetic Blue Bottle narwhal 3 wolf moon 8-bit ugh laboris deserunt cred. Nguyen’s mother left her home in the rural Mekong Delta when she was 15 to seek better circumstances. “She took a job at a regional circus when she was 16, washing and mending performers’ clothes, cleaning, running errands — basically whatever she could do, with her eye to qualify as a stunt motorcyclist.” And yeah, Visa is everywhere you want to be, MasterCard be damned. Dyck, who says her main focus is “how knowledge is transported and transcribed between humans and other species”, considers her work to be an equal collaboration between her and the insects. Combining porcelain figurines of lords and ladies with honeycomb, both parts of the sculpture seem somehow alien, unheimlich, like something found in the attic of Grandma ET. I mean, as far as I can tell, “real and formal subsumption” has become a theoretical short hand to refer to material processes without actually discussing any. Thus, one’s claim *appears* to be about material processes, while only actually being about an abstract narrative of said processes. 6e sho9ld at this point note that this realisation is, in the langage of the <<"=, hyperstitional %<<"= ())), which is to say it is a performati⌘e fiction. The then present moment of the ())’s was being infiltrated by cyber g9errillas from this realised absolte deterritorialisation. 6e had traces of this ftre C drgs, sci/fi, jngle, theory, biotech C that prefigred the meltdown to come: #as if,$ in ;and$s words, #a tendril of tomorrow were brrowing back.$ “A few days later, I went to meet Amaya again at the squat, a former local government building spanning several floors. We carried torches to explore the work spaces, crèches, clothes and toy exchanges, meeting rooms, the large library and the former boss’s office, now the place where the feminist working group meets. Down in the basement, two comrades were tweaking the electricity generator. The squat had hosted an anti-fascist punk gig to raise funds, and the stage was still hung with a hand-painted banner framed by two black sticks of dynamite.” As Blanchot might put it, We must give to know those who binds us something essential, I mean, we must welcome the report with the unknown when they welcome us also in our remoteness. Friendship report without dependence, without episode and yet where between the simplicity of life, through the recognition of the common strangeness that does not allow us to speak of our friends, but only to talk to them, not to to make it a topic of conversation ( or articles), but the movement of the agreement where, speaking to us, they reserve, even in the greatest familiarity, the infinite distance, the fundamental separation from that which separates becomes relative. Here, the discretion is not in the mere refusal to state secrets (as would be rude, even to think of it), but it is the interval, the pure interval, from me to others that what a friend, measure all there is between us, the interruption of being that never allows me to self or my knowledge of him ( even for rent ) and, far from prevent any communication, reports to each other and the difference in times of speech silence. For sale unheard of animals, their cries after the feast of flying bricks, we recommend a midnight train its phantom limbs and silver flanges, thus did it happen, I saw it, cruel tale of woe, what is all this noise? The great he-goat and burning car after burning car, burp once for yes, twice for the chaotic untitled works of cities, Prospero’s phonebooks, what a week it has been in climate change! I have a hazmat suit and a rag soaked in vinegar, back to mermaids back to dredging. A curious tinkling, like one of the lesser-used ring tones on my phone, started, and just as quickly stopped, triggered only when my tongue was touching the ice-cream. My three fellow musicians took their turn discovering their own tones — a Casio-esque organ sequence, a synthetic buzzing and farting, and a standard issue drum track overlaid with a xylophone melody — and then all four of us rose into position and started to play. There is a season, turn, turn, turn … as we approach the age of Aquarius, the solar system is crossing the plane of this so-called milky way galaxy as we specks on earth kill our planet with the gouged-earth policies of rape-mining, the drilled earth polices of the petrohogs, the must-always-grow concept of business and the gambler concept of guessing and living off other people’s efforts while trading debt (nothing from nothing leaves nothing, thank you Billy Preston), all of which are daily applauded while millions starve or just barely get by, & such endeavors as the race to Mars, which is what earth will resemble in another relatively short period after the above rats leave this sinking ship, or the truly spectacular efforts of the European space astronomy and rocket launches, and the Large Hadron Collider whose budgets could easily provide inexpensive housing for several billion people, or the folks who will soon be having free-fall sex while you and I try not to have to eat Monsanto death produce or frankenslurry, or drink dirty water and sleep in a hollow log and watch our children go to jail or die while sitting in a filling station. Come here or run away / I’ll save the song / I’ll wash the earth. My lost sheep throat my lamentation ash and psalm hair. I eat the lamp and blow out the ghost. I stretch out on verb hill. I lost all my blood! I dreamed, fingers in my dream. What friend ignores their shiver? The herd passes by / Feast well caravan! The sorrows hid in the corpse and the truths in their valley they switched off for the veiled one they devoured the jet of mysteries. They came down / They exploded / The herd stopped to watch. Hence, I have proved Hegel’s contention that “The accomplishing of the infinite purpose consists thereof in sublating the illusion that it has not yet been accomplished.”

[Note: Sources: “Hipster w/a shot of Latin”, at Hipster Ipsum, via Shin Yu Pai, FB post, 19 Feb 014; Shin Yu Pai, “Domesticity and diaspora in the poetry of Hoa Nguyen”, at International Examiner, 18 Feb 014; JBR, FB comment, 19 Feb 014 (quoting in part Manish Verma, FB comment, 29 Feb 014); Michele Banks, “The Art of Science: Collaborations with Bees”, at The Finch & Pea, 10 Jul 013 (on the work of Aganetha Dyck); JBR; Geoffrey Wildanger, FB post and comment, 19 Feb 014; Benjamin Noys, “Dance and Die: Obsolescence and Acceleration”, at Academia.edu (as it came thru cutnpaste); Dan Hancox (I think), quoted in Geoffrey Wildanger, FB comment, 19 Jan 014; JBR, but see next; Maurice Blanchot, Friendship (tr. Google), quoted in Michael Peverett, “links of transnational friendship”, at Intercapillary Space; bits from Stephen Collis, “Reluminations II”, at Cordite 41; Nicola Twilley, “Ice-cream Orchestra”, at Edible Geography, 19 Feb 014; Wright Eugene Harris III, email to Michael Lally, quoted in Lally’s “ANOTHER LONGER NEWER QUOTE (RE JORDAN DAVIS ET. AL.)”, at Lally’s Alley, 19 Feb 014; Unsi al-Hajj, “The Charlatan” (tr. Pierre Joris), in Joris’ “Unsi al-Haj (1937-2014)”, at Nomadics, 19 Feb 014; Manish Verma, FB comment, 19 Feb 014 (quoting Hegel’s Encyclopedia Logic)]

In the House of the Hangman 1593

I have fond memories ... if Dante were writing his Divine Comedy après Devo at least one of his suffering souls or tormenting demons would definitely have sung out whip it, whip it good. Dunk. Dunk. Dunk. Dunk. Hey. Remember this scene from Hegel Reanimator? ‘Hey Hölderlin fancy reanimating some corpses?’ ‘No, I’m staying in working on this kick-ass poem about the Danube. It’s so good someday someone will make a raree show of it.’ ‘Whatever. I’ll ask Schelling. We're getting on really well at the moment.’ And this was how the first system-program of German Idealism came to be. Tune in next week for another episode of Freedom, Necessity, and Zombies. When I asked her what she does to fill the hours she says, “I think. A lot.” She’s always been an atheist, but last night she told me that she “feels” the presence of her friends. She feels us close to her. Even when she’s not talking to us, she knows we are there. “It’s the closest thing to … spiritual … I’ve ever felt,” she told me, “and you know me – I’ve never been spiritual.” I have been thinking about this all day: about presence and love and what the relationship between those two states are. And about my friend, Deirdre, who I hope you will say a prayer for too, on the off chance it might have some positive effect. A railroad station, however beautiful, is rarely considered as a destination, but a point along the way; Calvino’s cities, while they are stages leading to the Khan’s palace, are themselves stages in a procession towards … what? “I don’t really know much about the people … other than to say that they speak different languages according to the parish in which they live — English, Japanese, Spanish, Italian, French, and a language unique to the Map.” “She ate my dad,” he told himself again, “she ate my dad.” It didn’t stop these shimmering hints of fabric causing his whole body to flood with desire. He was bowled over by human flesh. Lobster was experiencing lust for a woman. “Has that scalding made me see the world from a human perspective?” he wondered. But who cared – this lust was a fact and he was starting to enjoy it. He was feeling desire for a shell-less body. A supple, soft, silky body. A body with no hard edges. He was feeling desire for flesh, for skin. This feeling overwhelmed him, decided him: he opened his pincers and snap! cut through the wrist that had been imprisoning Angelina. Maurice’s body floated away, taken by the current. Angelina thought she saw a little devil in the bloody water. She couldn’t understand the hand still attached to her ankle. She crossed the dining room against the current, icy water up to her thighs, blood in her wake. She, who wanted to die. She just needed to lie down. But that hand was stopping her from escaping into death; it was pushing her towards life. She shivered. The cold had entered her body and her mind; she didn’t know what to think of this severed hand. Had her will to live cut it off? Or was it a product of the madness rising in her with the cold? She reached the staircase and climbed the first step but the cold was numbing her mind. She fainted, upright and motionless with seawater up to her belly. Lobster swam to her purple feet. Cut off the bloodless hand with his pincers, and climbed up the inside of the leg as far as the clenched knees. He was amazed at the pleasure he felt from being held in this way. His pincers slipped between the thighs, prising them gently apart. His feelers were just able to reach the satin of the panties. They fluttered, made the labia quiver. Under the shimmering material a hint of life was returning. Angelina’s thighs relaxed. Lobster pulled back his feelers. Tensed and released his tail. His strokes were fast and powerful. He was making headway. He sank himself into her warming muscles; his tail did not falter. He moved forward, a centimetre at a time. Yes! Suddenly he could see the fabric clearly, glistening, pearl-like. He brought his pincers forward. Caught hold of the lace border. Pulled back the slippery satin and snipped right through it. The panties opened, the two separate pieces floating soft as seaweed in the swirl. The hair round the vulva was undulating. Lobster put his pincer in and closed it on the clitoris with the dexterity of a practised lover. What he did to Angelina next so warmed her insides that she returned to life, arching her back. Lobster was thrown into the air, stiffening his tail as he slapped back against the water in time with Angelina’s rhythm. And so their wedding dance began: Angelina and Lobster at the foot of the elegant dining room staircase. Her creamy woman’s body, convulsed with pleasure, trailing a bright red crustacean with one pincer secured in her hairs and the other working her clitoris, as they moved between air and water, water and air; the exuberance of these two bodies as the water spurted between her buttocks and surged around her thighs. The bay leaf aroma embedded in Lobster’s shell invigorated Angelina, returning her to consciousness. Her heat was triumphing over the cold water. Her thighs kept parting and closing. Lobster was dripping with vaginal juices. Angelina thrust more quickly, coming down rhythmically against the water. The foam around them was a glory to their union. Angelina arched her back, buttocks surging out of the water. Lobster, intimately attached to her, was shaken by staccato vibrations. Angelina reached orgasm for the first time in her life. Pleasure quivered under her nails and shook her jaw. Her toes felt connected to her throat. Unfamiliar sap was running right through her. Gently, her body relaxed and re-entered the water now warm from the fever of their union; Lobster floated motionless on his back with his pincers splayed. Happily afloat on the swirl of the sinking ship, Angelina slipped a hand between her legs, picked up Lobster and put his head inside her mouth. She rolled her tongue around his eyes and mandibles. As Lobster was rinsed in saliva he dreamt of his new life – a pleasure to be re-lived again and again. The sirens that had been wailing for an hour brought Angelina back to the reality of the shipwreck. She slipped Lobster between her breasts. Likewise, to speak of the frail body is not to revere it as that to which all reflection must be answerable, nor as the unvarying ledger of perception. It is to draw attention to the question of what the historical intensification of the forces of production makes of our lives, in order to factor this into ideas of accelerating forms of knowledge, or epistemologies, so that we can think what kind of knowing we might trigger in this way, or wish to trigger. So Zoë says, Remember, there was a moment when I was holding your breathing tube, keeping it out of the way of the chains attaching the sling to the lift as other friends and your support worker helped position you in bed? I was struck by how alive the tube itself felt as it wobbled on its own in my hand, much more like a creature than a machine. The tube felt alive, because it felt like it was breathing. Nick replies, You asked me if I could feel it. The tube is an extension of me and I do feel it, and you’re right that it is alive because it’s me or at least part of my respiratory system. OK. Zoë: So that was the feeling of you breathing. But also, in a way, of you being breathed, and the tube being breathed, and a whole sociomaterial assemblage in the midst of its animation.  So many things and people and forces made the specificity of breathing in that moment: A multiple breathing apparatus; the scene of a multimaterial and multimodal arrangement of a world. How could breathing be anything else? OK. Nick: That brings to mind the discussion of the term “ventilator dependent.” Some (who are not on vents, notably) say the term vent-dependent should be excised, removed as part of a war on “the language of dependence.” How ridiculous! Feeling by reference is like this: the lungs don’t have nerve endings, but we still feel what’s going on with them by referencing changes in chest rise and fall, changes in the way that the air moves in the throat (which does have nerve endings) and the way breaths play against the carina (that weird flat place where the two primary bronchi meet, borderline above the lungs) which has some sensation, at least for me. The tube is, in a way, experienced as something akin to a hair: the tube moves or pulls or is touched, I feel it acutely with great sensitivity from its “root.”  Meaning you move the tube anywhere or touch the tube even two feet down, I get feedback in the tracheostomy that I feel, feeling by reference. OK. Once again, the strangest searches brought people to my blog: “I think my imaginary house is being recycled.” “Awesome super fluffy wolf snuggles.” “I invented gravity.” “Elves are assholes.” High up among the stars, red and green dancers wriggle. They squiggle across the upturned belly of a writhing, orange snake, itself carried aloft by two bold stick figures. “Yes, Kant did indeed speak of extraterrestrials.” “What’s wrong with me if my stomach is full of bugs?”

[Note: Sources: JBR, FB comment, 18 Feb 014 (RIP Bob Casale); Stina Kajaso, “The Bear Lounging” (tr. Google), at SONOFDAD, 18 Feb 014; JBR; Benjamin Noys, FB post, 18 Feb 014; Harrison Fluss, FB comment, 18 Feb 014; Lynn Behrendt, FB post, 18 Feb 014; Stephen Persing, and Jerry Gretzinger, quoted in Persing’s “Visible Cities”, at Big Red & Shiny vol.2 no.17; Guillaume Lecasble, Lobster, quoted in Jacob Bard-Rosenberg, FB comment, 18 Feb 014 (“it is the most amazing and also most awful book I know: a mixture of Proust, bad readings of Freud, softcore pornography, and sadistic hyperviolence surrounding a love affair between a lobster and a young opium-smoking woman. I recommend it to all of you. You won’t think it’s a great work of literature but I don’t give a shit”); Josephine Berry Slater, “Epistemic Panic And The Problem Of Life”, at Mute, 13 Feb 014; JBR, but see next (I’m also responsible for replies, ok, and ok); Zoë Wool and Nick Dupree, “Life Support”, at Somatosphere, 18 Feb 014; Jenny Lawson, “I suspect you’re all just messing with me now”, at The Bloggess, 18 Feb 014; Laura C. Mallonee, “Real or Not? New York Hotel Flaunts Contested Keith Haring Painting”, at Hyperallergic, 18 Feb 014 (“It’s obviously a Keith Haring work. Or at least it looks like one. But in case you had questions, a golden plaque beside it announces, ‘Called Fake By The Haring Foundation Without Even Examining the Painting.’”); Amazon blurb for Peter Szendy, Kant in the Land of Extraterrestrials: Cosmopolitical Philosofictions]