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There’s bound to be greenery in it somewhere
White tacks
Red at all points
Now it’s sanitary but the boils are coming
I mean I was all like:
To the extent that it is the subject of a truth, a subject subtracts itself from every community and
destroys every individuation
I was like whoa
Am I my gut biome? Am I a cyborg?
What do you think of the Mayweather / MacGregor fight?
Are you going to Pride?
Einstein himself was interviewed
while walking the mulberry streets, especially
the right-hand side of Great Road, going south,
where the houses are windy and overpriced,
and he was so full of denial that anyone
with a radio antenna sticking out of his head
had been seen ...
Einstein whose bushy face had rubbed
many a pair of reddened lips,
Einstein whose famous name they stole for bagels.
So take a red flag, for example: if we consider it as a phenomenon, it will have been differentially compared not only with the black flags, of course, but with other red flags — perhaps this time the transcendental indexing of identity approaches the maximum — and finally, with everything that appears in the way of emblems, placards, banners and graffiti, but also as the absence of such emblems. Like this closed shuttered window on the fourth floor ... Like Farm Bill S615, a bill designed to stop farmworkers from joining North Carolina’s only agricultural union, the FLOC, signed into law July 13. We were staying at the Golden Something-or-Other when that happened. Anyway, what does it matter now?
Until you’re pulled out of the water
With bleeding gills
You’re not a fish yet
From an eternal distance
Someone calls you
“Thou fish” —
What is your flattened shape for
The bodies washed up with grim regularity on the banks of the Tigris downstream from Mosul. All were heavily decomposed, most bound and blindfolded, some mutilated. They corpses began arriving last spring, but as the fighting intensified, so too did the number of dead. “There were five bodies floating in the river recently in one single day. They are young men with their hands tied behind their back ...” said Ahmed Mohammed. Most of the dead found in the river with some identifiable features intact were young men who appeared to be in their late 20s. The violence upstream casts a long shadow in Qayyarah, which was freed from Isis rule at the start of the nine-month Mosul campaign. Most residents are reluctant even to talk about the bodies in the river. “I don’t know anything about that subject,” said one fishmonger in the newly re-opened market, buzzing with soldiers and militia fighters. Which is understandable, given that the dead who arrived in spring were victims of Isis, and those who are now arriving have been killed quote unquote extra-judicially in reprisal by the anti-Isis militias and the government. “Blood for blood,” reads graffiti on a wall of a house nearby that locals say belonged to Ali Khether, a well-known Daeshi commander who had lived in the town. Which makes oddly relevant or do I mean resonant a line by John Ashbery,
Piranhas dream, at peace with themselves and with the floating world.
As it does also the title of the next poem in the book, “Yes, Dr. Grenzmer, How May I Be of Assistance to You? What! You Say the Patient Has Escaped?”
This is the last place.
There is nowhere else to go.
In spite of your fucking rich-tourist moon or Mars rockets.
Might as well be walking on the you know
“Everyone will live on the Sun!
& sit at Solar Tables!
EVENTUALLY!”
COSMIVERSE, INQUIRISTS, EXCRUSIATING
“nevertheless 4 extends from 3!
nevertheless 5 is the shadow of 4!”
“seven by 15 by one third
15 by three by one
15 by one by one
15 by three and one third”
“You ask for prophecies—
I give you prophecies
tomorrow the stars will go out
darkness will prowl the parks & museums ... until the Rocks themselves
run up to us like spaniels
now what will the statues be FOR?
what will be their MODELS?”
The first song on the B-side is “Sorry about your penis” ... which is to say, I haven’t got one of these letters in a while: Dear Beneficiary, My name is Mr. Adebayo Adelabu, the deputy governor CBN. This is to bring the good news to you that I have been mandated by the President Federal Republic in conjunction with the Federal Executive Council (FEC), the Senate Committee on Foreign Debts Reconciliation and Implementation Panel on Contract / inheritance / compensation funds to complete all the unpaid Contract / inheritance / lottery fund. You are required as a matter of urgency to reconfirm your information including your name, phone number and your address for verification and immediate payment within 24 hours. To this effect, the sum of TEN MILLION, SEVEN HUNDRED THOUSAND UNITED STATES DOLLARS has been approved for you. I wish to inform you that all matters relating to the release of this payment is now under my control and supervision. This development has become necessary due to the activities of unpatriotic government / CBN officials and impostors who keep on frustrating every effort to settle our clients by making requests for unauthorized fees and levies from them. We apologize for any delay you might have encountered in the past; your payment is now 100% Guaranteed Kindly choose from these three modes of payment (wire transfer, diplomatic cash payment and ATM card). Best Regards, Mr. Adebayo Adelabu, Deputy Governor CBN. I mean, at first I thought I could put it all down, that would be one way. But next the thought came to me that to leave it all out would be another, and truer, way. But next the thought came to me: might quantum entanglement mean that this WHOLE THING is some sort of Gaza or Panopticon? And that therefore there is no such thing as “leaving out”? And every night of this thinking is a long night of this thinking. I’d love to think it’s so, and that we have room. NO COMET, THAT SERPENT IN THE SKY MEANS NOISE centers on a single conjecture: If light is a language sent forth ... NO COMET, THAT SERPENT IN THE SKY MEANS NOISE remains acutely aware of the quote unquote flaws in astromancy. I mean, I’ve been listening to tracks from BALM! with various associates and friends on an array of sound systems trying to hear the record in different ways. When I listened with Emel the track “Recipe for The Conjure” was selected and right away the timbre of Katherine Pehrson’s voice stunned him, “who’s the vocalist?” he asked. Every time Kate’s voice broke through he’d ask again who she was and every time I’d give a little more information. I mention this because our primary topic of conversation that night was passages I shared with Emel from a book about the music of Trane and the quality of duende in his sound. Duke Ellington called it Transbluesency. Fred Moten called it “resistance of the object,” a conscious intention to resist as well as unconscious resistance to dominant cultural ways of being and knowing simply because they are values of an oppressive civilization. Resistance is not merely a particular set of survival skills but also a kind of balm for injury and deep harm, which results from chronic societal disease. The way this music (and in my mind the words are also music) came together was like ... well ... I remember elders in our congregation in Huntsville Alabama would start moaning then hum into jagged harmony that sometimes found words and other times not, that synthesized inherited and found forms into ethereal meditation. In the words of Zora Neale Hurston from The Sanctifies Church: “The harmony of the true spiritual is not regular. The dissonances are important and not to be ironed out by the trained musician. The various parts break in at any time. Falsetto often takes the place of regular voices for short periods. Keys change. Moreover, each singing of the piece is a new creation.” Tacocat spelled backwards spells tacocat.
You’re getting sleepy, very
Sleepy now.
I guess someone is a king of France & apart
from whom nobody is a king of France.
I like icons
& the toxic halos of figureheads,
I was born in captivity, having
fucked the right people, thick
in the France of it.
Come to
think of it, I spoke to your exo-
skeleton.
The bottle broke in your bag & you’re
getting flammable, very flammable.
For more of this backstory, see here. The word ‘tapa’ refers to the kind of dyed patterned cloth made from the paper mulberry tree, an honorable practice popular in Polynesia. Filed Under: Uncategorized. File with the trans-historic journeys of the “Poor Little One,” the “guys,” the various scoundrels, the “Beautiful Child with Turpentine Hair.” The musculature is based on Winnicott’s idea of “the mysterious middle” in which the infant takes in nourishment, excretes it, but there’s this magical strange thing that happens inside the infant’s digestive tract that is like pulling a rabbit out of a hat — that’s a fucked-up metaphor I guess — anyhow, this was shortly 9/11, when we’d just moved to Florence, and my daughter was three and synagogues in France were being bombed and water in the Tiber and the drinking water in Rome had almost been poisoned, and trains were being exploded in Spain and my Italian neighbors said to me “welcome to the world.” I was like Poor Little One in a spoiled state of wonder, naïveté, and pure shock, moving like the larva before it is caught as the specimen, before it loses hold on “potential space” — Winnicott again. Think Dora the Oral Explorer, aka Dora La Exploradora Oral — I recall, especially, one of the characters suffering a “night kaka” when he falls into a bear trap? I hope that didn’t come across as Old School, although I feel very old. Le prix du petit déjeuner comprend un boisson (café, thé, chocolat) servi dans la chambre tous les jours avec du pain, des petits pains ou des croissants, du beurre et parfois de la confiture. Il ne comprend pas le service dans la salle commune ou au comptoir, le breakfast à l’anglaise (avec oeufs, jambon, gruau ...); il diffère généralement du tarif “voyageur” ou “courrier.” Which translates as There are fantastic mutations and malappropriations in this book, where taxonomic relations between art and the cosmetic are smuggled into Picasso’s studio in Helena Rubenstein’s handbag, where “molecules hang like dinner lamps,” where the exhibition of organs in formaldehyde with furs, bones, and skeletons conspires as a “small collection of deaths,” where vocality is troubled and everything speaks glossolalia. Either that, or I first heard the term “lividity” in a description of a murder trial in which a body was determined to have been moved based on an assessment of its “lividity,” or way in which the blood had drained and pooled in the points of the body that made contact with the ground. So yes, there is a camera. There is the crushed abdomen of an ant stuck to one of the dog’s paws. There is a dead mouse near the dog. There is a mouse in the theater. There is a man walking away from the dog. It’s the third auditorium on your right. And gigantic posters of musicians. A thinner varnish might work. The beauty of ash is primordial. The stone makes the toad go up the mountain. Queen Mab in her greenery makes the toad come down. I mean, everybody wonders. What the fuck? Could be. I wouldn’t be surprised.
Brightness / Luminosité: 800 lumens.
Life / Durée de vie: 13.7 years / ans.
Based on 3 hrs / day. Basé sur une consommation de 3h / jour.
It’s a thick magazine with glossy pages. I open it to an article about Theaster Gates, who stands “inside his sprawling studio ... a ceramics atelier littered with pots.” After I read that I go online and learn that Maryam Mirzakhani, the first and only woman to win the Fields medal, has died. She was 40. She “specialized in moduli spaces, Teichmüller theory, hyperbolic geometry, Ergodic theory and symplectic geometry,” the Stanford press announcement said. Tho she taught at Stanford, Mirzakhani was born in Tehran. Iran’s president, Hassan Rouhani, issued a statement, as did the foreign minister, Mohammad Javad Zarif. Which gets me to wondering: would Trump even pretend to mourn the death of a scientist? Then I get an email from Alan, who wants to go whale watching. Of course.
It’s so groovy to float around sometimes
I said flotation is groovy
And he said
And even a jelly fish will agree to that
Yeah, but that old jelly fish
Been floatin’ around so long
Lord he ain’t got a bone in his jelly back
So if I offered evidence that jellyfish are displacing penguins in Antarctica — not someday, but now, today — what would you think? If I suggested that jellyfish could crash the world’s fisheries, outcompete the tuna and swordfish, and starve the whales to extinction, would you believe me? Would you believe that “a mucosy little jellyfish, barely bigger than a chicken egg, with no brain, no backbone, and no eyes, could cripple three national economies and wipe out an entire ecosystem”? That’s just what happened when the Mnemiopsis jellyfish (a kind of comb jelly) invaded the Black Sea. Prior to their arrival, Bulgaria, Romania, and Georgia had robust fisheries, with anchovies and sturgeon being important resources. As the jellyfish increased, the anchovies and other valuable fish vanished, and along with them went the sturgeon, the long-beloved source of blini toppings. What can I say? Jeff Koons had just got up from his chair, enthusiastically throwing his arms out in front of him. Sitting opposite him, slightly hunched up, on a white leather sofa partly draped with silks, Damien Hirst seemed to be about to express an objection; his face was flushed, morose. Both of them were wearing black suits — Koons’s had fine pinstripes — and white shirts and black ties. Between them, on the coffee table, was a basket of candied fruits that neither paid any attention to. Hirst was drinking a Bud Light. Behind them, a bay window opened onto a landscape of tall buildings that formed a Babylonian tangle of gigantic polygons that stretched across the horizon. The night was bright, the air absolutely clear. They could have been in Qatar, or Dubai; the decoration of the room was, in reality, inspired by an advertisement photograph, taken from a German luxury publication, of the Emirates Palace Hotel in Abu Dhabi. Koons’s forehead was slightly shiny. Jed shaded it with his brush and stepped back three paces. There was certainly a problem with Koons. Hirst was basically easy to capture: you could make him brutal, cynical in an “I shit on you from the top of my pile of cash” kind of way; you could also make him a rebel artist (but rich all the same) pursuing an anguished work on death; finally, there was in his face something ruddy and heavy, typically English, which made him look like a rank-and-file Arsenal supporter. In short, there were various aspects to him, but all of them could be combined into a coherent, representative portrait of a British artist typical of his generation. Koons, on the other hand, seemed to have a duality, an insurmountable contradiction between the basic cunning of the technical sales rep and the exaltation of the ascetic. It was already three weeks now that Jed had been retouching Koons’s expression as he stood up from his chair, throwing out his arms as if he were trying to convince Hirst of something. It was as difficult as painting a Mormon pornographer. He had photographs of Koons on his own, in the company of Roman Abramovich, Madonna, Barack Obama, Bono, Warren Buffett, Bill Gates ... Not one of them managed to express anything of the man’s personality, to go beyond the appearance of a Chevrolet convertible salesman that he had decided to display to the world, and this was exasperating. In fact, for a long time photographers had exasperated Jed, especially the great photographers. The next morning, after leaving the hotel, I had some spare time before heading to Kyoto and decided to take a walk. During my promenade, I came across a pachinko parlor. I'd heard about them but never had an opportunity to check one out. It was Sunday morning, and the place was quite empty — there were only a few players stationed on two rows of twenty machines at either side of the corridor. The pachinko machines sounding all at once produced an incredibly intense ambience, but the players didn’t seem to notice; they played on and on. I wondered whether the roots of Japanoise drew, in some way, on Pachinko. I walked all over the place, recording for some time. This vibe of participatory intoxication would echo over the next four decades in the works of countless reverse innovators. Predictive deconstruction, basement beauty, turned-on, dropped-out will-to-iration. Now go to a shopping mall parking lot with trees and other landscaping growing between the parked cars til you find a tree you connect with. Sit on its roots to see if it wants you OFF! If it wants you to stay, sit with it. Don’t pay attention to the cars coming in and out of the parking lot, you’re here to save the world, one leaf at a time, not to worry about whether you look like a lunatic. Which you most certainly do. Then eat a little dark chocolate. Then hum to yourself. I mean, make a low hum come from deep inside you. Now try to picture Justine Damond, dead, murdered by cops. Now wonder: will it make any difference that this time they didn’t shoot Philando Castile, they shot a blond middleclass yoga teacher? Who rescues ducks? While it might be neuroscience, it ain’t rocket science!
100 BILLION NEURONS IN YOUR BRAIN
50 THOUSAND THOUGHTS PER DAY
95% ARE OLD, REPETITIVE THOUGHTS
1 PRESENT MOMENT: NOW
Wake up your workplace with an inspiring and fascinating introduction to the world of neuroscience and its leading-edge applications in the business world from leadership and innovation to change management and culture creation. 30 – 90 minute presentations are available to suit your needs. The apocalypse has already happened in that universe; I seem to remember the novel talking about reactor meltdowns or something. And take, for example, “the Colonies”, places where the toxic waste is so ubiquitous your “skin falls off in sheets.” A balcony ran around the room, for the spectators, and I thought I could smell, faintly like an afterimage, the pungent scent of sweat, shot through with the sweet taint of chewing gum and perfume from the watching girls, felt-skirted as I knew from pictures, later in miniskirts, then pants, then in one earring, spiky green-streaked hair. Dances would have been held there; the music lingered, a palimpsest of unheard sound, style upon style, an undercurrent of drums, a forlorn wail, garlands made of tissue-paper flowers, cardboard devils, a revolving ball of mirrors, powdering the dancers with a snow of light slash
light orange of cloud in blue white sky above ridge
red-shouldered hawk calling on branch in foreground
“wide” pattern of twelve, these and three “unknown”
where there is, also that which comes from, remains
The Longest Word in the World (189,819 letters)
[it is disputed whether it is a word]
Man fails to get penis drawing recognized as his signature
Since the near collapse of the world’s financial system a few years back has shown that we economists really do not know how the world works, I am much too embarrassed to teach economics anymore. I will teach Modern Korean Drama instead. Although I have never been to Korea, I have watched Korean drama on TV on a daily basis for six years now. Therefore I can justly consider myself an expert. In many ways, it was routine — they placed a subject in the brain scanner, displayed some images, and monitored how the subject’s brain responded. The measured brain activity showed up on the scans as red hot spots, like many other neuroimaging studies. Except that this time, the subject was an Atlantic salmon, and it was dead. Abstract. This paper presents a protocol for the accurate prediction of an individual’s voice In this case Friedrich Nietzsche’s) based on genotype data, specifically from single nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs). We collected trace amounts of cellular material (Touch DNA) from books that belonged to Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900). DNA was extracted and amplified using DOP-PCR technique. Five different genomic DNAs were generated. Nietzsche’s genotype was singled out after comparison to genotype data from one living relative of the Nietzsche family. Nietzsche’s genotype data was analyzed using a DNA-based phenotyping assay, termed VoiceRator, that incorporates the 24 most informative voice SNPs based on their association with genes related to the phenotypic expression of the vocal tract and larynx structure and function. An SNP-based voice profile of Nietzsche was inferred. The profile data was converted into bio-measures that were used to 3D-print a vocal tract and larynx ... Read More ... When did people start smiling in photographs? Read More ... I have worked with this in other sites, the Paris arcades, for example, or the grands magasins. In Le bonheur des femmes, I followed women about the perfume departments, photographing their feet. I was on the path of Ida Bauer, Freud’s ‘Dora’. It was not enough to read about psychoanalysis, so I curated nine exhibitions, seven of which are published in In Place of the Object. The work there is finished, as is my doctorate. I don’t work any longer as a curator, and feel usually like a false theorist. That doesn’t preclude hysterical identification on my part, however. Thus the diagrams, after Benjamin, consist of fragments, scribbles, indexes, bed covers, and body parts. Subjectivities or something sharpen and blur, merge and redefine, scatter and recollect. ‘Whatever cross connections are finally established between these systems also depends on the inter-twinements of our paths through life’.
[Note: Sources: “Dragon speech recognition Nuance Dragon for Mac, v5 Command Cheat Sheet”, at Nuance; Clark Coolidge, “Scratch Glass Park”, in 88 Sonnets; JBR; Alain Badiou, Logic of Worlds; JBR; Gerald Stern, “Visit from Mars”, at Poets.org; JBR; Alain Badiou, Logic of Worlds; JBR; IUF UITA IUL, “Update – It’s now legal for North Carolina growers to violate farmworkers’ human rights”, email rec’d 14 Jul 017, approx. 2:05am PDT; John Ashbery, “Yes, Dr. Grenzmer, How May I Be of Assistance to You? What! You Say the Patient Has Escaped?”, in Notes from the Air: Selected Later Poems; Shiro Morano, “A Fish in Adolescence” (tr. Goro Takano), quoted in Tinfish Press, “Tinfish Press Pre-Publication Sale!”, email rec’d 14 Jul 017, approx. 12:50pm PDT; Fazel Hawramy, “Stream of floating bodies near Mosul raises fears of reprisals by Iraqi militias”, at Guardian, 15 Jul 017; JBR; Fazel Hawramy, “Stream of floating bodies near Mosul raises fears of reprisals by Iraqi militias”, at Guardian, 15 Jul 017; JBR; John Ashbery, “from Tuesday Evening”, in Notes from the Air: Selected Later Poems; JBR; Lew Welch, “The Song Mt. Tamalpais Sings” (memory quote); JBR; Smash Mouth, “Walkin’ on the Sun” (memory quote); JBR; Brent Cunningham, Journey to the Sun, quoted in a review at The Believer; JBR, re Smash Mouth, per Google; Mr. Adebayo Adelabu, “Please Reply...”, email rec’d 15 Jul 017, approx. 1:42am PDT; JBR; John Ashbery, “The New Spirit”, in Three Poems, quoted in C. J. Allen, “The Privacy of Everyone”, at Litter; JBR; Prageeta Sharma, “Sets of Things”, at Poetry, Jul / Aug 017; anonymous, and James Meetze, blurbs for Suyeun Juliette Lee, No Comet, That Serpent in the Sky Means Noise, at SPD; JBR; J Otis Powell! [who now uses an interrobang in place of the exclamation mark], liner notes to Balm!, at Tru Ruts / Bandcamp; JBR; Judith Goldman, “rotten oasis”, at Poetry Foundation; “Rachel Blau DuPlessis’s 2008 and 2009 Tapa Notebook”, at JPR; JBR; Divya Victor, and Kim Rosenfield, quoted in Victor’s “Eight discourses with Kim Rosenfield”, at Jacket 2, 2 Apr 011; JBR; Divya Victor, and Kim Rosenfield, quoted in Victor’s “Eight discourses with Kim Rosenfield”, at Jacket 2, 2 Apr 011; JBR; Noah Eli Gordon, Bohr’s Spinoza, at SPD; John Olson, “Lassitude Of Twisting Quintessence”, “Foolish Fire”, at Tillalala Chronicles,14 & 11 Jul 017; JBR; Associated Press, “Maryam Mirzakhani, first woman to win mathematics’ Fields medal, dies at 40”, at Guardian, 15 Jul 017;JBR; Jimi Hendrix, “Power of Soul”, at Fandom; JBR; Lisa-ann Gershwin, and Tim Flannery, quoted in Flannery’s review of Gershwin’s Stung! On Jellyfish Blooms and the Future of the Ocean, at The New York Review of Books, 26 Sept 013; JBR; Michel Houellebecq, The Map and the Territory (tr. Gavin Bowd); Alan Courtis, “Field Recording”, at BOMB, 17 Jul 017;Keith Connolly, “The Endorithm 2”, at BOMB, 30 Jun 017 (re a 1971 release by a New Jersey band called Madrigal); JBR; CA Conrad, quoted in Andrew Ridker, “Queer Bubbles”, at Paris Review, 6 Jul 017; JBR (according to Jared Goyette, “Justine Damond shooting: Australian woman’s last moments heard over US police radio”, at Guardian, 18 Jul 017, on 30 Jun 017 she texted “Guess what I just rescued 8 ducklings [from a storm drain] ... The mother duck was distraught and I climbed and pulled them all in my skirt ... There was this moment when I think they realized I was there to help and they just started jumping to my lap ...” so I’m guessing that, at least in the media, the answer is yes); Justine Damond, various, at Justine Damond; Peter Watts, “Offred of Dune”, at No Moods, Ads or Cutesy Fucking Icons, 18 Jul 017; Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale; JBR; Stephen Ratcliffe, “7.18”, at Temporality, 18 Jul 017; Imp Kerr, various, at The New Inquiry; Sharon Kivland, quoted in “Questions à Sharon Kivland pour le numéro d’Area revue sur le thème de Vénus, Christian Gattinoni, 2005”, and the blurb for The Lost Diagrams of Walter Benjamin, at Sharon Kivland]
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