Thursday, November 20, 2008

November 20, 2008

Days we die are particular. But there is more to it than that. Like rings extending in water the forgetting of the voice of nature. That discourse is audible. How simply for another to take possession again of our own lost voice. It is not part of himself, vital though it may be, that he is threatened with losing. Never stop blowing and hearing the melodious law, the twofold voice. No subject, no object: petrification on one side. When he got into bed he was dead. The body descends without any fuss. Oh god god god he said identifying with a being who suffers. Twenty-six ways of longing. You know the world is a contrivance structural and not factual, relational and not substantial. They do spread out the logic of speech even to the most inaccessible folds of significance.

Hunger gives way to a whole range of sexual or moral prohibitions. Stone like stillness or tool and thought recapture the unity of gesture. And when I came upon her corrections the borderline patient speaks of paralyzed legs. Another idiot walking by the rebus and the complicity of origins. What repercussions foreclose this disconnection? The circles, the wholes they made turn and return these sentences. The experience of want itself is preliminary. The ground by the sea, sky overhead the suffering of another and as the threat of death. It is pure and simply splitting. Little pieces falling the strange workings of the historical process. We frequently throw zeroes over the lining of a single origin. Pleasures of pain the situation of pure dispersion which characterizes the state of nature. I am threatened and attempt to escape fear. There is no one there neither detour nor anonymity.

This is an ocean of vagueness that signified within the full presence of intuition. To preserve himself from reverence, he is ready for more. The first to be born horizontal joining the two posts. Such a frontiersman is a metaphysician. Ashamed even trembling penetration into the lost word. A strong concern for separating the sexes, lacking a central authoritarian power. A rage to keep development out of alignment. A language now manifests itself whose complain repudiates this synthetic fabric. The difference between the glance and the voice when they come to get me. You live somewhere beyond the marrow engaging in ellipsis. The imitation and what is imitated, of voice and song, all the people I’ve ever known. I remember the oiliness of fingertips, a monologue spread over the material body. The monster you love is home again. How dazzling, unending and eternal.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

November 11, 2008

Passing into the wilderness of twisted trees the mute sign is a sign of liberty. It is a frantic attempt made by a subject threatened with sinking into the void. The garden echoes across the room placing sonorous substance in parenthesis. The body’s insides compensate for the collapse of the border between inside and outside. History sings in their faces the mere presence of the spectator is a violation. Divide lines between Bataille and his very own identity sinking irrecoverably into the mother. There will be pathetic screaming circulating through other texts, leading back to it constantly. The purification rite appears then as that essential ridge. This alteration of perception and imagination must correspond to an organization of space: what flesh was left. The pure/impure opposition resents otherness. Let us reconsider the system of metaphors; hence the fool dances. He channels the institution through bisexuality of endogamic marriage. Time is some sort of hindsight, by design, one must understand condition of imitation. The most inaccessible folds of significance.

People are shouting and embracing. Either way their meaning and their limits are already contested at their root. Confronted with states of regret localized in passive sentences. You have only where you were the animal cry before the birth of language. Autoeroticism amounts to the forcing of thought. The sea moves and relaxes all our languages are the result of art. It is simply a frontier, a repulsive gift fascinating victims. What gentle echoes to speak before knowing how to speak. Properly speak once-upon blotted out time. Lacking in the power of replacing itself it is an empty house one moves through. We may call it a border radically cut through mimetic logic. The feeling of being choked in a confused music of jubilation. The impossible real ceaselessly straying. Nothing more could be said – starting from which the concept of history was formed.

Friday, November 7, 2008

November 7, 2008

The rhyme is after the innocent simplicity governing the play of young girls. Phobia literally stages the instability of the object relation. And what one wants is the presence of the foreigner, the mere fact of having his eyes open. It is precisely at such a point that writing takes over. All this going must be violence appearing only at the moment opened to forced entry. The linguistic metaphor coincides with the theme of the devourer. I never felt guilty after giving one another away. Play the role of a miscarried introjection. So immense she was trying to tell me her enemy’s name. My empty and incorporating mouth, which watches me, threatening from the outside. The old friend who assumes responsibility for the violation that has satisfied him. It happens because language has then become the counterphobic object. As if the sun had been wrong to return we write nothing other than confessions. I meet with anguish again: I am afraid.

A girl who is afraid of being eaten up by a dog has an extensive vocabulary. I rage the originary violence which has severed the proper from its property. I am devoured by him; a third person therefore is devouring me. I rage and identify as the abstract moment of the concept. Startled by over-mastery, an exchange of messages when death brushes us by. I rage the ultimate denunciation hand in hand with the foreigner. I refer to the modeling: untouchable, unchangeable, immortal. The fool dances between the pre-linguistic and linguistic, between cry and speech. To speak of want alone is to repudiate aggressivity. Fluttering as falling leaves it offers us an image of death. Such is the void and the arbitrariness of play. A speech before words. Does this not also imply a fetishist screen? A man is a familiar thing.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Election Day Poetry November 4, 2008

It is possible, in words, to speak vengeance upon linguists. The child can serve its mother as token of her own authentication. I took blowing the smoke out of my mouth the deconstruction of the history of metaphysics. Confront undesirable objects. It becomes the possibility of pleasure creating a unified system of supple notions. Poetic catharsis beheads its underage sister making us free and joyous. In the metaphor of that soft voice the presence of the mother will last longer. Gleaming and darkening and turning, in the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage. Bleed into the toilet that inexorable law that takes the place of law. Your clammy, cunning appeals to ideals no longer exists, serves an arbitrary, exterminating power. The darkness surrounds us more feminine than herself. I breathe in a constantly circulating invisibility. Full of gesture and some inarticulate sounds the hospital is a pitiful construct. Revealed because of some unaccountable constraining resistence due to carnal concupiscence.

Above all, such would be the ambiguity of the speaking being. My love’s manners in bed that which he expresses, keeps himself as close as possible to his passion. Fulfill his lust for flesh, because the flesh lusts after the spirit. Into the forest again the representative is not the represented but only the representer of the represented. I love him according to the law of fishes. Writing is the origin of inequality. Through his writing he follows the delightful interlacing of this inextricable heterogeneity. The bodies fall, have fallen into the causes of their destruction. A loathing of defilement as protection against the poorly controlled power of mothers seems ever clearer as a residue of every system. A tragic fatality come to prey upon natural innocence, itself unnoticed that wetness spread. Another connection consuming the murderer and his resuscitated victim. Such a slight sound that which adds moral to physical love. The maternal body becomes inebriated for want of the ability to name an object of desire. She moves away from it - redoubles presence – makes the present pass into its outside.