December 9, 2008

Abstract – yes as two and two it has renewed the form of the eternal problem. We are no longer within the sphere of the unconscious. The diminishment that helped me remember gives rise to the execution. I think man ought to stop begetting children. Restrained by the ridiculousness of holding forth upon languages makes the shadows darker. Several circulating invisibilities should be distinguished. The frontier of passion and need no measure ever serves the blur of the language. A dialectic which becomes permanently brittle, relaxes. All this flesh, meat, the designation of impossibility. It is complacent to the resuscitated victim. Attached to vowels and the element of language you haven’t fucked for months. The child can serve its mother as a token of authentication. Raining here in little pieces speech is not speech. The signifier, terrified, flees the signified.

Borges relates his dizzying pangs to dissent. Let me walk to you backwards, and by doing so, find its resources from the logic it deconstructs. Separate the night you dreamed from your own hands. Here is the rain again being less constrained to clarity. Here are the monstrous snails you have uttered. Bodies can accomplish the simple exteriority of death to life, mask to face. Body does not separate inside from outside. Get me on with it years passed now within the horizon of presence and reappropriation. Get on with literature that dares to become body—tongue. One and one, two, three; thus writing is always atonal. It cuts short the temptation to return. We are as we find out we are neither a presence nor an absence. A representative of fear and fascination. Mud put on mud no longer seer or voyeur.