Ah yes, the simple life—at least that’s how it felt a moment ago, all set on the left and right liking the water of life, two schoolgirls on the corner stop me and laughed: “Go forward don’t go back! Beer and ice cream yeah!” Falling about a store I was, what else you going to do but complain? I’ll be glad when I get mine, kept trying to put all of me right on in there squeezed into beer and ice cream, yeah. Tell me how to do it. I vaguely recollected then the cold in Boston, smeared plunging third beats in songs to recollect life giving waters taken for granted quietly under stand
I try very hard but I am your pet. They have no climates where I have left. We were in the compound do you remember when. Signs all around but pointed to God, you know I need more than a mouth. Cell phone in the bathroom, but not anywhere either
Well, in any case, without guessing I was in the shower thinking about the indoor kitty. Bauble babies are too preternaturally anywhere you like. This is not a memorable, things are not the rules. Ah! Gods we immortalize, ancestors in the shape, grotesque and circling like a vulture, circling, closer still, park your satellite anywhere you
Getting closer, sure it is! Judging, oh too many gentle noises, judging heading our way CAN we help but love it! Us now content to get narrow, a quite different story altogether but not started on it won’t that be a sight. Anyway the weather doesn’t judge, and speaking through my cloud, “Get it tonight.” Sheepskin climbs the mirrors of a library where books scream from shelves to plummet dinosaur bound into dead smoke in the display. Why don’t you ever ask them why? Speaking to my cloud, a billboard advertisement gently whispered the sanctity of dinosaur bound encyclopedias (I believe once owned by Mr. R.T. Baumer), but I don’t know Japanese and the bauble baby was outside snowing smoke? well no, it was not quite so big as that, not like cowlicks laughing at me, not like marrying men nor like the first bunky, the first married judgment of weather to the gods
Send cakes you meant: sing it. Off a rack for just so lucky a red tag clearance: tea it! Plush plush crush crush smear smear stale secret in the bathroom for
The third beat tenor bassed along library walls for my Oedipus, this is mom, this here is mom two, load me up gavel boot: the new mom. We are in the library, warm and frigid really, as many boots to the rib cage if you want, if you want, if you want. Scuttled like road flies into the picture because how I want wouldn’t be talking about it too much, this is mom five, this here is mom six! Bloat me up, late from good and late for, where is mom? Stuck in the lobby of mom, you’re late you run, Jimmy Stewart makes you walk back up, just like Jimmy Carens on his trip to France, toilet speaks from your heart down. Ah! Towards the edges a little more under these conditions, so that’s our little secret you say? But we’re in the library where there is no speaking and the coffee, the coffee is good too, the gavel boot rise up dead mom robot team Toyota for mom, hysterics and I am your son, curtains, Thailand, toilet water know what I want, I want some cheap entertainment.
You’re a great dancer and hardly stale, just a little towards the edges, you whisper the answer in threes, but it’s all greek to me. Maybe I’ll learn Japanese, thriced single you’re a great drinker, but it’s all with your utensil, and it oughtn’t to be under these conditions. Listen. This minute is a good minute. The horror has past. The library shelves almost over so I will bask under these conditions, and besides it’s mostly just crust. Mostly just springtime. ANOTHER DANCER AND BESIDES IT’S WHAT GOOD BREAD GUIDE AND CONTROLLING ME, this minute is a good minute not like the last, the coffee is good too so that’s our little secret, we say, and oh, there, hardly stale, it’s almost over so let me bask, was it my foot or my mouth, wait those schoolgirls then it’s Sunday so they couldn’t have been, it’s Sunday so the third beat in the library where books scream off mirrors and resound a black gavel boot ribcaged in the smoke of the display, bunky me first, bunky me second, resound an echoed tenor bass in the library where a punk band plays too many notes for the books on the shelves not to dance dinosaur bound into
Good bread it is you see, salted with oatmeal in the nice lighting, in the nice lighting where small children? I told the jury it’s over, leave from the flight. Intricately formulated under the new porch light, it’s good bread but with a kind of seed in it, leave from the fight. You can just see it sit in the pulverized grain, write to them, right to them, right left and middle men, right left and middled. Thrice breaded, act animals unite. Go home now! (Smoke in the display, leave from the fight, life given waters taken for granted, they quietly my red, so confidently) fight the fight. Drift over. Leap from the flight, and mechanized delicately into quietening, ever so quieter but all on the side unbuttered, unbuttered for toast to land face up and still a friend to lick, in the library and still a friend to lick, still the coffee is good because it doesn’t really exist, in fact you’re under it where the horror has past, the library shelves almost over so I will bask, this minute is a bunky first, bunky second, oooooooooooooooo. Doesn’t really exist because the third beat tenor bass just picked up again but the zombie snare hesitates, hesitates into a gong, gongs into a woman’s voice, voices into a bass tenor cut, library shelves go home now, leave from the
But when you are even on it you are not in it either, you drum the third beat and with you, with me, relax. We’re the coming to catch us! We are bread off its fucking face, with you with me we’re the only as far as we eat, left right and middle. Coffee is good, this is us, come over playbe. Oat, meal, with you with me we’re the pulverized and coated flake of a falling and rising star. With you with me oh please don’t ask, I guess we’re gonna let us. The third beat. Library dinosaur bound on the mirror scratching mirror under these conditions, the third beat. This is us, come over playbe.
In fact you’re under it and cannot be, but only so far as the bread is buttered. (Please you wait for me now). Coated and swirled like the flake, watch the way it moves its mouth. See it speak and wonder with your utensil, than ever before, please you wait for me now. Some more. As good as I remembered, those school girls it can’t be on the side on which we aren’t, shouldn’t be, what is and what should never be, and if you said to me tomorrow, my red so confidently flashes trophies of war, bread off its ever before. Dreams deploy the ever before. ((Please you wait for me now some more)). Please be there intricately formulated and mechanized delicately, how strange to be all on the side unbuttered, seeing it speak and wonder how, bread off its shame because, fucking doesn’t really exist then, eyes loose, library bound the third beat dinosaur, from me to you please, ah, we say and oh it’s good bread too like the bookshelved coffee, and it is good coffee too- ah, we eat our doesn’t really exist but when that’s a shame in the display: please you wait for me now, some more. please be there now, be there more. watch the way it moves the mouth. see it speak and wonder how. trees deploy your more nothing every day by the time, don’t really, it doesn’t really form, it doesn’t really exist, then does it
(Bibliograph: Welcome, “Sirs.” cf. Jimi Hendrix ‘Bold As Love’ and Led Zeppelin, ‘What Is and What Should Never Be.’)
1:12 PM what you wrote was the experience in the moment of reading what i wrote of a physical experience i had
is that how you wrote it
writing as youre reading
1:13 PM Alexander: hm
i listened to the welcome album and had your piece on half the screen
and a word document on the other half
half of the words in there are from welcome
maybe i should italicize them
me: ok
no dont
1:14 PM Alexander: and it was one paragraph per song
me: i like how the images i used twisted and developed
oh i didnt realize it was so structured
i thought it was more free association
Alexander: well it was, freely structured association
1:15 PM structured as much as the album is structured
i think it would be better to do the exercise 10 times and combine
me: ha that would be much more scientifically rigorous
Alexander: yeah
1:16 PM or maybe
by the 10th time it would come out right
me: we could finally prove the existence of the little men who live in your ear
Alexander: exactly
so i suppose in doing it a bunch of times i’d get the right ones
me: from where
1:17 PM its interesting just as an account of attention
it doesnt have to be right
Alexander: there’s a point though
me: that was also my purpose in writing what i did
Alexander: what was
1:18 PM me: i was trying to make this model of my attention
Alexander: your piece reminded me of what i love about russian literature
it was speaking
with very little extraneous reflection
1:19 PM and the content of the speaking carried the point that I think is the important one
it’s the same point in those lines from the yeasayer song and the same point in the welcome album
so my point is to try and show how all those things have the same point, and to help clarify a little
me: ok
Alexander: because there are so many great things saying the same thing in different ways
1:20 PM me: what was the point
Alexander: “curtains, thailand, toilet water know what I want, I want some cheap entertainment”
the attraction-repulsion of capitalism
.
1:21 PM me: ha
yeah i suppose so
Alexander: did you catch that bit about royal tennenbaum
me: no
1:22 PM Alexander: the encyclopedias “I believe owned by R.T. Baumer”
he owns a set of encyclopedias
everyone else in that movie wrote books
not him.
he owned enclopedias
and bequeathed them to his grandsons
me: huh i never picked up on that
1:23 PM Alexander: everyone in that movie writes books
just as everyone nowadays is books
me: right
Alexander: bookshelves, in my piece
plays a tenor bass, third beat, whatever you want to call it, which blasts books off shelves
and makes them dive dinosaur bound off the shelves
1:24 PM the song ‘bold as love’ is about attraction repulsion too
and ‘what is and what should never be’ is about escape, whether it’s possible
i should probably use more lyrics from those songs
in any case, wes anderson, welcome, jimi hendrix, yeasayer, deleuze, sometimes you, sometimes me, are all saying the same thing
1:25 PM me: and what does that give us
1:26 PM Alexander: you mean what is that thing, or what does that thing give us, or what should we do with that thing
me: all of those
1:27 PM Alexander: well that thing is the attraction-repulsion of capitalism, to use the first phrase that comes to my head
what it gives us is an art form, or a way of understanding an art form, that is recurrent, has been recurrent, has its archetypes way way back (in gilgamesh, in buddhism, in many many poets - Han Shan, George Oppen, etc.)
1:28 PM and for me, the ’should’ is that i should produce more art that helps these other works of art cohere
1:29 PM shit hold on, there’s this quote from jean-luc nancy
i have to get
me: ok get it
1:30 PM what i feel of the attraction-repulsion is that i am always too close to anything
to myself, etc.
1:31 PM and that in order to produce art or be at all creative, its necessary to get to a point where i am totally estranged from myself
and in consequence estranged from my relation to the world
Alexander: in order to look back on the relation?
because attraction-repulsion, i think, is the relation itself
1:32 PM also, from deleuze: “replusion is the condition of the machine’s functioning, but attraction is the functioning itself”
i hear what you’re saying
1:33 PM i also feel the same way, that’s why i want to sit in amsterdam smoking cigs and pot and drinking coffee and eating waffles and then drinking duvel, because it is only at that point that i write anything i like
me: yeah that binary of closeness/estrangement is not the same as attraction repulsion
Alexander: yeah, definitely not
closeness/estrangement i think is more the difficulty inherent in artistic production
attraction repulsion is the source of neurosis and nausea
1:34 PM me: yeah but i think the closeness i feel, being too close to something is the attraction and repulsion
1:35 PM Alexander: so estrangement is something more like schizophrenia
do you desire that estrangement?
me: yeah it is for sure
1:36 PM i dont know
its more phenomenal
Alexander: i found that quote, i just want to type it in, then we can get back to estrangement
me: its my physicality
1:37 PM Alexander: this is regarding how i want to make art that combines by reference, all the art works I think should be viewed together, if rhizomatically
me: ok type it
Alexander: “a corpus is not a discourse: however, what we need here is a corpus.
“we need a corpus, a catalog, the recitation of an empirical logos that,
1:38 PM without transcendental reason, would be a gleaned list, random in its order or in its degree of completion
, a corpus of the body’s entries: dictionary entries, entries into language, body registers, registers of bodies.
We need a passive recording, as by a seismograph with its impalpable and precise styluses,
1:39 PM a seismograph of bodies, of senses, and again of the entries of these bodies: access, orifices, pores of all types of skin
and “the portals of your body” (Apollinaire). We need to recite, to blazon, body after body, place after place, entry by entry.”
that’s what i want to make
1:40 PM me: thats great
Alexander: so estrangement, phenomenal physicality
1:41 PM me: it reminds me of something foucault quotes from borges
im going to type that
1:42 PM Alexander: ok
me: its from the order of things
the preface
1:47 PM This book first arose out of a passage in Borges, out of the laughter that shattered, as I read the passage, all the familiar landmarks of my thought - our thought, the thought that bears the stamp of our age and our geography - breaking up all the ordered surfaces and all the planes with which we are accustomed to tame the wild profusion of existing things, and continuing long afterwards to disturb and threaten with collapse our age-old distinction between the Same and the Other. This passage quotes a ‘certain Chinese encyclopaedia’ in which it is written that ‘animals are divided into: (a) belonging to the Emperor, (b) embalmed (c) tame, (d) sucking pigs, (e) sirens, (f) fabulous, (g) stray dogs, (h) included in the present classification, (i) frenzied, (j) innumerable, (k) drawn with a very fine camelhair brush, (l) et cetera, (m) having just broken the water pitcher, (n) that from a long way off look like flies.’ In the wonderment of this taxonomy, the thing we apprehend in one great leap, the thing that, by means fo the fable, is demonstrated as the exotic charm of another system of thought, is the limitation of our own, the stark impossibility of thinking that.
1:48 PM Alexander: that’s even better than mine!
yo i have to go to TJ Maxx.
for some shopping
me: you want to make a chinese encyclopedia of our own thinking
Alexander: yeah
ya know in the enlightenment there was a grand encyclopedia project that all the french philosophes contributed to
1:49 PM but that thing i just posted, is meant to be like a corpus
and i think the welcome album is already a corpus
it doesn’t have to be an encyclopedia
a corpus is a body
a body with functions
a body that functions
so a written corpus could be very small
it could be one word
but that word would be god
so it has to be a few more words
anyways
i think this conversation should probably go on pinkos
1:50 PM as explanation
and i do have to go shopping now.
me: okey doke dont forget to bring your soul
Alexander: what do you think of posting this?
i’d like for the shopping pieces to be more than driftwood
1:51 PM me: we could post it as a comment
Alexander: precisely
January 2nd, 2008 | #