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i despise history so much i dedicate my life to writing myself out of it

the desire to remove the apophatic in mysticism

is it similar to the present requirement to smile for the camera?

try to work as much as possible with words as they arent

as they might want to be if they werent so anthropocentrically confined

humans arent built to assume the amount of translation they presently have to carry

and technology  built to assume the burden  isnt keeping up

how can one be cultured if culture is broken?

when theres no commuting what does it mean to own a car

when theres no future what does it mean to own a timepiece

the pun passes into the space i think i occupy and disperses me

word has succumbed to image but it should (re)succumb to sound

no

to noise

i keep forgetting which drugs im on and this makes it difficult to know how not to decommunicate

as barbed metallic reality accumulates in ironicized meat so meat must burrow further into its molecular voids to mine imagination from the increasingly distant and collapsing veins of god

all of france in its ponderous blood and pomposity conspired toward alfred jarry and now that pataphysics has broken into the world france can leave

stay in the elements of surprise from whence you first sense the daemons creeping until they rest and this the arc of writing

the pun is everything

even god hides in the pun

society is a kind of mysticism

in its darkness and words devoid of substance
its ecstatic empty relationship with light