crossspecies creation

{the following text is the only

extant from a larger piece now

garbled by the wind}

one mysterious day styrofoam in many shapes appears in the house  the foam that isnt tiny i put out in the garage and as the jurisdiction i now seem to be a part of doesnt recycle this whiteandbouncy material it appears destined for landfill   but then a voice arrives in the vicinity of my flesh and suggests compellingly that i should bring the styro inside and play with it the way i used to lego   but it doesnt have attaching mechanisms i or something else voice and should i then use glue or tape or something else to substitute for the attaching mechanisms it lacks? but the voice that arrived and is in some sense still arriving says no

so i haul all that styrofoam back in  nothing in weight but everything in volume  and divide it in categories according to that arbitrariness that compels us to divide  then proceed to stack it with a different sort of arbitrariness until every piece is used and i have a haphazard structure that many would call ugly but i call beautiful   my beautiful structure is precarious so that even if i were to open a window even a light breeze would sway much of it to the ground   it rises almost to the nine foot ceiling and i love it   of course there is a cat and i know if cat wills to explore the groundfloor of my structure cat will consummate its will and therell be nothing i can do to stop it and there will go my structure   cat 9 structure 1   but weeks go by and cat  for whatever reason but likely devious ones doesnt enter and no window opens and the structure stands

 

of course one day cat decides its time but being cat its impossibly nimble and graceful and only about 10 or 20 percent of the pieces fall   i thank cat for its beneficence and in acknowledgement it goes to sleep and i leave the pieces where they fell for some other weeks

 

one day  having nothing to do although all days i have nothing to do so i should rather say one day having nothing to do in such a way that i feel once again drawn to the styrofoam  i restack the fallen pieces but differently  i could have roughly simulated the original design for i had taken some pictures of it  before cats show of grace  from various angles although as hairy clitoris tells us it never would have been the same but why says the voice that arrived and may have departed and arrived again or may have never departed but was just very quiet for a long time

 

and i know cat in its omniscient caprice will do its thing again and i will restructure according to the whimsies of the day and  assuming eternallife  these restructurings will go on forever

 

and whether that assumptions correct or not whats patently apparent is that cat and i are cocreators  each doing its part in the ephemerality of formful play   and maybe not just cat and i but to various and perhaps even equal degrees also styrofoam and window and jurisdiction and house and voicethatarrivedbutwhosedepartueisdubious and garage and allthemanythingsoncenestledsnugglingwithstyrofoamintheboxesnowbrokenanddestituteonthestreet  accepted with open arms by the jurisdiction but only remotely now aspects of the assemblage of creation of the structure so indivisible from cat and i and all these other things

 

and i think or something thinks in or around i why this singularity of name? that i could market the structure as an installation belonging to me and created by me and understood by me  are these not thoughts and acts only comprehensible to one so indolent it has become incapable of receiving complexity?

 

a structure maybe

created by itself and many others

maybe

a structure called maybe maybe

my cat maybe maybe made it

maybe maybe maybe maybe

guru of nothing

27.01.21 2021ist

i had once a friend who talked a lot about nothing  i thought of him as my guru of nothing  he said he was nothing  the world was nothing  i was nothing   so i thought id please him and sent him a funny email showing all the ways he was nothing and then he cut me off which confused me as i thought hed be so pleased with my nothing homework  how it demonstrated his principles and that id finally understood what he was talking about   i want to ask him so all your talk about nothing meant nothing? but instead im left in the doubt of the eternal something and now i just write funny emails to myself showing me all the ways im nothing 

sadoo with stoodio oddience

28.01.21 2021ist

w were sitting here with sadoo and stoodio oddience in the gaminflo tohel in oido lownj

 

s there is no audience

 

w look at the gazillions of whonyms

 

s its said  but what isnt said  in the heavier circles  that you have to think of oddience   this idea that one thinks of oddience and has an idea or a vision or plot or a story and writes and edits and is surprised or isnt surprised or a little of both and finishes something then finds an agent then the agent finds a publisher and there are more edits and negotiations until finally the publisher finds readers and theres something actually called a book   who believes this?

 

are you doing things for the good of the country w asks seemingly innocently

 

there should of course be a function in word says s that allows you to block a section of text and remove all punctuation in that section  or  in a similar vein to findreplace  remove all punctuation except say diacritics questionmarks exclamationmarks and replace certain of the erased ones  say commas  with something else  say an extra space  and periods with two extra spaces  unless eg particular specified conditions are met  say say

 

you feel guilty for being alive?

 

its more that i feel guilty for being alive in a consciousness thats aware its possible to feel guilty for being alive      art historically has been the domain of what we now call the mentally ill but we call mad   the outsider fragmented alien those of the margins who can never be anything but of the margins  and then capitalism invades and the named prized promoted branded story invades and

 

a good dose of pragmatism never hurt anyone

 

heroin may be physically addictive but ayahuascas spiritually addictive  like someones suicide it takes a delayed action path and preys slowly   that gov has means only to detect the one   the charlatans of aya migrate you from addiction on one plane to that of another

                 

do you live?

 

i dont live  im lived  and im deaded    

 

as the full moon rises the swan

 

ive been searching for google searches that i hope will yield fuller more intelligent provocative results but dont  such as autism and the new world order and apophatic aesthetics and futility uselessness action doubt  reimagining soul for possible worlds and

 

its been said that as long as one acts for spectators ones neither free nor human

 

the effort now  as whonymity dominates the earth  to seek maintain grow narratives apart from the domination narratives  whether ostensibly fighting for or against theres a forness to all who participate in them  a critical and lonely task   art and nature through solitude nonaction imagination hallucination seem the only portals presently that have sufficient energy and independence to wander apart from whonym voice   god has occasionally been an energetic moniker but now we prefer to hide god in complexsimple folds of sensations of nature and art   technology is schizoid and forces us into domination as much as it questions that force and

 

little boy enthusiasms and their consequent disillusions says w are hardly the basis for any viable and mature art

 

t^heo_ldw^hon^ymmadrantf_ullofbi_levision^co_llapsevigorexperien^ceenn_uiagenredisdainedin^compre^hensib_ledismissedasa viab_lerationa_lor_literar^yform   s^ha_llwe^ca_llitamant?awomant?aw^horant?ano_ldant?b_utwefinditinitsradi^ca_lfreedomst^ypograp^hi^ca_l^cognitiveemotiona_lspirit_ua_lling_uisti^ca_lgrammati^ca_l atraditionwort^hyof respe^ctst_ud^ycontin_uan^ce_learning

 

why write anything if novel writes itself?

 

whonyms have asked why do novels need editors publishers readers even writers?  but novel goes further and asks why do novels need novels  why do we need ourselves 

 

is a novel a dump and a toilet an audience as various sadoodoos intimate?

 

novel has an infinite number of oddiences as novels an infinite number of selves  eg for years novel believed in inspiration and possession and could only go into the privy to play under such conditions  but one day it wakes up and doesnt believe in those things anymore but just believes in doing nothing and being uninspired

 

we find the skullarly and skullarlyliterary articulations of these ideas more compelling

 

as the full moon rises

the swan sings in sleep

on the lake of the mind

 

as the full mind rises

the lake sleeps in song

on the swan of the moon

 

as the full swan rises

the song moons a lake

on the mind of sleep

 

as the full song rises

a sleepy lake minds

the moon on a swan

 

as the full sleep rises

the moon minds its swan

song on the lake

 

as the full lake rises

the mind of a swan moon

on the sleep of singing

little boys,mind,skulls,deaded,aya capitalists,its said,swan,oddience,who believes this?,sleep,oldwhonyms,moon,guilty,says s,4ness 4skin,sing,madrants,lake,

blood & tribe

i & novel

otherity and savagery

29.01.21 2021ist

as blood and tribe become eternally alienated i and novel become codependent   love isnt just lust and sentimentality  its codependence  codependence is primary  to achieve and maintain sentimentality and lust you need codependence

 

history can be summarized as the severance of tribe and blood   once identical indistinguishable irrevocable cosmic  tribe began fluttering from blood in a far timedream and pilgrimaged its parallel savagery along the littered paths of unholy time until the missile of now when tribe and blood should they accidentally meet could hardly recognize each other   blood this alien  ancient crawling viscouslike genitalia   those who seek to bind by it moral and unhatched in laserstamped gmo eggs   their morality as sadomasochistic as the religions theyre following or have rejected

 

the whonym is savage before otherity  if otherity is diminished in certain sectors  eg race sex religion  it rises with equal measure in other sectors  eg class age species sanity      diversity  less its regulated forms which primarily exist to promote institutional virtue  more its raw expressions of a vast and incompatible nature  is otherity  and the speakings of diversity that circulate among the banners little more than masks on encyclopedic inabilities to understand the extent and nature of diversitys geography   diversitys far more challenging than you can imagine

 

take eg a fairly obvious fact  that capitalism doesnt recognize spiritual property   it rather says you can steal spiritual property and even encourages it   capitalism only recognizes legal property  in this case that which can be quantifiable traceable processable identifiable   all these defined in particular ways that favour the rights of certain kinds of minds  certain kinds of mind that are able to tap in to a certain kind of societal dominance

 

we havent even begun to think through let alone act through race and sex  let alone the myriad other forms that have effectively silenced because theyre dead dying or are for whatever reason unvoiced      the diversity & humanrights humans havent thought much about what theyre doing in anything other than crisis terms and if diversity doesnt include our colleagues across nature and spirit as equal members its not going to do much other than continue shuffling the soiled deck of history

 

whonym tribes are a set of fonts

what we call individuals letters glyphs diacritics smudges caesuras punctuation margins

a language is the whonym

one language among language families so vast and alien our endless praise of ourselves might seem a joke to those many myriads outside if they thought it worth their while to pay us any attention

 

isnt the function of the internet  of the technovirtualization of whonymity  to provide hypershamanistic capacities for both transmigrating blood into tribe  and for finding members of ones tribe as bloods geographical proximity has now become a museum artifact  encased behind glass with skullarly mumbles interpreting the event for those challenged in discerning

 

but those of us belonging to tribes inept at seeking our own  who are of nature in its physical immediacy  its sanguine proximities  but of the technological diaspora in our tribal affiliations  what are we to do but wander in an unnamed dark alone

 

timedream,hypersham,bindrind,legal theft,smudgiety,codependence,seeking,otherity,isnt just,diversity?,fontnyms,gmo eggs,seem a joke,

devices

310121 2021ist

over,all,shut,this,its,by exhausted,of all,א,wish,zerohead,would,sadoo,and,were,thank,up,ganesha

here dedeared unreaders is the hierarchy of devices through which sadoo should be read though sadoo neither can be read nor should be read nor could be read nor would be read

as in this sad and sadder world the best options arent available except in the imaginative realms   rankings three to one  that is the best and most appropriate  those in which sadoo truly manifests and speaks directly with soul without those mishaps that comprise the very heart of communication  and we suggest for those who can fly ninety thousand kilometres just with their own bodies they enter those realms and journey to those rankings and encounter sadoo there  those lands in which books are beyond reading and understanding and where language is no different than the lucid gaze of empty eyes through windows so frameless the question arises as to whether the windowsre really there   so ranking four for the rest of you is the best available option in this sadder and sad world but those of you incapable of it may without undue penalty slip to rankings five or six at the worst but for those of you who go lower and  woe woe  to those who voluntarily choose ranking nine      unutterable words and the most inauspicious of ends           

 

were all exhausted by

all of this and

wish sadoo would shut

up

 

than

kganes

hait

sov

er

א

y782

even among intelligent whonyms one doesnt converse about anything important anymore  if you try to talk about anything important whoever youre talking with quickly changes the conversation to sports or politics or gossip or the weather  some variation of da nooz   but everyones interiority has to stay locked up and the jailors society  for the soul  or what used to be called the soul  like what used to be called reality  is too much for the people to bearbare  so they can only talk about the denials of the soul  these effects of its repression  as it seeps ineluctably through thick old walls and forms the artifacts and procedures were forced to live within  though they live in purer and more potent form within us  and all our training and educations oriented toward learning how to converse about the repressions and make more repressions and have no idea how to relate to the forms of vital seething   of course you can pay 150 an hour for a shrink  you can whore it up like that and call it wellness  a little voyeured psychic orgasm in a strangers office  you can persist in talking with the whonyms after they try to shut you up and be deemed mad pretty quickly  you can go nuts and get locked up or drugged  you can suicide  that relief  you can carry on imaginary conversations more real than those other ones people call real or more real  with the few others whove managed to survive for a bit and write about this condition and whose words have survived and whose words youve found in the vast library of dumpster of book  and write some of these conversations down  which are typically ignored or if theyre not disdained   and all this it takes you a while to learn

take eg a magazine called frigid in which some idiot calling itself weal clown disdains h michaux who experiments his entire life with sniffing languages  in words and paint  for the universes of his interiority   does mish^oh succeed? thats not a question of the interior thats a question of your world  and all clown  who naturallys some young white prick  does of course is call mish oh a sadly disabled old man   but even the most incoherent babbling of the one who explores the interior smells is far more beautiful than the most coherent product of your chiseled enforced exterior  sterile dumps

 

infinitys a construct of mind and as mind exists and infinity exists in it so infinity exists and i orient myself toward these infinities and write about them   sadoo is this orientation

 

ı look in the mirror and know ım nuts  ı know ım nuts and that you havent caught ı yet  ım pleased by these two facts  two of the few facts ı think about that are worthy of meditation   its never been a question for ı not to be nuts   to believe in soul and to be obsessed with thinking and talking about soul is to be nuts   sadoos my nuts

characters & pages in novel

the question of how many characters there are in novel is similar to  it may be the same as  the question of how many pages in novel   does sadoo eg have one zero three twoninenine innumerable or infinite characters?  unsure   like pages it depends on how you count and if you count like me in words not numbers  who counts in numbers anyway?  which words do you include for words are persons too? and then do you count all the wordpersons not necessarily specifically mentioned but certainly referred and alluded to  all those hiding characters and pages who many infinite times outnumber those seeming not to hide? theyve said sadoos the first characterless novel but this is gross   its obviously just another novel that has too many   how do they relate these characters you ask we dont see marriages and deaths and fights and affairs and divorces and births and wars and morallessions and stompingsoff like in all those other novels we know that we call novels   ım not so sure   ı dont think youre looking carefully enough   in this paragraph alone eg ı count 912 stompingsoff and thats not even a close reading

 

anyway sadoo has at last count ı mean word at least threehundredandseventythree characters who are pages and i dont know how many pages who are characters so what does that do to everything?

 

each words a door  a door without frame rooms outside walls insides  so novels spaces comprised of frameless doors  each door only leading to other doors and writing or reading  lets call these activities combined for theyre never separate wrading and rriting  ıs  its pronounced eyes and its the last time were gonna tell you though weve told you its the last time before so no one believes anybody anymore   events of getting lost in moving among the endless openings

 

how many pages is novel? how many sadoo? only one page on the internet so one? no pages in digitalia so zero? infinite pages so any number? the numbers arbitrary? absent? pageless? numberless? is it thousands like un sacco di pensieri ou à la recherche du valentin perdu o dozens like le rêve et la vie oder dunkler frühling? sadoo strives to be wordless through an excess of words and its number any word you want

 

novel & anarchy

if i werent novel id be out with all the losers perverting government buildings and abattoiring abattoir executives but as all i need to refrain from joining them is my own country that you cant enter   ie in gin wolfs phrase a doom of my own  some heat and booze and light and food and booze  and ive got that now  i dont have to feel suicidalgenocidal all the time and instead get out soul in language  which is where soul was in the first place anyway  novel

its not that i believe in anarchy  or not that i believe in it more or less than anything else  and violence is so second millennium   but if we were the species i want us to be id believe in anarchy more than anything else and probably only in anarchy   heres a thing about anarchy  i used to know someone who always said heres the thing about ________   and i always used to think the thing? and sometimes the thing?  and occasionally the thing and the thing? theres no the thing   there may be nothing but theres no thething  how among all the infinite things does one pick out one thing and say the thing? and we havent even talked about about   i used to look at him yap and just wait for the thethings and if i really needed to stop from laughing id count them because everyone knows the thing about counting is that its not funny   anyway   heres a thing about anarchy   anarchys about notthething   there is no thething in anarchy  there are just many  even infinite  things   anarchy as everyone knows is without rule but also as everyone knows  which is a really stupid phrase and i hope i stop using it because who knows what everyone knows or what one and every and know even mean?  you cant really have withoutrule  but you can simulate it by swapping around the rulership so frequently  like a few times every few minutes  that theres effectively no ruler   in this sense the world has always been and cannot help but always be anarchic   theres the ruler of sadooickstan eg but sadooickstans ruled by novelostan and iistan and iistans ruled by voidystan and voidystan by sadooickstan and sadooickstan by its cat  and i whos ostensible ruler of iistans ruled by the question of what really rules which in turns ruled by questions which are ruled by nothing which is ruled by a varda   so you see how it goes   the whonyms who believe in democracy and tyranny and pooigarchy and theocracy are nuts   anarchy is the only operation and as this thought scares us we dont really talk about it

 

my alienations my intelligence

i become smart through your savage hostilities

weather & wither llc

weather & wither leather lithard lother

everyone talks about the weather  the weathers the only part of nature thats left  weather and sex  weather and sex and wellnessproducts  sex & wellnessproducts & gyms & weather   no ōvids killed gyms   sex and sex and sex and weather   so lets talk about weather

 

all im doing these pathetic days is looking at sex forecasts   i used to mock those who were devoted to the news and could only talk about the weather but now thats me   sex or weather always choose weather   we always turn into what we mock   its not that i find sex interesting other than that it sounds like whether and is close to wither werther wuther and wather  either what ive turned into or the principle of the mocker becoming the mocked or the weather   but where ıve flung the circus tent of my body now all there is is weather and so weathers become the pantheon of meaning  which it may very well have been for the whonyms i used to cock and it was just ı in my ignorance that was too callow to appreciate their depth and insight   you dont understand the sex here  the word asperous  which ım obsessed with this week  everyone needs a wordoftheweek obsession  was invented for what the sky does to the earth in this bed and fulfillment of the world

 

spilled medusa in neptunes maw

outback of an inshack

asperous duvet

softthick monster

forecasts as long as novellas  

 

where am ı? ım in asperokhstan where winds devour and fogs crush and rains feast on whonyms   where the official reports say its presently 8 degrees and mostly sunny and in fact its 0 raining and all you see out the window is a thick grey shapeless god   where the little asterisks the gov puts on days where theres a temperature anomaly are so frequent the only anomalys whats supposedly & falsely normal  where its 3 degrees for 80 hours straight then drops to -10 one afternoon and climbs overnight to +5   where if there arent gusts in the 60 to 100kmhr range you begin to think the world has ended   where its colder in march than it is in december and it snows a metre one day and melts two nights later   where freezing rain coats the surfaces of the city with scifi lipstick and the place is so hilly everyone tumbles everywhere and ım continually amazed so few whonyms are in wheelchairs   where you wakeup to foghorns and you know the oceans just waiting to open its maw and swallow this entire disaster into itself and announce to whoevers listening though no one is that no settlement should ever have been in this land of rocks and shaggy trees   this is sex to die for

chapter what might have been called chapter 9273

heres the title of my next chapter   i thought of calling it chapter 9273 but it was already taken so im calling it the year the world went nuts or rather the year the world manifest the nuts it already was and has always been and yea verily always will or rather yet another year the world manifest its nuts but in a distinctive or possibly distinctive way and next year the un  that un before undoing unhinging unleashing unraveling   a disunited nutting  has declared the year of fruits and vegetables   aside from the obvious objection as to why vegetables arent important enough to get their own year  even aubergines by themselves  and aside from the obvious confusion that no one really knows what fruits and vegetables are   and aside from significant doubts about an un having the authority or sanity to declare anything  why didnt they declare next year the year of nuts and nutser   they can just keep adding more nuts for each year to save them and us all the expense of deciding what to declare subsequent years and all the promotions   so that in a few years well all just know itll be the year of nuts and nutser and nutsiest and more nutsy and most nutsy nutsiest and nutarissimo and nutsarama and nutsalicious and nutseryiest and   of course theres the technical issue of the nomenclature and how exactly to form the nuts of the next year and i guess thisll require committees and promotions so im not sure were saving any money but at least itll be more honest though honesty doesnt exist   anyway thats the title of my next chapter

 

the moments of weakness  desperation  of despair

so pervasively environmental i cant move or stay still

what to do in the age of fruits and vegetables?

 

 

the livingdead the deadliving

we the living dead mock the dead living   we tell them we belong with the dead  the dead make more sense to us  the living are incomprehensible  their grammars inane   of course the dead living dont like this   we are the dead living they say and as life must be superior to death youre insanely wrong   but we the living dead know the very ancient codes maintain no such superiority and our mutual incomprehensibility and mockery and degradations are born from a false hierarchy thats been asserted and enforced by the whonym in its insecurity and now normalized in a society spread so thickly over the globe one cant see anymore the globe   come to us and well come to you we say   come to us and we wont come to you they say   we they them us he it theirs she ey em eirs airs errs

                                                

im trying to reach existence through nonexistence

and the paths to achieve this

while not wholly erased are difficult to find

unmapped

irregularly tortuous

 

little at all and most of that unhelpful has been written about the accumulating effects of living a mad life on the fated mad   part of the problem of course is that the mad innately are untaxonomizable and without access to systemization and generalization despite the categorical ruthlessness of the selfproclaimed sane  we shall henceforth sometimes call these ones the spss or sepsas  in attempting to do just that though all they do is taxonomize their own projections and psychoses   so how then does one write when the task itself seems unwritable? well certainly we can write  however incoherently  about the attempt to write the unwritable  which is what all writing is probably anyway 

 

we the living dead  the mad  the nonexistent  the erased