this is novel this isnt novel

this is novel

you wake up one day and think im tired of everybody owning me and telling me what to do and having my potential curtailed by the system so you run away and the freedom feels like coitus and after 10 or 20 years youve finally realized  after countless humiliations and pains  that all youve done is shift your allegiance from one energy to another  from one that pays well to one that doesnt  from one that feeds your ego to one that doesnt  from one where travel lovers opportunities are endlessly available to one where everyone shuns you   and you wake up again one day and think again all ive done is changed bosses and you either think youre an ass if you actually respect your former boss more now  either from nostalgia or suffering  essentially youre broken and probably are suiciding in any of the 1000001 ways to suıcıde  at whatever speed  or you think a bunch of other things which you attempt to transmute into something else more interesting than the thoughts and this attempt is an example of why you ran away in the first place though there is no first place

that isnt novel

 

im only alıve in novel   you say you say though novels all there is and everything is novel so then arent you alive everywhere even in death?   yes perceptive unreader this is very true   but theres novel and then theres novel in and behind novel  its novels all the way down   so only in novel am i alive and yet in the novelhead im always alive   but you say you say though its bottomlessnesses all the way down   yes unperceptive deunreader this is very true and they both are true for novels and bottomlessnesses are the same but dıverge ın name as they ıssue forth  beıng the same they are called darkness  darkness upon darkness  the gateway of the manıfold secrets

 

plagiarism excursion

the skullarly team of skullars sentence sadoo and all its subsidiaries and cohorts to zero and zeros forever and ever without recourse or appeal and we meet with you and your mother though your mothers dead and the dead too can weep and we write many many zeroes and we say no no and we force the straightjacket of citationality on you and zeroness upon zeroness the fateway of the assifold egress

 

there are those who are eternally sad because they have the fault of loving life too much and they long to enter the commons but cannot because to enter would for them mean betraying the commons   they are the people who encounter the commons by restraining themselves from entering and they are the ones we call noveloos   they long to speak the language of the commons but the language required for their restraint consumes them and its this latter language thats novel and why they cannot accept the common designations and often go mad

 

let us move into the space of reason

the reason of novel

which is no reason

let us move into the space of reason that is no reason that is novel

yes

let us measure the movement

but how shall we measure the movement when there is no reason

let us use the other measure

ah  the one given us by the faceless one who visited on the nameless day in the space thats never found its way onto any map

yes

but that measure has no measure

exactly the sort of measure required to measure what weve arcked

unmeasure for unmeasure  thats the exhaustion

 

novel to be novel doesnt have to be literary but it has to above all else be spırıtual for literature is a construct of society and particular dominant aspects of society at that  and so solid  but spırıt is sımply a bıologıcal function  rooted breath raised to the heavens  breath made word and word made novel  and so gaseous & very gassy

 

novels best if like virtue it doesnt know itself  if it doesnt even think it exists but its here  youll say but look at you  novels knowledge of itselfs everywhere and you call it novel   well i call it antinovel   but is ıt and do ı? what youre calling knowledge is doubt and ı call nothing but novel calls ı and what ıt calls ı ıs a question of the name