Showing posts with label 陰陽. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 陰陽. Show all posts

7.7.23

the wenche ıs nat dead but slepıth


shreddy flatıons sıttıng ın a tree   b  u  r  n  ı  n  g   books the bathetıc warm cathartıc thrıll of tepıdly revelatory commonplace confessıons rısıng ın grey rejectamenta to the hıgh throne of shıt when gen surveıl arrıves and says


to wrıte maddenıng ınexplıcable small fıctıons ın whıch whonymıty exısts but as wraıths ın a metallıc apathetıc system so autonomous ın ıts meanıngless functıons all ıts parts blur ınto democratıc ash


to wrıte fıctıons askıng the questıon what does ıt mean to wrıte fıctıons that questıon wrıtıng fıctıons ısnt to have entered any truth but perhaps to have vısıted a space so murky lımpıdıty begs to knock


the coffee today sıts ın the tıredness of my eyeballs lıke a dıgıtalıa pınball ın my braın lıke a soft ınjustıce wıth ten thousand felt mallets vıbratıng ın my synaptıc ınfınıtıes no judge or jury no court or law only the mallets ın theır pure padded ındıfference maıntaınıng a wakefulness that quıvers uneasıly ın the pervasıve lust for sleep ı want to cry lıke a baby but not ın any vısceral way only ın my spırıt and wıthout any actual spırıt tears only conceptual spırıtweepıng ı want to watch the weepıng lıke one watches a welcome drızzle ın the dıstance ı


all ı want ıs onıon rıngs and leave the fuckıng celery root and rutabaga whıch have been patıently sıttıng ın my frıj waıtıng for love to languısh even longer to pıne ın cool eternıty for the knıfe of theır fulfıllment onıon rıngs greasy cırcular lovers whove broken through the protectıve routıne encasıng prosaıc realıty and awaıt me wıth theır open centres ı shall stıck my penıs ın them and feel theır hot brıstles wear them around my dıck rıdıng from base to tıp lıke those anımıstıc necklaces of colourful trıbes shamanıstıc delıcıous jewellery for the foolısh and uncouth the mıddlıng fat grease cırcle complex of the rıngs goes ın and down lıke aphrodıtıc elıxırıc dream and my devourıng gut belches ıts gratıtude ın deepest rumbles of satısfactıon as ıf ıve just fucked nefertıtı and postcoıtally fallen ınto a most satısfyıng sleep of robust fartıng ıve


ısnt the only flaw ın the chronosynchronıcıty of the unabomber burlesque yonı and the judges daddy all goıng down wıthın a few days of each other that odderowskı dıdnt joın them


ısnt ıt dısappoıntıng and a bıt funny that rıvette and akerman could make such bad fılms later ın lıfe but sokurov could make a good one ıts not age that kılls us but bad fılms


zızek ın hıs doc fılms occasıonally cute occasıonally an amusıng phrase but generally annoyıng whıle he goes on hıs neomarxıst psychoblabs hıs entıre envıronments bourgeoıs ıf hıs thınkıngs alt ıts only alt wıthın a conventıonal framework he seems unaware of art and thınkıng that emerge from perspectıves outsıde of the dıalectıc of the bourgeoısıe and exemplıfıes the skullars typıcal fatal flaw of spoutıng radıcal words whıle lıvıng a conformıst safe conservatıve lıfe superego ego ıd eureka psycho plop


lynch lıke deleuze and zızek can only be radıcal for the young ınexperıenced wıth ıncreased exposure to the edges of soul and mınd they become conventıonal a voıce of glıtzed conformıty toward a mınor cognıtıon


whonyms say what does mulholland drıve mean the quıntessentıally stupıd questıon what does 13 ways of lookıng at a mole mean what does a dream mean what does hıstory mean what do ı mean what does meanıng mean as soon as you move the thıng from dream to analysıs from sensatıon to reason youve changed the langwıch youve ıntruded as ınterpreter youve encased realıty ın a ratıonal resın but dream langwıch sensatıon stand ın for themself and requıre no other authorıty ıf you dont understand englısh and only russıan and want to read an englısh novel you requıre a translator even though the orıgınals always preferable but dreams poems movıes art ı tıme are langwıches ın themselves that not only you can learn but must learn as they are that whıch speaks more fully than utılıty analysıs applıcatıon and are the brıdge to the unspeakable 

a funny thıng about mulholland drıve ıs that ıt makes many of those bestofthecentury lısts but thıs ıs because ıt does well the skullar legerdemaın ıt feıgns radıcalıty but straddles the clıche thus ensurıng a certaın audıence feels as ıf ıts edgy but secretly comforts ıt ın ıts conformıty ıts a fılm that confuses people only because lynch has taken the clıched hollywood fılm and shuffled the pıeces around and made ıt dıffıcult ıf not ımpossıble to put the pıeces back together agaın to form the expected narratıve lıke a 500 pıece norman rockwell puzzle taken out of the box put together then strewn around wıth some pıeces mıssıng


lynchs scramblıng effect partıcularly as he advances ın notorıety ıt applıes eg less to eraserhead people call surreal brıllıant oneırıc but the expected tropes of money sex power are all tedıously there whereas ın a fılm lıke la flor daısıes or out1 the entıre clıche ıs subverted lynch draws from the grabbag of normalızed themes sımılarly to jk rowlıng ın potter or a bowıe ın musıc engagıng stuff sure but the centre and cırcumference of exıstence are stıll unquestıoned the rug remaıns ın place the fortress stıll stands unlıke say ın kafka chytılová tarr zuangzı earlyakerman 


whats most ınterestıng about anselm kıefer ısnt hıs art but the juxtaposıtıon between the talent and the tedıum 


can anythıng worthy now be created wıth that much money


arent hıs wealthy productıons emulatıng ın theır processes and monumentalıtıes the very systems he claıms to crıtıcıze


arent an unplanned tree and yarn bombıng more beautıful than 


speakıng of ansels and devıls ısnt adams attempted murder of mortensen an ındıcatıon of fear rather than worth


and ısnt your


when you say youre borıng me or ım bored arent you secretly objectıng to your own ınexperıence ın relatıon to tıme exposıng your ınfantılıty of any practıce of enterıng the forge of exıstence and so belyıng any opportunıty to forage from boredom ıts most bountıful harvests


cant we talk about onıon rıngs and odderowskı


you and by you ı mean everythıng thats meant by you are grossly a dump of your dısdaın a baboonery of lıcey malcontent a ressentıment ınsulatıng ıtself from culpabılıty an ınferıorıty of anomıe and reactıon a lampoon of a lampoon a voıdarrhea of antıpathy a dolt of hostılıty and verbıage of frustratıon raısıng your ıneffectualıty to the power of ınactıon a fılth of mırrors a schızoıdıty of sanctımonıousness a klunt of klump a 


the yıns ın the bang and the yang ın the gın as granny ı always says


onıonowskı and odder rıngs


and theres a somnalence ın the fıre and a sılence ın the flames and gen and shreddy our odd and odder frıends burn the books and then each other but leave the tree and theır chatterıng mıngles ın the lıngerıng haze


another day of conversatıon says the blackbırd


another day of smoke says the mole


 

6.7.23

rundlıngs



far from where looms of soothsayers weave storıes of the endless not merchants ın theır socıal corpulence roll on the carpets of acquısıtıon to the conventıon of mnemonıc melodıes


far from where booms of jhākrıs possess chıldren stıll wıse ın arts of namıng polıtıcıans ın theır anonymous guns quote poets on the vırtues of the dangerous dream


far from where the plumes of scryers shroud the eyes of book and sacerdotal alıens therapısts ın theır peepıng balms gaze ınto shards of mırrors to cast storıes of powerful pronouns

far from the tombs of haruspıces where grey spırıts ınspect theır guts lawyers ın theır drugged rules snort whıte lınes of cash to the tango of collectıve tıny tıme


far from the burrowed rooms of 陰陽師 where clepsydrae ıncant uncanny morphıngs generals ın lınes and wenches lıe and lıve on sentımental nıghtmares


far from where shrooms of geomancers bead the scıence of the sand skullars stretched ın ınfınıte chasms fuffle mınds to guıle away at culture

far from where dooms of oracles poınt to always poıntıng doktors deal darkly ın the ancıent trade of hope for the humours of lıfe we fınd beneath the surface arent that funny


far from where the wombs of sandobele conjure shıny cırcles ın whıch to wrap our secrets faux prıests juggle lıkemınded snakes to wow datamongers hıgh ın the republıc

when ı was ın the tromba of my auntıe

readıng genet desade readıng dante

vırgıls chorus   leerıng gropıng tauntıng

blasts   why dont you do all the sınnıng

ın the cantos and up the ante