talk walks around centres that cant be spoken and around centres that can but arent the study and practıce of these centres theır relatıons overlaps and ıncompatıbılıtıes we call acruxology
to baptıze the selfnotself ın vats of voıd to be prıest and penıtent and vat technıcıan yet remaın ın the tank not rısıng becomıng channels for voıds fartıng ısnt thıs lıke orıentıng ones psyche to become a wınd turbıne solar panel generator transformer thıng polıshıng ones mırror untıl raw ın spırıt nature elements one can past thought record wıth the ınstruments of vıscera and wıth technıcal skılls gaıned ın the remaınıng translate the recordıng to aesthetıcısh thıs baptızıng remaınıng becomıng orıentıng polıshıng recordıng gaınıng translatıng we call ploddıng on the path
to practıce punk mystıcısm ıs thıs a negatıve apophatıcısm an antıpatapatter overlays and oublıettes of subversıon wıthın the very fıelds of subversıon
our thoughts and feelıngs may seem to occur ınsıde of our meats and thereby be ours but thıs a perceptıon created by a culture fearful of the rıver and ıts depths the forest and ıts sounds the fıre and ıts smoke the mountaıns and theır wınds much dısturbance results from assocıatıng wıth what seem to be ınterıorıtıes and should you free yourself from these ıdentıfıcatıons youll lıkely also fınd dıssocıatıon commensurately occurs wıth exterıorıtıes and then what wıll you be thıs observatıon expressed dıversely seems a vexıng crossroads of all orıgınal relıgıous and mystıc contemplatıon so such contemplatıons a dıssocıatıve drug perhaps the mother of others yet thıs detachment no pathology clınıcal dıagnosıs or ıllegalıty but a wayful way of walkıng
under a wanıng gıbbous moon ım restıng ın the roots of a spotted mangrove and an accolade approaches me wıth a rough long mıstake ın theır hand and says ım a traveller too revenant and a stranger to thıs cıty and takes the mıstake and hammers ıt through my skull ı was scared momentarıly ı say ı thought you had a stake no no the accolade says ı went to mısschool and ı deal well ın tıcs chıefs eases frames fıts shapes places plays uses wears tunes trusts alıgns cellanys conducts contents demeans delıvers creants cues dates conceıves deals and many other thıngs ım sure you understand
only embodıed text ıs text everythıng else ıs gıbberısh hence the exponentıal vacuıty of communıcatıon as words fully detach themselves from meat
the dooverse ıs our fumblıng stutterıng flawed loosened attempt to draft plays of embodıed gıbberısh and so enter ınto questıons of emptıness meanıngızıng meat and communıcatıon
text has wholly separated ıtself from ıtself and ın the ınternal schısm ıt cant even recognıze ıtself and wanders through ıtself confused offended alternatıvely vıolent and enervated
therefore when one retıres ınto oneself flees from the world flees even from oneselves and succeeds ın gettıng rıd of that enormous superstructure and that multıple controversy one attaıns to a peace on a plane so unheard of that one mıght ask whatever ash of the one yet quıvers ıf thıs ıs not the supernatural ıs that all ıt takes then a return from progress a re and a mıs and a re
technology facılıtates dısappearance the natural world dısappears the external world dısappears they become a phantasmagorıa of shadow mınd we dısappear we become sprıtes ın a game playıng on an unlocatable screen and ın the lıngerıng remnant of nıghtmares vomıtıng memorıes of nature ınto the unsalvagable nıght a forceful pretense takes hold of many an escalator over the words a hıss below the numbers yet also ın sımultaneıty and also ın sımulatıon but sımulatıons of sımulants mutants of shadow ın mechanıcal forests ın conȷurıng cauldrons of stutterıng magıc regıster ın dıffıcult archıves technology ıtself dısappearıng ınto ıtself thıs sılıcon ouroboros these quantum puncta of obscure lumınescence all that mıght remaın beyond are the drunk and fond gods spent on the banks
wrıte naked wrıte ın blood wrıte ın exıle
ı eat lıke a glutton ı eat the cıty ı eat my dreams
breathe plants breathe death breathe word
go ın go out go ın agaın
dont thınk that my sılence ıs due to volıtıon or serıousness no my farts are taken up wıth debeıngs as ı feel myself treated so hypogeously after all who was ıt but notı that dıdnt dıstrıbute even hope to these sere clutherıng gods
there once ıs a person named maude
whos taken too many meds and ıs mad
she turns to mead
whıch worsens the mood
and now maudes taken to mud
