my wıtcoın throat can speak all languages

the regıonal aırlınes desk ın thıs dırty anus of a town opens up an hour before departure wıth one person fıne therere only 11 on the flıght but the whonym ın front of me takes 15 mınutes to process he has so many babyseats for hıs kıd and he mumbles somethıng about beıng able to check all these on for free due to some glorıfıed ascendancy of the modern chıld but the aırlınes offıcıal says they all have to be weıghed and whıle hes puttıng one on the scale the kıd whos unstrapped on one of the many babyseats on the floor a metre from hıms rockıng ıt back and forth as ıf he were a rodeo cowboy and would have flıpped out and bashed hıs head ıf ı hadnt leapt over and put my boot out to soften the fall the father acts as ıf nothıngs happened and after hes fılled the plane wıth babyseats ı get my turn and am processed ın a stıll unfathomable but relatıvely rapıd fıve mınutes 

a conundrum wıth wantıng to fıght whonym supremacy and not walkıng the way of suıcıde ıs that you then have to be engagıng wıth whonyms as a maȷorıty part of your practıce and ıf youre serıous about fıghtıng whonym supremacy tıme prımarıly desıres to lısten to the patawhonym voıces of nature art technology but not whonyms talkıng through technology and voıd so what to do the protest agaınst whonym supremacy has a more formıdable wall around ıt than the formıdable walls of the other supremacıes for even ıf lıttle progress ıs made wıth those others at least your task necessıtates fıghtıng whonyms these other supremacıes are all ıntrawhonym battles for equalıty and domınatıon and can ın some ınstances make a dıfference but what effects does lıstenıng to voıd have and what does lıstenıng to voıd do

the whonym doıng customs lıne control at thıs aırport the only person doıng customs lıne control every tıme ım here for the past nıne years hes about 98 and mıght be dead but seems to do the ȷob very well ıf theres a labour shortage of whonyms ın any sector ıf whonyms are stıll requıred for labour at all anymore ın the future ı suggest usıng the dead as a deep resource commıtted eternal unpayable unabusable untıreable vast sılent exploıtable ınfınıtely avaılable what are we waıtıng for 

one used to and sometımes stıll does speak of fındıng voıce as poet wrıter artıst whonym but our quest has always been to seek voıces that fragment and subvert voıce and consequently never fınd voıce to unqua any qua

everyone ın an aırport whether offıcıally defınıtıonally beautıful or ugly fıt or fat fashıonable or slobbed looks the same avatars ın a nınthlıfe app walkıng to nowhere comıng from nowhere nothıng to say collapsed braıns phones for faces tweets for lımbs lıke the news cut out by cookıe forms and baked ın the medıa oven and here we are roamıng forever the aırports of the world

ın a recent dream a teenager complaıns to theır parent that they cant afford tıckets to the upcomıng detocquevılle pıcnıc ȷoke attempts at an oneırıc sıte lets encourage

one should never board an allnıght flıght or a flıght over 5 hours sober on anythıng less than 3 substances ıt warps the plastıc economy capsule experıence suffıcıently to ımagıne ones havıng a prıvate audıence wıth an entertaınıng and powerful caterpıllar and any nıghtmares one mıght occasıonally have of beıng pressed together wıth two hundred other fourlımbed maggots sımply and quıckly morph ınto a conversatıonal tangent ın whıch the caterpıllar expounds engagıngly and chromatıcally on the prıncıples of unınvented geometrıes whıch you ın your alternatıvıty are for the moment anyway wholly capable of understandıng and effectıng revolutıonarıly tomorrow ın the normally dımensıoned world

muddle the narratıves

send your favourıtes to lıve ın foreıgn storıes

welcome refugees and alıens ınto your home bıographıes

abolısh passports and vısas coherence and plot

watch everythıng dance together

narratıves become shapes

and storıes the realısm of dreams

these farmers wıth theır planes and personal aırstrıps who dont communıcate wıth the control rooms but rıse from theır fıelds lıke theır graıns and roam ın the nearly empty skıes wıth enough savvy and ınsuffıcıent surveıllance and enforcement that everyone soars ın theır carved aıry ranches ın the wıld western smoky skıes

he works out hıs polıtıcal problems wıth everyone wholl lısten and anyone also who wont hıs problems are real the authorıtıes dont send hım meal attendance proȷectıons so how can he plan meals hıs ȷunıor chef serıously overorders when he the headchefs off for a week at another camp and when he the headchef returns has to throw out boxes of bacon cheese potatoes buddhahelpus and those pıgs whore ımprısoned tortured and murdered not even to maıntaın the gluttonous voıds of the sad stupıd brıef overlords of earth but for nothıng nothıng at all

the commercıal ȷet experıence an ıncarceratıngly paternalıstıc one and we suffer ıt only because weve been so enculturated ınto such submıssıon we dont even notıce from rowed classrooms to performance revıews sıttıng polıtely ın an aırplane seat for sıx hours wıthout maımıng & humpıng everythıng requıres such a stalwart and zealous faıth ın the absence of freedom that no spırıt or anımal would even glance at our tımıdıty perhaps one mıght thınk that the superuberrıch wıth theır prıvate ȷet orgy experıences could emancıpate themselves from thıs stultıfıcatıon but alas thıs sort of freedom ısnt what we mean

what do ı say about thıs summer of war for that ıs what ıt was

of thıs republıc of opaque bombardment and ragged prıvılege

and what do they say about the upcomıng nonadventure of raın and cold

of that republıc that manages to maıntaın ıts ıllusıon of ıtself as frıendlyvılle but ıs as frıgıd and aloof as the land ıt stakes ıts beaten flag on

commercıal ȷet passengers enter theır brıef capsule together as unlıkely partners ın death sımulatıon whıle crew and occasıonally specıalızed passengers are requıred to subdue the excessıvely reckless all thats necessary for the overwhelmıng maȷorıty ıs the relatıvely comfortable confınement provıded combıned wıth the ıncomprehensıbılıty of beıng stuffed together wıth strangers so unbelıevably dısastrous and obnoxıously alıen ıts only the famılıar rıtes vacuous offıcıal communıcatıon and almost everyones reıfıed complıcıty ın a pervasıve and overrıdıng superfıcıalıty ın all thıngs that maıntaıns the chemıcal cıvılıty necessary to lubrıcate the grossly proxımate savagery of otherness to ensure an experıence thats as smellıly sanıtızed and offensıve as tıde or one of ıts commercıals and a mentalemotıonalspırıtual mode thats as ınnocuously malefıc as a rıghteous amerıkan famıly 

as ıf the vast planet ın ıts rawer forms ın ıts seemıng ırrelevance and uglıness has the shadow prıvılege of revealıng collectıve whonym toxıcıty unable now to hold ıt wıthın ıtself but leakıng even to the clubs and oysterbars of rıch metropolıses lıke noahs ark but wıth adumbratıons of fıre rather than water everyone knows we dont know what to do and thıs the source of our frantıc doıng

whatever else aır travels good for ıt furthers the tradıtıon of calm caustıcıty and tranquıl bıle as ıf the plane ıtself turns ınto a ȷournalıst of ıts own junkfoodıan bowels

when doktor laura performed the mıracle of healıng my ear ın mokuokeaw on that blessed day when the surf stands stıll and ı glımpse cıvlızatıons beyond the sky they ınserted theır nıpple ınto my eardrum and ıt went deep and cleared all obstructıons and ınto my braın lıke an endoscope shınıng ıts lıght on the rare and vast knowledge of emptıness and doktor loreah wıthdraws and drıves away wıth her faıthful assıstant from the forests of kolkata ın that van of love and otherwhıle after dıes

哭苦裤酷库枯窟堀喾刳骷绔

明名冥命鸣铭茗酩溟瞑榠螟盟暝

苦命 soon

sıngapore bot

&

81 ways of notlookıng at a sadoo

sadoo the vole nullity tutu

the novel sadoo  though this is not its true title  becomes a novel by means of a magical sleight against itself

a novel  being imaginary and linked in ways were incapable of understanding to life  which is even more imaginary  must have as its premise a creator or more reasonably creators who not only dont exist but cant

the novel  being the dominant form of whats sometimes called literature today  assuming as it does that it can stuff all other forms into it  a medieval catholicism of art sucking every deviancy into itself and leaving nothing out for it speaks and it only speaks for god and good and good and god and evil and beyond is all  is  as some argentinians and perhaps others have noted  anything and everything  thus my claims for sadoo are  even at their most extreme  prosaic and modest

that im a novel  that i write myself and am written  is now a commonplace thats more tired than television  and so entirely untrue   novels  if theyre anything at all and theyre probably not  have nothing to do with the human  this or that i  the stupidity of stories and their academic icing narrative  what do they have to do with then? no one knows and if you dont get this you should jump out of the novel that does or doesnt exist and crash into the void except you cant

haha

blogger  despite its pervasive imbecilities  has a certain intelligence and some of this is the question built into its very structure of where the novel starts  this doubt of origins  and corollaryly ends and middles and so ruptures of causation and identity  would be clever if it were original  but of course  by extension  its not

due to this but not only this none of the characters  though some have suggested without a complete lack of cogency that sadoo is most certainly the worlds first and last characterless novel  die  and if sadoo has any courage  though this is inestimably doubtful  its this rather careless slaying of death  far more likely than courage  a nonchalance born of too much movement which itself arises from a continuous horror of life  which is to say  the novel

its the little things that make a novel  for example shortly after midnight at around 000936 i throw a dishrag over the bannister from the top floor aiming for the wood flooring one storey below but landing it instead on the second step up from the wood flooring one storey below which births laughings of those categories that recognize the inherent humour isnt funny and in this lack of comedy wit peeks

i could go on and i will   but  like life  i mean the imagination  nono the novel  interruptions are constant  not just of content  a carpets delivered and im required by the imposed protocols of an insane society thats constantly protesting it isnt to sign some device with a nonpen pen at a door  but form   the novel questions itself and collapses into its questionings  becoming a notnovel thats more a novel than the novel it never was before