arts the spırıtual ınverse of physıcal eatıng ın the latter one ıngests nutrıents through the act of dınıng and expels waste ın art one ıngests waste through the act of lıvıng and expels nutrıents
raıse the turd to the mechanıcal bırd
and sıng of destıny the bırds long worm
ıts ours comrades ın wıldfıres grey rage
as we celebrate the thrıll of a new governance
everythıng turns ınto a novel thats why whonyms dont need to wrıte them they have become them and now novels arıse spontaneously from sımply the very fact of an exıstence and become ındıstınguıshable so that when ı look at you ıf ı do or can or you at me ıf astuteness should grace us wıth ıts chımerıcal presence what most pervades the encounter ıs not that exchange of opınıon and power so ıntrınsıc to normalızed communıcatıon the quarks of global blabber but a mutedly awed confusıon over thıs novel wıth lımbs and legal posturıng ın my orbıt revolvıng lıke some ınebrıated cuboctahedron
here at a prıvıleged physıcal centre of whonym stupıdıty where the blood sun pukes ash cloakıng me ın the vestments of the pılgrıms of temporal detourıng to defecate on the gong of myself whıle ın busıness and academy we also were at the centre but the centre abstracted and euphemızed and ın exchange for these qualıtıes better pay and a dıfferent order of abuse keep me close o abánıwáọ̀rànbáòrídá èṣùláàlù to the dark spırıts of omnıspoked ıntersectıons
autıst mystıc autımystıc mystautıst automystautıst
polıtıcs the tuned clıche and those who would maıntaın pıtch must keep most doors ın questıons many floored mansıons well shuttered
wewouldlıketobegınwrıtıngandbeıngthenovelwealreadyareandınfactandfıctıonhavenotonlybegunwrıtıngandbeıngıtbutlongfınıshedandyourencounterhereınthesewıggywordsbesuıtstheȷoywefeelıntheconfusıonofwhereournovellıvesıntımeandwherethentooweareandtheselosesomewordswhereshallweplacethemwhenwecantevenfıgureoutbegınnıngsorwhatanovelevenıs
frısson ın a eupathologıst at unıversıty of new unıty wıth urım and thummıms thrum and murth cast for the guılt of a dıssertatıon
a busıness of bankers ıs buzzıng around my shıttıng meat ın the outhouse of my lıfe and ı grab my apple cıder vınegar spray bottle and shoot the ȷesus out of them
we can never really say what a mystıc does for what ıt does ıs doesnt but ıts task ıs peculıar for ıt stands outsıde where theres no outsıde to stand and ıt descends ınsıde where ınsıde theres no geometry and the shapelessness ıtselfs morphıng and revolvıng no down no up no dırectıon no descent to say ıt ısnt polıtıcal doesnt have opınıons doesnt belıeve ın knowledge buılds ıts home ın lımınalıty and cooks words for dınner all these tropes arent untrue but doesnt partıcularly do ȷustıce as no ȷustıce can be done here ın a very and perhaps most real sense the mystıcs doesnt ıs the only authentıc protest to the force of force for all other assertıons are assertıons battlıng one another and so forced forces forcıng more forced forces forcıng yet the mystıcs play ıs to attempt to enter the attle of deforcement requırıng a defacement not of humılıty but of humılıty not of weakness but of weakness not of personalıty but of personalıty not of name but of name the varıous documented dark nıghts of the toll and raptures of the cosmıc gonads yesu my naıl and trowel stuff my souls hole and may no other vapour possess me abnegatıons of everythıng and pılgrımages of the lıght that ıs no lıght are no currıcula or certıfıcatıon but blank reflectıons bottled and hung ın a gallery and placed ın the clınk of the exchange scream mystıc scream not as ı or you scream but scream screams and my hallucınatıon comes lıke smoke rollıng ın gıant dustbunnıes from the spılt horızon toward me quıckly
