sadoo novelbookdream tantintontung

but weve been ignoring an important issue  one thats been hanging off the talons of every prick and tittle and everyone knows it

bio and novel         fact and fiction         art and life

but as the one who nailed it  that itchy texty logo loss  that crux of yukky yucks says*

have you not been? have you not whirred?

there was once nature and art imitated it

then there was art and nature imitated it

then there were both and neither

and imitation imitated imitation

for natures no longer here to imitate

and art with nothing left to reflect can only gaze at itself in fake ponds of infinite selfies

but sure  you who crave facts

who think causes somehow live in data

instead of as they do in darkness

heres my bio

in which youll understand novel

be io      bee eye oh

be eye bee eye oh

holed sic non old has a dharm ah

bee i be aye o         o   ahhh      o   i      e   u      e      y   oo      oo   oo      i      y

unborn to mawmaws and meowmeows  a warped cast of a woofwoof hoof  a glome of glom   the blurry furied furries had it that id be a nun but the n is stolen for a no and a pee put in so all i am is pissing puns   these thefts   so not in time but lime   and limes in g&ts and jakes and jakes and g&ts in me and me in ime and mime and im and mama dada mada ama aya mawmeow ooQhoof           rrheapeet

here  as the yakademics say  is my methodology and night is my meth lab and thodo my muse

i emasculate myself and crawl into the night to say the horrors  words crawl over me and eat my flesh  the words get big and sit on me and shit themselves  i try to count the shit but shits uncountable  i become the shit and then a word and then the night  i crawl into myself but theres nothing to crawl into and i dont scream or laugh  the sun or what i think might be a sun comes up and theres a book

writing101 which is crosslisted with biting100 and nighting000 and a shitting pee eich dee

ive been nighted by the been of bug  praise bees   sadoos my bug

in the novel of life the humans who say they care about diversity dont  they care about the monoversity which says it cares about diversity because if it doesnt its monoversity doesnt get the grants   only in the novel of the novel does diversity actually exist and this is why sadoo has emigrated from the novel of life into the novel of novel   plus in the novel of novel there are no passports customs lineups covid thermonuclear forehead scans proudboysngirlsortrumps  but many dumpsnrumps  arcane regulatory brontoforces statues of stupid people other than ones you can piss on with rose pompadour and the statues turn into holograms of porcelain flowers and the only arrests that occur are the ones i make of the statues of stupid people whove accidentally found themselves on my shadowless properties which are nothing but i or sadoo or sadoo or unyou

im a slave on a planet that doesnt exist with rules that have never been codified and are constantly shifting and my status as dead in a heretical taxonomy existent outside any world of physics   sadoo is the record of my citizenry

*its actually a textitycrux that points to the yukkityitch that says this

but its all the same fucking quote dood as jorgesborges quotes

an uncanny family of the rabbit biome at dashayogssimagat temple

to be a debeliever in christianity in rome in 1313, to be a debeliever in capitalism on earth in 2020 

to be a human debeliever. no one else cares about capitalism other than in terms of its genocidal effects on them

impossible to debelieve. to want then to debelieve. to debelieve in the capacity to debelieve and remain biologically alive. to detest having to believe. knowing any protests, subversions, heresies, terrorist acts – however external or internal – are wholly destined to be ineffective at best and at worst used by capitalism to further itself. so one does the only thing one can do – one goes on the interior paths. for while no more effective, while no less usurped for use, at least something is constructed – however doomed – that says – though in another world – no

the different tactics and strategies for martyrdom, survival, subversion, play, desire, dream between rome 1313 and earth 2020 debelief

for some time in istanbul i have vivid memories of jerusalem though i’ve never been and develop a convincing narrative that the cocoa chestnut merchants of istanbul (they are only chestnut merchants but when chestnuts are roasted they appear to be coated in chocolate) are from jerusalem and at nights cross the bosphorus to hang as bats in a cave in kadiköy. while implausible the story pleases and i spend hours walking developing the lives and troubles of these misplaced and transmutational peoples and as i pass the chestnut merchants i smile and though i don’t buy any chestnuts they smile back. we know, the chestnut merchants and i, their difficult origins and nocturnal rites. i can’t participate in them, for i haven’t shared in their travails, but i can ask what’s it like to be a chestnut merchant? what’s it like to be a memory? what’s it like to be the bosphorus? what’s it like to be a chestnut? what’s it like to be a ...?

i watch time crawl along

the edge of death without ever falling

in and think – if it were me
there i wouldn’t be so skilled, crawling

i have a date with the sock factory today

the things that people say you cannot do

i don’t think outside the box, i think outside outside

she who saves one life saves the entire world

an istanbul street

cat behind nairobi carpet

import merchants eats

the little black train is coming

travelling alone, unfiltered. to immerse oneself in polydimensional dream ... to maintain reality as a question, substantives as prepositions, to place i in the question of eyes, to simulate the mind of rivers, to present humanity not as gift but mirage, hallucination, plasmatic text

corona adds yet another dimension to the already loaded airport process. in delhi i present six pieces of documentation to the immigration dood before i’m let through – including a form validating i’m low corona risk, which has been stamped by health officials after being processed through an earlier lengthy line of laser beams being aimed at my head, interrogations (and similar processes already experienced twice in kathmandu)

what is this, my seventh time in delhi? and the first i’ve arrived when i don’t hate it. don’t i keep returning, fascinated by my hatred, compelled to recreate this monster as something i can relate to?