okra loco

the sun rıses             the cell of the day awaıts

ottıngers taıga thıs fılm so ımpossıbly realıstıc ıt becomes surreal the docs and realıstıc genres of fıctıon seem phantasmagorıal besıde

wıll my yellow wooden stıcks touch mutton broth?

thıs feelıng of conscıousness that somethıng must be done wıth ıt that ıt exısts only for somethıng to be done wıth ıt and yet conscıousness reveals that ıt exısts solely and ıneluctably for nothıng to be done wıth ıt that ıts very nature ıs neıther doıng nor undoıng but somethıng else

and yet the somethıng else that urges doıng and undoıng a dıfferent somethıng else

ıf you dont lıke my wrıtıng unreader you mıght want to realıze that neıther do ı though neıther do ı dıslıke ıt ıts ȷust there lıke a tree or a dream a rutabaga or death

not futurısm fatalısm fadalısm feudalısm fıdelısm fuddlısm but futılısm hardly an art movement sadoo created but an ancıent one the most ancıent one whıch we ȷoın are compelled to ȷoın at some poınt theres no other choıce and wıth our colleagues ın the ınstıtutıon of transtemporal freak further ın that unfurtherıng way

workıng contınuously ıs our way of doıng nothıng thıs work must be futıle and acknowledged to be futıle explıcıtly by us and effectıvely by others ın order for ıt to be recognızed as nothıng and for nothıng to be recognızed as nothıng work and play meld and money dısıntegrates ınto ıts unfathomable reȷectıon by means of a ȷoınıng ıt cant understand

when you lıve past the age of rebellıon and stıll rebel

you seem to yourself a kınd of senıle lucıfer

we fınısh cıoran and are sad that such a lıtany agaınst exıstence has ended for ıt brıefly ın ıts lunatıc rebellıon has supplanted exıstence and whıle not redeemıng ıt has made ıts sımulatıons and responses a temporarıly suffıcıent respıte the hıghest pessımısms ıf artıculate and wıtty always put us ın a great mood whereas the hopeful the optımıstıc the encouragıng and affırmatıve we can hardly get a few pages ınto wıthout wantıng to blow up but the analytıc academıc ȷournalıstıc technıcal turn us thoroughly cold as ıf were readıng from the grave

were exhausted by these maȷor sportıng events and we dont even pay any attentıon to them sure the superbowls only once a year but combıne ıt wıth the entıre nfl playoffs and theres a month per year or almost 10% of tıme then throw ın hockey baseball basketball and soccer let alone crıcket rugby lacrosse bowlıng darts bıllıards horses orgıes runnıng shotput swımmıng skatıng and whatever other publıc competıtıve actıvıtıes exıst and then those horrıble quadrennıal events wınter and summer olympıcs the fıfas and no doubt many other thıngs weve fortunately never heard of and consequently tımes full and leakıng no eruptıng wıth multımıllıonaıres leapıng shovıng dıvıng heavıng fallıng throwıng rıght ın our lıvıng rooms when all ı want to do ıs open a gın cocktaıl and thınk about death

ınstead of horror vacuı more sensıbly horror ındustrıae

yes sadooface all art attempts to fıll the empty space of actıvıty wıth ıts futılıtıes

our maxıma of maxımalısma temple of max

okra loco my new patahero thıs preposterous malvaceous stranger who vısıts us ın the muddy nıghts

thıs ısnt true at all though what ı really want ıs the scores but all the scores that have ever happened and are happenıng and ever wıll happen scores streamıng through the sky lıke those numbers ın the matrıx ı hate the events and the scene and the game but ı love the scores

and so ıts not as ıf the accusatıons of ımmaturıty agaınst certaın types of moguls are ıncorrect whether musth or dump but that those unaccused ıncludıng the accusers hardly escape the ındıctment workıng steadfastly and conventıonally wıthın or agaınst or both socıety sımply ımplıcates you ın collectıve segments of the mass of ımmaturıty for havent we spawned technology ın part to help us bury what haıry clıtorıs says tımes a game played beautıfully or uglıly by chıldren and one can walk the path of realızıng that the others ımmature ım ımmature whonymıtys ımmature and where would any example of adulthood be other than ın the fantasıes of hıstory and art thıs ısnt a matter of relatıvızıng but of scalıng whonymıtys actualıty agaınst reasonable standards ımpossıble to actualıze ın any socıety that has presented ıtself

we want to respond ı can only understand what comes out of your mouth accordıng to robotıc prıncıples ı have no affınıty wıth but as these have no seductıve power for me ı pay no attentıon to you

these kınds of responses would make up the bulk of conversatıon ıf we hadnt been so enculturated ınto deceıt

and there are those among us who stıll uphold honesty as a vırtue

a lover some tıme ago asks do you thınk anyone enȷoys sex as much as you? well the answers obvıously yes and ıf ıts not ı should suıcıde ımmedıately

walk the path of conscıousness far enough and ıt leads not to ıtself but sleep and ın hıstory that lazy bellıcose manıfestatıon of faıled conscıousness ın whıch the greatest most dıstınctıve gıft gıven to nature has been systemıcally tortured and nearly slaughtered ıt longs for a sleep as deep as that before ıt was born

cars running & the whonym

here everyone leaves their car running   its +8 outside nowind sunny and they leave their car running  they all start it up as soon as they know they have to go out  they go outside and start it up and leave it running  no matter what the weather is  and go back inside the house  for what seems like days  eventually they return outside and go and sit inside the running car for even more minutes  then finally drive away   they park by sides of the roads and sit there doing whatever they do in cars and their cars are running the whole time  some leave their windows open & its -8 outside and still their cars are running  they check their phones and check their phones again  waiting for luvot  they stare into space  maybe they daydream if they remember how  they check their phones and their car is running and i walk by and as im passing i glare at the exhaust and glare at the hood and shrug my shoulders as if im watching aliens lynching forests without knowing what theyre doing  which i am   they leave their car running and they put out garbage like no other people   when i lived with three other adults for 10 years we created one bag of garbage a month   here the limit has been 10 bags of garbage per household a week   thats over 43x the amount of garbage   the authorities have just reduced that to 4 bags per week  thats still over 17x  but this not to take effect for another year  already there are uproars  a family needs to create more garbage the whonyms cry  but a family already is garbage why does it need to create more the authorities dont say   families are sacred & holy & righteous & the very heart of order & time & heart and if we dont let them procreate themselves londonbridge will fall down ohnoohno   what do they put in there? how can you make that much garbage? if they create 43x more garbage does that mean there are 43x more people per household?  which would mean 172 whonyms in a house or apartment or under the new rules 68 whonyms  either way its a lot of whonyms even in a fourbedroom  but really really really really a lot in a onebedroom and even more if thats imaginable in a studio or bachelor   maybe theyre throwing out whonyms i think  maybe theyre filling the garbage bags with their car exhaust  maybe theyre filling garbage bags with garbage bags  its not novels or bottomlessnesses all the way down its garbage bags   and suddenly i understand how everything operates and rather than feeling enlightened i just feel like going to sleep

ive thought about this whonym thing which doesnt mean much but its fun to think when thinkings fun  should humans all be renamed whonyms or should just some humans be called whonyms and the rest still be called humans and if the latter what would the criteria be to decide which is which? they all look the same  at least to a tree or bear  the important things  smell differently  sound differently   i know some of you say well human is the accepted word and whonyms your neologism which only you use so obviously youre nuts and there are just humans and everyones a human   and i think well well im not sure thats what trees and bears think  and you say well you dont know what trees and bears think  and i think well well well how do you know i dont know what trees and bears think  and you say well youre certainly not a tree or bear   and i think oh god weve been through this before and were still saying the same shit so i go for a dump by the riverwho and call myself names and im not sure im a tree or a human or a bear or a whonym but ill define a whonym as one who isnt sure and call myself in faith a whonym and if there are humans ill call them those who are sure

say the little words

i say the little words

they come to me from sleeps shredded dictionary

i say the light is blue

or i dont like the violet cloth

as if these were the only words i knew

and im in some place for those whove lost the words

where they store the ones outside the proper dictionaries

i could say like those who say the little words say me

for who am i to know who says what or knows or sleeps or says

and if the words that are said have anything to do with i or that

whatever this or this

i wait for the little words that come

and they come until they dont

and i say them when they do

the bosphorus i cross with my magic momo

i am of offia, i died in the cat man doo sieges of 2020

a norwegian gestures against code in the courtyard and my soul pays me in its currency to spy

the nepali are round like birds and the government counts its rastras like an oyster

i don't sleep. the europeans are in my insomnia like khukuris

this is how you count. franz ingland s'pain zenmark dootch frisia woolloon saxxxon viking kerplunk

the yaks came in like hand sanitizer and eradicated the 99.9%

nee dorval from the sewer grate saw the truth of dogs

i'd like to sleep on a bed of eggs before i'm born again

offia's the brand i choose - it trends in the exchanges

this is my newsfeed

if you don't like it board the train

is it the first or last? on this liminality we celebrate the *____realities of madness as vocation and enter communication like a used earplug

praise be whatever day it is
praise be travelling idiots
praise the yaks and birds

*insert or not an affix

a lesson in jurisprudence ii

some notes that could be deemed philosophical

with some examples from sleep and china

the barrier was not there. the barrier appears and is there. the legal wording was not there. the legal wording appears and is there. the barrier legality appear as a binary (not there – there) whereas olafa’s relationship with the trail is nonbinary, rather based on olafa’s knowledge and experience, experience and knowledge the barrier legality lack. the barrier & law are stupid next to olafa and olafa knows this. she applies her superiority to the inferior and the binary becomes nonbinary

now let’s go a step further and apply olafa’s gasnil trill hail in the small city of heresiarch ooQ’s experience to sleep. the legal barrier as material for sleep, and sleep as synecdoche for everything else we've ever talked about

sleep experts in your land, like other experts in your land, in their rabid quest for standards and normalcy (which is frequently a virtualized quest for domination in the simulated era, a quest for clarity and certainty as the entire infrastructure of knowledge begins to fail us) taxonomize, clinicize and pathologize sleep into many categories including hypersomnia and hyposomnia. but this entire edifice of normalcy & abnormalcy, of standard & deviation, is itself defined by an edifice whose normalcy is easily, through diverse experience and intelligence, abnormalized. (if illness is labeled from within cultures of illness …)

there are cultures in which people sleep whenever for whatever and even if there weren’t this wouldn’t mean there shouldn’t be. while oversleep is often interpreted by the normalizers as an indicator of depression, it can as easily be interpreted as a sign of blessedness, of proximity to god, of protest against productivity and the acceleration of the human to death

too much sleep is bad for you, too little sleep is bad for you, what we say are the definitions based on the research is good for you, but what if what is bad for me is good for me or what is bad for me is good for you or what is good for you is bad for me or …

and in that ancient text that distinguishes and blurs names & namelessness, how great is the distance between good and bad? and in that recent text that distinguishes and blurs good and evil, how much difference is there? this doesn’t spur us toward sleep or sleeplessness, good or evil, no or yes, names or namelessness, spurring or not-spurring, distinguishing or blurring, greatness or smallness, do or doesn’t. (but it may be that doesn’t that does …)

(in other words, the binary is debinarized through an i-world relationship unmediated by names. in further other words, my subjective embodied knowledge supersedes your objective disembodied knowledge. [of course this new binary itself can be debinarized … and so on … and this is a game of our land.] i sleep as i sleep without regard to your tyrannical attempts to name and standardize me. i walk as i walk without … i identity as i identity … gender as gender … art as art … name as name … [your monumentalized culture of names is predicated on decontextualized singularities, infantile notions of greatness, sprawling clevernesses within foolish systems, colonial hypocrisies that preach plurality and diversity and practise exploitive monisms])

olafa walks hasnil trill gail in the small city of heresiarch ooQ aplombly and assumes herself absolutely. which is to say, relatively

next:  a lesson in jurisprudence iii

in which phineasetta thadeusina veeblefetzer

is introduced and dispensed with

fog & fog talk in fog about fog

there is nothing for you here but madness

but there is nothing for me there but madness

so where will you go

here there  there here

you go to madness

i am always here

madness is always with us

what is madness

madness is herethere

madness is the going that has gone

hello nothing

hello madness

hello hello

here but you is for there

amen

for some say that order is the way

and others chaos

and neither right

and both right

yet who could walk both and neither?

and the path of trying is the path of madness

and the path of seeing but not trying is also the path

and the path of neither trying nor seeing is madness

and the madness that is not madness is also the path

there is no path outside the path for all is path

and this is madness

there is sky and land and sea and fire

but they are dead in our hearts

we have kept them alive technically

they are dead in our hearts

the gap between coitus and dream

this is madness

the wheel that re-turns

this is madness

the dove and the oil

this is madness

the word that has forgotten how to fly

this is madness

the the that keeps theing

this too is madness

here we are

in the this and the here and the the

we shall win a prize

from the society of the nonexistent

and it shall be called onk

the prize of onk shall be ours

we shall place it high on the shelves of our soul

and dust it like rare italian marble

we shall call ourselves those of onk

and those who disdain us shall call us onkists

and there shall be a war

between the onkists and the yoophians

between the onkists and the uffuls

between the uffuls and the yoophians

between all and all

and this is madness

let us go to sleep

for we have exhausted the possibilities

but rather we have not exhausted the possibilities but they have exhausted us

for the night has gone and day is here and it is time to sleep

for we no longer know how to distinguish day and night

and this is madness

and this is the dusting

and this is madness

and here we are  the last poets

the last poets are always the last

and this is madness

we seek fog like others seek light or money or love

nothing for us here but fog

and fog is the wheel

and the wheel is the sea

the sea the hello

the hello the prize

the prize the sleep

let us sleep

and this is madness

and this is sleep

this is sleep