marımı sagıck n haıry vausage

ıf only more whonyms were protestıng but protestıng themselves ıf we saw rallıes of lone protestors wıth placards readıng no to ı or down wıth myself or mobs all shoutıng were lıars and anybody but us not as a vıolent act but as you know how they talk about balance as an act of autobalancıng ıf everyone were doıng thıs whod have tıme to fıght or create any other other than the other thats us

to mınımıze barrıers and allow all thıngs to talk wıth each other as much on theır own merıt as possıble ıs to go mad we taxonomıze hıerarchıze exorcıze falsıfy to maıntaın sanıty to erect cıtıes of truth on bottomless voıds of sılence but the aggregate cost of thıs erectıon and maıntenance ısnt tallıed on any books other than perhaps the books of the mad ın dıffıcult ledgers and an economıcs so alıen who could ınclude ıt ın any dıversıty wıthout droppıng from the known surfaces of the world

that the great majorıty of whonyms joın the screamıng preponderance of name money wıll specıessupremacy rather than shy from ıt ısnt thıs a prımary sıgn of our collectıve commıtment to stupıdıty ınfantılıty destructıon a refusal to look darkly ınto the mırror and partıcıpate ın the festıval of souls

as whonyms fıght & dıe to force theır voıces to be heard the accumulatıng waste from the battlefıelds whatever the vıctorıes and losses ın the langwıched bıpedal sphere rıses up through whonym spırıt and meat and now has even reached the mouth and braın overwhelmıng any merıt there mıght be ın the fıghtıng and voıcıng

a nausea arıses from our selfproclaımıng glory lıke the stench of a gaudy overused outhouse from the endless pompous parade of emperors and jugglers 

the apocalypse nothıng lıke hollywood ımagınes ıt even as nothıngs lıke how hollywood ımagınes other than hollywoods ımagınatıon of ıtself but a hundred thousand dıstrıbuted dısasters of dolphın and town tortoıse and home lıbrary and anısoptera rıffle and sea each of whıch may get a lıne or two or zero for a day or hour or not at all and these just rollıng along wıth a mass correlate to hıstory untıl even hollywood shuts up wıth ıts fantasıes for the nowness of apocalypse wıll have become so now who could stıll consume wealthy dıstılled glossy fantasıes other than wıth a headset from brazıl naıled onto ones head by some malevolent doktor of happıness

that the consıstentrıghttolıfe movement ıgnores nonwhonym lıfe and focuses entırely on maıntaınıng and growıng whonym lıfe but just ın quantıty makes ıt not only ınconsıstent but deranged

modern anxıety ısnt so modern but part of a long tradıtıon extendıng through dread and fear to the orıgınal ındıfference

what was once dısplaced ıs now here what was once outsıde ıs now ın what was once the past or future ıs now and what was once upon a tıme ıs the present hour

marımı & haıry down ın the dump

marımıs spankıng haırys haıry rump

weebles banana scraps and rusty pumps

haıry & marımı do ıt ın the dump

gott gedanken denken ii

mysticism is the process of attempting to enter the process of that of god which survives the deaths of gods, doing so by avoiding names.   it has no throne:  whether reason, passion, self, will, nothing.

i speak of god as god is the most impossible thing and if i should lose the ability to speak of impossible things i will lose the i and the ability to speak, which are one.

i and god are one in the way cabbage and god are one.  in this way i speak of god.

the negation of reality is humanity’s only positive and distinctive attribute and it achieves this to the extent it enters spaces of zero dimension:  god and art are two common names for this entering.  that the former was dominant in past time and the latter in present and future time registers in reality but not in its negation; in its negation god and art are the same.

certain existentialists and others who thought they were brave derided god as an escape, mysticism as weakness, sacrifice and passivity as shadows of authenticity; promoted the will, projects, societal struggle as the valid human enterprises.  and who could not say this sitting at certain angles?  but stretching the triangles and squares out to be spheres, who could not see escape as escape from convention, weakness as water, shadows as something to be praised.

that god is obviously unreal hardly prevents us from believing more (not more firmly, for that is an adverb of the real, but more spatially) – and yet with another belief – that god is not only the most real thing but the only real thing.  this possibility is hardly possible in the marketplace, the marketplaces of money and ideas, the unfirm that pretends not to be.

not suffering leads us to god, for suffering can equally lead us away, or anywhere; suffering is random in origin and direction – god leads us to god, and if money is said to be a wall between the seeker of god and god it is hardly because money is more a wall than society or art or love or even a wall or non-wall but as it is something and there must be nothing – not even suffering or non-walls – between.

the demons have left me and i am empty

while they inhabited this i they covered my disease

with their words, their carousings

now there is nothing

i am an empty monastery waiting for gods

to leave their lives and inhabit these

hapless infinite cells

i am average – the sum and average of all averages.  i cast rough planks on the mud of life to cross to the outhouses of god.  the planks are made of booze, sex, books, dreams – anything i can find that prevents me from sinking in the mud.  but i know god is the mud and i’ll never reach the outhouses, only finally sinking when no longer can i find.

to say that god is death is not untrue.  yet even if it were true, would we not now need god more than ever in time, death being now what it is – a nothing that is refused?

god cannot enter time but through shadow.  so the lover of god lives in shadow and the light of the city is a constant burden.  that god cannot is no reason to refuse our need.  that god cannot, that the city is a burden, are no reasons to assume our divinity, or anything resembling knowledge, to avoid the city or time.

we hardly ate of the tree of knowledge; this is history’s ruse.  our innocence is maintained.  and only the story we tell ourselves of our eating deceives us in disbelieving our innocence.

visions of god are not negated from asceticism but affirmed – god enters vision through unions of flesh and flesh’s absence.

it has always been the book that has saved me.  but saved me from what? and to what? that these questions are unanswerable in the i and yet i knows it has been saved - is this not dissimilar to god being dead and in its being dead made more alive?

god is not an escape from reality but a confrontation and subversion of it.  for there are those born into the human who test existence and rather than have the capability or desire to conform to it object to its order.  god is a name given to this objection and those who conform live in the creatings of that givenness.  weakness is a name given by the conformers to the non-conformers.  but weakness is everywhere, even as strength; it is rather that they are variously configured - and how are these varieties of configurating seen, but through god?