ruminating on an upcuming dump

let’s play this game – gnosticism anarchism mysticism esthetics

         i don’t want to

you have to – it’s the only game in town

         i’ll leave town

there’s no exit

         there’s always an exit, even if it’s staying but just pretending

if you stay you have to play

         let’s play ‘fallibilist says’

that’s not a real game

         all games are real and life is the only unreal game

alice taught us this

         some simulacra taught us that

the bible told us so

         the bible told you nothing of the kind

don’t tell me what the bible didn’t tell me

         don’t tell me what not to tell

are we playing it yet?

         i don’t want to play godot

but you want to play god

         gnosticism ontology decreationism?

gonads orgasms dominatrix

         ok

but first you have to take a dump

 next!: money + keys = monkeys 

silent spring definitions

society (verb) [pl. anomie or fluoxetine]

1.   a folie à plusieurs comprised of nested folie à plusieurs

2.   admixtures of folie à plusieurs attempting to enforce other folie à plusieurs to believe a forced folie à plusieurs is a true folie à plusieurs and the enforcing folie à plusieurs is hardly a folie à plusieurs but the bastion of necessary sanity and wisdom

capitalism (article, definite) [pl. sigil-transduction]

1.   a brand of laundered eugenics

2.   god, having given up

3.   technology’s social sibling

4.   nature wearing too many clothes

5.   christ selling tickets to his crucifixion

6.   the tyranny of the middle

7.   a religion of soft genocides

8.   plutonomo release 11.7

9.   utopia hyperuranios

comparative despisings

they despised them in that way the intelligent despise the intelligent, which is not the way the powerful despise the powerful, nor the poor the poor.

a vermiculology of question

10,000 rabbits are killed for humans in new zealand over easter –

what if 10,000 humans had been killed for rabbits?

why, instead of trying to get the autistic to speak, do we not learn silence from them?

earthworms can’t get cirrhosis

ideas are science (or rather technology) fiction and bodies fictions

science (  ) is how we negotiate our bodies

1. the decline of the external inhuman in the human rouses the inchoate internal inhuman
2. and should society, so responsible for this decline, then object to this rousing?
3. would this objection not take many forms – projection, incarceration, exclusion, insanitization, sanitation, institutionalization, monetization, civilization … ?

also, by the light shining out of chaos, the inhuman is guided

it does not make use of distinctions but is led on by the light

communication takes a quick toilet break

what holiness is in the movie theater, this temple and peace – waiting for a film in silence, as entering a cathedral and sitting on the still perfection of a pew … the six or seven waiting humans quiet, communication unusually negligent in its relentless global responsibilities and demands.

then, two humans enter and the one’s voice is resonant, traveling easily through the space, as he talks about his life history of biological weight, bmi, diet:  he is 10 rows in front of me, 15 seats to the left, yet he is next to me, his mouth sitting in my ear … this necessary profanity … holiness, if not aestheticized in the arc of a myth … always so brief.

what keeps me from decapitating him in my mind is that his voice is rich, unpretentiously melodious, and while his topic is ostensibly banal he is so engaged – even joyed – by his chatter – his bmi is the entire planet’s naturally, calmly ecstatic and consumptive concern! – that it’s hard not to get temporarily drawn in.  though i don’t give a shit, i want to ask him questions about his experiences with vegetarianism in his 20s, about those beets he had in morocco, about the geopolitical and historic relations between flatulence and bmi.

his voice, while never loud or aggressive, occupies every seat, the ceiling in its expanse, the ubiquitous air, of this 500-seat theater.  the nine or ten of us waiting for our sacred cinematic rite to officially begin – his companion too is obliterated – for the eight or so minutes between his entry and the film’s start, inhabit his voice and become nothing but his voice and his narrative about the mass of his meat is the world.

DeathLabs

in the migration in the mythic-historic-human complex from past to future, from power being invested in the old to power being invested in the young, and the old now foolish in their massive senescence, their technological obsolescence, the young not being permitted to nicely and biologically kill them but – yes – to sustain them as props for the stages on which they bounce – how do the old combat in this reconfiguration of energy, this simian and aesthetic comedy, this social inferno, this revitalized death?

is this not capitalism’s function and necessity?  to give the old a purpose, turning them into economic units for the young – the young’s revenge, for being used so cruelly for such millennia for the sweat and pleasure of their elders?  but now the old – if they have fulfilled themselves at all – have amassed property and savings, protected their retirements, carved a little monument of name … the established old passing their knowledge of amassment to the young (this the formal educational and therapeutic process).  but even if the coin was once tossed heads and is now tails, both sides remain bound to an alloyed currency, a pocket jingle, a cosmological flip in the indifferent air. 

and for those who attempt to simulate the air and nurture indifference in the sacred capitalistic environments in which they find themselves, environments with neither soil nor indigenous horticultural techniques, for whom then young and old, poor and rich, future and past, foolishness and wisdom, obsolescence and currency, power and poverty are all sides of the same randomness of jingling change?  what are they?

do we not see them indiscriminately driving the vans of DeathLabs through the cityspeaks of now, cackling like water bottles, blinking like cells, exiled from opposition like clinical tests on the flesh of an unknown god.