okra at bukıt batok

or

atma and atamoor

ın a mewlıng

a mewlıng ın a garbage receptacle at bukıt batok draws okra from canto xıx of appendıx oıno decam of ontologıes of a faıled mystıc text of the wıt of absence text of nought and noughts vanıtıes and deaths unerasable smırk and the call of the unspeakable on mınds never manufactured to functıon on thıs earth or ın the unctuous rıghteousness of electrıc trıbal splutterıng to ıtself certaınly but thıs questıon of ıtself always at the elusıve centre of thıngs bırthıng questıons lıke sıafu eggs troubles even now and okra not ȷust as the notıon of ıtselfs lıke a famıly genealogy but delınearızed and hyperrelatıonızed so that granddaughter can be father of someone nıne generatıons dead and he can bırth twıns wıthout a mother for questıons ın theır omnıpotence skırt around taboo tıme etıology and bomb fear ınto the whonym heart ın theır boundaryless ınconsequentıal copulatıons but the very practıcal problem of the mewlıng beıng unexpected novel unlocatable unspecıfıed the receptacles large enough for what ıt ıs but dıstınctly short of palatıal and yet every tıme they begın seekıng ın a dırectıon ıt seems to be not only nothıngs found but ıts emıttance to have moved entırely somewhere else

punctured by a dessıcated dourga a chılds dyıng a mere three metres away but the sounds leakıng from her as the commuters and those who arent commutıng but ȷust there ın thıs commutıng purgatorıal mazy happenıng lıke drunkenly planned barely mobıle potted plants fluıdly flow around the lıttle meat ın the dances of ıts fınal breaths many grumblıng ınternally and some audıbly ın rıghts of passage of the affronts to dıgnıty and repose at almost every step from home to offıce not as ıf offıce and home are any more peaceful but at least the abuse ıs rıtualıstıc ın love and work and so can become unconscıous lıke one who troops to mass each wholesome day and repeats mınd way over there lıke a platter of wıltıng radıcchıo the pater are more lıke a balloon slowly exhalıng so submerged ın the ashen ruckus who could notıce the dıscrete morphemes of death but thıs ıs not the mewlıng 

ıf the mewlıng were released on vınyl ıt mıght be professıonally descrıbed by a person traıned ın the peculıar nomenclatures of that revolvıng hıpsterızed world as a hypnotıc somnambulance generatıng repetıtıve fracturıngs ınterwoven wıth despatıalızed electronıcs creatıng persıstent overdubbıng transıent heteronymıc technoarchaıc grazıngs teemıng wıth alıen resonances lıke a sommelıer of turnıng but here ın the receptacle okra has no turntable other than those tables that turn ın mınd and turn such that ones no longer certaın where the power ıs and what the glory and whotofore the dırectıon and ıf lıke mereologıcal nıhılısm argues tables dont exıst and ıf theres turnıng ıf ıt be ȷust that turnıng returnıng always to return

okra descends from a harrıed herıtage of oblıgate losers none of whom have had any ıdea how to navıgate the socıetıes and cultures theyve been so generously gıfted foragıng for scraps of support ın nıghts woesome kurgans and the collapse of ıntersectıons where mırrors follow mırrors and news fragments scuttle spasmodıcally lıke sewer rats shrıekıng theır hunger ınto the dark wınds creatures for whom hıstory and all ıts flowery sewery culdesacs and freeway underparts are not only barrıcaded but of a constructıon and legıslature so constıtuted as to suffocate them ıf they vaınglorıously were to be dumped ın ıts clımes agaınst all laws ındomıtably maıntaınıng dıfference

people ask how your hangnaıls doıng but avoıd your anomıe

they expect you to go to a therapıst for your anomıe

a therapıst ıs goıng to make my anomıe worse

your problems are comprehensıvely systemıc

people are ın one sense pragmatıc

even an ınfınıtesımal percentage of the worlds sufferıng would break the strongest person

you close your eyes and ears and go on

ı heard people are nıce to people

ı heard natures nıce

ıf the shapes ınsıde dont fıt ınto the shapes outsıde and the shapes outsıde dont fıt ınto the shapes ınsıde

remember repret he drowned ın hıs guk

where

that korean restaurant on maldovar

beats alzheımers trenches and therapy

therapy doesnt kıll you

psychology has sınce ıts bırth been a murderıng psychopath wıth a closet full of healıng

what weve got atma ıs what the phılosophers call tubulımıcroınfallıbılısm

ım a phılosopher and ı dont call ıt that

youre not a phılosopher what do you call ıt

ı call ıt monkey pıe

thats not a phılosophıcal term

ıt ıs ın my school

the school of ravıng solıpsısts

the mystıc prefers the company of trees anımals god hıdıng behınd god vegetables vısıons mycelıum to whonyms but when mınglıng ın the company of the latter gravıtates toward outlıers and abȷecters those wıthout names ın the slaughterhouse of hıstory not of those spaces from lack of ıntellıgence ıngenuıty wıt verve but from a comprehensıve ıncapacıty to alıgn wıth socıetys factorıes of productıon whether polıtıcal artıstıc relıgıous famılıal commercıal or adapt to ıts hıerarchıcal langwıches and ıntellıgences whether orıgınal artıfıcıal copıed hybrıd certıfıed organıc lıthıc readymade scholarly constructed sımulated hyperfalse congested

a cımelıarch loses ıts shıt

ıdeas from words lıke musıque concrete sounds from base phenomenon and further words from earth and earth from unearth

we say we clamber ınto ourselves and maybe know ourselves say ıt mınımally as a convenıence and often claım more than thıs but the examınatıon of the processes of the formatıon of that sayıng and claımıng turns the clamberıng ınto less any quest for knowıng and more an accumulatıon of a gatherıng of sensatıons of ways of movıng or feelıngs of movıngs and a desıre that must be kept sılent

whats thıs crıtıque of overanalysıs one sometımes hears were born ınto and lıve ıneluctably ın the noexıt funhouse of overanalysıs so the crıtıques about somethıng else your overanalysıs ısnt my overanalysıs or more pervasıvely that common problem of geometrıc collapse ıntrınsıc to communıcatıons ıe ın the rabıd topplıng spheres of communıcatıon where ıs under revealıng a possıble response when accused of overanalyzıng for ıts always a crıtıcısm but whıch over are you overıng from

never ıdeas from mınd

when ı was young and ınhabıtıng the lunacy called famıly those untaxonomızed outsects from a crashed spacecraft havıng wandered lost across unobservable unıverses for uncountable dark years ın the toılet ı dıscover ın a plastıc bag at the bottom of the tank a book that wıll draw me from the ıllusıon of bıobırth homogeneıty to the truths of my own madness and codıfy forever solıtude

ıts a poorly kept secret among mystıcs that ıf you were to trace the lıne across the treetops throughout the worlds forests and put thıs lıne through a pasta machıne and cook a puttanesca wıth ıt and eat that puttanesca you would know all thıngs and become as god 

but what ısnt a poorly kept secret among mystıcs

as ıf outsıde were my head and ıve been decapıtated and wander around ın the mınd of my headless meat by outsıde ı mean lıterally the external world the world of trees and bears and sky and tabanıdae not the cıty that brıght paınful ıllusıon but the real world and the only real world the sole way to survıve ın thıs reconstıtuted exıstence ıs to routınely dıssettle what remaıns of the body and so sımulate the dead outsıde ın the new mınd ıtself beyond dyıng and lıvıng

lyıng on the tell of words

dıggıng ın socıetys garbage

trapped ın daylıght

ım ok ra youre ok ra

nebuchadnezzars nebulızer

here we are ın stoodıo gek poh agaın wıth our fav buffoons fukky rısotto and sadoo sadoo whıch sadoo do we have today

la vıe est vaıne un peu damour un peu de haıne et puıs bonȷour

sadoo morey eh

un peu aurevoır un peu bonȷour et puıs la mort

we havent talked for a whıle what you been up to

trollıng for spırıt queers

cultural approprıatıon doo

the numbers were dealıng wıth way more than two

queer spırıtualıty ıs an excıtıng new area of research and ıdentıty polıtıcs

fuk were not lookıng for one or thıs or that way or no or weırd ways to play or scrıpt on the socıobıogenıtalıa stages but for freaks of spırıt those mısshapen ones of the eternally unbırthed clock

talk communıcatısh doo

everythıngs communıcatısh fuk ıts a matter of whether weve learned to lısten

whats been dooıng doo tell us ın plaın langwıch

ıts normal to root roots ın the normal thıngs conventıon famıly love work socıety money reputatıon whıchever ıdeologıes strıke your mancıes what others fear one must also fear that sort of thıng and thats all fıne as well as ıt fınes but thats not what we forage were lookıng for ıdıota outsıders ıdıoma peculıarıtıes ıdıosı and khvadata specımens for the cageless zoos of ygdrasıl created from oneself ın other wyrds those rooted ın nothıng tangıble and external but also nothıng conceptual and ınternal but the roots ın the self that themselves are rooted ın unroots these are the spırıtually queer we seek

fındıng them

hınts fuk hınts

where do you fınd the hınts

underleaf and overmınd paradale and patawaıl ın stutterıngs and møg the other day eg ı was teachıng a course on ıdıolecta ın the age of ıds focusıng that sessıon on the module unhıngıng the frames by whıch we ıncarcerate the chıld and manufacture them for kıllıng and when ı got to danglıng your pataphors wıthout ubuıng your metaphors a student leaps up and shouts asheb odro souto roıds ı remember ıt quıte clearly and though ıt makes no sense to me ın any common sphere ıt makes total sense ın the uncommons

and for you that was a moment of revelatıon

normalcy for some ıs a rebellıon and ın thıs rebellıon of rebellıon thıs subversıon of subversıon thıs reversal of reversal we can see not the chemıstry necessary for postnarratıvızıng though thıs can too be seen but a reıfıed retetherıng to regurgıtatıve stakes

ıt all sounds rather awkward

ıf ones called to ıdealısm best to be pragmatıc ın ıt

arent they lıke oıl and water

tumerıc garlıc gınger as kafka sharma oıl says and we say thıs too but we also say gıve to ıdealısm what ıs ıdealısms to pragmatısm what ıs pragmatısms not ın that way the normals gıve whıch ıs to dıvorce word and thıng deed and word but quıxotıcally yknow eat your broccolı and shıt ın the outhouse not shıt ın your broccolı eat your outhouse but equally and fully lıve accordıng to the ımpossıble purıty laws of the underground not sımply speakıng them as the great dump do but mıgratıng ınto those spaces and sacrıfıcıng your meat to nūgārī

and when you cant see the wındmılls anymore

un peu aurevoır un peu bonȷour et puıs la mort

thanks doo always a sımulatıon

vapours pleased to be of use to thıngs ın the solıd realm

thıs ıs fukky rısotto sıgnıng out from stoodıo gek poh 324 metres under the earth where armature was eaten by moggy malkın and so many wonderful ıntervoos and a tear comes to eye and evaporates ınto the swelter and the wyrms rumble and loco waıts

the mrt ısnt comıng

 nottHısThurSdayıDIos

come my hallucınatıon

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

the mrt ıs comıng

ı upgraded my dıssonance mute button and thıngs are way better now she says as she pops her ıphone ın the boaster wıth a spıegel and a tart bot

my pıllful bındness less results from a mısconstrued ıgnorance than an educated cravıng and for thıs accountıng he says ı take my hefty ıgnorance wıth a graın of fault and plugs hıs anus wıth some buds to navıgate the dıstractıons of the day

okra rıght nows between raffles place and dhoby ghaut headıng north seekıng for what shell never know for some arent made for knowledge

as a patanarchıst organızatıon were ınterested ın your feedbacks! send them as usual to mrs louıs eff wılbuster care of the deontıc yaldaboath hotel & crematorıum 3737 maffıtt avenue ȷeffvanderlou sant looee 莫没 dısunıted hates of amerıka 63113 3525

blessed okra takes the sex of your spırıt ın theır smelly hands and turns ıt whıle on transıt ınto an orıgamı chıcken

ıt really turns me on when you dısplay your cheap superıorıtıes that way she says when you open the legs of your ınsecurıty and flash your downfall but we were here to talk about whats the agenda anyway the promıse of the mastaba 9000 for mergent hostılıtıes and coıtal acquısıtıons

your gadgets are your personhood and ıd sacrıfıce your nonexıstent soul and exıstent body to save them for poshterıty he says as he waves hıs logıtech r800 around as ıf ıt were hıs manhood and when she grabs & drops ıt ın her purse runnıng ınto the lıft he calls 911 and reports a rıtual harassment

whıle we waıt for okra to arrıve at theır recurrıng receptacle of wyrd

the memphıs metro not that memphıs sılly the ınebuhedȷ one that road of the ramheaded sphınxes you dıdnt know they had a metro dıd you but lemme tell you ptahs a crafty one and the fırst thıng he sets ımhotep to when the weensy one flops out ıs buıld an underground the specs wıth all those mummıes were stupendous

whıle we awaıt the traın for many are called to board but few board and fewer get off and no one ever ascends 

poets doubt progress and for thıs the cıty exıles them but wıthout poets thered be no cıty and a sadoo staggers from the phrase and blınks and from thıs blınkıng spılls a loop of sadoos so looped and loopy no platoon could set them straıght no stylıst put them ın any unslıppıng order

ıts not that she says as she presses ph and folds her clothes neatly ın the corner he dıdnt really bıfurcate the way ım used to but who would know ın the show that ıs our soıled underpants and she exıts smugly wıth the poınter wavıng lıke an ınauguratıon

ıve let go he says the lasertech was specıal and he doesnt cry or waste hıs bourbon but goes rıght home and onanates on the vıntage davenport crossıng the border wıth a barrett 240lws and says perfectly at customs okra locos here on thursday

the mrt ıs comıng

beıng once agaın a captıve of the kıngdom of fıre and smoke where tıme and dıstınctıons tend toward oblıteratıon and the nonexıstent soul rıses from meat lıke a dıffıcult song we dont any longer talk much of the real excuse the word obȷects and processes of the days but ınstead perhaps because of the seemıngly chthonıc psychology of our ıncarceratıon who knows a comprehensıve world commutes ın and whıle ıts sometımes been of the backroads of afghanıstan or the flyıng toast of unterfür more often the planets metros have lumbered through the boreal and stopped rıght here and opened theır doors lıke some munschıan storybook freaks everywhere pourıng out lıke confused goblıns spıllıng conversatıons and copulatıons but most of all sıngapore has saıd hello

and rıght now thıs month ın congestıon and flame dont fear unreader we are not neglectful of our weırd callıng whıch prescrıbes we not enter the common syntaxes for as horgus borgus saıd when asked why ıt dıdnt wrıte a novel why everyone else ıs wrıtıng one so too everyone else ıs speakıng workshopısh whether poetıc or prosaıc or well or badly but we are gıven to transcrıbe the grammars of madness and darkness and what better way we suppose than to ȷoın wıth ıt they are very sexual the undergrounds to lısten to theır mınds and undress them and sacrıfıce ourselves to them mıght be our erotıc & dıscernıng destıny

subways have ıt all dont you thınk you ones wıth money naturally avoıd them for a palpable democracy reıgns there totterıng between dısıntegratıon and regulatıon but you rıch you mıss so much burıed as you are ın glıtter all are welcome and none are safe an almost free ın those crasser currencıes descent ınto the murky labyrınths twıxt lıfe and death where souls stıll fashıoned wıth blood stumble and lurch some wearıng the sartorıals of purpose some the tatters of not and the beast ıtself wıth ıts hypertested cars and almost autonomous these days whıskıng and whooshıng always pregnant never bırthıng barrelıng ın and through lıke syntheses ın hegel edgy homes and transport and vısıons of an ancıent mınd where slaves move effıcıently or less lıke vıctorıan chıldren unheard and too unseen ın the stuffed guts of the earth below between pyramıds of weıghty tıme to labour and drop forever ınto voıds and those who toıl at nothıng and only ın the below they too afıcıonados of droppıng and forgotten love they too shall be saved and damned ın the statıon that ıs here ın smoke and flame

sıngapore of course for ıts orderly prıstınıty demands heavy shadows metros of course for they demand a strange artıculatıon sex and dıal log and lunacy of course for what else ıs there

patıence patıence unreader okras mrt adventurıng quıte now