only sand can accompany a mute word all the way to the horizon

grotto crypta, a gallic garlic-loving ovolactopescopollobovoporcovegan, chronicles the end of sand

all the happiness of the world has come to live with me

but you don’t live in the world

you can’t create a world out of marginal people

but a marginal world from marginal people?

and wouldn’t this too be a world?

so unprovided is the human for love. and so it talks of love to inanely compensate for its lack of provisioning

how the :  particularly in some hand-writing  is indistinguishable from the i

the nomadic discipline of randomly returning to empty spaces, of ignoring the solid scripts in their indignations, certitudes, volitional invasions (regardless of content) … of finding the empty spaces in varied and incompatible configurations – a kind of simulated homelessness, a sad and bounded, inexplicable salvation from the world’s assuming monumentalism

didn’t i leave the logic of the will to seek the no-ways of unthinking, this pathless vacancy of thought? not any thought that seeks to contain or explain the world but thought in the spontaneity of flesh that utters itself, and is gone ... leaving the steam of its expenditure on the window of text

don’t i write as a folklorist

a folklorist of the mystical body?

only as we entered and inhabited the corpse of god could we have developed faith in communication – our rabid talking maggots feasting

is this what seeing means?

is this it?

then it’s better to close my eyes

i can learn more from the dark than from the appearance of things

to the bureaucrat i prefer the philosopher, to the philosopher the thinker, to the thinker the novelist, to the novelist the poet, to the poet the mystic, and to the mystic (but impossibly) the unknown

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                  and who would not become a bureaucrat after glimpsing even a pale reflection of the unknown? the mystic, comprehensively enticed to go on a quest of inhabiting and describing the emotions roused during that first glimpsing …

i wait for the countess and i to initiate relations on scapes of abyssal noon as we, desolate and babbling, fashionably beg on the sacred thoroughfares of excessive retail. her name i intuit is orbita and we wait for each other in abandoned rooms of ecstatic exhaustion. she pays too much for her modest apartment and this leaves her little for food. she charmingly accosts strangers with an expos cap in cotton colourful layers but i beg for shame. i imagine us meeting outside a lululemon store with her cap full of toonies and my hands of shame, quite accidentally approaching each other as prospects but as we simultaneously begin talking recognize the other not from past encounters in this life but from that more robust knowledge of the night of eyes. we don’t know each other’s legal names but legality in these situations is used toilet paper and we go to resto vego and spend her money on piles of hot food, remaining until the place closes and we consider fucking in an alley up in the plateau but instead she returns to her overpriced apartment and i ride the metro like a confused canoe. we think of each other, imagining innumerable encounters and foibled love but will never meet in the physical lands. we’re too alike and any meeting would destroy us

gb : i write for one who, entering into my book, would fall into it as a hole, who would never again get out

i : i fall into a hole from which i can’t get out and this process i call writing. i don’t ask others to join me. i don’t ask them to understand or care about my strange environment. i ask only what they already provide : innumerable chatterings that i hear with varying intensities, distances, that neither aid nor harm my falling but provide, at times at least, a kind of music some would just call noise

a city-civilization in which all buildings have nine large floors

each floor dedicated to a distinct function

level	function
8	separating – prisons, courts, annihilation spaces
7	restoring – spas, gyms, retreats, psychedelica and ecstatica
6	buying – stores (commodities, travel)
5	working – offices, meeting rooms, making
4	research & thinking – dream & vision spaces, arting
3	eating & drinking – restaurants, cafes, markets, bars
2	sleeping & fucking – residences, hotels, hostels, shelters, brothels
1	healing & dying – hospitals, hospices, morgues
0	questing – religion, spirituality, suicide spaces

• no transit system is necessary other than elevators
• a small corp of robots operates below 0 to take care of infrastructure requirements
• everything one requires is contained in one’s building and so one never leaves
• government and politicians are unnecessary as regulatory functions are handled by intelligent systems
• the courts are automated and determine whether the defendant is to be annihilated, returned to the lower floors (with or without conditions), sent to prison (what type, for what duration, under what conditions)
• travel is virtual and while some glitches had to be ironed out during the transition period now – partially due to the generations who had travelled in what was once called physicality or the real world (now viewed as a ridiculous and infantile concept) having all died – customer satisfaction is consistently high to very high
• schools, colleges and universities have been abolished due to their role in maintaining and enhancing capitalism and their primary functions (dreaming, thinking, visioning) – which they abdicated in their quest for a pathetic legitimacy – have been restored on floor 4

i speak of god but a corpse diffused and transforming

i speak of mysticism but a way of knowing embedded in what the political dominance in our present calls mental illness (for our present dominance, being unacquainted with vitality, projects its own inadequacies and mediocrities onto those who defy it) though i call madness – a form of heresy or transgression presenting itself as a multifarious i walks away from the monumental architectures of society into the inexplicable i : a walking into deserted interiorities, enfolded consciousnesses, mind stumbling over itself without rest. if a mysticism with a god, its god is hot decay … if a mysticism with religion, its religion delirious dream

i call the mystic an esotatic and god the spaces we inhabit

the annihilated i

dumbarton demelza

chats with edmond on beached words

house of eels

shell cells

certified desertified

sand conurbations

i inhabit a circular desert

all deserts are circles

wherever i am pitched i’m at the desert’s center for its horizons – the walls of my selves and equally my home – are infinite and from an eternally equal distance babble incomprehensible harmonies

you’re incarcerated in an indiscernible cell of the center with empty horizons as your boundaries

no matter where i move my situation remains the same

oh flexible cell

god is an umbrella protecting us from god

the desert you inhabit is you – or rather the annihilated i you find within the i

whether i say this i or that i, these i’s or those i’s, some i’s or the or an i, makes little difference to the structures and processes of my home or how i live. all these ways of saying say in their way the annihilated i

you’ve tried – quite comically it must be said, for comedy pervades your attempts more than any other attribute (comedy being the intractable juxtaposition between primordial energies that a singularity futilely treats tractably) – to leave the desert, to dedesert the desert, to desert the undesert … but now you’ve grown tired of those amusements (having broadly experienced the plasmatic holography of environmental immersion and the definitional monumentality of human society) and in this weariness is a laughter of your present presence

oh comprehensive analysis

monumentality hides within plasma, plasma in monument. these hidings as other hidings hide another kind of laughter

the knowledge of my land – increasingly indistinguishable from what the dominant tongue calls self-knowledge – i find written under rubble of the annihilated i

the text you find is dreams of water written on dreams of sand

the text and the knowledge … more rubble of the annihilated i. it’s rubble all the way down. i dig

god is movement

the circle of the desert – its infinite circumference of disintegrating sameness – is the movement god traces on itself

a metro is a desert insect – scurrying nowhere, uncomfortable with the supraterrane, efficient, providing the human a unique opportunity to travel under the sand at minimal cost

when i wander alone in places in which i know no one (this lack of acquaintance a portal to resemblance), the places i wander – through movement, through aloneness – are everyplace and so assume the environment of space before description. space of annihilated i

it’s said the city doesn’t reveal the desert but the desert reveals the city. yet it’s also said that the city is the primary revealer of the desert and the desert hides the city

strange truth reconciled only in contradiction. not any contradiction of words but of environment, of the kinship of hiding and revealing

cities are built of sand but deserts not of cities

i, being city and desert, am built of words

sadoo is city and desert in one flesh and so a flesh that speaks not the tension of societal scrimmage, of the oppositions and incompatibilities – whether comic or tragic – between human characters … but the tensions in god estranged from god

when i move in places where the humans speak a language i understand it can occasionally be tempting to believe in a communicable sensuousness more difficult to embrace in what are conveniently often called foreign environments. but the difference is more one of the interplay of light on the indefinable structures of infinity

are the i’s that aren’t annihilated i’s i’s?

they’re spear share snouts

god is etymology and the desert is words

i inhabit circular words

their horizons are infinite and their center the annihilated i