like the slobber of an idiot destiny

communication – though it never was whole – has broken down (has been perceived to have broken down or at least has moved into language in this way of having broken) as the commons has not broken down (by definition it cannot break down) but moved to its rightful place : that of mysticism

communication never was whole and cannot be. it lurches in ejaculations and dribbles, pools on the toes of the postcoitaled too distracted by their mutual affirmations and despairs to notice. communication is the mediocrity of the tyrannical, now everything in the fridge put into the pot (this the cleverness of capitalism) and forcefed into our maws which have become so desperate for anything to be stuffed into them we’re grateful for the gross and tepid stuffings and call them good

we perceive communication to have broken down due to a misnaming and misplacing, a misnaming due to a misplacing : for a small portion of the commons claimed the commons, not only one species among an almost countless myriad, but

a miniscule portion of that one species – those who typically through a combination of randomness and force were able to suppress the vast bulk of the commons so that only their language had effective credence

the true commons is the horror our conglomerations of institutions and processes are designed to hide, for we are a fearful and cowardly species, aware enough of our comprehensive insignificance to turn immediately from the significance of this awareness

the true commons is mysticism – the voices of all : not all humans, but all things. and what is the communication of this commons? is it human language (even if we define language broadly to include gesture and the human unsaid replete in the spoken)? but human language, even in its broadest senses, weighs nothing next to the languages of the universe, which we do not speak let alone hear. and if the human were to exercise what might be its grandest capacity and learn, however possible, to crawl into the womb of listening … what then?

for what is corona other than yet another voice in the myriad vastnesses that speaks from the commons its language that we bury with our fearful deluge and slobber?

the artists and intellectuals among the first to go in any monist regime. and humanity in its incapacity to process plurality (hence the great present ejaculation of diversity, to launder the species’ shuffling of the deck and calling the shuffling a new game), despite occasional, small, and often difficult-to-find bubbles of safety, falls into monism as easily as it falls asleep – routinely, gratefully, with a profound sense of having deserved this grand supremacy and respite. whether the methods of eradicating the aliens, monsters, margins – those responsible for nurturing consciousness – will remain the same as the regimes of the past (prompt removal and extermination) is uncertain. although already we see signs that the effective processes will be accomplished more technocratically, indirectly, nicely, under the rubrics of democracy and goodness and science, and sometimes, even frequently, with smiles and praise before the enterprise is, yet again, forgotten

[we don’t mention the poor (although some artists and intellectuals are also among them) as the poor aren’t the first to go but are always going]

and didn’t nostradamus say –

and didn’t nostradamus say –

when the corona arises in the east the wheelchair people shall take to the streets and say –

ah, how empty the sidewalks and how broad the spaces to roll our wheels

the hit single –

she got money and daddy to take care of her

mommy wears money so mojo now

mommy’s money now

and daddy – daddyo

takes his little dipstick

his usb thing

and dips it

dips in mommy’s money

which is mommy now

he dips it in the money

she got money and daddy to take care of her

and daddy’s got money

and money’s got no one

money’s got no one

money’s got no one

but herself

money’s got a big hole

like that tombstone

tombstone i met today

on the interboobie

that shows me things

like a delphidao

daddy finds the big hole

but he sees nothing

daddyo

sees nothing

she got money and daddy to take care of her

and daddy’s got money

and money’s got no one

money’s got no one

money’s got no one

but herself

in that tikki talk

of psychobabelists

it’s a goodenough

that mare eee ijj

a goodenough

and we all stick our thingies

in the tombstone

wombstone

and money’s got no one

no one

but itself

in silvery sheen of sassafras suns

the bipeds go to die

and all in attendance are what and how

too dead are who and why

19 Q i c u ly an

1 9  o o Q  i d  o d e s  t o  t h e  c h u p p l y  s a n e

o3cm

o4do8ho13ma                e27 me16pe10ju t

12l

11aa

o20ts24x_d9ia^p21uad7gm      h15omt14nu^h18ru   c17qa _u19smy23wm    i6ful22vu_n²₆^z_aQ5ea

gonad capitalism – a kind of socially sanctioned (emotional and sexual) hoarding, even as wealth and fame are hoardings in the artifact and name realms. scorn then is displaced (as is typical) onto certain sectors of the dispossessed, onto whom the bully hoarders dump their smelly definitions of hoarding to turn attention away from their equal or greater transgressions

mapping covid dna   27’s the nude 19   alphakabbabits   isn’t covid a necessary oneiric manufacture as we had run out of novel things to talk about   chup lie – chup lee – chup lay – chup lo – chup law – chup loo   sequencing   o4d – o8h – o13ma – o3cm – e27 m – e16p – e10ju – t12l – o20t – s24x – d9ia – p21ua – d7gm – s11km – h15om – t14nu – h18ru – 11aa – c17qa – a25ya – u19sm – y23wm – 92bu – i6fu – l22vu – n26za – Q5ea

wonder ye then at the fiery hunt

humans if little else are a fearful and irrational species, jerked around by their emotions which are a kind of altar and incense to them, reified to gravityless heights from which crash can be the only destiny, calmed by a ludicrous and infantile faith in an odd and blind brand of technical necessity

and anachronistic authority often named efficiency, common sense, wisdom

children, led (or more precisely followed) by the monolithic and righteous couple of fortressed gonadal love, enthroned near the centers of sentimental perfection and absolute goodness – these temples no less barbaric than those ancient ones of sacrificial blood – cast an anchor into the bottomless waters of existence from the lifeboats of family and society (the mothership having sunk long ago). aside from their obvious functions as narcissistic extensions and void avoidances, their pivotal role in capitalism’s play as embodied hope of more and greater gadgets and needles, of sustaining the habituated music of a garish marching band round the roundabout of the finest, they not simply represent but are – to the quarks and minds of confined consciousness, but not only – time. clocks that play and talk and so tick the stocks. as visceralized time, as time cutesified and

molestable (for didn’t i just the other day hear the child of a most respectable daddy scream in protest as its arm was being twisted for not following the rules … fearful citizens in training for a society of force), as distributed and little gods impossibly filling the vacancies of a dead heaven and a deanimated and dying earth, they have nowhere left to go but the netherworld … yet nothing of the old spaces (whether greek, hebrew, chinese, balinese, quechuan, ibibious …) but a beneath beneath beneath – so unexplored the child functions primarily as a disguise for itself, a covering of down. so time is fulfilled in its way and the generations, such as they are, plan in a metal forest of dreams

and who’s infectious and who quarantined these childish times? who dares to raise the yellow flag above the nonexistent ship and trust one’s small and shifting tribe? who wonders at the cold hunt of the verification of a principle, a validation of sequence and causality? and who sleeps without dreams and who goes down?

though amid all the smoking horror and diabolism of a sea-fight, sharks will be seen longingly gazing up to the ship’s decks, like hungry dogs round a table where red meat is being carved, ready to bolt down every killed man that is tossed to them; and though, while the valiant butchers over the deck-table are thus cannibally carving each other’s live meat with carving-knives all gilded and tasselled, the sharks, also, with their jewel-hilted mouths, are quarrelsomely carving away under the table at the dead meat; and though,

20 jazz funk greats

were you to turn the whole affair upside down, it would still be pretty much the same thing, that is to say, a shocking sharkish business enough for all parties; and though sharks also are the invariable outriders of all slave ships crossing the atlantic, systematically trotting alongside, to be handy in case a parcel is to be carried anywhere, or a dead slave to be decently buried; and though one or two other like instances might be set down, touching the set terms, places, and occasions, when sharks do most socially congregate, and most hilariously feast; yet is there no conceivable time or occasion when you will find them in such countless numbers, and in gayer or more jovial spirits, than around a dead sperm whale, moored by night to a whaleship at sea. if you have never seen that sight, then suspend your decision about the propriety of devil-worship, and the expediency of conciliating the devil

a lecture in communication in the covid age

p^o_lypola_rit^y

            conversations of evolutionary shape

geometries of sanity

down the babbage hole ii

\            little knowledge

having now largely been outside institutional structures for a decade  increasingly committed to avoiding them due to a horror of their ingrained conformity  their perpetuation of wholly unwarranted human supremacy & consequent forms regardless of the content of their rhetoric  i write this in voices and styles that  while including nuanced spectra & grounds of reason knowledge experience reflection  retain their distinctivenesses & diversities rather than being translated into the dominant grammars of what for me & many others is a destructive unsustainable genocidal delusional society

                                                                                     1-13 (13)               a                      in beginnings there are shapes

                                                                                     14-18 (5)               u                  elizabeth parsons ware packard

                                                                                     19-22 (4)               m                                     microdosing capitalism

kwra bwfub qurg bynvwe

biq u ln bi nlrgwnlruxulb irgwe rglb ub l xeuruxlk awbaw  owegloa rgw niar unoierlbr   ub rglr qlt qwew lkk nlrgwnlruxulba  lbs ogukiaiogwea  oiwra  leruara  sus bir twagsgl yssy alt wcwet xguksa lb leruar rgl oeivkwna giq ri ewnlub ibw ibxw ur feiqga yo   ai qurg nlrgwnlruxulba

xguksewb jbiq qglr ri si qurg bynvwea  ura ibkt ld rgwt wbrwe ubri rgw dienlk wsyxlruiblk dlxrieuwa  oeixwaaws dein elq curlkuruwa ubri velbsws xinnisuruwa id nwexg  rgwsw dlxrieuwa qw nuabinwe la xucukumruib  si rgwt diefwr  diwfwr qglr ri si  giq ri rgubj  qgwb ri qgt  reloows ub qgi lbs qgwew lbs giq nyxg lns qgwb  vwubf la rgwt lew rtelbbumws ewkwbrkwaakt vt rgw sinublbr ubrwewara id arlrw lbs vyaubwaa  qguxg rljw bynvwea la rgwt si owiokw lbs wbaklcw rgwn

ai kwr ya vwfub qurg bynvwe la l xguks nufgr  bi xguks rglr gla bir vwwb rgeiyfg lsykrgiis vyr ibw rglr gla  ibw rglr gla lbs ayecucws   rgua oeixwaa urawkd clar lbs rwbwveya lbs olruwbr die lbirgwe rlkj

fucw l xguks id l xwerlub lfw rqi vkixja  qw yaw rgw arlbles lsykra arlbsles xiybrubf  xibcwbruib la l arlerubf xibcwbuwbxw  lbs laj ur giq nlbt vkixja rgwew lew lbs qglr qukk ur alt?  rqi owegloa  ibw  wcwb rgeww ie mwei ie bubw  ur nufgr alt vkyw ie aukkt ie

bane chlamydia neurotica

                  independent. doubtful. fun

the apocalyptic simulations presently introduced into affixreality, spawning increased anxieties, mental instabilities (who among the sensitive isn’t going to manifest symptoms just through all the overnews … will corona become a dsmix label : a new autism and schizophrenia, a final fuckedup unity of body and mind – yet another visibilized sign of our impossibility?). for those already affixed, however, it’s not as if apocalypse is the thing (too monist, substantial, too certain) but that it is a thing (ends are everywhere, but so is everything else … but not just now, but in each moment) and as it’s a thing and so not functioning in the denial centers but here and omniwhere in the affix tribes, the corona manifestation doesn’t surprise, destabilize. rather it visualizes in flesh the shadowed suppression of spirit by the humans of the real

and we’ve always known how unnecessary the professorial and judicial classes are, how overvalued, how pretentiously misplaced, dingleberries of the colonial ass. the slightest adjustment in routine functionings, the most miniscule tweak in nature … throws human society into fear and chaos, raising the minimum wage worker to its true place – among the critical, vulnerable, precarious, brave, blood siblings of necessity – demonstrating palpably how we’ve built our society too monumentally, hierarchically … value abstracted from nature to the point of imbecility, false (because decontextualized from earth) teachings and practices, forced privilege codified as truth and knowledge and often even love

the open journal as mockery and subversion – of identity, i, of truth through language and so of communication, pronouns, civilization as expressed through this society and its proprieties and attentions. the visible journal as novel : narrative of the council of i as it voices. as riparian text in and ex vitro, as diversities of one, self collapsing self through blood and smirk

sadoo as journal made molecular vacancy, as open source text cum eyes and questions

and by real don’t we mean sensuous evidence usurping the totality of all evidence? and so unreal, stripped as it is of animation (and isn’t this a significant role of technology – to assume the animation we’ve been unable to hold within ourselves?)

more extremities of unhingement appear on the streets. a human sitting at king and spadina rocking to and fro, coughing violently, occasionally screaming … more aberrant behaviour on the streetcars. those who’ve already taken so much into their bodies now taking even more

… we are a team operating in uncertain times … but we were already in uncertain times : does it take a virus to provide a powerpoint presentation on the nature and function of time and uncertainty? (and as to team shouldn't it be mob? ... the mobbed mobster mobbing ... mobo disastiens, an uncomfortable geological second ... we're a mob deoperating through uncertain time ...)

it's not as if the news has somehow become interesting - it's as magnanimously tedious as always. what entices about it are the metastructures of disturbed unity twitching through its torrent of words like a virus

we manifest according to the manifestations, overt, covert, we demonstrate yourselves, establish mirrors in the midnight of oracular despair, pitch tents in the unsaid, record the characters of soul developing, losing themselves … and if some legal entity coalesced into some i’s accused of being these, if these caprices are ascribed to a body as attachments, definite and unanarchic … what can be drawn from language to respond other than more manifestings, demonstratings, establishings, pitchings, recordings …

replace Santa and Pride parades with Pan Parade – Panarade, sponsored by Gatorade and Cuisinart … a celebration of pandemics and stds. gonorrhea floats. corona usb sticks (Cuisinart provides a nostick option). chlamydia guns. SARS Claus. the new entertainment and family unity. mascots of many names lurch like the wanderers in blood meridian’s epilogue, naked, covered in neon paint and beer caps and cigarette filters, moaning of obscure infections, raising themselves to the dead heavens, prostrating before the nano viral energies, rock and fire and hole

the i as politician to itself, interrogating itself and receiving only the most labyrinthine and evasive of answers

and what's the doomsday clock at now? 19 seconds after midnight?

blame corona nicht

bulimia christ nagasaki

breast cockcunt narcissism

biopsy ceraunomancy nosophobia

bursitis cyperpunk nephroangiosclerosis

EDITOR IN KIEF SADOO'S DIAPER

LAYOUT BARE ASSTER MAW FEE AH

the death of pee orij in a cornea of a cracked calendar

certain kinds of transnormals have notable advantages these quivering days. the present external environment – so surreal to most – to the transnormal is just another aspect of manifest mind usually unmanifest. but as inner and outer routinely sublimate in our transnormal, this supposed aberration makes little difference

selfisolating, quarantining, distancing – these are all the mo of our people. we quarantine routinely not for any physical bacterial reasons but to cleanse ourselves of the social, spiritual and aesthetic bacteria rife in humanity, that humans routinely cough on us (this coughing not only legal, but expected, encouraged, applauded)

empty streets – the urban environment devoid of human horror – are a natural and creative milieu for the transnormal and it roams through them as through the perfections of a forest

the transnormal spaces space. and so i eg live now in a 3.5 x 1.25 metre room (wellwindowed but undoored). it functions comfortably as living space  it has a couch   bedroom  i have my portable doodoo mat and portable doodoo coverings   office  i set up my card table and foldable chair during the waking hours   home theater  using a digital projector at one end and 250cm screen at the other   meditation and yoga studio and light therapy venue  gods dimensionality demons smartlighting incense music infinitecalm lend – no freely give – this geodelightica the requisite energy to access healing vibrations   storage facilities  it has shelving and compartments   cat heaven  there’s a fuzzy cat tower on which the fat cat here loves bobbling up to surview worlds outside   plantoretum  with northern western eastern exposures many plants are happy   art gallery and museum  i display on the walls and ceiling dead and living manufactures of ripe and mad minds

reality as various prophets have been foretelling for some visions died sometime in the nineteenth century so the atavists running around now calling the present situation surreal prove they’re not living in any real world for the situation before corona was surreal and if they don’t get that … no wonder we’re in this situation. real is only its affixes

and as reality has become its affixes, so normal. we aren’t just the transnormals, we’re the affixnormals. we are the affixes

the nothingness of our situation, its spilled time and scrambled space, its unknownness, pitch in the question, its disintegration of the calendar and bar … all these (so distressing to the normals, so spawning of fear) are routine dimensions in the affix’s exuberant night

one should never be sorry that some (even many) humans are dying – one should be sorry that the wrong humans are living ... [see brother do you smoke? for a smart and just proposal in this regard]

for the student of evolution and consciousness, what a great aesthetic and spiritual laboratory this virus is …

why is this environment putting me in such a good mood? finally exteriority bears some resemblance to interiority. society, however briefly, unintentionally, legitimizes the mutational class, providing a kind of social sanction of individual disaster

responsibility signalling in the corona age. the number of closure signs that explicitly signal the conscientiousness and ethics of management and owners. but if we were responsible would we be in this mess? it’s not as if places are closing because they’re responsible – or at best they’re operating in a responsibility bubble in much vaster spaces of irresponsibility – but that they’re obeying the daddy state and using the opportunity to promote their superior citizenry. and it may well be that daddy state in this case is mostly right though this hardly obviates the requirement for responsibility at all times across all endtoend contexts (for how i know some of you signallers are in life greedy irresponsible gorgons of waste and destruction)

didn't we create technology to prepare for the disaster of ourselves?

in stores, in lineups in stores, at cash in stores, in the nongaze and the mutings – the consciousness-artifact gap far more palpable than when capitalism can fully express itself in its huddled schizoid rabidity. what cannot be said in the air like contaminated microdroplets, a unity of gap creating energetic silences

important chupply sane truths to keep in mind during these challenging times

chupply sane leaders must mitigate risk

chupply sane disruption monitoring is essential

further globalization and integration of chupply sanes complicates

expect significant impacts across the chupply sane

chupply sane implications go beyond the chupply sane

∆19

∆19

∆19
∆19

p

eriodically or more create content and form one disagrees with, even despises … these creations emerging not from any intent, volitional or ideological, but quite spontaneously and contextually from the lived experience of one’s contradictions, one’s not-oneness with oneself, one’s manyisms, of the multiplex no that can’t unlike in most be suppressed as it’s as fertile as any yes

w

ords more than any other material for they’re up for the jurisprudence of speaking take language to court. what’s the verdict? and what the sentencing? language is incarcerated without doubt but in minimum or supermax? solitary confinement? torture? capital punishment? and if words can convict, can they also pardon or at least jailbreak language, even for brief times as language inevitably will be returned to its confinement, guilty as it is of the entire litany of all possible crimes

c

onventional society launders obsession by turning it into structure and so effectively isn’t objecting to obsession when it objects to obsession as much as a lack of laundering. it prefers a pretense of whiteness. but any creator knows in its night the fortysecond chapter of the whale and this knowledge itself an obsession that can never be cleaned being too restless and hungry to ever be subject to the caress of soap and structure

i

’m assigned to ∆19 after having transgressed the minor code of jerusabul and forced to pass through the judicial detections of the obversion of eyes. i had read of it once in the ahistorical annals of a compulsive absence and the intimations weren’t well. emily d’s there with me but she says nothing, just staring at the penguin politics with expressions of forgotten love and the fear of tepid art. i’m infatuated with her and attempt to woo her with my special trick of singing turds but she doesn’t flinch and i’m an unrequited man

s

ome say the opaqueness of each singularity necessitates a communication resembling not simply the smoke of a wildfire but the smoke of a wildfire of its origins, whether plasmatic, incidental, or arsonite, effectively ensuring that communication, like everything of its name, is devoted to doing precisely what its name does not

t

he sport of sport shifts to the sport of virus. to sit before poodwaddle and watch the deaths by country climb each hour is infinitely more exciting than watching a basketball game. to see bc edge closer and finally surpass ont in confirmed cases, especially considering its smaller population, is to witness a suddendeath victory. adrenalin spikes, liquor's consumed, toilets are flushed

a

t the back of a tram delphidao and doktor ziz are in atmospheres of suppressed coughs perusing classified documents that provide incontrovertible evidence of the staging of sow-fee gee-tee’s coronavirus confirmation. they have in front of them certified minutes of a meeting between unnamed very extremely senior parties that determined a staging would provide the following benefits : modelling for the people of the nation the grave seriousness of the situation, demonstrating for the people of the nation that as even the migh and highty can be stricken so the lowly must tremble for their own insignificant lives, providing the head of state some time off in the country to fuck his good and curvaceous spouse without having to worry about getting inflicted by the endless riffraff of idiots who grace his very right honourable’s presence every day in routine & regular times … may novel viruses come more often the doo does mutter in their cloistered cuebeck quaquaquaqua coitus