news cums (queues' numbs [quentos numbē

most humans communicate according to a more or less agreed upon and unreflected code of emotional politics, this language of the discarded mirror. communication if it would break (de- and recreate) the commons – that is if it would become itself through becoming not itself, this apophatic reengineering – might follow codes of mutually incomprehensible vision, each visionary with its own distinct zeitgeist syntax (zeitax – language as time art, a time handle, spirit sensuality), the learning of which requires an education outside

outside what?

outside prepositions?

but language somehow has stepped in and said – i can translate (not only from vision to language but language to language and then from language to vision) … an unviable claim and one that ridiculously we must believe, those of us for whom the standard and imposed code of emotional politics is inefficient, unrepresentative, bellicose

the horror of covid far less the viral invasion of humanity, any socioeconomic collapse, the inability to travel or hang out in cafes or bars, but the (radically more virulent) attack of the news, which has invaded massively everywhere, making the biological virus seem like a failed startup. these wretched catastrophes of protestated unity, love, novelty the news cums on us like a molestation, dankly

news drives out poetry, out further than its out before. and where does poetry go in this essentialized wholesale genocide? where can it be exiled from exile?

we're exiled from nature
covid calls us back

but is it no novel virus but some poem?

a genre in which i write : leviticana. for some aims to be as tedious, convoluted, obscure as leviticus … arcane unlaws for the possdisessed

we need to begin imagining imagine (imagination, imagining)

we begin by change its a and 2 i’s to long vowels, its e to a schwa, its g to hard (in imagination the 2 a’s and 3 i’s to long, the t to hard, the final i and o pronounced separately and the on pronounced as the preposition; in imagining the 1 a and 3 i’s to long). imagine has too long been unimaginative

the age of collective desuetude moves into the tent of the human and makes itself at home in the sleeping bag of the small

humans calling the corona period this terrifying time. it’s terrifying only because humans like you weren’t calling time terrifying before this terrifying time …

                  as with naming various events/changes/closures unthinkable, unprecedented. if you hadn’t thought this already, if you were incapable of thinking this, what kind of embarrassment are you to intelligence? if you experience these minor disruptions as unprecedented, what viral disaster are you to spirit?

the media headlines (now more than usually apparent due to the odd and false unitary focus of content) manifest themselves as a fluvial polypolarity of mind – this thought, that feeling, that thought, this feeling, this possibility, this possibility closed, … that panic’d collective mind racing around itself trying to grasp a ground … the content runs through sectors of futures like a dissettled cat exploring a new or reconstituted (that newold, this derefamiliarized) space

once humans move into the middles or centers of capitalism – whether in the industries called healing, education, military (it matters little) [and what devotion, madness, discipline are required to not move] – they have the opportunity to legally and legitimately (often rewardingly, approvingly) apply the exploitation and force they’ve had applied to them illegitimately (illegally, exploitatively) often forcefully, prior to the moving. the smile and its language prosthetics as a liturgy of these applications

reading articles designed to stop me from suiciding (the corona-suicide link) typically increase my desire to suicide. they fit comfortably into the psychotherapeutic discourses serving the interests of the normals and all these apparati and languages to those of us unable to conform orand disliking immensely (to the point of nausea) the contortional acts of attempting to conform yet more bullying from the tyranny of normals culture (a wearisome irony being that some of this effort is, from the normals’ pov, trying to help [though even often as a mobic and fearful act]) … all this does is depress further, showing yet again how incapable they are of understanding our biology, even as they are the biologies of other living systems (other than trying to force change, whether violently through chemicals or violently through social pressures and bullyings – which they call kindnesses – of languages and systems ... into their kind)

what design!
to be kind

counting death. living episodes of transition, movement as home. from here to here. the day as a number in the mathematics of death. a calculus of the corpse

much heard much to doo

words are lent like potato chips

as the vine is wine

and spent in time

and time like words

just rhyme with crows

or quips or herd jejunity

xxxXx

affixing the substantive

the coalescence of suffering into an incident (of the daily pain and oblivion we inflict on our own species and far more on other species into an ostensibly unified and visible corona crisis), of sudden, inexplicable and wholly unbelievable care (who couldn’t play the game of sorting the various institutional and personal pronouncements of concern into categories of amused acedia – how do i compare the care gaps of aeroplan, the various levels of government, my coop and neighbours, the banks, the airlines and myriad online presences, google and the new religions, … ?), and the narcissism (staggering to reframe a politician’s framing) of a species now so insularized in itself it wears blindness as a virtue (without any of the compensatory inner sight of a vatic blindness). the covidiotic age highlights through the distillation of the unexpected some of the attributes that contribute to our present socalled crisis. socalled as the crisis has been articulated for centuries and to have it now named crisis oozes (cums, seeps, spouts – choose your action) from the historic mud various statements including jesus’ irony : because you’ve seen you believe! – blessed are those who haven’t seen and yet have believed. but isn’t it this seeing among the unseeing, this capacity for interiority and its mystical family of foresight, intercreature context and relation that the bulk of nowshocked humanity lacks, possibly to its catastrophic peril

that there is all this (financial) support and grace (despite its endless inconsistencies, holes, injustices, future backlash) suddenly available to those affected by our societal shutdown – when those affected by our ongoing societal shutdown (that is, the habituated dysfunctions of normal society shutting down critically necessary alternative ways of living) are routinely discriminated against, shut down … it’s hardly that humans are showing more care but embodying more irony (and as if we aren’t already overwrought with irony, so gorged with it we’ve become ironyobese and puke irony out as when we drink vodka all night without hydration or food …)

society running like this – the basic infrastructural elements (the supply chain) keep functioning but humans just sit at homes consuming entertainment, food, coffee, booze, weed, (each other,) … (how cannibalism more than ever makes sense as a lost productive rite. montaigne surfaces again like a clear bubble on the shining toxic refuse of the lake of culture)

humans talk about the process of dehumanizing – of effectively turning other humans into animals and so entitling themselves to behave cruelly to these dehumanized others. other than the obvious point about the inanity of (privileged) violence and cruelty, there are typically a few things wrong with this talk that are rarely included. 1) by using this language we often are justifying our cruelty and violence to non-human animals, 2) we further entrench human exceptionalism by separating ourselves from other living creatures, by not considering ourselves animals, 3) linked to 2, the problem isn’t dehumanizing (if we separate it from its wretched and tyrannical elements, to which it by no means is necessarily coupled) for the human itself is massively troubled – we can even say far more troubled than the dehuman. there are competent arguments to be made (whether from religion, philosophy, art, consciousness, evolution and survival, strategic planning and so even business and finance) that the human should be striving to dehuman itself … or at least inject various prefixes before its monumentalizing substantive laden with legacy gods and glories which have been too often little more than pacifiers in the maw of an infantile species. we can look at various proposals (inhuman, transhuman, posthuman, patahuman, uberhuman, metahuman, …), add more (dishuman, anahuman, parahuman, unhuman, unterhuman, …), whatever … but we return to our need to affix the substantive … not adding a substantive affix (one and one only) which is to repeat the error, but to enter the fluid affix which then washes over the substantive, in time (if it could ever remain fluid in its play, playful in its fluidity) perhaps breaking it down

if the future’s feminine we know we’re in as pervasive collapse and molestation as the past being masculine. more, actually – not because the feminine is more (or less) troubled than the masculine but because the future is the future. the only possibility out of deep trouble is the voices working in novel concert – not simple (!) feminine and masculine but tree and mycelium and riparian system and human and the teeming creatures. however as we’re showing no signs of any of this in our progress, but only more assertings (that humans continue to think that substituting content for content somehow changes form is surely one of the greatest signs of our dementia and deserving demise), the tshirts and signallings of many of those hot with new power drip not hope but weariness onto the already thickly polluted ground of society (time, will, …) … and the drippings quickly disappear into the morass of sticky futility, into the gelatinous abyss of the human

the human voice – already tyrannically overrepresented on the planet – in our present covid concentration rather than diminishing its voice – isolation after all provides this opportunity – ratchets it up so that society (though more absent than ever) becomes even more present to the point of claustrophobia. effectively incarcerated in my sunroom – and normally i’m quite content, even happy, to be confined to a space where i can do little other than eat, drink, create – society in its rabidity swarms outside my window thieving the silent solitude required to create, to be content, replacing it with vitriolic rage at the usurpation of these fuckers (what else do we call them? – for they are parents … who in their capacity to fuck and bring forth hideous images of themselves (what talent! what consciousness! what generosity!) assume the right to dominate, to remove the mind and imagination in others that they’ve already too obviously removed in themselves). the private playgrounds of my coop (somehow exempt from the law) bring forth in wretched audibility entitled families and their scatological values, noisepolluting with impunity and righteousness, participating softly in the slaughter of peace, diversity, imagination, health

when we speak of the one there are always two ones : the one we can speak of that carves from the one ones that we speak of and the one we can’t speak of, from which we carve, in part because of our frustration of being unable to speak. this confusion (and this frustration) can be found, however surreptitiously, in most if not all discourse about diversity, plurality, monism, oneness, mysticism (religion, spirituality), philosophy and its siblings and cousins (psychology and friends). one we might want to keep in mind is never one. it may be two but even then, as it spirals and accelerates to infinity along the vast trajectory of numbers and their parents (or children?) - words, we begin to doubt … for two may be three and three eightynine and so one eightynine and then where are we but in quick retreat from our confusions, chaotically building fortresses of toilet paper as temples of whitened safety?

mysticism – the tribe that because it’s human can’t help but want to dominate but because of its ineluctabilities is incapable of domination. it can’t form collective action in contemporaneous time but instead depends on a kind of unteraction, the action that isn’t described as action for it works in and through death – that other contemporaneity – not any death that wills war, suffering, defeat (for these are actions of life) but rather is the symphony and politic of the vermiculous unseen

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