a dísablót of a dísplacemént

john diss had counted the mirrors and rads and thought about them in relation to design mass aesthetics location and had begun a brief study on number and storey when a tumour appears on an unmarked doorstep and remarks when we talk of the totality of death  the manifestations

but disss placement in a hebridean haberdine displaces communication and in distant irides farce rises from the sacrifice

the tumour says seeing the pink panther movie fast as a prophet last week made me doubt peter sellers existence   it was as if he assumes a violation setting him apart from lifes hefty definitions  that makes him  in a word  holy

and out of a word?

holys a word thats easy to be out of

i begin in rads and meres by entering your enthusiasms and attempt to prolong them for their pleasance but death enters through a hǫrgr of dísir and i collapse and collapsing becomes the enterings and i speak pictish like eunan of hagio and vita and i love funereal pronouncements and aphrolok and moditē of inescapably quotidian presences begin their endings with that presaging of a puppetry that due to its distinctive allowances for cosmically empty commonplaces permit embellishments ones rarely entitled to without penalty for flourishes of meaningless excess

what we mean is that the precautions procedures psychologies protocols of the pandemic  their invasions into physical psychic space  encapsulating as it were every activity and thought in its quidditative encompassing  and in this act introducing through a strange usurpation a new monism  one molecular cognitive emotional and mediated by the priests of medicine media science  bears almost no resemblance to the anomalous strings of occurrences that would have to enter reality in order for these totalitarian usurpations to be justified

the tumour says what i particularly love about fast  a moment that surely rivals  for me at least in my cinematic psychoses and disturbed adorations of indefensible wanking  one that doesnt simply sit like most moments in upsetting skiffs but in like à la poupée  is its derelict transference from a kind of indefatigable chronological mayhem to a point that  while not inexplicable  so escapes anything resembling analysis that it might enter the very sanctuary of questions were it only able to perform sleights making mayhem and point converge if even in gravitationally collapsed peritremal spectra of innermost unstable framedragged antiphoton prograde hyperobjects

and isnt this nonny rumps intelligence  entombing our last days in the farce of dialogue  reliably gyrating vorticial frenzaríssima of words  taking upon itself like a greedy christ the chaos orgasma vacancy contradictoriness carnivalesque charades  of our communicative sorrows

i am pepito

my sibling is pepita

we ride pumpkin trains

to titepu city

and the joke  whether the title standing in for film which in turn stands in for life which then stands for whatever we cant and dont know  is a comparative or imperative  and if the former what could it possibly do

we are koans of furthering faces of falseness and our falseness our treasury

i find whenever a friend of my spouse dies the sex is better

oh tumour

oh farce of my pumpkin

rite of mirrors

praise communication

and i do not walk tonight but negate the statements like a yoctostate wrapped in archives of excoriating addictions

da nooz

wot duzz da nooz doo

eye dont no wot da nooz dooz

gawsips ə kinda nooz

ə nooz dat iz da peeplz nooz

eye dont doo da nooz

eye dont doo da beeg fatt nooz

eye dont doo da beeg gawsips nooz

eye dont doo da nooz

da nooz sumteyemz duzz mee

end den eye feel badd badd

eye dont leyek da nooz

eye dont leyek da nooz

eye leyek da stuf dat ehnt da nooz

butt wot iz left dat ehnt da nooz

nott much

dairz ohnlee much da nooz

iff u haff 2 yooz da nooz

yooz itt nott how itt telz u itt shood b yoozd

butt yooz itt nott da wai itt telz u how 2 yooz

eye m da nooz

eye giv u da nooz now

heer iz da nooz

reed itt end beecum inn formd

diss iz da nooz

diss wil bee da nooz

diss haz bin da nooz

diss iz da nooz

sadoo and pataphysic

were sitting today here in a place of sitting at the deworld disconvention of the impossibility of communication with a badly number of crude and superficial experts on   what are you experts on

were experts on thinking were experts

speak for themselves  were experts on the impossibility of expertise

the newest expertise is that expertise that  in hiding in ignorance  becomes a detour around the very thing knowledge is seeking

theyre experts in the derisive capacity of expertise to undo the edificial structures that sustain the privileges inherent in the separations between those doing the experting and that being the experted

doktor ‘fukkys here unnaturally and the usual other charlatans but also some voids we dont recognize and of course an entirely meaningless welcome to all and were so glad to be here to talk about   what are we talking about

were talking about whether the copulative has been able to effectively function between substantives since the wars of adpositioning and the subsequent pillagings or whether it  while appearing to function  that is sitting there like a senior executive fulfilling itself while manifesting in the comprehensive balances less than nothing  consuming space for no reason other than as an ossification of a historical principle that never even in time or imagination was living but served only to perpetuate generative capacities of death

nephological and nephrological distinctions  not disanalogous to those of ornithology orthography and orthology have presented to the literature conundra which panjandra snarl into imbrogli of erudition

the working classes  of which we are fatefully not  slouch for us as a synonym for a dreamt word we seek on the analytic couch of our violet indulgences which we nurture with emotions having the consistency of molasses the taste of turmeric and the texture of tetrafluoroborate

splashing in the neuroendocrinological sludge at the tipsy end of a hypothalamicpituitarygonadal axis i saw with hefty reservations my train sloughing forth from the woofing terminus like a nature video savagely consumed by engrossing cats

specifically theyd like to ask are sadoos pataphysicians and  the corollary  seemingly necessarily bound but not ostensibly necessarily so  question  are pataphysicians sadoos

as imam friedrich garbles there was only one christian and it lived two thousand years ago so we garble theres only one pataphysician and it lived a hundred years ago

that jesus may have been the first pataphysician …

is there only one sadoo?

and that chang doo?

the similarities are blatant and tragicomic  as the raw healthy vital energies of the christ got quickly quashed by the pedantries of the construction of bishops priests cardinals masses within the expanding and expansive factory of an official and powerstarved christianity  so the genius of the jarry is stolen and donned by the scholars and professionals of creativity to simulate auras of the alternative beyond and a daring so distant from their capacities who could geometrize a universe to contain them

let us smoke huqas of hashish and maassel and see in the qutrub potentialities of greater falls

are sadoo and pataphysic one or many or negative or zero?

or outside any mathematic

being word

i saw the mustelidae leave their little ones to return to the lightning

the patasadoo is the subject of doktor ‘muertes voluminous study gidouille and doodoo which disproves proof and in disproving voids

i went to the neighbourhood varsalum to seek the marvelous but found only larva muss

the question for us today is what does an institutionalized pataphysic look like?

its important to remember were only a century after its founding and  the similaritys already been vomited  xity a century after jesus hardly looked like xity in 1500 or 1900

but  the acceleration of time

the rewarding of successful abstractions cant be overlooked and by successful we mean the mocking deconstruction of the judeochristiancapitalist monument in such a way that it serves

the monuments masochistic release needs and thus is rewarded by the monument thereby subverting the deconstruction

so judeochristiancapitalism becomes judeochristiancapitalismpataphysics

    j    jc    jcc    jccp

and merges with the cccp and the lgbttqqiaafuctpsho

the alphabet goes ever on and on

down from the void where it began

now far ahead the alphabet has gone

and i must follow if i can

pursuing it with lighted feet

until it joins some weirder way

where many raths and gimbles meet

and whither then? i cannot say

i want to sing for the ones killed in the ecstasy

if metaphysics is a hypersupercomputer spitting out gibberish with false gestures of meaning and physical reality a python eating a lion while a lion eats a python pataphysics is a drunken turd lurching across a falling sky

sex  that one remaining ultimate physical activity  is possible for the pataphysicist but only if laughter and fucking are indistinguishable  if in fact the practitioner cums when it laughs and laughs when it cums it skews into aberrations that post the sex to pata

while death  that other  never happens

and sterrof the closet daoist has a dream and this the dream sterrof dreams

it is mcing a large thronging pulse of religious geriatrics who surge from the singing home of god into the profanity of out where slews of transports await and the pulse even in their ancient days shinny nimblely onto the tippytops of the transports which whisk away to parade the ups and downs of hauptstraße of jedestadt and the geriatrics of vim and holy jerk and fuck and much of screaming and halleluwah and many mores

and sterrof the closet daoist wakes up in a mood befitting the dream

when you communicate pataphysically and the tightend of your patatalk operates with capacity only in the physical realm and possibly with some capacity in the metaphysical realms where does communication go?

is sadoo just a patanym of pataphysic?

doktor ‘fyre abend has developed a costbenefit analysis of patanymics using pataeconomics

string theory is a mathematical pataphor and sadoo theory a stuffed crocodile

the growing gap between literature about pataphysics and pataphysics  its increasing cerebralization

well have a pataaquinas soon

i want bookers in mine

but pata is merdre

throw out the merdre  throw out the pata

it takes it meta

so i take it pata

to keep it meta would be commenting on its comment from any of the available discourses  but that begs insufficiency  for then we can only be two aspects of the manifoldlyaspected sphere   or continue the meta until the meta gets exhausted

this exhaustion is academic discourse

and social media chitterchatter

as meta breaks the physical

so pata breaks the meta

and what is there to break the pata

not meta

only the circle back to the physical

to merdre

to merdre or merdre to not  this is the clinamen

or waiting for that which is beyond pata

pataphysics is the first religion of human nonexceptionalism

daoism was  at least its changdoo form

patadao patadoo 

in the pataphysical attempt to not virtualizeabstract the world  for that was the metaphysical age and it abdicated to technology  but to wholly absurditize it  which it may be abdicating to politics so that politics and technology  who together doeth all things well  may lead us stalwartly unto our unmitigated demisings

one cant be a theoretician of pataphysics for then ones a metaphysician

what do you call someone who operates on a pataphysicist?

doktor ‘ubu

pataphysics destroys theory through flights of served swerving turds

ita est ergo ita sit

ita est ergo ita non sit

ita non est ergo ita non sit

ita non est ergo ita sit

ita ita nonsit ergoer ergoest

ergaita nonsita erer ester esty estest

ergadoo sitadont nonersad dontadao pataest

saderpat dooest non itadoo

anyway thanks everyone in this place of sitting at this disconvention doing pataproving for everything thats not been done and none of us of course mean anything

let us smoke huqas

let us listen to the mustelidae rise to their returnings

let us

who could say no to the no

let us

yet another dumped play of the light of mind

inspired by the omnipresence of incomprehensibilities

and the giggle of the pretensions of communication

we talk to no end but more beginnings of talk

exexilings

exile  being a state thats out of state  destates itself wherever apostates devastate estates statements

so exile becomes not about the state  but about states  or rather a play of states  of matter and dismatter

exile

ex isle      ex small island

into the vast

ex ill          ex i  ex will

a postvolitional postidentity world

ex i le       ex i definiteness

aliving in living  living in aliving

exile         elixe  elixer  elixir

soma ras of otherity

mysticism is the condition of having banished exile

what does technology do to exile other than obliterate it?

technology accomplishes from the outside what mysticism does from within

mysticism and technology meet in the annihilation of exile where in and out get confused

the one who is taken out

the one who is walked out

the one who is driven out

the one who is desoiled

so the one who is purified by going out

out from what?

out from out?

out from in

out from what

out from exile

technology is a great exiler

driving us all out

out of what?

ourselves

banished from what?

a space?

the space?

space?

but then so also banished from

a time

the time

time

exile   utopia and uchronia

spaces of nospace and notime

so exile is art  those spaces of creation where the measures of physicality are exiled so we dont have to be

the passivity of exile

one is exiled

but an equal activity is always present

i exile myself

i am exiled

what exiles me is itself exiled through my exile

for exiling  like incarceration excommunication ostracization shunning  is a collaborative exercise

and i exile the exiler with as much exiling as it has exiled me

and in this mutuality cancel the exile

by having brought us into the same nospace spaces

to be able to exile one has to believe in home as a definable place thats solidly affixed to identity

exile as a belief and attitude depends on assumptions about the chemistry of home  the chemistry of i  and the chemistry of their relations

but im an alchemist of exile and exile becomes an experiment of outings in plasmatic consciousness

how long does exile last?

if i was born in alaqaruvu and lived there for 25 years and then exile or exiled to uvuraqala for 25 years and then am returned to alaqaruvu am i then exexiled? if one were immortal could this go on forever until the ile gets lost in the exes?

isnt exile just another name for a lack of imagination?

arent tourists and the exiled euphemisms for each other? from a geological standpoint theres surely no effective difference   tourists in their geological insignificance seek simulations of exile   the language of going from this place to that place is a convenience to guise that all we do in traveling is stay in the same place of simulations of exile

i was just exiled from baghdad to bangkok and then exiled to jakarta

where are you going to exile next?

ive heard varanasis a great spot for exiling so might try that

its all the same fucking place, man

technology exiles exile but then where does exile go?

to nature which also has been exiled?

for are nature  being the space that has been despaced  and exile  being a space away from space  sibling fossils in a uchronistic paleontology?

does not technology necessarily exile exile as it redimensionalizes space and in these curvatures and negations  these increasing intimacies with the energies of zero  exile  like almost everything  becomes not a statement but a question?

my friends are virtual  my children are digital  my parents have no dimensions  my birthplace is continually reconstituting time in a kaleidoscopic vacuum of vast and collapsing vision  my home is a phantasmagoria i meet in interstices of absence

politics and staatsein are lingering memories of dreams of nature and so any solid notion of exile is destined to be romantic and nostalgic  turning now into a tomb to serve an incapacity for creation

the famed cases of writers writing their best works in exile  but this in exile  in leaving the book of statements and the library of logic and entering the book of questions and the library of babel  becomes at home

in exiled exiling i am consequently always exiling   i exile from the café to the street  from dinner to sleep  from my cat to a smoke  from sleep to coitus  from illness to health  from coffee to absinthe

it is surely no accident that exiling and exiting are almost identical

and are we not a people of perpetual exitings?

when we pay more attention to the nomhematological properties at play here the difference is between an l and a t  the first and last letters of light   light  energy of endless exitings and exilings and so enterings  movement is the exile that is our home

and why does space tyrannize over exile? for doesnt exile equally belong to time sex gender race ethnicity religion ideas food   exiles a condition of being out  or rather or also of being in other ins   i exile from carnism to veganism and in this exile find a hospitable home   exiles  as so many things  a question of adpositions   and adpositions as we know  in any language  are slippery creatures  preferring the mucks of polysemousity and ambiguity   so if exile is an adposition how can we rightly speak of it as a monist and certain thing? as a place or notplace?  i was in alaqaruvu in my home and now i am not in alaqaruvu and not in my home?  for dont alaqaruva and home go with me wherever i go and i in my goings never leave?

exile assumes some fashion of a promised land in tandem with some fashion of typically linear time

but the promise was eaten by intergalactic turds some millennia ago

and the line as we know in our hallucinations  that only competent reality  curves crosses doubles collapses

exiles living away from ones tribe  but what is ones tribe? and what is away from it? who would know these hyperlit seconds any coincidence of identity among the inner tribes and the outer? and so who would know what even away might look like? here and there?

isnt my tribe those whove exiled and been exiled into disbelievings about exiling?

the reputed disorientation of exile disappears with modernity for disorientation is the birthright of the posthuman  its nod to the only orientations being disorientations  and so exile becomes disexile and one explores not a new home  for home is always new  but home  and home is i  and is disoriented to itself

for the pataphysicist metaphysics is comprehensible but boring and archaic while physical reality is a nightmare one continually attempts to not repeat   when the pataphysicist is forced to deal with physical reality we can say its in fleeting pataexile and when it deals with metaphysics  either by accident or expediency  we can say its in fleeting demipataexile

pataphysics patachemically excretes exile through pataplays of pataphors into patadimensional farce

exile on merdre street

any human born into the present technological womb of earth lives in disreality and so has never known anything but altered states  and once states are altered  exile  a possibility of the force of the reality of the state that preaches meaningless change while clinging to comprehensive unalteration  alters in conjunction and exile becomes an extension of design   a user setting like a mulberry background in my word processor  a patch on my synth 

i am in exile because i went to exile because i felt like exile because i heard exile singing

technology transforms mind into home and state into dream and so exile into a perpetual absurdist motion machine that none of us can be exiled from

astronaut wives club

i despise history so much i dedicate my life to writing myself out of it

the desire to remove the apophatic in mysticism

is it similar to the present requirement to smile for the camera?

try to work as much as possible with words as they arent

as they might want to be if they werent so anthropocentrically confined

humans arent built to assume the amount of translation they presently have to carry

and technology  built to assume the burden  isnt keeping up

how can one be cultured if culture is broken?

when theres no commuting what does it mean to own a car

when theres no future what does it mean to own a timepiece

the pun passes into the space i think i occupy and disperses me

word has succumbed to image but it should (re)succumb to sound

no

to noise

i keep forgetting which drugs im on and this makes it difficult to know how not to decommunicate

as barbed metallic reality accumulates in ironicized meat so meat must burrow further into its molecular voids to mine imagination from the increasingly distant and collapsing veins of god

all of france in its ponderous blood and pomposity conspired toward alfred jarry and now that pataphysics has broken into the world france can leave

stay in the elements of surprise from whence you first sense the daemons creeping until they rest and this the arc of writing

the pun is everything

even god hides in the pun

society is a kind of mysticism

in its darkness and words devoid of substance
its ecstatic empty relationship with light

temple of lump in the dumpster of out

  

dingle wordsless  smoke dangling from lips of a cheilitic mind like statement jewellery  passes staltered ates and pauses

crazy hazy lazy daisys inside writing epitaphs on invisible napkins with a finger and grease on the tombstone of the table like a thick modesty on historys disfigured face

dingle doesnt blench but splatters in latrines of thinking in response to the discarding i discard and without much cytogenesis or knack enters

dingles on one of those putrescent perambulations  disutile scholar of decay  questing drools and stricken monosyllables from vermilion borders of the vatic underclass

and staltered ates is a dingles thing  temple of lump in the dumpster of out  puntee in faeried ponds of thujone hippuricacid and coppersalts and never once much ken of who the punter

daisy though in the inflorescence of its wounds eyes the lugubrious oratory as a fly in kukku eyes inanna and our digging through the veils is everlasting

to the gruntings of the scuttling clientele dingle grunts them back and grunt on grunt the grunted grow the grunters and daisy spies a dingle

two lovers senching around crypts of vocational interments  spurlos versenkt  round sebum echoes of coital muckings striking wagers of escalating grimace

but staltered atess eyed it all afore so as dingles pitched not a grunting gets misplaced and gruntings all and all thats left is the epitaph itself to push the day

i am gone

like cyanide

to read asoft

my epitaphs

i am gone

like epitaphs

to soft a sigh

and so i died

you sociality

doktor hazy dent

superruminary

who like the emperors

wears no clothes

a client shows

its name

loodz theev oqo odonata

i think

a fatapissicist

who disbelieves in rumination

but dent says

theev

i like the emperors

and rumination isnt ruminescence

even as pissing may be fate

but apis isnt fat

i hail from paraetonium oqo says

in pears we trust

and we all always cant disrobe

and none of us can never undo the clothes

we all are emperors

i need to see your lower eye the doktor says

remove your pants

inarticulate negotiations dangle in the arid air

like those deserts glimpsed in rpgs as ones passing to the pissroom

humidities of thought circulating like recycled ambience

but not as quantifiably eusocial

the lower eye sees but cant be seen odonata says unzipping

im not here for healing

but to prepare prepositions for inward outings

and hazy stares

and loodzs viviparous

and lo a pair of eyes comes forth from lower eye

and eateth doktor hazy dent

and the client

methinks

that oqo theev odonata loodz

in body not in thought

disbelieving rank in emperors

goes forth too

eyed and naked  dressed

dingle wordsless does pataparables

it lives in loss and loss is gain

not that catastrophic loss where gain is loss
but loss thats less than words

i lives in an om let

i want an omlet  a big honkin one so stuffed with cheese i turn into a gooey hypersphere that rolls around the world and flattens the forests

in the year before the year that wasnt i ventures into the smoke on a quest for eggs and finds only the remnant of unheard screams and it is there i falters  neither wanting to forage through the heaps of grains of remnants of screams nor return to its maze in the sky and there dream about quests for eggs and i totters stupidly on a lost axis of itself and if there are any other egg pilgrims sojourning nearby i cannot see them for the thick grey joke that used to be the air

the omlet as i see it in my dreams has many waving limbs and though no heads many eyes on bright tentilla that blind me with their brightness and rather than being stuffed with cheese it is with humans and i dont eat it but it me and become a waving limb and stalked eye

as granny i used to say the rancour of the medium rivals the gait of the kinkajou therefore one purloins as a vitality the guttered citation  she said it as a yolk i think but for granny the distinction between weight and mirth was as fragile as an eggshell

i wish you wouldnt keep talking about eggs

ill talk about motels then

no  motels are scrambled omlets

in the maps not on the maps i clambers mount digitalia on a quest for motels and finds only a dissolute civilization drunk on a soiled bed and it is there i flounders like a cracked soufflé  unable to comprehend the erudition of the sot and equally incapable of descending to an allegory i stares into thick hazes of itself and laughs at the incapacity of the holy and vital lands to stand against the force of meaning

i used to dream of soufflés so much i married one in vegas when i was young and stupid and wise and threw away things as if i were the sum of carnivals but my spouse was empty and too in love with emptiness i left deflated and staggered into asphyxiations of myself

as granny i used to say the ghosts of the temple fatten dreams therefore one takes as a minuend those with the fewest toys  she says it as a wight might but for granny any divide between the under and overworlds is as insubstantial as pileipelles

i wish you wouldnt keep talking about granny

ill talk about el mot then

no  el mot is scrambled granny

were hefty and abundant like pseudohyphae

who among the beasts would strike us down

the heart of the caesura enters the clavier of truth

therefore one retreats as a fudge cake to discarded attenuations

we tincillate from the claws of clouds to pereve and adam

the door to the invisible is visible

the index of the dead veils the vortex of the image

therefore one enters as a radicand kaleidoscopes of privation

thanks to mixter lezama and the uncountables

at the whims of

revolutionaries evolutionists volitionists

managers entrepreneurs novelists

scholars gods names

tyrants smiles