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this is worth hearing. Listen: Galway Kinnell reads “The Dead Shall Be Raised Incorruptible” …

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everything about our camping holiday in Pataua, Treasure Island – it looks like The Island of Nose – including sacks, eggs, gulls, one cat, a cemetery, tradition, the future, and a traditional welcome after the future

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lynching, piracy, decapitation, abject media = subjection … and excerpts from Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84

this is an ad for lynching

:

 

occupy lynching?

while nearby: piracy –

while art means action now

and action means decapitation

– the ritual slaying of Ronald McDonald

 

this is an ad

for

Rachel Lee’s

article at CTheory

advertising AFFECT

FEELING

EMOTION

intensely &

“ahead of the game”

which could be the following:

is at least what the following wants needs likes follows shares and

adverts to in a culture of “distracted tactility” [Rachel Lee after Michael Taussig, 1991]

“This reminded Tengo of a certain event, something from the distant past that he would recall now and then. Something he could never forget. But he decided not to mention it. It would have been a long story. And it was the kind of thing that loses the most important nuances when reduced to words.”

– Haruki Murakami, 1Q84, trans. Jay Rubin and Philip Gabriel, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 2011, p. 72

The concepts of time, space, and possibility.

“Tengo knew that time could become deformed as it moved forward. Time itself was uniform in composition, but once consumed, it took on a deformed shape. One period of fime might be terribly heavy and long, while another could be light and short. Occasionally, the order of things could be reversed, and in the worst cases order itself could vanish entirely. Sometimes things that should not be there at all might be added onto time. By adjusting time this way to suit their own purposes, people probably adjusted the meaning of their existences. In other words, by adding such operations to time, they were able – but just barely – to preserve their own sanity. Surely, if a person had to accept the time through which he had just passed uniformly in the given order, his nerves could not bear the strain. Such a life, Tengo felt, would be sheer torture.

“Through the expansion of the brain, people had acquired the concept of temporality, but they simultaneously learned ways in which to change and adjust time. In parallel with their ceaseless consumption of time, people would ceaselessly reproduce time that they had mentally adjusted. This was no ordinary feat. No wonder the brain was said to consume forty percent of the body’s total energy!”

– Ibid., p. 275

my bookmark reads: strike!

TRIPLE DIP – STRIKE

“They’re both policemen now. Not too long ago, my uncle even received official commendation as an outstanding officer – thirty years of continuous service, major contributions to public safety in the district and to improvement of the environment. He was featured in the paper once for saving a stupid dog and her pup that wandered into a rail crossing.”

“The ones who did it can always rationalise their actions and even forget what they did. They can turn away from things they don’t want to see. But the surviving victims can never forget. They can’t turn away. Their memories are passed on from parent to child. That’s what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.”

– Ibid., pp. 292-293

I am a part of this world, and this world is a part of me.”

– Ibid., p. 855

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the half-arsed angel / directions for the business school

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peace … & justice

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on memory

love

offers us

the opportunity

to honour

the event

(&&&[Deleuze])=-1...
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to be perfectly clear where I stand

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ΑΝΤΙΦΑΣΙΣΜΟΣ

ΑΝΤΙΦΑΣΙΣΜΟΣ

ΑΝΤΙΦΑΣΙΣΜΟΣ

ΑΝΤΙΦΑΣΙΣΜΟΣ

ΑΝΤΙΦΑΣΙΣΜΟΣ

ΑΝΤΙΦΑΣΙΣΜΟΣ

ΑΝΤΙΦΑΣΙΣΜΟΣ

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the cure is worse than the disease

going to the theatre is like visiting a good friend who is very ill. I am always afraid of what I will find when I get there.

What new ritual of humiliation will she have been subjected to in the name of making her better?

And usually there he is, good old friend, sitting up in bed, the room too warm, the view non-existent, the decor ugly, a grisly smile on his face as he says hello, hello to us all, and the face itself, now I look, what have they done to it?

Is there a mirror?

I immediately want to rush up and show her.

Was it always a question of make-up – too much make-up – to hide the facts, the cracks?

Was he always dying?

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might a new dark age be announced by lack of colour? simply by a lack of colourful and joyful enough language to describe it? by a failure to acknowledge or synthesise, in time, of course, advances made ahead of it? 40 years ahead? by an ideologically inspired purblindness? that goes even now to the extreme of hating progress, dressing in mourning for it, intoning, Everything has been done! to the extent of a complicitous turning back of the clock…?
























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