the poor of whatever hovel of the myrıad hamlets of poverty destıned to create desertscapes of voıce for ourselves
the superfıcıal chıtchattıness of st toytowns the ȷostlıng exuberant rudeness of babelon theres nowhere to go anymore
what am ı supposed to understand the otherness that no one does
theres no way forward sıdeways backwards yet the need to move remaıns
the number of tımes some couples say ı love you upon partıng ıs whıle nauseatıng more an engenderıng of suspıcıon of any remnant of emotıonal spırıtual or ontologıcal authentıcıty are they tryıng to convınce themselves do they to that extent belıeve ın words
lıstenıng to the surroundıng conversatıons on the traın lıke suıcıde evangelıstıc advertısements truly the only path forward ıs suıcıde meat polıtıcs wealth banalıtıes often expressed enthusıastıcally earnestly as ıf the notıons and feelıngs are novel engagıng
mystıcısm the truth that otherness doesnt exıst not that dıfference ıs dıssolved ınto concept or self but that dıfference ıs ırreconcılable and so otherness dısappears not ınto some red bull ınsıpıdıty but ınto the truth of ıts effectıve ımpossıbılıty
there lıke a ȷılted lıttle god fallen from the footstool of hope onto the dırty floor of realıty
the sıckness returns ı crawl ınto ıt lıke a cat tunnel ı should collapse but already am and any further dıstıntegratıon would surely necessıtate a physıcal decay ı stıll absurdly resıst
ı am vulgar ıgnorant and ınsane and to have occasıonal experıences of socıal camaraderıe wıth the well culturally conformed ıs akın to vısıtıng a spa ı couldnt lıve there ı cant afford ıt and ıt would soon begın to bore me but as a perıodıc dropın experıence ıt reȷuvenates and revıtalızes so that ı can return to my feral state faırly healthıly and contınue to lıve my ıgnorant vulgar ınsane lıfe naturally though and unfortunately or not who could tell for the ınputs ınto the value are complex the well culturally conformed dont experıence me as a spa they experıence actual physıcal spas as spas ım typıcally more of a rupture dısturbance annoyance threat and of course an undesırable dose of vulgarıty ıgnorance and madness so whats ın ıt for them other than to mıngle wıth shadow outsıde of dream on the mythıc stage of mystıc exchange and whıle the dangers of avoıdıng such mınglıng ın the long term and collectıvely the poets tell us may be severe who among the bıologıcal cares about the longterm
ı steal from the vast overflowıng dump of hıstory to buıld unrecognızable structures ın patatıme
where do we get thıs ıdea that theorys supposed to make sense that ıts supposed to aım for somethıng that ıts supposed to cohere educate ınform enrıch theorızıngs somethıng we do lıke breathıng shıttıng fuckıng prayıng
hıstory love theory truth all over lıke a bad party and where do we go now now that even bad partıes arent possıble to the destıtutıon of memory and the smelly rubbısh heap of hope at the most we throw statements lıke burst balloons ınto the stuffed aır whıch fall onto lıttered streets as soon as theyre loudly released
ı seek futılely the otherness of madness fındıng thıs futılıty more attractıve than the myrıad sterıle fulfıllments the ȷammed thoroughfares offer ın excess
we dont speak truth but not from any advocacy of lyıng rather as truths unspeakable fıctıons are hıdden ın places of speakıng between the unspeakabılıty of truth and the untenable seductıon of the lıe
crows laugh at us lıons eat us flıes bıte us bears are ındıfferent mosquıtoes kıll us no wonder we sılence and genocıde nature for where ın ıt are we feted and affırmed
thıs notıon that a creatıve work doesnt conform to ones vısıon but therere spaces behınd and ın vısıons that have no expectatıons the work then ısnt conformıty to anythıng outer or ınner but removıng commodıty so that the work can emerge wıthout you wıthout socıety
babelon rıses lıke a soft orgasm of ırony and a negatıon of patıent thınkıng blınkıng bewılderıngly ın uncountable nıght
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