>

2007/12/31

Jeannette Colombel

thankg oodness as god invented the cosmos as she deterritorialized her becomin'
s She looked at the cartographie and saw
France

thank goodness!
so wonderfilled ever
--------------------------
émission du samedi 29 décembre 2007
Jeannette Colombel


Wonders never cease in france and at france culture

Née à Paris en 1920, Jeannette Colombel est la fille de la professeure de philosophie Lucy Prenant et du biologiste Marcel Prenant, résistant communiste qui fut déporté et qui quitta le PC après l’affaire Lyssenko. Agrégée de philosophie au lendemain de la guerre, Jeannette s’installe à Lyon avec son mari Jean Colombel et devient enseignante. Ensemble, ils dirigent le Mouvement de la paix et organisent la résistance aux guerres d’Indochine puis d’Algérie. En 1956, Jeannette Colombel est nommée professeure de khâgne en philosophie. Elle se lie d’amitié avec Sartre, Foucault et Deleuze, trois rencontres qui s’avèreront décisives (elle écrira notamment Jean-Paul Sartre, un homme en situation et Michel Foucault, la clarté de la mort). Elle contribue à la revue du parti communiste La Nouvelle Critique et écrit régulièrement dans celle fondée par Jean-Paul Sartre et Simone de Beauvoir Les Temps Modernes : elle y traite notamment de l’actualité de la Corse, de l’école, de la lutte du Larzac, des banlieues… Suites à des querelles internes, elle quitte le PC avant les évènements de mai 1968 auxquels elle participera activement. Elle créé le Secours rouge avec Jean-Paul Sartre, Charles Tillon et Serge July pour "lutter contre toutes les formes de répression", et collabore au journal Libération (fondé sous l’égide de Sartre en 1973). Jeannette Colombel est aussi une romancière de talent : on retrouve dans ses livres Brume de mémoire, Les Amants de l’ombre et La nostalgie de l’espérance des traces de son parcours de résistante et de son engagement intellectuel. Plus récemment, elle a écrit un très beau livre Silencieuse ritournelle en Corse en hommage à cette région qu’elle affectionne tout particulièrement…


Avec les témoignages de...


Anne-Marie Mercier-Faivre. Professeur des universités à l’IUFM de Lyon, ancienne élève en khâgne de Jeannette Colombel au lycée Edouard Herriot à Lyon


Edmond Simeoni. Médecin gastroentérologue, militant politique cofondateur avec son frère Max de l’Action régionaliste corse (ARC)






Et la compagnie musicale de...


Nicole Renaud, chanteuse de formation classique, se définissant comme néo soprano... Elle s'accompagne à l'accordéon et elle crée par cet étonnant mélange un univers original et décalé.


____________________________________________________________
And Mister Doug Ireland at Direland

for learnings, common, astute, everday, thought, thinking etceteraetcetera...
thanks to accidental disover on daily motion and mister direland
ive learned all about michel onfray

his work and his free antiuniversities university ~ as I say wonders never cease when it comes to coming from france the france france why am i not living there ? well the gods yet
of capital Empire hold me back yet mon esprit et territoirE ~ is there ~ .
O france of O france O france ~

thinkers, artists, always inventive composing France ~

multi ...farious variousssssssssssssssssssssss

indeed mister and mrs phantom ~

"Alphabetical writing is not for illiterates, but by illiterates. It goes by way of illiterates, those unconscious workers. The signifier implies a language that overcodes another language, while the other language is completely coded into phonetic elements. And if the unconscious in fact includes the topical order of a double inscription, it is not structured like one language, but like two." [208 A/O] artaUd AR toE ArTOE|
SO poetry is made by unconscious conscious workers. "Other horrible labourers will come " Rimbaud wrote . "
Qu’il crève dans son bondissement par les choses inouïes et innombrables : viendront d’autres horribles travailleurs ; ils commenceront par les horizons où l’autre s’est affaissé !"


- The phantom of the opera (
)Il n’y a pas d’énoncé individuel, il n’y en a jamais. Tout énoncé est le produit d’un agencement machinique, c’est-à-dire d’agents collectifs d’énonciation (par « agents collectifs », ne pas entendre des peuples ou des sociétés, mais les multiplicités.) take a breath sir Fantom. Miss ghost body. missly



Or le nom propre ne désigne pas un individu : c’est au contraire quand l’individu s’ouvre aux multiplicités qui le traversent de part en part, à l’issue du plus sévère exercice de dépersonnalisation, qu’il acquiert son véritable nom propre.

Montage cityscope life|love.
Mound of venus.
Monticule de Venus ~

Le nom propre est l’appréhension instantanée d’une multiplicité. Le nom propre est le sujet d’un pur infinitif compris comme tel dans un champ d’intensité.



Ce que Proust dit du prénom : en prononçant Gilberte, j’avais l’impression de la tenir nue tout entière dans ma bouche. » Bouche Bouche mouche touche. Ton bouche touche bouche n'est pas louche.

Proff Jany Deleuze and her partner in wrtiting Fanny Guatrayi its the Italian side of Florentine colums. drifting' mouth .
in yer sotted
carpet
________________


Skin of forage is delight's dairy

you're gone in piffle puffs of air

not sweet as knights ravished bodies
________________________

Gilles Deleuze et Félix Guattari, Capitalisme et schizophrénie 2, Milles plateaux, Les éditions de Minuit.
-------------

Eidolos de montage de minuit on pense on ceux que on a jamais rencontre les nuits . night of bread and fork. forest by nose and clocked heart.
when close to ember
feel fire

is that the voice

?

__
keep machine moving. goin. ring it go.


--------- going call it toll. city booth . capture, maiden in tilt of machine. who knows if love go? go love . come love. we don't feel sorry for ourselves. we love very much. do you read? i dont read. as sometime . i cannot. the I cannot. the I who cannot read. the you . who is not here I who am not there. I read not. I run read and read read running read riding hood .
the city neighborhood. p l a n et
J'ai imagine les fleurs et feus de Paris ~


open



Open the
wind

ows




le t old

out


call

new
in

let you

in

keep

in



~



in

by love's

hook ~ ed

latched




Mou

th ~



Moue



air

&


a


v

o


i

c

e


y

o


u


r




s





~


I

d
o


I

'

v

e


n

o


t


f

o

r


g

o



t







~


_________________________



C'est mon jeune frère Arthur qui avait écrire tout ça _ frère de frère Artaudtoe~toe ~

Mona a des frères et sœurs de son cœur comme un certain schizo ami de notre cœur .

2007/12/30

levity lambent ~



Levity Lambent met levity the backward kiss. She came to him backward, her back to him as her arms wanted him to take her when she wasn't looking. It was levity and gravity's encounter arcross the space of desire


"... the music is genius, genial and filled with levity as always."

It is actually a
funny typo. It's cute, like a kiss going backards. Maybe I can make a poem with it.



acanthus

bLossome d ~

given time and desire this up ~

IeYei put everything in poesie et ecriture. because so , well these , or appear lame, and rigid.


_____________________________
Comment:
you smoke too much
I know,
no lips kiss
smoke is
missed
lips |
|
________________________________


whence the heart
is friend to
its solitude ~
______________






2007/12/29

outside needle

more version to fray it.back.prose. thee. its repeat. as calm lake. woodside dante. beat her trice. one too many. as went . she holded air foreign cheeks. Mona laughed her head off, how can anyone take poetry seriously.it's really quite funny

but when does verse end start? go fictions as to replied personafictations hahahahallegories.

2007/12/28

comment

"Plot is narrative at its most vulgar"
What makes plot vulgar? Really? I always thought plot is what added Spice[r[ to dull old narrative's allergorical yearnings. Hhahahh Oh well, it's rather like that old idea of rounded out characters and filled in ones, or being a taker out (Fitzgerald) or a putter in-ner(Wolfe) or Augustine's take on reason and good old Tommy the Aquainted. However one constructs, certainly they are contructions, and narratives and plots are like Eve and Adam, Able and Cainable, two sides of the same family coin of story yammering, spinning yarns . Everyone knows, or leastways everyone I know that reads that many narratives are just Jim Dandy without Plots, and there are millions of readers who'd say the contrary that a narrative sans plot ain't a plot at all but a dull piece of reading thuggery , where's my receipt give my money back. Among readers, who reads those writers of yore Mister Robby Grillet or others (even Beckett's strolling bum's are sustained by plots, indeed one might argue the absence of plot is what fuels their malaise) with their endless experimental stories sans plot sans narrative. Good old Chaucer _ famed of Canting tales to Canteredbury fabulous charming late John Gardener (SunLight Dialogues) a certain Lady Agatha Christie all three big hit tellers, grand old yarns with plots galore and so and so a happy plot to you and yer readers, the plot of this comment is tryin to get you,and the narrative is commentary as plot it's trying to kill me! Cheers from the snowy lands of Canada

AnD



J'e noticed out of the side of my glance at other comments someone taking the blazes out of good old Hardt and Negri who'd never in a billion years wish the poor on the poor: Let me quote from Multitudes where H&N are talking about the creativity and intelligence of the poor global wise
"'We are not Indians, we are the poors!' 'We are not Africans, we are the poors!' "The struggles of the poor against their conditions of poverty are not only powerful protests but also affirmations of biopolitical power _ the revelation of a common "being" that is more powerful than their miserable "having." .. . Another remarkable aspect is the global level on which the poor pose these grievances. They certainly direct their protests against local officials and the South African government, which they claim has sicne the end of apartheid deepened the misery of the majority of the poor, but they also target neoliberal globalization as the source of their poverty, and they found the occasion to express this in Durban, during the 2001UN World Conference against Racism. THese South African protesters are certainly right _ "We are the poors!" and perhaps in a way more general than they intend that slogan. We all participate in social production; this is ultimately the wealth of the poor." pp 136-7 I'd like to extend this discussion of Hardt and Negri to just one other element or a related one: Felix Guattari once said that analysands ought to be paid for doing analysis. Because they produce. So poets, and reader and the poor, the poor everywhere across the production circuits of global empire and capital. Yes be paid reader, writer, poor, produce yes, find your worker, where is yer pay? are you paid to read the plot less narrative which sustains the capital gain cutting yer flow leaving you hanging broke reader?
So it goes, and so we wish it otherwise. Blessings becomings to all and sundry a

2007/12/27

inside the needle

and Once and a time it
was a skirt was
trailing a wood was there

woodbine nickered to it
?
to [its] [love]


she trailed [and] trailed



holding the leaf

~~ leaf


holding a book
leaf of a [b]look

varia~

chisler to four covered sewn bookmarks

[ comment leaf, book, look, alliterations ? hmm repetitions? in this case,
as chords to note? note to ford, river, to strea m, rire to laugh?]
__________________________________________________________
Sloggin' via the dromos Me came over a myth
T H E

P
O E

M
dromos Posted by Hello


(for her)



1.






As I was bloggin through the incalculable bog of blogs
me came on this wending my ways past age
and pain of forsook and forsake
knowing love's shaft was hung!

What a bung was I!
my tormented lovers a pest of night
and the words I forgot between
my amnesias and senilities of


cost and my nose
unsniffed the silent air of roses
raggletaggle body haired by the night
repetition my song don't be long
stiffing regulations and cattling cabooses


I told her I was no Rimbaud
__I was Rimbaud
flapping scarf around my head-piece
romantic poet was I
now age has paid his visit



I'm
choking at the end
my tumultuous temper is filling me,
I can hardly
wait for death,
like some apocalyptic St. Paul you pray

(now in a typical verse like this
it'd say "I")
(but we know what is worth__ so
let's just go on)




for the end
the end of the world,
"we" pray for the end of the world
(a little too much __ very dramatic __
who do you think you are ?)



Now that's not
a very G_Deleuzian thing is it?

[who gives a fuck! like he'd care! who do you think
he was, my father?]

(well, you'd think so, from the Fictions)


([but then again ___ here the voices amalgamate__
they mate. the 'author' as such get's twisted.
prob. needs
flesh and blood
but flesh and blood
is weak])



Deleuze jumped November 95,
near ten years gone,
Felix 2 years before dead
of a heart attack,
Love died too,
killed itself
tied up loose ends
left town
beat the night (beat the night! what is that jerking off? or what?)
hit the road (there's nothing new here, CLiff)
broke the barrage (interesting __is that Wilfred
Owen in the background?)



(sounds like your second book and some

stuff from that Album__ Desires or Something before night:

see: the Bluedogplus for bibliography_ nota bene)

Big Bertha __ love is like Big Bertha,

a calling down,

and my
bones ache but

I'm the same guy I always was,
less fearful of language and lens
less fearful of the flyin' body by legs

((really does read like a song

but I can't really see if it's in yer head or

on the page: [what t he fuck are you

talking about? there is no page!!

it's ablog space)))




more dead than a nail
heart took out too
too many times
what clochard is that?
what cliche is that? ___ I am forbidden to write a poem!

(this is better)

(do you really think you love her? jeezus!you haven't

seen this in yearss!) [look it buddy I cant make out

what you're referring to] [(who is speaking)]


the dumb gods have decreed I am screed and seed mistloe to my toe around the cracked seeds of buskin dawn_ Like some Shakespearian actor I peddle my bike backwards,
regret talking my name



tripped and trapped by every name
Once a pretty face was your hope
but pretty faces, as we know
are like dames, they lie to deceive



and open to conceive
bear to rear


___ Oh shit what is he saying? is she saying anything
with her body and blooms, her bones tickle thighs?



O come now , please lend me a hand,
reach in while I pay.
Pray.
Pray? now pray tell, what literary theory



are you harking on?
pray, pray that Man dies.
and all his esteems.
Stay? stay with me.



no, no, no, no, never __ .
Go away, go away
Away .
My body was oil for yer intent,



a tense space of language for your downsize.
Love? love was too much
in your buckles and shoes
and the money was not there,



and the girls were alright
and the hookers played hooky
lacy skirts & frilly tops
their gay hearts a movie trick





cheap whore they got you now!
exclamanation point
yes, I mean what I wrote
an accident spelled a new point




Covered by rackets and ruins
sonnets and fair rooms dear farandolas
and dainties I challenge the accordian
they laugh at surrealist aromas



Is this the way to piss?
in a dream she shambled me
shamed my reckonings twisted
the curlicues of love's best met friend

keep talking, doctor, doctor unconscious
stage the set, keep the door





My amble pie is get ready and set
Like the shores of stiff dead ones
And marketed fees
I shall wear each downy cape of nonsense to the end




what can she know of this door,
where making predators wait and sunk
beneath the treasured floor
are men in ruins



like a naked mercedes I send your kiss


so wait for the noun trouble to ruin itself
making inside language its broken jet
the spoken rhythm a set
for harps and caves



natural ointments and broken days
come my lovelies I am your seaman
tawny around your legs
busted at your feet


well she said learning into me
heavy shade of her head pressed close
to my eyes sex throbbing
many years




the language not limited by your ideas
of intention or retention
a body in space muled by the target of love
he thinks of a face




tortured asks
why are women's faces so tortured
why does their beauty hurt?




Now that’s a hell of a question to ask me
she whispers hummed into my
elf ears nibbling the edges of astrology, desire,
interruption and congestion





Wait now, is that a lyric poem you’re speaking about Doctor Duffy,
Doctor Arel? Roxanne, come to the front desk please, Mister Duffy is gagging over your breasts, the heave of your sigh has him crying ,
the cleave of your light glowing breast
is roseate as aube
a dawn only for provencal mint
minstrels
abbeys
battlements
fair ladies
crippled canes
arthritic
conation
of your lip
your lip
covered
over
mine
a
year




Now is that any question to ask a lady?





[thank god he made no more of his bloody editorial snipes!
is that a word? snipes, shit I can never remember my
words. Im getting as bad as Artaud _ Aphasia!!
God! what will I do!???)


3.







3 was for thee
simple fiddle player
shoe-horned dancer
of the lover


(that stanza is totally lost __ no
wonder all of your words are on parole .)

and her glove
she held him
point high in the air
so proud
her name
was his















4





are prose kinema and prose cinema roses wreathed
around your necks
(cinescope_syncope)
not like some awful god of death
salient figures and rushed nights
or her 'bad faith'
or
always
but
or
what
or
more
or
to
make
gold
on the counting down
prior to dawn
asbestos babies
whirled their chinks
armor fated
shimmer ducks
melted fans
of trestles and trees
not a police officer
but a lover over seas
cambric
was the fable she wore
fabrics of needlepoint
delicacies of dusk
not the fancy faucets of
O say
purveyors of sloth
and
all their weddings



As I came over the blog shaped wave
ruddered by dawn
shuddered by our ships
I could hear the rinking of pavement
meridian joys cluttered the song
but you were there so was he
and she
we were there
here where breaking waves make speech
&
our loves were not buried and lost
but found found again
found again in the betweeness of things
and their harbingers
ring ring
unending the illuminations
Hear the ship! cry!
wave on !
you braggarts!
You hearties!
You laggards!






All yours
All mine










_____________



Author's machine comments . I like th rest go. Incomplete page. fragment on a taggle. no time. meet to bust. some machines work some tipple topple and bust. what? I thought desiring-machines only work when they break down? well __ It did! I love you So relax.

Shoosh come the veils of dawn

a dharma shadow walking across her cape

her shoulders

are my sweet nothing

pains come

she's the red ship at noon

____________________





No doubt to be continued!

Comic Sans MS

you see what I mean

how it wiggles down

the page

unlike a body

in space

bounded by Word

Word daddio is the anti-desiremachine.

Ok, it's alove poem, alright. What? another one. This might as well be the fictions. That sort of other poetry, is private.

Cantbe blogged

cant be seen.

(there he goes againyou think seeing her again 'seeing her' wel, if you can call that seeing makes a difference?

and what about that shit about Artaud? you think that's true?) (( Not sure__ after all look at his letters to others __ perfectly fine)) (indeed__ if you wnat ot call that perfection)









life is short / one must do the best to love




The End.







As it were







2007/12/26

Prometheus and Prof Deleuze ~ plu s Oh yeah...









ou comment le philosophe Gilles Deleuze donne son dernier interview, postume. ....'
'a
rien avoir avec le universel

principle populaire... aristocrat qui va aux peuple... comme



hahah quelle bonheur ... posthume..'.. (post humes as in david)



------------------ and O Yea



sauvages


as when

2007/12/25

tape cut burr__---ghsssssss machine anthropological legs ?

tape cut burr__---ghsssssss machine anthropological legs ?
anthropological legs. legs to anthropomorphize. leaveings.Photobucket lover leg. as witch to wind over seven skies. derring die. cunning baffler. as UnHeimlich

2007/12/24

contre[s] passed

______--Is time the warping machine or straight line? I f space curves, does it cure? How does space meet time?
Where do they live ? where intersect? which came first time or space? are they twins? do they need each other? can there space be without time? time without space?

listenin'
to

Bolero Ravel'

listenin'
then readin'

Oscar Peterson has passed outta this world at the grand age of 82
La mort d'Oscar Peterson

'MONTREAL (AFP) — Legendary jazz pianist and composer Oscar Peterson has died at the age of 82, friends said Monday, sounding the final note for one of the most celebrated musical careers of the 20th century.

The Canadian, who reportedly died of kidney failure late Sunday, played with all the greats during his six decades in the business with a versatile style that ranged from boogie-woogie to stride to bebop. "


_________________________
---- On ecoute cette emission. mission discours poetique . what is the poem? the genre ? le question
Contresens




Par Alain Veinstein
Réalisation : Gaël Gillon

Actualité de la poésie

Avec Claude Royet-Journoud pour « Théorie des prépositions » (P.O.L.) et « La poésie entière est préposition » (Eric Pesty Editeur).








----------------

And this here from Les 400 culs:Do not masturb

'"Dans une chambre de l'hôtel La Louisiane, à Saint-Germain des Prés, Richard Leydier organise une petite exposition «cul» qui réunit 5 artistes connus pour leurs masturbations visuelles et leurs coïts colorés… «Cela s'intitule très finement "do not masturb". Quinze autres chambres sont investies par d'autres artistes, mais pas forcément sur la même thématique (sexe). Si cela vous amuse, c'est chambre 33 au 60, rue de Seine.»

_____________
This world's filled with poesy of all sort. Music, word, visual. A feast of un fête de désir ~ .


We 're (the I, me, I's) on strike. On grevé [interesting word to go on strike in french in english is also to grieve as bring a complaint or as when a widow bereaves her husband's death the economics of desire fire us to death and when the whale snorts over hills its healthy burst of spitoon hilling the sea with its forest of geyser air. or when milton's voice speaks an epic simile] . economics of desire. production. money for word. word for money. Alliez discussing this in his bk on time. m-c-c and/or c-m-c and circulation of words and objects. buying selling ___ circulation of words mine is money. yes, one reads and thinks.

"... the oldest and most primitive personal relationship is that between buyer and seller, creditor and debtor;
it was here that one person encountered another person ,

first measured oneself against another ." As quoted by Alliez in The Accident of Time: An Aristotelian Study.

Studying literary theory and so on and so forth is one thing. but studying philosophy is the richest most exciting of things. Always an infinity of matters to learn.



Let the thousand of unknown uncelebrated others also fly and be loved. Be love and Love.
I met Mister Peterson on 1 occasion. A story to say another day. Let his soul fly to love bliss and heavenly jazz .

And let the thousand of unknown uncelebrated others also fly and be loved. Be love and Love.

winter come b o d y w i t h ou t i ma g e

from the other machine this then


Winter comes like a barrage of army trucks. cleaners sweepers. weepers. ringing of
swan song
__



______________________________________
In addition to some of th e other questions posed below _ how does one recover a body from the literally hundreds of thousands of image, surrounding one... its an indirect discourse?





image from artist :

/ Jae Hoon Lee

Prof Alliez speaking to AntiOedipus her shirt on her skirt flaring in air detailed to sun Love:
"or we need a ‘body without image’, that is to say, an Anti-Flesh, in order to replace every ‘image of the body’ (‘the latest avatar of the soul’, according to Deleuze & Guattari) and attain ‘the infinite of the decomposition of the socius’ on the basis of which one will be able to affirm‘the coextension of the social field and desire’13 and deny(deconstruct, destroy) the dominant structures, through a chaosmic immersion in the matters of sensation that these structures repress, and which will be put to work in the composition of mutant percepts and affects.' She end quote with her mouth wide opens gawking at _________________>
at Lee's painting image ___ later we split image.

end the et il faut etre fidele a mai 68 ~

greve il faut greve it is necessary to strike. especially when you pay to produce and nothing in treasured return.
----------
I Love this Interview with Mister Badiou big Badiou quelle grand professeur! he is so alove alolove alive unlike the ones here.... BadiOU U hes so smart an d so right. so filled with intelligence and hope/ gives me hope / yes. | real |fine| generous


thos e who have nothing can be come everything
been his book about deleuze clamour of being
dont get it but dont care
I care about what he is saying Here

and et

tousjours
Liberation pour des chose intelligente

and over rabble ca
there be interesting many thinggs

le communisme de machine desirante
le communisme est un socieite where everyone is polyvalente
where everyone rotate skills
que tout monde existe dans un figure d'egalitie
________________
end the isms machine


free yer spirit



axiom of love's bo
free yer spirit



axiom of love's bo
free yer spirit



axiom of love's body
___________________________________________
this f a n t a s ti c
RePosting Mr . Badiou InterView



CSOJ - Alain Badiou

---------------

and went for a walk get some food whatever brocoli milk cold windy bad outside again
mix of mulling people of many grounds and backgrounds . near metro coming out of dumbass store _ big shopin type deal i walked out couldnt handle _ i go to smaller grocery store . there is a woamn bent over all in black covered head to toe, face mask looks oppressive. i am sad, what is she doing. what are the canadians doing . what is goin? on? how does this add up? contradiction? contradiction of fear. woman masked . black. see her fear. sensed her blacknes s thru darkness . reminds me of old nuns. but worse. darker. what is this? and soldiers there fighting . this woman here bent over. black.ed. out. as it were. cannot see face. eyes. nothing. what is she doing? who is she? is this so sad? sad to sad see is she fre e? what is free ? we are feared of fre e around her men unloading trucks food stocks heaving up d o w n into grocery store. buses goin by by woman walking slow bent over a dark mask of what ? is this word her body? of darkness cut off filled to brim with de a th ? what are soldiers of canada doing over there in mountains of that country near china way up in mountain afghanistan . how does that? soldier died. woman soldier mother die. battle. woman on the street . cold black darked out. what? is this . heart beats. die. wake up choking.
-----------------
En banlieu ~ __ canada not this bad to my experience. other way. isolate. outsiders and nonproducers. them dont fit capital. schizophrenizied.this is what d&g called surplus. energy. yes. so then traped. these young people are not . they stand . Up good . a mon avis a vis . parle.il faut parle.


__________ dis jes found

----------------------------------

and poetry at radio france today

eye forms

Been a time since I posted any visual efforts on my part. To me the problem is siziing & colour.
Limits of colour in this medium . I do much better collage in person. More about this another day. As well, the actual raw rough taste, eye taste, material feel is lost on screen. Museum quality as in behind glass.

Photobucket>

2007/12/23

yer capitalism

Je parle de qui parle qui parle je suis seul
je ne suis qu'un petit bruit j'ai plusieurs bruit en moi
un bruit glacé froissé au carrefour jeté sur le trottoir humide
aux pieds des hommes pressés courant avec leur morts autour de la mort qui étend ses bras
sur le cadran de l'heure seule vivante au solei
l


A
pproximate man Tfistan Tzara _'s unread great poem. half the englishr eading world think tzara is just dada. wel, guess what . was notthe case.
he was many. became surrealist.became member of Communist Party member of Surrationalist group which was scientist and artists; left surrealist group; active in Communist Party France;
Saved Art treasures during Spanish Civil War; Fought in Resistance against Nazis in WW2.
writed wrote 12 books of poem. many dozen essay. letters. After war. was given highest medal in france. became eventually honoured and honory citizen of same. Was active in other areas till his death on Christmas Eve 1963. He wrote books about Rabelais and Villon. His son Christophe Tzara french physciist. He was at Arts Conference on Oceanic and African art as guest months before he died.
--------------------------






________________________________


'department does not pay
dissertation is on strike these en greve
no job no argent no these , eh? les idees sont pas
libre le these un chose productive cest ne'st pas un form
d e bien etre social
alors etudianets students go on strike!
svplait
english departments
're laughable ..' professuers too cowardlty not only
to go on strike ne ver mind initiate one, lead one,
e n courage the thought. les petitis obeyers.

_____________
capitalism's the bad father
lecacacaca papapapap a shit
yes punishing papa
chronos de papa who takes away yer friends

chronos de interest
takes yer beauty
taking yer rent


taking yer space

Canada is the second rate of capital's dirt y arse
its the big gamer in the small town
lied to by it s politicos daily



Canada feeds its artists with grants
which they kill each other with

Canada is icberg

Canada is le grand farce des eskimos
des deux peuples
de deux solitude

canada educates its children
spoils them too & then no jobs
as its licensed them al
ending teaching

in the popular sense

indeed hooking everyone into the middle class

Canada 's so backwards we still have a Queen
and two groups french and english
claim priority claim
nationhood

C anada backass we gotta a conservative primo
its the way foolishness of its lack
that's so bad "in front of" the great women &
men of history
the dummies that they vote fer

ventrioloquized by their robot selves
the articc. true brave and free?
my arse, our parlay 's a prop to the medicine man of bad breath

claim all giving nothing
James Bay
water works

iceberg


thank god for the fellowship of the spirit
or I'd kill myself

simple as that
cause
what future is there for me
in this country?


-------------

Canada's capitalism's second rate but
it works
so what second rate about it?

we're punished in th e gulag here as much as
the old guys were in the Gulags of the old Soviet Union
----------------------------

we had no Sartre Foucault Deleuze or anyone
we had M.Medium is message a boring catholic turns out
we've had no Tzara but alcoholic poet's get the medal's R
captial's a hick town down road down river of Perth.

Boo-Hoo blow yer nose
Banada Banada blow yer arese
winds of belched fart lard crease clapped across land.

Governer General's award is a functiion of the deleterious
machine.--- |
Let me introduce you the Queen. MaDame Transvestite of the punishing god ~

night astral


postal rue[s]es
_____________________________
Not signed from yer body of hearts & knaves such petulance is a lance re-regardin' the death of insouciance .a leather child sauntering to the corner of humming Away Away down south in Dixie Away Away and the pecadillo is the treatment

for serious majors in minors


but is major strong?
Is Major Strong?
is Death incumbent?
Is Strong Great and Major?
Is great necessarily Strong?
what is wrong with this capitalist fuzz?
it's the fuzz the fuzz somebody call the police
somebody call
call the fuzz




its the natural hair rinse in the moment
of its crude warning
against your chin



well I Don LunaTicTock charge with my Bed Post!
to salve the slave wounds of your stockings!
my dear lover dover!
I am Lord Bryon's beckon post!
shall a knee knock your shape?

Oh shapen monkey of mule!
and hexameters before the Prince of France
what the fuck do you know!
he spouted drinks coming from his head
some tease was waiting in the bathroom
her blooming teeth
her lips
her cococa coloured tint
swooned me breath
as bodies leapt stairs
tearing my glance apart!
after all these decades of cases
moods, gerunds, promises of pronouns
bitches of classes
rudes of wents
ignores of morbid
ignorant of morning
but my summer bathes were none too soon
Nones
Nones
Nones
bells a-ringing! a-ringing!
hear the hearkener!


Damn them forth those comments
paranormal elliptical sheets
rearward glaborous
glance to her ass
sideways to the three
quarter profile
and I walked her home
-Opath each & every night
a glad alligator of her tooth
and rye
some goodbye she was to Margaret of my name
silly wham of roses in her soft
pasted eyes
not a drag queen at all!
but a man in woman's clothes!
bearing her beard with tom tom repents!
relent! I cried I cried!

take yer dominatrix home
sp\are my tomb without organs
and the savory moonshine of
maiden aunts
some relations
've no relations
as I have worn her sleeve
in my puffed ways for centuries
I swashbuckle engineer


Here are my letters torn from Abyssinia from Haraar. I am the tooth that would not say goodbye.





Yes, yes! torn from my brave book of hell
let her go to hell
I am weary of these old wars of publishing
no one writes the way
so yer name is that is it?
well so, so be it.
we have a desert to complete
derelict of our dialect
duty?
duty!
frig duty!
cuss me lover
with lashed eyes
swept with naked frenzies

______________________

retires the child of thumbs ~

-------------------------------

see this difference sneaky night clings to your vest. yer heart a bearing wound. broken in forty two piece.


________
mutualmachine

from the other fictions

Everywhere she went Father Sartre was unremembered by the scholar of money war and deprived giftmaking rendering death unto death. Poor not peace. Peace brings the good day: Thinking


Didier Eribon

Sur Sartre

Je mets ici en ligne l'article "Jean-Paul Sartre" que j'ai rédigé pour le Dictionnaire des culutres gays et lesbiennes (Larousse, 2003).


Tout au long de son œuvre, que ce soit dans son théâtre, ses romans et nouvelles ou ses écrits théoriques et philosophiques, Sartre ne cesse d’évoquer l’homosexualité. Dans Huis clos, pièce représentée pour la première fois en mai 1944, un homme et deux femmes se retrouvent en enfer. Inès est lesbienne, ou plutôt l’était dans sa vie qui vient de s’achever : « J’étais ce qu’ils appellent, là-bas, une femme damnée. Déjà damnée, n’est-ce pas. » Dans le salon qui figure l’enfer où Inès se trouve enfermée pour l’éternité avec un homme (Garcin) et une femme (Estelle) hétérosexuels, c’est l’impossibilité pour ces deux derniers de faire l’amour sous le regard dégoûté de la lesbienne qui conduit Garcin à prononcer la fameuse phrase : « L’enfer, c’est les autres. »
Dans le roman la Nausée (1938), le personnage de l’autodidacte, qui fréquente assidûment la bibliothèque pour y lire les ouvrages dans l’ordre alphabétique, est présenté comme un homosexuel (quelque peu pédophile) qui regarde avec insistance les jeunes garçons. Un jour, il se laisse aller à caresser la main d’un lycéen, ce qui lui vaut d’être insulté, frappé et chassé par le bibliothécaire. La méditation de Roquentin, le personnage principal, sur l’autodidacte exilé dans sa propre ville et marqué à tout jamais par la honte et l’opprobre est un moment important dans la conclusion du roman.

Dans « L’enfance d’un chef », publiée dans le recueil de nouvelles le Mur (1939), le jeune bourgeois Lucien Fleurier rencontre le « pédéraste » Bergère et couche avec lui, éprouvant des sentiments ambivalents d’attraction-répulsion. Il rejette vite cette expérience homosexuelle et rejoint le destin social et politique qui est le sien pour devenir un militant d’extrême droite, caractérisé par un antisémitisme forcené...."


Il était notre professeur disait Deleuze dans Ile déserte.... déserte le texte...et trouve le territoire ...



hail to the ~

________________________
Hail to the~ lithe hear it
next to napping coal
we ring the clocky moon
her scudded feast
marries shut to ease ~


inside yer production this nary winkle
not a place rest her sex
womb and sail
its ponderous weight
testy to her bong-bong

bingbelong her narrow gait
as tress to ease her hip
ferrying its fate a flipster's yalong


etcetera.
as machine vary its value so show its enigma to every cake

your fictions

You are not allowed to write the fictions anylonger

o no
iron law of force forbid joy
yes
no incomy there is there no federal grant
to fund that
no job for that creation

-------------

comment: too much self-pity.
But pity has its place. The Mother of Pity and Sorrow ~

its called capital times force

its called forced christmas
forced force
forceped forcepd birth to world
baby jesus was not a girl
baby jesus was a girl

forced
hip and lip
hip & lip
Harelip ~

forced yes
forced to celebrate something others've created always

Sartre quoting Marx says
'WE make ourselves out of what history has made us'

Not once in the years
have friends done better than Christmas than bring it back
bring it on force it
on themselves us and me

I remember all year everyone saying they are agains it
againt this and that
but when it came to this
they did it

played the game put aside Marx's books
giving this and t hat

the work lost
i got punished for not participating
punishment's effective now
alone

yes not alone alone


________________

The other worst so named philosopher is someone who rote a terrible bk.if I recall right Sources of the Self? his understand of Hegel is so stratified . it like goup to hurt eye. aforgetable set of ideas. what chronic boredom reading that tome of mistakes misreadings & denial misunverstanding of Sartre Derrida, to say nothing of Foucault Nietzsche. To not even name the ones he forgot to write of. Pomposity of Ideas, lack of originality. recent he did some 2 volumes showing his true colour. AntiNietzchean moralist. Anti any thing it seemed to my quick eye _ I cld barely read more _ it hurt me head to do so, that is not Catholic roman etcetera anything not religious and that is secular must be criticized. well he be rong.
______________

Orpheus get a sore neck double time reading this book, or really remembering reading it . Lookin out Window finding this dude is part of reasonable accommodation commission. what a farce dat. what the fuck was that? shit man. feed thy people. no more nationalism. end those Ism diseases. Those Ism Machines. That is reasonable accommodation. Love is reason. Not shit of Hegel. asshole. with dead readhead sticky in there.One other thing Orphee say is Dis:
Screw Orthography . Yep. End Spelling Bee. Match.
Write as you Mouth
La pensée c'est fait dans le bouche ~ Mister Tristan Tzara wrote that.

By de way I got nuttin genst des feople fersonally. dey jess berong.

snow 2

Give me a body then": Says Prof.Challenger acka G.Deleuze ~

"We do not know what a body can do": in its sleep, in its drunkenness, in its efforts and resistances.



_______________________________
noise boom noise boom every day
noise boom noise boom bang bang
ear's ring all the time from noise

o gods whatever you are take me out
no will left no will
no nothing cant fight cant write
fuck the paper the dissertation
i pay to be poor?
pay to write lie?
write to pay lies?

debt credit credit debit
rip up the thesis

its no good lie
lie no truth
here
only noise never ending hell capitalist hell of condemnation for them that thinks
and creats tryin to creat yer brain's goine numb

as fer hungry
you can fly yer tarot body all over here
Canada Seeing hungry here and here and here

cant even afford good glasse that fit always break
get headaches die younger brain damage


_______________

speak of come

__________________________________
Fair to go. Speak to whence. Hence Fanny riddles her body next to mine. she's wearing her kilt.... its Fanny with us,in bed. In bed it ease.
Bt fiction fared care for books in thee brawny night. as was aware it cannot bear down its solemn freight.
Speak of go _ she . She ghoul . Craw Crow. Welkin heart. Lamb to her. As was. to gin its hearty throart. Head. Along to nape. Careful not to sew. As when. the apo was bin to
her accounting heart stole[n].


air to pause its rause around the crown hedge. Sheep to her bowl. round clear as noun along her tarried edges junct. Oh come my filly plunder at its kip. Rink yer anyone to marry at her feet. She sank a ship in bog and peat. Married to a sailor. Sang her Kerry fart. Mewling along. With her dagon she's fangled at her cart. Not so anyone whore to her legitimate tease. Asking, yes, Monsieur Yes, Monsieur, suck me to the now. Suck me to the . What? she exit blushin blouse her stage right gmail. Gasped to her lover's fall.


Fanny knew her name was clavichord milk. She flipped the boy made him cry: Rye! Rye! rye bread.

_________________

Fanny moved with Mona and me to Jill .

snow

snow and blow andow and blow and
RococoRococo

gert
get n yer tarot plane flyin low over the sky
flying low over the earth
bodies of beautie firmaments of tenaments
green an brown and coloured eye joy

what do you see mister chrissy mass fast
fasting childen
africa
africa's mother
war's mother

howl

th
eres no
news but this news someone was killed today some loved died adn murdered
war war and more
others were born and reborn

yet another train ya dont hear of on the big new media


as it was as it is the news is always different the same
thos e who have
got more
those got less that had less
its capital times capital economy miste
r comodity money commodity

Rococoocococococoow and blow an

rain rain as rain swept streets and apartment's noisy never ends


soon we gonna go live in a tent
at least out_side we don't pay for racket and

Rococoocococococoow and blow an

rain rain as rain

city of tent s


city of rent rain & blue
why do you live here when you gotta pay till you're thru

you gotta friend a well off professor
not far from where you live
you never hear from her on christmas
she spends hundreds on gift and meals always inviting others
never invites you not once
doesnt invite you to parties
yer smart yer smart
she dont invite you cause yer differnt
dont fit
must ask questions
oh dear we dont want
that
she helps
but never reads never reads what you write
certainly doesnt comment
she helps but doesnt read

never invites you

never
took you with her crew
on a plane ride in the sky visiting here and there
giving

must be a real thrill
going to Rome goin to Sweden
going all over the world giving talks
univeristy's and goverment grants
all ways having somewhere to go
something to eat
when you land
land land

not just like your average citizen
being on the have side of life and Empire
eh? goin to Paris, to London

to Oxford to Italy to countries all over the world
just to chit chat about bullshit

and get paid to do it
while the rest leave in tents
in plastic bags

covered in rain

its gotta be 'nice"
to be upper middle class
middle class
with benefits
like dental insurance


having a good job all yer life

it must be 'nice' to get access

to have a job
having a family
have something not nothing
not nothing having nothing
not alone alone alone always alone
turn ya to a stone
stone stone

prisoner of stone
stone
man dead man
no man

ye yea yea ten year of noise
ten year of rent
decade of debt
best to live on the street street
in a tent if yer lucky
ya
dont pay rent
to delirious land
owner



a ca demic talks at the taxpayer's expense yes, that s Canada
country of fair and just
bear and bust


equal opportunity for all
yes, justice for everyone democracy too

yer tired all the time
cause yer tired all the time
cause yer alone all the
time cause yer alone
the time all
alone never
getting it done
alone the time
living in
yer head
yea
so ina tent
a tent
what ideas
of rolling backwards
no family no
lover
no wife
yer alone
as a bone
shoved off outside
whats that?
familY
community
lovers?
yer phones
not rung
in days
alone in the city

welcome to tent
city

city of unself pity
roll out the carpet



roll out the landscape
yes

yes


notes

Where do we go today as hell wipes it ass on our fate?

2007/12/22

love's p.s.




L
ove's bogus
mogu
ove's bogus
mogus!
ove's bogus
mogus!
s!


love's like this

love's like chop suey
a puddle of mud

a fat sink in the air
darn random kettle in yer face

love's mud not blink or blinkety blink

love's s a bing bang bang
splish splash goulash

how ya like to hear it mash
hear it cash
see how yer piddle pops when yer on yer way back to bones

bone and stone like a cyclotron its way
toasted in yer atomic comic


love's like that fat Simile you cant cant get past
Or yer reckoned to be dead none to one

love's a sheer fat cat

or a skinny bones goin goin home alone

love's a cheap cat
rich
cat
generous pat on the back


love's like that

ya see, ya see ya see what I mean

Cigar sticking out of his mouth like a big Nose


Brown as hek brown as a bell