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Do you really live in a tent?
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Do you really live in a tent?
That is my secret! Im not like that idiot from Toronto announcing all my private miseries! and besides I laugh at them.... (ues yes I live in a tent, a capitalist tent) (a schizo tent) (my volume is capitalism and schizophrenia)
( Actually I live in a privately owned home passed on down by generations of tentbuilders and owned by the State. I am a child of the State. And the Stated. this is where all artists live. a good friend recently suggested to me that what I do here is not really blogs. He said its a website. A bunch of them, but still in his view, they are websites and not blogs. it's because i dont have comments, and he thinks blogs are about opinion. but artists have changed that, and do what they wish with blogs. there are many poets and some good ones too, very good ones, and other kinds of artists who have comments. and they also endlessly 'submit' their work to 'published'
in websites and magazines. to me that is like paying rent for something. i dont believe in that. i am a communist. communists share and dont submit . to me artists who do that, are replicating history and the old things. i liketo change history in small ways, even tiny ones, and then sometimes if possible can be a cog in the bigger picture. like doing something. whatever. but why do poets and writers, well writers its a different ballgame, but poets have this anxiety to publish. i never had that. at Least Not that Way.
I think poets shld be paid by the word and produce. the more you produce well okay we need an economics for that. A socialist economics... (Long Live Bizet~!~)
But teaching I am suspicious of that, and they are suspicious of me too... I represent a new syntax, the syntax of disorder. WomanMan in Disorder!
Sir Duffy~ Yer a chaos machine, a pretentious farce,a idiot look a like!
yer blogs are pure chaos, daisy chains of affect and madness! this interview is insane.... the wall has fallen and I am collapsing through you and your RSS feeds, the blogs, no comments the infinite servitude of the them is amazing ! you are a reckless entrepreneur ....
' punished for my sins....'. the price of desire its not depression you fool! its poverty! exclusion tracks shut down ...! silence! ineptitude .... exile in the house.. cracked isp!s crippled out computers... this is not a poem! it's a dog! a Rottweiler a fit bull a frigging pit bull!
__________________________The patient is rushed out back to his house of fools and rent a dogs. Wolves not included. No fuckeefuckee for Mister Dee.
_____________________ Ladies and Genitalmen tune into radiodeleuze for the discon. sage of Doctor D.
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the winter years were not so wintry for us creators. End myth
