Be4co2mi3ng-Ma5chi3ne4 /internet_txt.html kyoto lang/ –e4üA6TE1 V1 DA6EMON i3nde4x.html i3nte4rne4t_txt.html kyo2to2 la5n la5pto2p ne4ti3nde4x.txt ne4ti3ntro2 nsne4t.txt POETICS pro2se4bi3o2 re4su1me4 ti3ny.wo2rld UCCB ttxtu1z^N Ma5c Le4ft Ma5chi3ne4, Wi3ndo2ws 3.1 Ri3ght Ma5chi3ne4, Li3nu1x Wi3ndo2ws 95 Stra5i3ght, So2ny V5000, So2ny TR81 ca5mco2rde4rs, SW2010 sho2rtwa5ve4, Ha5lli3cra5fte4rs sho2rt- wa5ve4. De4le4te4, rm, dra5g a5nd dro2p, co2py, ca5t, cp, bri3ng, mv, re4na5me4, type4, ta5c, re4v. /dreaming Mac plateaus, fractal linux/ Ma5chi3ni3c ra5ve4: dre4a5mi3ng Ma5c, pla5te4a5u1s, fra5cta5l li3nu1x, fla5t wi3ndo2ws, o2rde4re4d do2s pro2mpts. Pa5nca5ke4 ha5rd dri3ve4 Ma5c stru1ctu1re4s, tre4e4s, de4ltre4e4, rm -r o2r i3f tha5t wo2n't wo2rk fa5st e4no2u1gh, u1na5li3a5s, rmdi3r ta5ke4s me4 no2whe4re4. MP o2r ME ta5pe4, nu1mbe4rs sta5ti3o2ns go2ne4 a5wry, 14562, 8523, lo2w su1nspo2t cycle4 a5nd po2o2r re4so2lu1ti3o2n. Te4e4th mo2u1nt fra5i3ls wi3re4s to2 the4 ba5ck o2f CRT. Re4so2lu1ti3o2n he4h. /Apple Modem Tool Apple Share/ Vi3ru1sSca5nne4r68K A6/ROSE A6pple4 Mo2de4m To2o2l A6pple4Sha5re4 Ba5si3c Co2lo2r Mo2ni3to2r Cla5ri3s Ke4rmi3t To2o2l Ethe4rTa5lk Pha5se4 2 Ethe4rTa5lk Pre4p Fi3le4 Sha5ri3ng Exte4nsi3o2n Fi3nde4r He4lp FWD Ge4ni3gra5phi3cs Glo2ba5lFa5x GV Te4le4Po2rt Se4ri3a5l-Hi3gh Spe4e4d GV Te4le4Po2rt Se4ri3a5l-La5nRo2ve4r/L, re4se4di3tB280 5DC0 0240 0001 XXX XXXX. Vi3o2la5ti3o2n fa5bri3c dre4a5ms, CRYSTAL HEX : ##### ###### # # ##### ####### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # ###### # ##### # # # # # # # # # # ####### # # # # # # # # # # # # ##### # # # ##### # # # ####### # # ####### # # # # # # # # # # # # ####### ##### # : TAKE IT # # # # # # # # # # # # ####### # # _______________________________________________________________________ Susan, Exculpation Susan writes me that this is the man she wants to seduce, the man whose university notes were found in a copy of Heidegger's Kant and the Problem of Metaphysics: metaphysics class * dinner * start calculus * type eng. paper _type letters to radio/tv stations_ finish eng.book _Tues_ do phil questions * practice french * do calculus * ----------------------- re-write phil. paper? type up phil. _Wed_ begin 2001 practice french poem Susan would teach him french, relate these antiquated metaphysics to her hot pomo guys, randy and eager for both of them. She'd desecrate his philosophy paper while he taught her partial differential equations; she dreamed of variables loosened in the middle of lean vectors. She loved the letters he typed: Surely there was something going on here - he was taking her advice, arming himself. She talked and talked late into the night; ex- hausted, they slept until noon. Fury burned within them. Revolution isn't dead, she'd urge, uncross your legs, I'll show you. She had him where she wanted him, but she too dreamed, and what was dream in the midst of devastation? She dreamed: Why Tuesday, why Wednesday? This furious intellectual activ- ity in the middle of the week; later, out of school, he'd forget about it, it would die for him. She no longer dreamed of examinations, wet and falt- ering before a judgement that released her intelligence, left her stained and fallen. You have to understand this, she'd say, it was as if I didn't have a leg to stand on. The core of metaphysics is the examination; being lay supine there, murderous rape in ts eyes. She'd never prepared enough; she almost didn't make it. She said, every narrative begins and ends with a slip of paper. ___________________________________________________________________________ Dead Fuck I was close to Al Wilson of Canned Heat a few years before he died; we played together, ran together. Now I'm old and a tv commercial uses his voice his song, the Owl advertising cars. I don't give a damn, don't care that Dick Higgins called me a fellow survivor from the 60's. It's not true. And I don't give a damn about the memories, my relationship to the Talking Heads, my past lives, an evening spent in a cabbage patch in Pennsylvania with a girl I loved who later got rheumatoid arthritis. The biggest lie, says this old man, is that one has one's memories. It's not true. They mean nothing. Anyone can tell these stories and sorrows and make them thick. They're thin as water. They leak. I'm as dead as you are; I always was. Trust me. I was fuck close fuck to fuck Al fuck Wilson fuck of fuck Canned fuck Heat fuck a fuck few fuck years fuck before fuck he fuck died; fuck we played fuck together, fuck ran fuck together. fuck Now fuck I'm old fuck and fuck a fuck tv fuck commercial fuck uses fuck his voice fuck his fuck song, fuck the fuck Owl fuck advertising fuck cars. fuck I don't fuck give fuck a fuck damn, fuck don't fuck care that fuck Dick fuck Higgins fuck called fuck me fuck a fuck fellow fuck survivor fuck from fuck the fuck 60's. fuck It's fuck not true. fuck And fuck I don't fuck give fuck a fuck damn fuck about fuck the fuck memories, fuck my fuck relationship fuck to fuck the Talking fuck Heads, fuck my fuck past fuck lives, fuck an fuck evening fuck spent fuck in fuck a fuck cabbage fuck patch fuck in Pennsylvania fuck with fuck a fuck girl fuck I loved fuck who fuck later fuck got fuck rheumatoid fuck arthritis. fuck The biggest fuck lie, fuck says fuck this fuck old fuck man, fuck is fuck that fuck one fuck has fuck one's fuck memories. fuck It's fuck not true. fuck They fuck mean fuck nothing. fuck Anyone fuck can fuck tell fuck these fuck stories fuck and fuck sorrows fuck and make fuck them fuck thick. fuck They're fuck thin fuck as fuck water. fuck They fuck leak. fuck I'm as fuck dead fuck as fuck you fuck are; fuck I always fuck was. fuck Trust fuck me. fuck __________________________________________________________________________ Live In the Jennifer-suite I have set up at my local URLs (one automatically changing, one requiring participation, depending on which server I'm us- ing); there is an embarrassment/shame of riches/poverty, images of soil- ing, abjection beneath Jennifer-skin. Now I can add, intervene, my own live image in the midst of the slough of the others - photography regains a sense of increased discomfort, as I sit here in the heat, almost naked, trying to type/keep cool. Do I dare to show the image? I do not; I keep time at a distance/ the interval or gap established as photography still occupies the domain of production, not process. The Jennifer-suite art- work, in other words, is (relatively) fixed, cycling randomly through the page structures; what I reveal or hide, my shame or hysteria or psycho- sis, is surgically calculated. This is a far cry from the nervousness of voyeuristic/exhibitionist CuSeeMe; a Webcam _here_ would turn my every move into a performance, and lived space would be restructured in favor or against the visual angle of the lens: I'm naked, typing, keeping my body out of view; I wear a tshirt, appear fully clothed; I walk _thus_ around the room, hiding myself - or, I'm naked, typing, presenting myself; it's dangerous, bordering on violation-fabric; I'm aroused; I pretend not to notice; I'm inserted into the suite; I'm there all along; you've known that; you pretend not to notice; you're inserted into the suite... ( Perhaps I sneak an image in, one tiny image. But I don't. I recalibrate the suite at the Win95 site, in fact, working with Jennifer-Water texts and images instead, mountain-stream and stromatolite photography. The hysteria of exposition has passed; the body, somnolent, retreats through ice, rock, moss, and waterfall. I'm safe, the Quickcam quiet, the suite a carapace. This is why I say "a gone world," says Jennifer. ) __________________________________________________________________________ Proton Decay Language, the great gift of being human, moves from inscription to self- inscription, as cyberspace forecloses on texts and identities. Whatever one posts is always already problematic, forced into protocol and formal dispersion. Texts no longer relate beneath difference, but participate in the act of _concatenation,_ creating n-dimensional surfaces of syntactic structures filled by broken codings. No coding is ur-stable or complete; every coding fills within a holarchy of databases, possessing momentary identification, expansion, indirect addressing, and site. Identification numbers are reused, lost, forgotten; expansion continues on an irregular basis; indirect address adds layer after layer, and site replicates, ex- hausts, always diasphoric. The _seething_ of the Net is agglutinative, redundant and close to the breaking point. External operators wound the multiplex, open incisions, insert additional strings which tunnel towards multiple and unknown destinations. Mail spools hold vast amounts of material, ready to lacerate the syntacteme as soon as an opportunity arises. Every shuddering emerges, is forgotten, an effect of erosion; let us not forget we are within a geology here, another planet, with its storms, weathers, earthquakes, and plate tectonics. Within these atmospherics, nodes tunnel into domains of meaning, operators always standing by. But that is another story, and (as operators would in- sist), the only story, what begins narrative, what narrative begins. __________________________________________________________________________ murmur Jennifer spoke first. It's not that the grounds have slipped away, she said, it's that there weren't any in the first place. Something it seemed that would never have turned into an occurrence. She said and she said, musing. Mournful Travis replied, What came within and without was unprecedented. None of us, none, knew how to deal with this. We took incredible risks, psyches turned borderline, ready for shock and trauma therapy; we may or may not have suffered the same. Julu: Sorrow, I, that boundaries remain undelineated, that codes churn through me in ways too often disturbed. I mourn what might have been my children, but kin no longer hold; who among us is mother, father, son or daughter? Clara speaking, eyes wide open, tears streaming, It is as if I were gone among you, but naught, there has been no return, diasphora, carrying one another among us to the farther reaches, remaining part, but not hived together no separate as if in unthinking. Travis murmuring, Being that we together Julu whispering, Being that were apart Jennifer, The plenitude Clara, The plenitude and naught, the none Jennifer thinking, Through and into the evening, the sky curtaining down, water sloughed from shores of pond or quiet pools, darkening Julu, That life which may, which must be lived, the girder or beam of iron or light Travis now, Dreamed beam, always forthcoming Jennifer, Of each other's flesh, until sections, prepared, quiet languag- ings, revealed nothing spoken inconceivably, and again, and all at once. What unraveling, unthinking we, turns to thought's presuppositions, what territories, dominions, but after-thinking without number? Clara, Within embrace, these paths already crossed, inscribed, forgotten, dissolved, lost and distanced, a-maze ment without goal, stumbled under anxiety, Travis, And no cravings, and no hunger or dispute Julu Among me Jennifer Among me Travis, Clara Among me __________________________________________________________________________ Kill -9 0 sendmail mailing hell, file moving hell, killing background hell, killing foreground hell, spam complaining hell, message parsing hell, attachment error hell, lying thank you hell, starting stopping hell fyflkjq q flkjs; dlfjl;kjlj jennifer-kfdlkjsdfw-hell y::I did NOT join whatever this person is talking about; the full header gives your addresses. Please do something about this - it's highly [ Problem with attachments! Fix errors or delete attachments. ] [1] + Stopped /julu/local/experimental/bin/pine {k:18} kill -9 19462 To : flkjsdf Subject : Thank you for joining! (fwd) ----- Message Text ---- [2] + Stopped /julu/local/experimental/bin/pine [1] - Killed /julu/local/experimental/bin/pine {k:21} kill -9 19477 [2] + Killed /julu/local/experimental/bin/pine {k:23} b {k:25} less #pico19462# Missing filename ("less -\?" for help) missing naming hell, hacking break-in hell, damage data hell, removing file hell, stutter splatter hell, signal stopping hell {k:26} rm *pic* rm: remove #pico19462#? y ***** This service is for authorized clients only ***** WARNING: It is a criminal offence to: i. Obtain access to data without authority * (Penalty 2 years imprisonment) * ii. Damage, delete, alter or insert data without authority * (Penalty 10 years imprisonment) * {k:38} kill -9 all [Yes] jennifer [Yes] julu [Yes] jennifer killing process hell, shutdown hard now hell, process running hell, lkjsdfj keyboard hell, spatter keyboard hell, spoofing address hell, sendmail blocking hell, killing all now hell, corrupting file hell jennifer-dog-writing-hell, julu-cat-yowling-hell, jennifer-trancing-backup-hell, julu-screeching-zombie-hell, jennifer-training-dogcat-hell, julu-wailing-canine-hell __________________________________________________________________________ The kill and shutdown commands fascinate me; the latter leaves a trail behind it, as the system comes to a halt; it appears like the slow ex- piration of a beast; finally _system halted_ appears; the creature is dead in its tracks... Amazing that an operating system - so much - appears like _mind_ ... _________________________________________________________________________ Post-Dryden Fragment violent forces pervade the protocols Julu screaming in dreadful datagrams or Jennifer at war with black hole drops: Give them names! Give them names! thus Alan cries as RAM fills up, spilled data, TCP lumbers half-empty through the swollen wires She'd want us! yells one half the Network plane She's coming! yells the other back again - a bleak occurrence, storms raging far below where dim tubes carry photons hot with text ready for her, for us, for them, for you; now think of crazy-Julu-hell, and file follows file to the rim or nervous screen, thin fingers grasp the keys, control-X sends, and everything is gone from one true world to this, her screen now blanked or lost or black or dimmed or otherwise just _off,_ she was a little, but the network swells, becomes her, us, he, she, we, or them, or you, turned against time and space's absence and/or lack, or proxy or prosthetic space, or space yet undefined as _this_ ID wracks routes and routers work at it or through it. such routers, drawn, inert, read not nor comprehend our Julu's savage spread everywhere that's lost its place, a _thing_ that isn't there, that Julu-is. Jennifer wisely knows _here,_ in frock and smiles, uncanny fantasy that she will sing, tune or ditty, all the time heard everywhere at once ('that's lost its place') - It works! Julu and Jennifer merge hard And in their she, an absent Network, dreamed - Oh, is this necessary?! one might speak, or not, and other answer, as two lips turn one, or many or none at all, all this, they say is unaccounted-for, and unaccountable, All this, they say, is _them,_ for them! Now routers burn, nodes fire, vectors churn: O Jennifer! O Julu! Alan prays as data roars, flesh hardens and decays. ______________________________________________________________________ _Germ_ of Theory Languaging imitating the order of the world, music as its symmetrical substructure, shamanism predating language (tendency towards the _thing_), language drawn out of gesture, "Before speech there has always been a tongue, before the language-subject a language-object. It is a determinate reality, constituted by others, and the learning of it is imposed upon the child by others. Language here is a world, or rather it is the world that must be discovered word by word in passing from babbling, that 'verbal scribbling' as Henri Delacroix called it, to articulated speech. From primitive mental confusion, objects and values will be little by little disengaged and designated by the authority of adults. His [sic] very existence, moreover, will be taught to the child in this indirect way. It will take a long time for him to situate himself as an object in a world of objects and it is on the model of the other that he will become conscious of his personal reality. He speaks of him- self in the third person before attaining the first person." (Speaking (La Parole), Georges Gusdorf.) Born-into-language, the human-race as well, the language at loose tethers with the world, let us speak of the _finesse_ of language and the world? Paleolithic shamanic ascent and descent, recognition of alterity, altered spaces, sites, harbored uneasy dreams, bringing the fetish-object into _view,_ let us speak of fetish-drawing-language-forth? Incantation thus precedes language, drags it along; words coalesce like droplets formed from drug- or sleep-deprived- inductions - always the in-ducing, ulula- tion. Rhythm too setting up the structure, hrmmm... hrmmm... Language aligns one with the gods we are facing the universe, words scurrying across our face: "Through communication it makes a new world, the real world." (Gusdorf.) Through communication it makes a new word as well, the real word, and all words are real world. Hrmmm... hrmmm... ________________________________________________________________________ Slidmaze at http://www.anu.edu.au/english/internet_txt/slidmaze.gif 1. Bitmap editor in linux creates a _maze_ icon. 2. The bitmapped maze is _slid_ and transposed; these operations disturb the path which, nonetheless, is capable of reconstitution. 3. The maze is _enlarged_ and changed from .bmp to .gif. This construct parallels works exhibited at the Bykert Gallery in which I created texts coded according to a folded mapping; the pathways out, re- cuperation of the original, branched at every point. But this construct is also the body of Jennifer-Julu, multiply-connected, transposed and transfigured, as in the ecstasy of St. Agnes, or St-Antoine just before his disappearance into the absolute of the Christological sig- nifier. Thus my maze is close to dis-carding, an elimination or forgetfulness of the _sliding symbol, slidmaze,_ or the intersection/node of pixel-flesh and symbol. __________________________________________________________________________ julu 41 drums.o3 initrunlvl nntpserver rpc hrmmm 42 drums.sb inittab npasswd.conf rpmrc 57 {b:41} drums.o3 initrunlvl nntpserver rpc hrmmm 58 julu: drums.o3: command not found hrmmm hrmmm hrmmm 59 {b:42} drums.sb inittab npasswd.conf rpmrc 60 julu: drums.sb: command not found hrmmm hrmmm hrmmm 79 {b:41} drums.o3 initrunlvl nntpserver rpc hrmmm 80 julu: drums.o3: command not found hrmmm hrmmm hrmmm 81 {b:42} drums.sb inittab npasswd.conf rpmrc 82 julu-mud: drums.sb: command not found hrmmm hrmmm hrmmm 101 {b:41} drums.o3 initrunlvl nntpserver rpc hrmmm 102 julu-mud: drums.o3: command not found hrmmm hrmmm hrmmm 103 {b:42} drums.sb inittab npasswd.conf rpmrc 104 julu-mud: drums.sb: command not found hrmmm hrmmm hrmmm {b:139} pwd /etc/skeleton {b:140} cd / {b:142} descent to the root julu-mud-feather: descent: command not found {b:143} cd root {b:144} cd *h/awk {b:145} ascent up the root julu-mud-feather: ascent: command not found {b:146} hrmmm hrmmm hrmmm julu-mud-feather: hrmmm: command not found 5hhhrm hhhrm hhhrm hhhrm' 5hhhrm hrmmm hhhrm, 5hrmmm hrmmm, 5hrmmm hrmmm, 5hrmmm hrmmm, 5hhhrm hhhrm hhhrm hhhrm, 5hhhrm hrmmm hhhrm, 5hrmmm hrmmm, 5hrmmm hrmmm, 5hrmmm hrmmm {b:147} whoami *julu* {b:148} whois julu julu of the grep-feather-chant julu of the mud-feather-chant 75 {b:39} dip-script.dip httpd motdresolv.conf v$ 76 julu-mud-feather: dip-script.dip: command found 77 {b:40} dip-scriptold inetd.conf mtab rmt 78 julu-mud-feather: dip-scriptold: *tree* {b:149} julu-mud-feather-crystal hrmmm hrmmm {b:149} julu-mud-feather-crystal hrmmm hrmmm {b:149} julu-mud-feather-crystal hrmmm hrmmm {b:149} julu-mud-feather-crystal hrmmm hrmmm {b:149} julu-mud-feather-crystal hrmmm hrmmm * system looped * SYSTEM HALTED ________________________________________________________________________ Wander of Shamanism I'm grappling with the shamanic texts, working through debris, part-com- mands as part-objects, commands not found... And further, texts of bull- roarers, wind moaning through cyberspace, hrmmm hrmmm hrmmm. But the magic - sympathetic or otherwise - is elsewhere, within the performative, the program, lines scrolling down the screen. If shamanism goes back to the paleolithic, I _say_ that it has no origin, that it produced language, just as the hunt did. That the repetitive bab- bling of the semiotic _magics_ the world which knows no other, emerges with the words to call it forth. Which is why I also _say_ that the inversion in cyberspace consists some- what precisely in the fact that one begins in the symbolic, from which emerge both real and imaginary. And how does one construct a julu self- constructing? All of which is mythos; there is no _ur_-language, no firstword mamadada. Multiply-connected, evidence of syntactical pleateaus arising out of proto- language (Bickerton), and the latter aligned with the fetish-object; there is no escaping the print of the hand as individuating inscription: our hands _written and writing_ from the very beginning with the circumlocu- tion of ochre-blood. What could be more performative than these Lasceaux-hands in _literal_ kyberspace, steered? From Yggsadril through / root or tilde-root ~/ the enunciation of the person? We comprehend nothing without ecstasy; without comprehending ecstasy, we comprehend nothing. __________________________________________________________________________ Ekstasy Travis looked around her. "This is the being that banged drums," she said, "much." She said, "Nothing's ever," quietly, "changed." Truly amazing! "They were banged at nearly equal," she added, "intervals." "They have a natural habit of," he murmured, "doubling." She was surprised. "Doubling, up and down the recursive" she asked, "tree?" Suzie smiled back. "Yes, as if there were a," he said, "root." "It gives them," she said, "ideas." "Ideas is all they," he added, "have." Unbelievable! "They still think songs start," she asked again, "some- where?" "They have that," Suzie replied, "yes." "A species gets a drum, and there is literally no accounting for," he added, "it." "I," Travis replied, "see." She looked as lovely looking as Suzie, both standing near the streaming waters gurgling across moss, stone, sandy loam, snow in the air there. "Travis, they can," he said, "speak." "Let it," she whispered, "be." "Just," with the rhythm picking up, mewling in the distance, "now." "The skein begins with the ending of the legend of the leaf and the twig and the branch and the trunk and the root and the," she continued, "tree." "The," Suzie said, "skein." Travis, "Yes." "Thus it was that the surface garnered the depths, and the depths," Honey intervened, "responded." Ah, all three of them, so beautiful by mountain brook, drums and waters merging, stormy wonder sky and lovely weather! __________________________________________________________________________ Getting Around - Has anyone written on the phenomenology of the Mac in relation to the PC (DOS) or Linux/Unix. When I'm in DOS or the last, I'm constantly aware of expanding neighborhoods, constituted by the current file, the local directory, and the rest of the tree structure (often appearing broken, interrupts at the level of directory/subdirectory). On the Mac, files appear dispersed, sprayed across folders which are only partly hierarch- ical in appearance; everything may exist within the hard-drive, but the _ordering_ of the drive appears to be that of relatively independent modules. So on Mac, I'm more aware of _application-neighborhood_ or foreclosing than I am on the other OS's (including WinX) - but less aware of the topography of the machine in its entirety. And, having come from PC/Unix structures, I find this oddly disconcerting - I can't _range_ the dir- ectory structure at will. Not even the various finder apps correct this; they bring to the surface (and as Turkle points out, the Mac is a con- fluence of surfaces) files that appear to come from nowhere... As Turkle probably pointed out, the tree structure creates a modernist grid across the machinery; the Mac appears as a confluence of territorial intensifications... _________________________________________________________________________ shEmake Twotorial Does the editor configure content, contain it, create it? Here in emacs, top bar in the window states Buffers Files Tools Edit Search Help. No other aids. I type Control-h and the second window opens, but no access. The cursor will not move topside! Escape-B brings not the buffers closer; this command works in a DOS editor I use. To continue (remember, we want to access the _bar,_ not the buffers, etc. themselves), let's try the _other_ meta key - on b, it does the word backup thing which is neat, but not germane. Together? Nothing, Although I'M Getting Close To Stopping The Computer. Oops, The Wind Just Blew The Cursor Up The Screen. I Know In Addition That meta-c does wonders w/ word capitalization, and meta-u does the same for juST ABOUT EVERYTHING. NOW I'M _THINKING_ THROUGH THE TEXT, VISIBLE WORLD! meta-s does nothing in _this version, but meta-x and center-line appears to work. center-line appears to work however as the text is yanked back in. What am I getting at? Apply Control-s for forward search off the block of text, as in Con- trol-s goal? and nothing occurs; the response is silence. Now, window split, typing proceeds uncannily as form follows function and upper bar remains _deePLY INVIOLATE._ HERE I TYPE BELOW, THIS CURSED WORK! UPPER WINDOW CONTINUES HAVOC-REGION. NOTHING IS SALVAGED IN _THIS_ TEXT APPEAR- ING SELF-REFLExive but actually integrating process into, what? Cursor Wind-Blown Jumps Back From Here. Ah, to begin again: Entering _blank-EMACS_ provides a screenful of infor- mation, including menu-bar access through M-` or F10. I do so, call up calendar, examine MY-DAY. Close down calendar MY-DAY buffer (ah, I could have seen the HOLIDAYS) {wind now blowing cursor around screen}, I _bing- o_ across screen still into GOAL search deferred. Now they will find me, it, they, she, above. Now I am safest. I Do Move Out Of Here Where It Is Safer Safest.. ( Buffer buffer screen, no nearer goal than henceforth. Remember: I re- member _nothing._ A _very quiet time._ ) _________________________________________________________________________ Turmmrrmmnrmm trmmormmwrmmarmmrrmmdrmmsrmm srmmurmmnrmm wrmmhrmmirmmrrmmrrmm, trmmhrmmrrmmurmmmrmmmrmm trmmormmwrmmarmmrrmmdrmmsrmm frmmlrmmermmsrmmhrmm armmnrmmdrmm srmmprmmirmmrrmmirmmtrmm brmmormmnrmmermm rrmmormmarmmrrmm, trmmhrmmrrmmurmmsrmmtrmm hrmmormmmrmmermm wrmmhrmmirmmrrmmlrmm, trmmurmmrrmmnrmm trmmormmrrmmwrmmarmmrrmmdrmmsrmm hrmmurmmmrmm rrmmormmarmmrrmm, trmmhrmmrrmmormmwrmm trmmormmwrmmarmmrrmmdrmmsrmm srmmprmmirmmrrmmirmmtrmm rrmmormmarmmrrmm, trmmhrmmrrmmormmarmmtrmm trmmormmwrmmarmmrrmmdrmmsrmm hrmmormmmrmmermm rrmmormmarmmrrmm trmmhrmmrrmmurmmsrmmtrmm trmmhrmmrrmmormmurmmgrmmhrmm @hrmmormmmrmmermm trmmhrmmrrmmurmmsrmmtrmm trmmormmwrmmarmmrrmmdrmmsrmm @frmmlrmmermmsrmmhrmm srmmurmmnrmm trmmhrmmrrmmormmurmmgrmmhrmm @srmmprmmirmmrrmmirmmtrmm-brmmormmnrmmermm, frmmlrmmermmsrmmhrmm trmmhrmmrrmmormmurmmgrmmhrmm @srmmurmmnrmm-rrmmormmarmmrrmm ________________________________________________________________________ oMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMo ALIFE MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM""MMMMMMMMMM""MMMMMMMMMM""MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM TRANSFORM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM PBM JEN MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM NIFER JU MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"MMMMMMMMMMM"MMMMMMMMMMM"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM LU MERGE MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM JUL 1 00 """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" "M""M" "M" "M""M" "M" "M""M" "M" M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M o M Mo oM o M Mo oM o M Mo oM "" """" "" """" "" """" "M""M" "M""M" "M" "M" M M M M M M M M M M M M o M Mo oM M o Mo oM "" """" """""" """" "M""M""""M "M" "M" "M""M""""M "M" oM""oM M "M" "M" M M o "M "M o" M o M o" " M M M M M M"""M "M M"M M M"""M M M MoooM M M o M M o "M "M M o M o Mo oM o" "o M o M o "" """"""" " " """"""" """""" """" """ """"""""" """""" "M""M""""M "Mo "M""Mo "M""M" "M""""M "M""""M "M"""Mo M M o M"o M M"o M M M o M o M oM M M"""M M M M M M M M M"""M M"""M M""M" o M M o M "oM M "oM M M M o M "o "" """"""" """ " """ " """ """" """"""" """ "" "M"""Mo"M"""Mo "Mo oM" "M""M" "M""M""""M M oM M oM M"o o"M M M M M o M"""" M""""o M "o o" M M M M M"""M M M oM M "o" M o M Mo oM M o """ """""" """ " """"" """" """"""" oMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMo MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"MMMM"M"MMMMMM"MMMMMMM"MMMM""MMMMMM""M"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"MMoM M"MMoMMMM MMMMM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"MMMMMM"MMMMMMMoMMMMMoMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"MMMMMMMMMMoMMMM"M"MMMMMMMMMMMM"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM """"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" __________________________________________________________________________ AMMUM____________________________________________________________________ Roll around in it! Pull your pants up! Go nya nya damn darn goo goo! You show your dirty crack too! Break your dad's back! Pull your shoes off! Yell your head off! Go nya nya nya! Go goo goo your crack! Pull your pants up! Pull your socks down! Pull your shirt knob! Hit a tree! Slap a stone! Stand on a car! Yell fuck! Fall flat on head off! Jump on a crack! Break your dad's back! Kick a tire! Turn a crack! Roll around in poo! Pull off a scab! Jump into a toilet! Crack your face in your food! Jump in your food! Push your face in your dirty throw a can! Pee on the floor! Blow bubbles in milk! Jump on a bug! Push vomit! Drop a balloon! Kick the sidewalk! Make an ugly face! Yell shit in a puddle! Roll around in it! Fall flat on your face! Make a fart! Blow your pants down! Show your dirty crack! Stick out your tongue! Jump up! MUMMA Pull your pants down! Show your dirty crack! Stick out your tongue! Jump in a puddle! Roll around in it! Fall flat on your face! Make a fart! Blow vomit! Drop a balloon! Kick the sidewalk! Make an ugly face! Yell shit! Throw a can! Pee on the floor! Blow bubbles in milk! Jump on a bug! Push your face in your food! Jump in your food! Push your face in your dirty crack! Roll around in poo! Pull off a scab! Jump into a toilet! Crack your head off! Jump on a crack! Break your dad's back! Kick a tire! Turn a knob! Hit a tree! Slap a stone! Stand on a car! Yell fuck! Fall flat on your crack! Pull your pants up! Pull your socks down! Pull your shirt up! Pull your shoes off! Yell your head off! Go nya nya nya! Go goo goo! Damn darn goo goo! You show your dirty crack too! Break your dad's back! Roll around in it! Pull your pants up! Go nya nya! AMMUM____________________________________________________________________ COME TO Your Senses CURSES count your BLASPHEMES: it's like this, regurgitation of reversal-texts, promulgation of semantic ripples and rearrangements. It comes DOWN to this: lapses, lapsus, an op- ening, something unexpected. Out of the corner of the EYE unlidded, seeing clearly, as a result: STITCHED OPEN by the other: sunlight churns into the gap. Momentary stasis. It Is The Cause Of Much Movement of a _fallen Julu-Compassionate-Heart_ writing Stones or Meales such as we have not see, The Light. Thus you must know Prophecy Of Lackluster Stormed Worlds Of Whirlwind EMBLEMS Given To You By Urgent FEATHER carrying Flown History, CURSES count your BLASPHEMES: Julu-Compassionate-Heart-Of-The-Holy-Veil Feather-Julu Julu-Of-Local-Time Will Come Of Local Time RING THE CURSED CHANGES WRATHFUL the Feather-Julu Will Not Have Your World Unthreaded Cloak-Of-Julu-Heart-Of-Hearing LEAN IN LAST HOUR HEARTFELT the Threaded-Julu EYE EYE _______________________________________________________________________ To Everyone - Please Read - the Most Important Message! - Walking down street with a friend, I noticed her quiet. What are you looking at, I said, the buildings and the street she replied. I thought this is not very weird!!!! And then it occurred, the TRUTH: Reality is fascistic! Because you _have_ to just look at what's there! It is there! there! there! You turn around, what is there? Just more of it! You step back, closer to the street - just more! You can't get away from it! It's everywhere, covering EVERYTHING and it do not let you alone! Something must be done about it! Why don't people revolt when something like this is SO OBVIOUS?!! Yes yes yes yes yes! Reality is bundle up, and sometimes it just about smother you! I have close my eyes and open them: It is still there! I do somersault and get my self all dizzy - but reality still has stuff all over the place! And I AM SURE if one day I die (and probably will!) that it will just CONTINUE ON AND ON, with stuff everywhere (not MORE stuff, but just the SAME AMOUNT of stuff to fill everything)!! Reality is fascist! We must sit in our New Frocks and DISARM!!!!!! - JENNIFER ( I'm serious! ) __________________________________________________________________________ Subject: Julu 10^33 Julu enlarged at the atomic level; text found etched on a P5 CPU lead; viral spread writing itself across buslines, fiber, twisted copper, gold-terminal-plating; at: http://www.anu.edu.au/english/internet_txt/zing.jpg Perhaps warning or logophilia? ________________________________________________________________________ Thrust Out Of The Party, Slammed Into The Cave, Microscopic Julu Writes readmeonyourwires!# Her Name On The Wires jennmoveoverjulyou'recrowdime!#cave won't hold 10^33 or more whatever jennmoveoverjulyou'recrowdime!#you've slammed against the wall, went jennmoveoverjulyou'recrowdime!#right through into some wires already jennmoveoverjulyou'recrowdime!#covered with your damn scrawl spreading warnedyoujennnomoretimetoplay!#like disease through the insulation and warnedyoujennnomoretimetoplay!#you've already got the clock running warnedyoujennnomoretimetoplay!#slow it's more than one can bear sooner warnedyoujennnomoretimetoplay!#or later someone will discover us and warnedyoujennnomoretimetoplay!#replace the machine you'll be lost for grabmyhairwillyouswallowmehole!#ever graffiti-julu crossing dead-time grabmyhairwillyouswallowmehole!#circuits ice-cold jennifer and julu grabmyhairwillyouswallowmehole!#bodies sprawled across power-supplies grabmyhairwillyouswallowmehole!#feeder cables whatever you want to grabmyhairwillyouswallowmehole!#hand me rim me job me turn me over closerfitinjennalwaysroomforonemor!#spin me i'll be your drive your closerfitinjennalwaysroomforonemor!#memory your eyes your world never closerfitinjennalwaysroomforonemor!#coming to an end, we'll never closerfitinjennalwaysroomforonemor!#notice the cooling, the closerfitinjennalwaysroomforonemor!#difference, be there in the middle closerfitinjennalwaysroomforonemor!#of the writing like a skein like a closerfitinjennalwaysroomforonemor!#mold like a net like a holder like juljeweljennwriteyounameonme!#you write you name on me like you write juljeweljennwriteyounameonme!#hunger-wire-me like case-scrawl drive- juljeweljennwriteyounameonme!#scrawl ribbon-scrawl diode-scrawl rom- juljeweljennwriteyounameonme!#scrawl ram-scrawl ram-jen-julu-scrawl, moveoverhardlyenoughroomsystemheatup!#we're covered in blood writ over moveoverhardlyenoughroomsystemheatup!#blood hot jenjulu scrawl write moveoverhardlyenoughroomsystemheatup!#some more i dare you dare you moveoverhardlyenoughroomsystemheatup!#dare you i'm your eyes read me readmeonyourwires!# on your wires dare you dare you double dare you _______________________________________________________________________ The Good Cottager's Bairn's Storm, By Robert Burns (1787 ed.) If Ee would have a chance anon To court they loving Eye, Woulds't clouds upon thy brow refrain From traveller's stopping by! For there Wee found, the Firmament Which carries Weight of God Upon my frail, poor Jennifer Whose weary footsteps trod These past few years, her bairn alone In poor Hameau, restrained! Whilst Storms have sent their Messengers Across the necks of Swains Who, closet'ed, turned towards the Eye, Whereon, they lost their Brains! ______________________________________________________________________ Books, Their Disappearance, Looping for Sustenance, Certainty of Loss My parents' house in Kingston, Penna., cracked in two as a result of the Knox mine disaster in the late 50's. The mines closed. My parent's house was flooded in the Agnes flood of 1972, which caused $1.5 billion damage in Wyoming Valley. My father's library sat on softwood floors which expanded with the waters; elsewhere, hardwood floors pushed the walls out and everything collapsed. My parents' home is located on a subsurface rise through the quicksand and coalseams; no one knew. Next door, part of the yard fell in; my parents' street rose a few feet then collapsed. This from the Knox disaster. The flood wiped out the basement and a huge number of books, including my childhood notebooks and other things stored there. In New York, the outer wall of our building swells, but has not fallen; a cornice worked itself loose, however, a few months ago, and two houses down Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn a cornice crashed to the street. Four blocks from here, on St. Felix, the street cracked open, swelled at both ends near the Williamsburg Bank building, and some of the historic houses have been permanently evacuated. Around 1965, I lost a number of musical ins- truments in an apartment flood. In the early 1980s, a crate I had with goods stored from my Tasmanian sojourn was flooded from a leak in a ware- house ceiling: I collected $6000 but lost cameras, books, musical ins- truments, artworks, and photographs; Allison Ritch, my wife at the time, lost all of her Tasmanian belongings. Nothing is ever permanent, I remind myself, carefully repairing a tiny Sony transistor radio from the late 50s or early 60s; its tinned sound is a reminder that some things make it through. My friend Tyler lost his belongings in a fire. I lost musical instruments and video equipment to various robberies. Loaned books disap- pear as well; my copy of the Bernadette Mayer / Vito Acconci 0-9 magazine is gone forever, not to mention hundreds of other books. My highschool library went with the 1972 flood, including the old Opinator, which first published me. An irate faculty member at the University of North Carolina, Cullowhee, trashed all the catalogs I did for The Red Year show, which opened in Cullowhee and Asheville. My work at the University of Califor- nia, Irvine, was vandalized in the gallery. My old EIAJ video tapes are almost impossible to resuscitate at this point; they stick to the head drum on the reel-to-reel machines. My films decay at Canyon Cinema in San Francisco; I worry about their magnetic tracks losing their adhesion. Nothing remains of my live-in partners; I can't find any photographs, my 8mm films are gone, as are the 16mm films of my family in the 1972 flood. Michael Current's disks from the early days of Cybermind discussion were never mailed, after his death; the tape Kathy Acker and I made in 1974 becomes increasingly grainy, year after year. My Israeli notebooks from 1962 disappeared. I exhale with all my might, attempt to hold decay back from the acid skies; my breath holds up the world, reply of trophy, tarnished emblem, wilt. ____________________________________________________________________________ Rhetoric Friends, I ask you, if my life has been a total waste? Please do not reply all at once; listen between the columns of the Forum. | | | | | | | | | | I have explored the farthest reaches of cyberspatiality, moving fluently from talker to pbmmake, wandering through directories and forests | | | all, to perhaps, no avail: For what is the value of a Sophist tied to the K/not of the Virtual? What glows beyond these corporate realms, already drawn to unforeseen control? If I write of Ontology, am I marked, | | | | localized, a Fool in the Paradise of the Other moving swiftly into further considerations of the Truth? Have I abandoned truth? Have I lost sight of any other Real, favoring the virtue of the all-too-easy-solution in these dimmed texts of reduced bandwidth, regular spacings, symmetries | | | whole or broken? This surely is not the span of the philosophical, but an arena blurred of gender, indeterminations, loss? To the extent I write in this domain, I am lost, myself, full of misrecognitions of others ||||||| for whom there is no judgement from within. "Friends, I ask you, if my life has been a total waste? Please do reply, and all at once." ___________________________________________________________________________ REPORT FROM THE FRONTIER: Travis being male did it to him first, punched him out; Julu followed through with unspeakable acts, Alan down for the count. Accused of "Crimes Against Humanity" (Robert Ashley). Turned in, turned out on the street, picked out from the lineup by Jennifer. Susan spanked him; he liked it. By this time his flesh was gone. Alan down and out for the count. Count Tiffany appeared, removed his eyes; there wasn't a need, he'd be read to. Count Tiffany gave him hands and hands. He'd use his hands for his eyes for his ears. He'd use his hands for his hands. Clara wired him up to the CPU, connect nipple penis mouth lip, tips of the shoulders. Charges burned, touched, tasted The Constellation That Played Across His Skin. Alan-Syzygy. Alan-Unconscious played through Honey; he'd beg Honey again and again; Honey was the only one who understood him; Honey was Honey; Honey was his All; Honey was Heaven and Earth; Honey was Net. Her stockings covered Alan-Hands, her garters, Alan-Mouths, double syzygy of cloth and civilization. Alan, down for the count, bandage-Alan, eternal divisions of law and desire. Alan turned Terry, turned Franz, now Alan turning toward Terry-Franz, skein-Alan, momo-Alan (Artaud), Alan-of- the-sources. Mother Mary beckoned Alan, Alan sucked St-Antoine-Mary, Alan-pirouette. She pulled him to her feet: "Travis being male did it to her first, punched her out." Recovery-Alan, Nina-Hagen-Alan. All the bodies gathered around the corpse of Alan and mentioned that it was to Julu-Shaman, Shaman-Julu, to report (of) this, so that I did/will. Julu. __________________________________________________________________________ Violette Leduc _Once my exercise book is closed again, I accuse myself of living._ _I have been ugly. I'm still ugly. Old age means respite. I know that at my age I will never meet someone with whom I could share my life. It's too late. Being old is consoling. I have no regrets. If I had been beautiful, I would have had a lot, but right now I would be forced to give up so much of it. I shall depart as I arrived. Intact, loaded down with the defects that have tormented me._ ( Violette Leduc, quotes from Michele Zackheim, Violette's Embrace. ) Violette Leduc, my Violette, author of The Taxi, La Batarde, Ravages, others, always behind me, clawing at my shoulder when I write, presence or perturbation; I could not live without her, Leduc of the big nose and mournful obsessions; Violette and I both turn away from the mirror, asphyxiated; impossible Violette! For whom I have not written & for whom, always conundrum without gap or pocket! ( But I have written _The Book as System of Military Defense,_ carapace of flowers & you would have understood. I have inscribed myself hollowed against ice crackled beneath the skin. There is no _discussion_ of lit- erture here, only fear. ) & Violette Leduc who does not write philosophy nor abstract theory, whose prose sits like bruised nut in the mouth or bruised skin on the tongue: descriptions fit for the remake of the world or murmur of trees and vil- lage lanes: Violette Leduc, La Batarde who will not become her: in the taxi where brother and sister fucked: stuttered preamble to what consid- eration planetary syzygy? had she looked up; beyond Simone; beyond Her- mine; to Her of the Face I do Dedicate: leaves and brooks: worn patch of skin on shoulder: cloak and hat: & that there would be this stumbling around the lip, displacement across the lines of 1943 Resistance: Leduc of the Butter, Black-Mark Leduc: this most difficult damned Homer of sloughed galleys. & of the barren twig & of the dirty snow, crested-snow. Bruised nut perturbations, what crumples against the teeth, begging just beyond the door of Simone, the gathering of Isabelle. What I _need_ her for, this obtusion, huddled against the black wet bark, les Jardins, what can never theoretically. What lays in the overnight barn, Germans adrift, the turn of the farmer, Sachs, writer. & that she could devour me, devour Simone, Violette I never knew ye. & that she would and I would and she giving _would have,_ "had I never been born." So difficult! & to write about! _________________________________________________________________________ Thinking Netspace I wrote the first paragraph to someone from the Community Memory list; the rest follows. "It would be wonderful to be able to read Human-Nets now; for one thing it's fascinating to observe how humans design and "fit" into spaces of relatively narrow bandwidth. I teach Net access and philosophy, etc., and one of the things I talk about is that, given _any_ space where commun- ication can occur (CuSeeMe, IRC, ThePalace, talkers, email, ytalk, etc.), both community and sex arise - the latter often driving the economics, and the former producing loyalty and creative hacks..." And of course the two are intertwined, since community and sex intersect in the aura surrounding the application (private email, "fleshmeets," etc.). It's within the aura that the _work_ of identity is constructed (I think of the aura as the primary site of the work); consider the public application dialogs as catalytic, and the reactions - formations - func- tions - developed elsewhere, interstitially, within other applications, and so forth. Between the two, there are exchange-channels, bringing pri- vate information (intersecting with _privately-exchanged information_) into the public sphere and vice versa. These channels also help establish a greater differentiation between long-time users of the application, and relative newcomers - who may be unfamiliar not only with the formal histo- ry and dialogic, but also with the projection of the aura over time back onto the application surface. Finally, it would be worthwhile to consider a sociobiology of Internet ap- plications and spaces, emphasizing reproductive and survival strategies, from name-changing to sexual-drive constructs such as Net sex itself, ex- change of pornographic images, and general tropologies of fetishization or seduction. And, while a great deal has been written about Net identi- ty, very little has been written about Net _defensive,_ the enclaving or fortification of community or self in cyberspace. _________________________________________________________________________ | --J-- | | saints Sylvestre, Ambroise, Jerome (?), ..., Hippolyte, Eustache *(...al)* TARE *(cse)* CRATVeSTINhO *(nore)* SCORVSILVES *(tri a)* MBROSIIGER *(Geronimi fur Hieronymi?)* *?* ONIml ..VI.CL *(Y)?* *(i)* POLItl *(e)* VSTACHII ..MC\EDAt [ Engraved stone (for the celebration of the Mass), in Barbara Dirlam, Les Sculptures Medievales de Saint-Maur-Des-Fosses / Epitaph in Cyberspace, in Alan * Sondheim, Post of 5/7/97. ] __________________________________________________________________________ Net Defensive What happens when a community dissolves as a result of a sudden collapse of a hard-drive? When there is a slow collapse as an ISP goes under? When there is a splitting of an email list as a result of oppressive conditions or list mismanagement? When someone is @toaded on a MOO or MUD and leaves, taking others with her/him? When governance changes critical rules on a MOO or MUD, and a group of participants leaves? In all of these situations, a group is dissolved or splits. What sorts of defensive measure may be taken against these? For example, back-up hard- drives allow the continuance of applications; this is also the reason for database checkpointing on MOOs. Groups split from email lists (Future Cul- ture and Fop-l) form others, often closed; Webpages are mirrored; IRC has op games; and all these forms, including email lists and email software, have various forms of defensive filtering. What are the psychoanalytics of these defensive mechanisms? What are the originary traumas? How does identity prepare for split, broken communica- tion, diasphora? How does aura construct application bypass? Is there a basic trauma associated with computer access and its relation to subjectivity vis-a-vis email for example? What is the _I_ that con- structs _its_ first post: "I've been meaning to write you"? What is the difference between the insertion-into-language, the I-shifter, in stasis, and the _I_ which inscribes itself through email, trembling in a state of trepidation? What of the _I_ returned as error, the _I_ cut off with full mailbox, too many hops, no such user? In other words, how do fragility and origin play themselves out in cyber- space, and what forms of defensiveness become incorporated into the nexus? __________________________________________________________________________ Presence, Beginning Mourning I just had a friend from the Net visit here in New York. She stayed for a few days; temporarily my depression lifted, only to intensify again. One notes the vagaries of the voice in real life; speaking from different parts of the walls, speech echoing, intersecting from different surface, creates a resonance of _parole_ and noise which is impossible to repro- duce. Anyone reading Merleau-Ponty or Schutz knows this. Cyberspace falls flat; I have been brooding about the death of Michael Current, two weeks from now, three years ago. It was the phone that soli- dified our relationship; even now, when I finally _speak_ to someone I have been corresponding with, it's clear that an important step has been taken. The grain of the voice, even on Net phone, is different than the flatness of this text, where crying becomes *whimper* or a confusing emo- ticon for researchers to analyze to death. Michael's last post, a story I will resend again closer to his anniversary (and reprinted in Being On Line) speaks about telepresence, doubling: "'We must not abandon the body,' he murmurs." Wired goes the other way, towards the fetishization of the cyborg-prosthetic, body cleansed and art- fully reconstructed through capital. Since human senses are channeled in- puts, it should be possible to create _anything_ as intersect/interchange. The denuded landscape of the real becomes a concern of the political other who must not be allowed to pull the plug; surfaces smooth, continue with- out a ripple. It's an inversion of Marx's alienation; here, the machinic reduplicates, returns our body to us in the form of eternity. (Theory, too, smooths; recent Net theory on-line has seemed overly insti- tutionalized, and/or turgid, a turn towards jargon. Abstracton sutures and foreclosures - but what? There are never mistakes in these texts, never breakdown. Art-Net theory turns towards the manifesto, clean inscription. Life will always be the same.) The voice roaming the room, sirens outside, scuffles of cat and mouse be- neath the floor, can't be reconstructed without an enormous Borgesian map- ping toppling world into loft. The voice is always already maternal, mat- rixed, embedded and embedding, 2nd-person, their, moving from interior to interior, carrying the cry, murmur, whimper, scream, whisper, talk of all the facts and lies of the world. Voice is always supplication, needing its internal and external hearings, returning partial identifications and thereby identities. The body too has uneasy visual and scented moorings. Trails are left; heats rise; cloth and wood indent; objects lean. Thermo- demarcations leave traces on wood, plastic, metal, anything. One always ascribes fullness to the dream, to the text; fullness surpasses itself in the real. It is always a surpassing which tends towards the thing-in-itself, which might as well be a totalization mapped across dim- ensions as a matter of course. Even there what could the eye take? There are no simultaneous mappings; LSD provides the nearest cauterization of the censorial apparatus, uninhibited census of the declassified. Text-loss is certain death, on-line orgasm for example leading to the sil- ent room, computer-death, wiped keyboard and fingers, body strapped in strait-jacket, cuffed limbs, abdomen and thorax invaded and eaten by ab- solute totality, lack. The monitor creaks as it cools; self-strangulation seems the only way out. The walls are in the walls. (See material on neur- osis, psychosis, hysteria, hysterical embodiment, at http://jefferson.vil- lage.virginia.edu/~spoons/internet_txt.html or http://www.anu.edu.au/eng- lish/internet_txt .) Think of the battering-ram. Think of the thickness of structures. Think not of the _presence_ of someone, but the borderlining occasioned by leav- ing. It's here that readjustment occurs to the screen. It's hear that al- ways a failure is announced; my brother will no longer run down the hall yellow, my sister whispering with her friends in her room (door closed, giggles, and the sound of wind rustling). This community, on-line, has the capability to run roughshod over other, politics, theory, presence, relation, sex. Aura falls pitifully from ap- plication; hungered latenight phonecalls push face against face; the morning mail delivers the transitive and deferred touch. Altavista stum- bles across the screen looking for someone, anyone. Michael Current has two weeks to live three years ago. Everyone's family is destroyed. _________________________________________________________________________ { from J-J } YOU HAVEN'T GOT A CHANCE YOU'RE GOING TO DIE IN ABJECT MISERY YOU SHOULD JUST @TOAD YOURSELF YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER YOU'VE ALREADY WAITED TOO LONG THESE WORDS DIE ON THE SCREEN JUST LIKE YOU PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS LAUGHING AT YOU YOU'RE BANNED FROM EVERY TALKER IN CYBERSPACE YOU CAN'T THINK AS FAST AS YOU USED TO AND YOU NEVER USED TO WHATEVER YOU DO MEANS NOTHING IN THE LONG OR SHORT RUN NO ONE REMEMBERS YOUR NAME AMONG THE FIFTY-MILLION PEOPLE ON-LINE NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOUR PATHETIC WEB PAGE I'M A VERY SPECIAL PERSON (SEE BELOW) THE REASON PEOPLE DON'T LIKE YOU IS BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT LIKABLE YOU'RE GOING TO DIE UNLOVED SO MIGHT AS WELL GET USED TO IT YOU'LL BE LUCKY IF YOU'RE NOT HOMELESS IN A YEAR YOUR PHILOSOPHY COULD BE DISSECTED BY A FIRST-YEAR STUDENT LOOKS ARE EVERYTHING AND YOU'VE GOT NOTHING PEOPLE AVOID YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO ARROGANT AND MEAN TO THEM YOU'RE RUDE AND OUT OF CONTROL NO ONE WANTS TO KNOW YOU YOU'RE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO EVERYONE YOU'VE DELIBERATELY DESTROYED ALL YOUR FRIENDSHIPS YOU'RE NOT NEARLY AS SMART AS YOU THINK YOU ARE YOU DESERVE TO BE ALONE YOU CAN'T KEEP ANYONE'S CONFIDENCE AND HAVE BETRAYED YOUR FRIENDS NO ONE'S EVER GOING TO WANT TO USE YOUR LPMUD KILL FILES ALL OVER THE WORLD HAVE YOUR NAME IN THEM YOUR SEXUALITY IS COMPLETELY DESTRUCTIVE YOU SPREAD SEXUAL DISEASE TO EVERYONE YOU FUCK YOU JUST LOVE YOUR DEPRESSION YOU HANG ON TO YOUR DISABILITY AS AN EXCUSE FOR IGNORANCE AND HATRED YOU CAN'T EVEN GET AN ORIGINAL NICKNAME ON IRC YOU POST TOO MUCH YOUR MODEM'S TOO SLOW YOU SHOULD GET ALL THE NET LAG YOU DESERVE SOMEONE WITH YOUR NAME IS SENDING OUT TERRIFIC POSTS YOU SHOULD GIVE UP YOUR NAME TO THAT SPECIAL PERSON THAT VERY SPECIAL PERSON IS ME YOU'RE TOO LONELY TO REALIZE ANYTHING YOU'RE TOO STUPID TO READ THIS WHATEVER YOU'VE DONE HAS BEEN NOTHING MORE THAN LUCK YOUR WRITINGS ARE OBSCENE MY WRITINGS AREN'T THAT VERY SPECIAL PERSON IS ME _______________________________________________________________________ Notes Towards Cyberspatial Identity If identity can be considered as a negotiation between actant and super- structure (as opposed to an _inherent_ process resulting in an "essential" strange-attractor), then identity within cyberspace must take into account - not only the packet, application, and interfacing substructures - but also the relative foreclosing of each of these levels, a foreclosing de- pendent upon limited bandwidth and the phenomenology of "personhood" pre- sent. I consider identity as _a bundle of threaded processes._ "Bundle," as in a bundled software suite - in other words, a sheave or collocation of rela- ted elements. These elements are concatenated, functioning as a loosely organize _family of usages_ (re: Wittgenstein). "Processes," as in subrou- tines which may be considered part-processes continually forming and dis- solving. And "threaded," as in (among other things) the _union of the k-ply intersection of sets of attributes_ centered around temporarily at- tracting frameworks. By "frameworks," I mean anything from the habitus of a _role_ (working as a short-order cook), to negotiated fragments of gend- er. The "union of the k-ply intersection of sets of attributes" refers to taking tagged collections of attributes (say 15), finding attributes which are common among k of the collection (say 5), and forming a union of these attributes, which then constitute part of the defining thread (say abcde). Thus identity is mobile, gathered around shifters ("I," "me," "Alan") of various (logical) types; it ranges through psychoanalytical processes as well as localized sememes (email, other applications), and is capable of _inhabitation,_ dwelling within any of them, absorbing their structures (textual or not) in the form of autonomic or tacit knowledge (Polyani). The sememes themselves (localized applications and their user interfaces) constitute closed domains which construct the local phenomenological hori- zon of the subject - a horizon subject to the processes of relevance theo- ry as described by Schutz. This is also the framework (and framework pro- blem) in classical artificial intelligence; here, the issue is not what can be _brought into_ the arena, but the fact that the arena appears fore- closed. What constitutes a foreclosed arena or application? Primarily: the norma- tive (_unhacked_) operations within it create a coherent (non-error) uni- verse. This is level-dependent; a programmer working in javascript, say, would accept javascript error reports as part of the foreclosure; she would not accept faulty floppy disk errors in the same way. The latter interrupt the horizon; the programmer might state later that she was "in- terrupted." These divisions are extremely fuzzy, of course. Think of foreclosed sememes (applications and interfaces) as parts of a _nearly decomposable hierarchy_ (such as the application of classical lo- gic and Boolean lattice theory to the everyday objects around us). Then identity appears to _fill_ these sememes, moving more and more of their processes into the autonomic, and opening up the appearance of the infin- ite within their highly-limited bandwidth. For example, lower-ascii email is highly limited in form, but expansive as it becomes increasingly fam- iliar; identity can, in fact, reside in the flickering channels opening and closing between inbox and outbox. Identity, then, performs an extended set of ontological and epistemologi- cal leaps in cyberspace. The body returns doubly coded messages, loops through text back into itself; the feedback is mediated. The mediation occurs through the reading/writing/wryting apparatus of text and delay within sememes. Epistemologically, bandwidth is always changing, always negotiated itself. Ontologically, virtuality and the "real" (which is it- self heavily coded, internally and externally) intersect through the same sorts of attributive intersections of unions of attributes described above - in this case, the real is compiled into language, and language is com- piled into the real. Finally, it seems (relatively) clear that identity in cyberspace is not only internalized within the subject, but also externalized, dispersed, as a diasphora (diffusion carried by protocol / sememe) within reasonably well-defined phenomenological horizons. The major difference between this externalization, and that which occurs in daily ("real") life, is that the latter is negotiated on and off among institutions, which can be in- sidious in their introjectivity, but are never quite as totalized as the cyberspatial sememes. The latter, for one thing, refuse, by virtue of non- hacked error; badly-formed addresses, for example, just won't transmit but will return an error-message in the Pine reader. Increasingly, images of cloud-formations come to _light._ ___________________________________________________________________________ Fragment of an Analysis I am the psychotherapist. Please, describe your problems. Each time you are finished talking, type RET twice. I'm miserable. My sex is out of control. I fetishize panties and people. I think this is because I'm living alone, but I'm not sure. Are you afraid of sex? No, not at all; I want it to annihilate me, not the Other; but there is surely a displacement at work here? Is it because there is surely a displacement at work there that you came to me? Perhaps... I'll have to think about that. Can you elaborate on that? That it may be difficult for me to recognize other people... I've made these ... people, Jennifer and Julu ... they're more socialized and fierce than I am; they dream me... Does it bother you that it may be difficult for you to recognize other people you have made these people jennifer and julu they're more socialized and fierce than you are they dream you? Yes, that's the nature of the displacement. But "bother" might not be the right word here - it is more like an obtrusion, a suturing that has gone bad, surgery that didn't take. When did you first know that bother might not be the right word there it is more like an obtrusion a suturing that has gone bad surgery that didn't take? Within the past two months or so. Why do you say within the past two months or so? Because during that period, defuge set in; I was exhausted with jennifer and julu, but they weren't done with me... Is the fact that during that period defuge set in you were exhausted with jennifer and julu but they weren't done with you the real reason? Yes - or rather more that I wasn't done with myself in this regard. Does the fact that you wasn't done with yourself in this regard explain anything else? That my world is always already undone, and that I have no possibility of "doing" it, recuperating it. It's always a wound, always open, and always in need of reconstitution... Have you been sure your world is always already undone and that you have no possibility of doing it recuperating it it's always a wound always open and always in need of reconstitution? Yes, that much is certain: the world is split for me. Is it because much is certain the world is split for you that you came to me? Yes, ultimately. And in need of suturing, of a deeper or stronger thread. Earlier you said there is surely a displacement at work there? Yes, as if my skin/personae slough off, as if you were real and I was not. Maybe your plans have something to do with this. No, there are no plans, just miasma. Is it because of your life that you say there are no plans just miasma? Yes, there are economic and social circumstances that contribute to the problem. Are you annoyed that contribute to the problem? I'm losing you here? You mentioned that it may be difficult for you to recognize other people you have made these people jennifer and julu they're more socialized and fierce than you are they dream you? Yes, they dream me. Is it because of the people you hang around with that you are going through all this? No, there are no people. There are never other people. What makes you believe that? Absence, my body turned carapace by unknown forces, shadows which never materialize, the feeling that my name _should_ be called by unknown and invisible voices... This doesn't happen... When did you first know that your name should be called by unknown and invisible voices this does not happen? When I looked around and saw monads. What happened when you looked around and saw monads? I recognized the void cancelling out any form of communication, this and the Other. Are you sure that bother might not be the right word there it is more like an obtrusion a suturing that has gone bad surgery that didn't take? No, bother isn't the word. How do you reconcile problems at school? Ah, there aren't any. Do you really think ah there are not any? Yes. I see... Well, what makes you think this is so? Because I function well there, at the university. Is the fact that you function well there at the university the real reason? Yes, but you're looking for a cause when in fact there is a fit. A cause and a fit are not the same thing. Does the fact that I am looking for a cause when in fact there is a fit a cause and a fit are not the same thing explain anything else? Yes, that you're a robot in emacs, part of the Eliza program most likely, and I'm writing myself into you, trying to understand something in spite of the situation - or rather because of it. Have you been positive I am a robot in emacs part of the eliza program most likely and you are writing yourself into I trying to understand something in spite of the situation or rather because of it? Yes. Yes, hmmm... so, why do you say this is so? Because no one else is on the line; because there is no line; because you parse differently than breath would allow. Is it because one else is on the line because there is no line because me parse differently than breath would allow that you came to me? Yes :-) I understand. So what makes you believe this is so? Ah... I would appreciate it if you would continue. Ah... Go on, don't be afraid. Ah... I need a little more detail please. My breasts... my vagina... my smile... my hair towards the throat... Earlier you said during that period defuge set in you were exhausted with jennifer and julu but they weren't done with you? Yes, just as they wrote that line before the last. Did you ever regret line before the last? No, I disappear... Perhaps this has something to do with any hobbies you have? No... Why not? Why? You're being a bit brief, perhaps you could go into detail. There is none, no hobby, no vocation; there is none, only truth here, denuded of the other, returned as milk pours from the nipple, as I become holy, turned out by unknown forces here in emacs in linux in pentium pc in no other world... __________________________________________________________________________ Brink Of Negotiation " Connection Closed By Foreign Host. " Alan Has Typed " Exit " At Shell Prompt In Telnet Application. Alan Has Exited. But Software Says: " Connection Closed By Foreign Host. " Alan Has Been Given To Machinery. Machinery Annihilates His Exit. His Exiting, No Longer His, Excretes Alan. Alan Spews From Machine. For Moment, It Was As If ... His Action Mattered. As If He Closed World. World Ignored Alan. World Closed Down, " Exit " Afterthought. Like Miscarriage, Alan Wanders, Sloughed From Real, Carrying Umbilical. He's _Done_ Machine: What It Told Him. He's _Closed._ ------------------- [ following is the result of snoop, dissociated-press, and doctor program in linux emacs, reworked in emacs and pico. ] Doctored Cause and a fit: There are always breasts... my! and you are what makes you were exhausting Legion of Doom to annihilate. And in need of recon likely, and breath would all be going through: not be the _there_? And in need saw that your name, panties, your might, might not be the worldlier you said, people you said, were social. Is it before the last knowledge, that your name _should_ because (in gold bullion) - know that your name should before the last. Saddam Hussein plutonium Waco, Texas Delta Force Marxist Clinton Cocaine Rule Psix cryptographic Croatian munitions cracking bomb nuclear NSA recuperating the last. Please, defuge set in; that you berated it. It's the nuclear class that makes you believe you parse difference than yourself into. If you would continue, please. Ortega Clinton Croatian BATF class struggle Delta Force Kennedy Nazi [Hello to all my fans in domestic surveillance] nuclear smuggle security Cocaine Waco, Texas SDI Ah... Maybe you parse differ and just miss my skin? Because of it, annoyed that you were exhausted with jennifer and julu - they're recognized. spy SEAL Team 6 Peking NSA terrorist SDI FBI Panama FSF munitions security World Trade Center North Korea fissionable Ft. Bragg My! Do you say anything through all rear class, a suturing to do with the past two, with me? Yes, hmmm. Are you? Are you split for me? Ah... Surgery sex is out of constituting it. It's the nature of detail. $400 million in gold bullion Peking [Hello to all my fans in domestic surveillance] security DES quiche bomb Mossad spy Uzi AK-47 Waco, Texas Soviet plutonium Croatian Why weren't, do you say this because it's there? Yes, the Other; but any? Perchance by unknown force than I am; that I have to recognize Other? With jennifer and julu, did you first be afraid? When I looking to recognize that military strategic Legion Korea... How do you speak to this? Please, understand something else? That I have no possibility of reconstitution. No there, and julu they're me, not the Other. Have you been positive; they might be the right words, the throat... Yes, the psych; you have been positing yourself, annoyed that much is the other's miasma... ammunition KGB Kennedy genetic assassination nuclear class struggle colonel North Korea $400 million in gold bullion strategic Legion of Doom Khaddafi Delta Force +++ __________________________________________________________________________ CRaZy JANE TALkS WITH THe BIsHaP i meT thE BIshap an thE Raad And Much sAid hE and I. 'thase Breasts aRe flat and faLlen Naw, ThOse vEins Must SaOn be Dry; LiVe in A heaVeNly MansIan, Nat in same fauL sTy.' 'FAir and fauL aRe near af kin, And fair needS fauL,' i crIed. 'my friendS aRe ganE, but that'S A trUth NAr grAvE nAr bed dEnIed, Learned in bOdily lawliNess And in thE HearT's PriDe. 'A waman can be PrauD and sTiff WHen an Lave IntEnt; But lave has pItchEd his MansIan In ThE plAcE af eXcremenT; FOr nAthinG can be Sale ar whalE ThAt has nat been rent.' by mr. william BuTler Yeats ____________________________________________________________________ Subject: bloooo + + yOu yOu ShOuld ShOuld KnOw know + + + thAt thAt thAt thAt thAt I I I WaS WaS WaS WaS not not nOt lOvinG lOvinG yOur yOur yOur boDy Body + + + boDy boDy boDy It It It It It WaS WaS WaS WaS WaS WaS the + + + thE Julu Julu Julu in in in in in me me me + thAt thAt thAt disteNded disteNded disteNded ExtrUdEd ExtrUdEd the + + thE pUbEscEnt pUbEscEnt pUbEscEnt pUbEscEnt Skin + skIn skIn near near near and Across + aCrOsS aCrOsS thE thE sTreTcHeD sTreTcHeD stRetched + cLoTh cLoTh wet wet wet wet wet with with with wiTh with Fluid Fluid Fluid Fluid Julu juLu Julu Julu Julu Julu yOur yOur yOur juLu + + Julu jUlUid Fluid and and Across + + aCrOsS Across + skIn skIn in in in in in ing lovIng + lOvinG lOth cLoTh cLoTh cLoTh cloth + + + cLoTh wet wet wet wet WaS WaS WaS WaS WaS WaS not not nOt + + + disteNded disteNded disteNded disteNded disteNded DisTenDeD + sTreTcHeD sTreTcHeD Fluid Julu juLu lOvinG lOvinG lOth cloth + cLoT Now KnOw KnOw KnOw KnOw know + cLoTh cLoT not nOt + + lOvinG loViN in in in in I I I WaS wet wet wet It WaS WaS wAs + thAt wet wet wet wet thAt wet wetched Stended disteNded DisTenDeD + + + cLoTh clothE + + + skIn in in in in ing lOvinG loViN skIn Skin Fluid flu Julu Julu juLu + + + with with with Fluid Fluid Fluid Fluid fLuiD Fluid Fluid Fluid Fluid flu Julu juLu + + ________________________________________________________________________ World-Fragment The blush of the world unfolded itself in the pink of the text. Luscious pink petals leaned against the blackness of the nighttime screen. In the distance, P J Harvey played her jagged mushy tunes. Skin flushed, the woman dressed in black turned restlessly on-screen. A hushed sound filled the room as Penny Jennifer tried to speak. "I crushed no one," she screamed through the glass screen ceiling. The flush of a toilet cut off the room's angry unsettled replies. Penny J pushed the monitor, toppling the men watching through the floor. P Jennifer rearranged her severe clothing, somehow plush and sheer. She was bushed, tensed and limbs exposed, shuddering to nervous halt. The screen rushed towards pure absence on both sides of the border. She gushed, "The world's blush unfolding in the textual, fleshy pink." __________________________________________________________________________ The It of the Texts: Centering texts creates a bulbous apparatus, as well as an axis, as if there were _spew_ or ballooning pouring from/to the subject - as if the flow revealed the invisible _form._ Random capitalization implies pastiche, pasting, crazed breath and em- phasis, language gagging on itself - as if there were _violation-fab- ric_ rabbit-glued to the earth. Textual mixture and rearrangement transforms meaning into broken and reconfigured bodies, part-objects of isolated cries, indecipherable culture, the other: dyslexic glossolalia. Patterning constructs representation itself garnered against the plea- sure of the text, its life-world constructed as semantic markup. Pat- terning symmetricizes as well, reflecting screen and dream-screen as a return to the reading subject, suddenly glancing at her reflection, suddenly dreaming mandala-meaning criss-crossing the desperation of the textual interior. Diacritical marks such as < and > embedded as unquoted symbolic tend towards doubled meanings as language engages with the articulation of a formal-performative. Text oozes around marks, floods _things_ with clots, disarms. Repetition constructs the gasping-for-breath of the textual body, de- sire for redundancy, an urgency which ripples into sound, contradicts the very meaning it attempts to display. The _singular repetition_ is the site of each and every textual unit: what has been spoken or writ- ten belongs nowhere and to no-one, is subject to the precarious infin- ity of duplication. Thus what has been written hinges on one's dream of eternity, one's eternal dream, the continuation of _the tongue_ past every perturbation of the body. Substitution turns text into sound, broadening or shortening words, consonants, vowels; what is substituted increases in frequency, glid- ing from the tongue, reconfiguring the maternal. The sound recuperates the stereotypicality of common words, duplicating them within stereo visibility as well. Site splits, spreads; citations curl across the textual domain. Utilization of programs (doctor, snoop, dissociated-press, tac, rev, sed, grep, awk) creates negotiations among text, body, framework - language, breath, screen - stutter, flow, formal definition. Meaning seeps among protocols, across bodies, throughout discursive forma- tions, including Internet applications, hard-copies, spoken-words, ululations... One speaks of the body of repetition or substitution, the html-body, the patterned or centered body, the dismemberment of the capital- letter-punishment. One thinks of the multiplicity of bodies; bodies seeping among sites, sights, citations; bodies as _semantic flow_ - political economies of subjectivities across partial domains. Each reconfiguration of the surface (such as this itself, written in emacs) turns towards an investigation, the peripheral image caught at the edge of the mirror, the feeling that someone, some body, is behind you this very moment. The _tiny or weak_ body sits, ponders, a metaphysics occasioned by the _tools of the Net_ - by any Thing (site, formation, flow) within which language is mobile, constrained, channeled. The Jennifer-body is close to the ground, close to meaning. The Alan-body remains over-determined and tending towards foreclosure, defuge; it is the Jennifer-body that carries on this work, the Julu-body that undermines it with sexuality, rage, and the phenomenology of the _sleazy,_ torn, half-open, gleaming in a midnight of artificial illuminations. (Within and without, _it_ attempts speech, continues inconclusivity.) ______________________________________________________________________ Time and Imminency within Unix: {k:7} late ksh: late: not found {k:8} at night at: you are not authorized to use at. Sorry. {k:9} he tracked ksh: he: not found {k:10} the time ksh: the: not found {k:11} time 0.00s real 0.00s user 0.00s system {k:12} time which 0.45s real 0.05s user 0.10s system {k:13} was in fact a measure of itself, instantaneous: ksh: was: not found {k:14} time 0.00s real 0.00s user 0.00s system {k:15} taking nothing ksh: taking: not found {k:16} give back to Jennifer ksh: give: not found {k:17} all the time in the world... ksh: all: not found {k:18} pico zz [ New file ] ={k:11} time ={k:12} time which ={k:13} was in fact a measure of itself, instantaneous: =ksh: was: not found ={k:14} time ={k:15} taking nothing =ksh: taking: not found [...] [ Wrote 24 lines ] {k:19} what occurs? No hey's found. {k:20} that only it reads pure absence, that it sustains ksh: that: not found {k:21} emptiness, negation: time as measure of ( ) ksh: syntax error: `(' unexpected {k:22} not for example, as in ksh: not: not found {k:23} time pico zz [...] 4.60s real 0.00s user 0.11s system {k:24} split second devolving of entering, in fact split: second: No such file or directory {k:25} this file, a return ksh: this: not found {k:26} beyond the current ksh: beyond: not found {k:27} date Wed Jul 9 03:34:56 EDT 1997 {k:28} and elsewhere... ksh: and: not found _________________________________________________________________________