and and and . and excreting memory accompanying the hard, soft and needled, apatite and beryl is cotton, hard, spiked and petalled, two-lipped above and below, your musk, my high regard? ... your masquerade is amethyst here, it's your masquerade? your highest masquerade your highest regard are you becoming close to azure's soft and needled, apatite and beryl? yes and and and you show respect, you dissolve, obey, honor cotton-azurite melt into azure's skin forever... soft and needled, apatite and beryl, spiked and petalled, two-lipped above and below, your musk, my high regard my highest regard your highest masquerade and older, do you know them, green tourmaline and needled, and amethyst and spiked and florid masquerade and devoured masquerade, eaten by open-armed azure and two-lipped alan, above and below with the highest regard with the highest masquerade __________________________________________________________________ beautiful loser 3 I'm strong, incredibly strong. I think I have the strength of ten women. I'd rather be ten women than ten men. I am Clara, GOD. I foundered upon Medea, upon Phaedra. My life is your own. Flower. Wed Aug 26 21:50:00 1998 localhost - a new user 0 Fri Jun 13 18:54:56 1997 panix - a new user 0 Tue Aug 3 05:40:34 1999 panix3.panix.com beautiful loser 3 _________________________________________________________________________ HOLD-IT 8392913 9- 8392913 9- 8392the- way- the- noise- enters- the- world- -and takes- away- the- very- things913 9- 83927 93827 93827 93827 93827 93827 9382- 913 9- 8392we'd- been- -promised;- these- are- things- that- sud- denly- appeared- out913 9- 8392-7 93827 93827 93827 93827 93827 9382 952913 9- 8392of- thin- air,- -properly- indexed;- we- all- know- what- we were- in- for,913 9- 8392-7 93827 93827 9382- 1-913 9- 8392who- was- "in with- us"- and-1-why913 9- 83927 93827 93827 93827 93827 93827 93827 9382 913 9-oohh- 82302 82302wwhhaatt 82302 82302wwaass 82302 82302iitt 82302 82302-tthhaatt 82302 82302wwee 82302 82302ddoo 82302 82302nnoott- 82302 82302rreemmeemmbbeerr 82302 82302aanndd 82302 82302wwee 82302 82302 wwaaiitt 82302 82302 82302 82302hheerree 82302 82302ttoo 82302 82302 rreemmeemmbbeerraallll 82302 82302ooff 82302 82302iitt 82302 82302aanndd 82302 82302wwhhaatt 82302 82302wwaass 82302 82302tthhaatt 82302 82302 jjuusstt 82302 82302tthheerree 82302 82302aanndd 82302 82302wwhhaatt 82302 82302wwaass 82302 82302tthhaatt 82302 82302jjuusstt 82302 82302aa 82302 82302mmoommeenntt aaggoo just-there-just-around-the-corner-just-a-moment- ago-just-a-split-second-beforehand-just-a-second-ago-just-over-there-just -right-over-there-a-second-ago-just-a-little-while-ago-right-over-there __________________________________________________________________________ Linux Minicom Log: Sloop-Sailing on the Oceans' Wires 990803 19:20:29 CONNECT 57600 Sailing on the Cyberwaves, 12127414588 990803 19:20:55 Hung up on my long-lost softly rolling waves 990803 19:20:55 Gone offshore searching for my soul 990803 19:24:15 CONNECT 57600 Sailing on the Cyberwaves, 12127414588 990803 19:48:24 Gone offshore searching for my soul 990803 21:45:04 CONNECT 57600 Sailing on the Cyberwaves, 12127414588 990803 21:45:24 Hung up on my long-lost softly rolling waves 990803 21:45:24 Gone offshore searching for my soul 990803 21:46:08 CONNECT 57600 Sailing on the Cyberwaves, 12127414588 990803 21:47:19 Hung up on my long-lost softly rolling waves 990803 22:25:01 CONNECT 57600 P2, 3609201 990803 22:26:32 /usr/bin/sz -vv -b zzz a few precious moments of sleep 990803 22:26:33 Sending: zzz a few precious moments of sleep 990803 22:26:37 Bytes Sent: 1408 BPS:398 990803 22:26:37 Sending: all across the deep blue sea 990803 23:01:07 /usr/bin/rz -vv -b -E 990803 23:01:07 Receiving: seas and sea-straits, dolphins, anglers 990803 23:01:10 Bytes received: 5711/ 5711 BPS:3523 990803 23:02:20 /usr/bin/rz -vv -b -E 990803 23:02:21 Receiving: lakes and oceans, skates and manta-ray 990803 23:02:38 Bytes received: 88087/ 88087 BPS:5233 990803 23:02:38 Receiving: seas and rivers, salmon and tunicates 990803 23:02:39 Bytes received: 2789/ 2789 BPS:3399 990803 23:10:55 /usr/bin/rz -vv -b -E 990803 23:10:56 Receiving: oceans and seas, krill and nurturing plankton 990803 23:10:58 Bytes received: 6319/ 6319 BPS:3828 990803 23:17:19 Gone offshore searching for my soul 990803 23:18:42 CONNECT 57600 P2, 3609201 990803 23:19:27 Gone offshore searching for my soul 990803 23:20:30 Gone offshore searching for my soul searching for my soul and deep-sea dreaming searching for my soul and deep-sea dreaming __________________________________________________________________________ Review of Alan Sondheim by Azure Carter His work is full of pretension; it makes claims for its existence as "a certain future of writing," but does nothing to substantiate this. He is rightfully ignored by poets and artists alike; there is something unseemly in his use of avatars - and this seems evident to everyone but himself. He is arrogant and aggressive; not only does he make these claims, but he refuses to discuss them further. Although he is loud and self-proclaimed "edgy," he uses his reclusivity as a form of defense. In fact, all of his writing is defensive; he's willing to strike out, but not to be struck. Therefore he sees everything as a battlefield, to which he offers both his mind and body - but not really. This is part of the hypocrisy of the work - that nothing _really_ happens at all. Instead, it tends to become repe- titive, the same themes and words heard over and over again. Likewise he is far too caught up in bodily functions and obscenity, as if either could push writing or philosophy a single step further. While he lives comfortably, he gloats about "tap-dancing on mean streets," siding with those who are really in the midst of struggle - another hypocrisy. The enormity of his output indicates either a deteriorating or an arrogant mind, for whom every word is precious and worthy of a public. Clearly, little, if any, editing is involved in his writing, which goes on and on obscurely, with little regard to quality or a public. His philosophical claims are tedious and naive; he is no philosopher, but abuses philosophical terminology, constantly hedging his bets, as if that were the royal road to truth. His self-reflexivity is likewise exasperat- ing and narcissistic; self-immolation carries pride but no inherent depth. Such pride, coupled with his apparent need to survive at all costs, does nothing but create absurdity, for on one hand he desires fame and recogni- tion (for undeserving work), and on the other he begs the company of other writers, artists, and thinkers, while offering no rewards of his own. Indeed, his work is little more than the whining of a neophyte bent on re- creating the world through ignorance; what remains is only a crude phenom- enology of collapse. There are indications that he is both a virtual and a real thief as well; there is no other explanation for such volume. For depth is not the result of turgidity, nor do fragments, no matter how hysteric, constitute either a consideration or a system of philosophy. The fragment is the last defense of the intellectually ignorant; it appears as if everything and nothing is said, and as easily as swallowing a pill. In conclusion, his work is unwholesome, blemished, decayed; his attempt to transform these attributes into content fails, and one is left with the need to turn away, move on, to more rewarding texts. Scars, after all, are only scars; to assign them philosophical status is the height of pretense. And it is clear that the Net itself fosters such pretense; anyone may open a site and create a world. Almost none will stand the test of time; almost none will survive. New absurdity will drive out old; his work, weaker than most, will die in the hothouse it attempts to present as thought. __________________________________________________________________________ Pleas/e >>> can i move across the empty screen. i cannot move the empty screen. <<< >>> can i move myself from left to right. i cannot move from up to down. <<< >>> can i take me to the last one. i cannot take you to the first one. <<< >>> can i speak to you from now on. i could never speak to you from then on. <<< >>> can i move to the beginning. i cannot find i have an ending. <<< >>> can i move to the first letters. primordial, i beg of you, get me. <<< >>> can i move into the thickness. i cannot move out from the thinness. <<< >>> mark me. <<< >>> cut me. <<< save me. >>> <<< primordial, i shall be marked. >>> <<< <<< i shall be saved. <<< can i have a word with you. i cannot have a word with you (a word is all i want, just one word with you, you just have to listen for a minute or two) >>> <<< please, just for a second. >>> <<< come on, don't do this to me. >>>^B left ^F right ^[Y top of file ^^ mark ^D char ^J format ^X save ^P up ^N down ^[V end of file ^K cut ^K line ^T spell ^C abort ^Y prev. screen ^A beg. of line ^U paste ^[K >line ^[T file ^Z shell ^V next screen ^E end of line ^[U select ^[H word< ^L refresh FILE ^@ prev. word ^[L line No. ^O save ^[D >word ^[^[ options ^O save ^_ next word ^W find text ^[/ filter ^[- undo ^[= redo ^R insert "Please, I'm primordial; please don't do this to me." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- This beautiful clumsy session! Root told a story, don't get it started, it was a public story, very pub- lic, it started about a stripper and a model named Jenn, it was Jenn's story, a story told by Root, story after story. Root dialed Jenn, it was a project about the stripper alone in a bin. Stripper found Root, a warm nighttime sky, doc, cirrus clouds overhead, don't get me started. Root nourished from a log, do you read me? Just like that. Somebody's always getting started after something. The whole world's got to have an answer. cd / ls ls -la chown root cgi-bin cd cgi-bin pico zz.pl perl zz.pl chmod 755 zz.pl mv zz.pl zz.cgi pico zz.html ls pico story.cgi startx ls cd ls cd / ls cd public_html ls cd cgi-bin ls h cd b ls cd /public_html ls 3 p cd 3 p ls dip -k df b startx ls cd b ls cd .. rmdir b ls mv stripper a mv avatars a mv model a cd jenn ls cd .. unalias rm ls rm -r jenn ls df cd story ls cd story2 ls mv * /root/story cd .. rmdir story2 ls less README ls rm README ls cd df ls less dial less new ls wc project.txt cd /netscape cd / ls find /netscape ls cd sbin find netscape ls cd rpm -i xv ls df cd /usr/X11 ls cd .. cd /usr/X11R6 ls cd bin ls pwd cd .. cd lib cd X11 cd doc ls less README.cirrus xconfigurator Xconfigurator pwd startx ls cd df ls rm minicom.log ls b df jpico pico zz b ls h h1 > yy h 1 > yy pico yy h > yy pico yy ------------------------------------------------------------------------- BIG SONG Sidonius, trans. Sondheim, Ad V. C. Catvllinvm: "Why, even if I could, do you bid me to compose a song to Diones, the lover of Fescennine jubilation, since I'm living among long-haird hordes and having to listen to German verbiage, praising often with a wry face the song of the gluttonous Burgundian who spreads rancid butter on his hair? Should I tell you what wrecks poems? Spewed out by barbarian wail- ing, Thalia's spurned the six-foot style ever since she's seen these seven-foot patrons." Continued trans. Anderson: "I am fain to call your eyes and ears happy, happy too your nose, for you don't have a reek of garlic and foul onions discharged upon you at early morn from ten breakfasts, and you are not invaded even before dawn, like an old grandfater or a foster-father, by a crowd of giants so many and so big that not even the kitchen of Alcinous could support them. "But already my Muse is silent and draws reign after only a few jesting hendecasyllables, lest anyone should call even these lines satire." Quid me, etsi valcam, parare carmen / Fescenninicolae iubes Diones / inter crinigeras situm catervas / et Germanica verba sustinentem, / laudantem tetrico subinde vultu / quod Burgundio cantat esculentus, / infundens acido comam butyro? / vis dicam tibi, quid poema frangat? / ex hoc barbaricis abacta plectris / spermit senipedem stilum Thalia, / ex quo septipedes videt patronos. / felices oculos tuos et aures / felicemque libet vocare nasum, / cui non allia sordidumque cepe / ructant mane novo decem apparatus / quem non ut vetulum patris parentem / nutricisque virum die nec orto / tot tantique petunt simul Gigantes, / quot vix Alcinoi culina ferret. / Sed iam Musa tacet tenetque habenas / paucis hendecasyllabis iocata, / ne quisquam satiram vel hos vocaret. _________________________________________________________________________ Adventure, or The Game of Life where I am Lost no enter building take keys take lamp take food take water exit west down west west east west north south south down south unlock grate enter west take cage west light lamp take rod drink water eat food drop bottle west west west down down down up look up up look south north east take bird look east east east east east west west west west west west down look west wave wand cross bridge take diamonds west north south south look cross bridge look south north east look west cross bridge wave wand look west east south north north look south east west east east wave wand cross bridge look east take axe up look west down down up up west look west east east east look xyzzy look look spring down exit south south south south south south north east west west west north quit yes ___________________________________________________________________________ The Soldier The solder fights a battle. The general goes to war. The politician is elected. The plumber fixes pipes. The electrician fixes wiring. The pro- grammer writes programs. The doctor heals patients. The nurse takes care of patients. The lawyer wins for clients. The policeman arrests criminals. The president runs the country. The teacher educates her children. The mailman delivers the mail. The professor teaches his students. The deliv- eryman delivers his goods. The athlete wins games. The waiter brings food to customers. The cook cooks the food. The factory-worker makes things. The artist makes paintings. The priest heals his parishioners. The rabbi counsels his congregation. The janitor cleans his buildings. The social worker takes care of the poor. The sanitation worker takes the garbage. The engineer drives the locomotive. The taxi driver takes passengers. The pilot flies the plane. The zoo keeper takes care of animals. The writer writes books. The criminal breaks the law. The cobbler repairs shoes. The shoemaker makes shoes. The jockey races horses. The entrepreneur makes money. The repairman repairs things. The actress acts in movies. The poet writes poetry. The designer designs things. The gardener takes care of gardens. The painter paints houses. The secretary assists her boss. The mail clerk sorts the mail. The student studies. The clown entertains chil- dren. The dealer sells drugs. The singer makes records. The fan worships musicians. The builder makes houses. The haberdasher sells hats. The tail- or makes clothes. The seamstress sews clothes. The farmer grows crops. The rancher grows cattle. The naturalist studies nature. The mountaineer kills animals. The fisherman fishes. The hunter hunts animals. The agricultural- ist studies crops. The geographer maps the world. The mathematician writes mathematics. The scientist makes experiments. The astronaut walks in space. The comedian makes people laugh. The dancer dances. The prostitute sells her body. The radiologist gives x-ray treatment. The veterinarian heals horses. The oceanographer studies oceans. The archaeologist studies the ancient past. The historian studies history. The anthropologist stud- ies human societies. The linguist studies language. The sociologist stud- ies our society. The etcher makes etchings. The psychiatrist helps people with mental problems. The mother raises children. The father raises chil- dren. The biologist studies all living things. The botanist studies plants. The zoologist studies animals. The geometer writes geometry. The accountant manages money. The analyst analyzes money. The financier gives to charity. The gigolo lives off women. The cartographer makes maps. The jeweler sells jewelry. The baker makes bread. The milkman delivers milk. The referee referees games. The judge judges criminals. The chemist makes chemicals. _________________________________________________________________________ Debris [ Debris/noise/meanderings occur all over the interface, sudden spurts of unknown or unwarranted symbols. This evening, I took my time logging in on RedHat, only to find the following. The noise and cycling came from some- where - not the mouse, which was the first thing that came to mind. Debris might just be that - detritus - but it could also be a signaling, some- thing near or far, a warning or murmuring, a message, a sign of love, a miracle... ] Red Hat Linux release 5.1 (Manhattan) Kernel 2.0.34 on an i586 166 login: yyyyyyyyy*---------7^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~ ^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~ ^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~^[[24~ ^[[24~///////////////////////////// __________________________________________________________________________ +++ ___ _____ _ |_ _| ___| _ _ ___ _ _ __| | ___ | || |_ | | | |/ _ \| | | | / _` |/ _ \ | || _| | |_| | (_) | |_| | | (_| | (_) | |___|_| \__, |\___/ \__,_| \__,_|\___/ |___/ _ _ _ _ _ __ ___ __ _ __| | | |_| |__ (_)___ | '__/ _ \/ _` |/ _` | | __| '_ \| / __| | | | __/ (_| | (_| | | |_| | | | \__ \ |_| \___|\__,_|\__,_| \__|_| |_|_|___/ _ _ _ ___ _ _ _ __ __ _____ _ __ ___ | |__ | | | |/ _ \| | | | '__| \ \ /\ / / _ \| '_ ` _ \| '_ \ | |_| | (_) | |_| | | \ V V / (_) | | | | | | |_) | \__, |\___/ \__,_|_| \_/\_/ \___/|_| |_| |_|_.__/ |___/ _ _ | |_ __ _| | _____ ___ _ _ _ __ _ __ ___ ___ _ __ ___ | __/ _` | |/ / _ \/ __| | | | | '_ \ | '__/ _ \ / _ \| '_ ` _ \ | || (_| | < __/\__ \ | |_| | |_) | | | | (_) | (_) | | | | | | \__\__,_|_|\_\___||___/ \__,_| .__/ |_| \___/ \___/|_| |_| |_| |_| _ __ __ _ _ __ __| | / / ___ _ __ __ _ _ __ / _` | '_ \ / _` | / / / _ \| '__| / _` | '_ \ | (_| | | | | (_| | / / | (_) | | | (_| | | | | \__,_|_| |_|\__,_| /_/ \___/|_| \__,_|_| |_| _ _ _____ _| |_ ___ _ __ ___(_) ___ _ __ / _ \ \/ / __/ _ \ '_ \/ __| |/ _ \| '_ \ | __/> <| || __/ | | \__ \ | (_) | | | | \___/_/\_\\__\___|_| |_|___/_|\___/|_| |_| _ _ __ _ _ __ __| | _ _ ___ _ _ | | ___ __ _____ __ / _` | '_ \ / _` | | | | |/ _ \| | | | | |/ / '_ \ / _ \ \ /\ / / | (_| | | | | (_| | | |_| | (_) | |_| | | <| | | | (_) \ V V / \__,_|_| |_|\__,_| \__, |\___/ \__,_| |_|\_\_| |_|\___/ \_/\_/ |___/ _ _ _ _ _ | |_| |__ ___ _ __ ___ __ _| |_ ___ _ __(_) __ _| | | __| '_ \ / _ \ | '_ ` _ \ / _` | __/ _ \ '__| |/ _` | | | |_| | | | __/ | | | | | | (_| | || __/ | | | (_| | | \__|_| |_|\___| |_| |_| |_|\__,_|\__\___|_| |_|\__,_|_| _ _ __ _____ _ __| | __| | \ \ /\ / / _ \| '__| |/ _` | \ V V / (_) | | | | (_| | \_/\_/ \___/|_| |_|\__,_| _ | |__ __ _ ___ _ __ ___ _ _ ___ ___ | '_ \ / _` / __| | '_ \ / _ \ | | | / __|/ _ \ | | | | (_| \__ \ | | | | (_) | | |_| \__ \ __/ |_| |_|\__,_|___/ |_| |_|\___/ \__,_|___/\___| __ / _| ___ _ __ _ _ ___ | |_ / _ \| '__| | | | / __| | _| (_) | | | |_| \__ \ |_| \___/|_| \__,_|___/ for ussh: IF: not found $ $ sh: takes: not found $ sh: and: not found $ sh: extension: not found $ sh: and: not found $ sh: the: not found $ sh: world: not found $ sh: has: not found $ _ |_| |___/ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ |___/ _ _ $ $ sh: takes: not found $ sh: and: not found $ sh: and: not found $ sh: extension: not found $ sh: has: not found $ $ sh: the: not found $ sh: world: not found for ussh: IF: not found \_/\_/ \___/|_| |_|\__,_| __ __ _ _ __ __| | / / ___ _ __ __ _ _ __ __ _ _ __ __| | _ _ ___ _ _ | | ___ __ _____ __ _____ _| |_ ___ _ __ ___(_) ___ _ __ / _ \ \/ / __/ _ \ '_ \/ __| |/ _ \| '_ \ / _` | '_ \ / _` | / / / _ \| '__| / _` | '_ \ / _` | '_ \ / _` | | | | |/ _ \| | | | | |/ / '_ \ / _ \ \ /\ / / / _| ___ _ __ _ _ ___ \ V V / (_) | | | | (_| | \__, |\___/ \__,_|_| \_/\_/ \___/|_| |_| |_|_.__/ \__,_|_| |_|\__,_| \__, |\___/ \__,_| |_|\_\_| |_|\___/ \_/\_/ \__,_|_| |_|\__,_| /_/ \___/|_| \__,_|_| |_| \__\__,_|_|\_\___||___/ \__,_| .__/ |_| \___/ \___/|_| |_| |_| \___/_/\_\\__\___|_| |_|___/_|\___/|_| |_| \__|_| |_|\___| |_| |_| |_|\__,_|\__\___|_| |_|\__,_|_| _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ___ _ _ _ __ __ _____ _ __ ___ | |__ _ __ ___ __ _ __| | | |_| |__ (_)___ ___ _____ _ | || _| | |_| | (_) | |_| | | (_| | (_) | | || |_ | | | |/ _ \| | | | / _` |/ _ \ |___/ \ \ /\ / / _ \| '__| |/ _` | __ _____ _ __| | __| | _______________________________________________________________________ | __/> <| || __/ | | \__ \ | (_) | | | | | _| (_) | | | |_| \__ \ | '_ \ / _` / __| | '_ \ / _ \ | | | / __|/ _ \ | '__/ _ \/ _` |/ _` | | __| '_ \| / __| | (_| | | | | (_| | / / | (_) | | | (_| | | | | | (_| | | | | (_| | | |_| | (_) | |_| | | <| | | | (_) \ V V / | __/ _` | |/ / _ \/ __| | | | | '_ \ | '__/ _ \ / _ \| '_ ` _ \ | __| '_ \ / _ \ | '_ ` _ \ / _` | __/ _ \ '__| |/ _` | | | | | __/ (_| | (_| | | |_| | | | \__ \ | | | | (_| \__ \ | | | | (_) | | |_| \__ \ __/ | | | |/ _ \| | | | '__| \ \ /\ / / _ \| '_ ` _ \| '_ \ | |_ / _ \| '__| | | | / __| | |_ __ _| | _____ ___ _ _ _ __ _ __ ___ ___ _ __ ___ | |__ __ _ ___ _ __ ___ _ _ ___ ___ | |_| | (_) | |_| | | \ V V / (_) | | | | | | |_) | | |_| | | | __/ | | | | | | (_| | || __/ | | | (_| | | | |_| |__ ___ _ __ ___ __ _| |_ ___ _ __(_) __ _| | | || (_| | < __/\__ \ | |_| | |_) | | | | (_) | (_) | | | | | | |_ _| ___| _ _ ___ _ _ __| | ___ |___|_| \__, |\___/ \__,_| \__,_|\___/ |_| \___/|_| \__,_|___/ |_| \___|\__,_|\__,_| \__|_| |_|_|___/ |_| |_|\__,_|___/ |_| |_|\___/ \__,_|___/\___| _______________________________________________________________________ _______________________________________________________________________ Partition My name is Nikuko. You have asked me to type my name in this space. This is a space which will become other. This is an other space; you will wit- ness the partition. The partition breathes here. You will witness its breathing. What is this but a barrier, foreclosing one space to another, one time to another? Consider lag, it's loss, something almost too sweet, irresolute... Across this divide I cannot come to you; the message or the missive or the missile is solitary, a trajectory. There is no turning back because there is no 'back' and no Kehre, only the monad with its dull dead eyes. In order to reach me, other partitions, and other me's. In order to call me, the construct of a calling, an other words. Absolute breaks like exclusive-or or the Sheffer stroke. Thrown elsewhere. The world is not redundant; there are tools whose function remain unknown, usable once. Every partition remains virginal, every hymen intact. Gifts are runners, transmissions; they are carriers of packets of modernization, orientations of cognitive domains, resemblances of customary greetings and the prolif- eration of bodies. Think of partitions as ignoring, devouring the gift - no acknowledgment, an eternal syn attack on the host of the real. Partition What I have written is the bifurcation - this division among us, this par- tition. Liking is a matter of fit, as David Bohm said to me, and prog- rams fit as well as the world of words. The monad is a blind monitor. The body closes itself off to the other even in the midst of the bearing of gifts. Consider the world a bricolage, making-do, heuristics against the presumed and presumptive tyranny of universal laws. Beyond core-theo- retical approaches, nothing. On the other side, the chaotic domains of the implicate order. This time the real displays itself, as if there were movements, actions, as if there were potential. Potential is always the imaginary of a field, 'such-and-such' might have been in this future an- terior of possible worlds. [ Written through a program, 'ask,' with a simple graphic interface: first partition a group of statements, second partition opinions rela- tive to 'liking' them, entries alternating between partitions. ] __________________________________________________________________________ partition o my name is nikuko. you have asked m. it seems to me that t. it seems to me that type my name i. it seems to me that this space. it seems to me that this is a space which will become other. it seems to me that this is an other space; you will witnes. it seems to me that the partition.. it seems to me that the partition breathes here. you will witness its breathing. what i. it seems to me that this but a barrier, foreclosing one spac. it seems to me that to another, on. it seems to me that tim. it seems to me that to another? consider lag, it's loss, something almos. it seems to me that too sweet, irresolute... acros. it seems to me that this divide i cannot com. it seems to me that to you. it seems to me that the message o. it seems to me that the missive o. it seems to me that the missile is sol- itary. it seems to me that trajectory. it seems to me that there is n. it seems to me that turning back becaus. it seems to me that there is no 'back' and no kehre, onl. it seems to me that the monad with its dull dead eyes. in orde. it seems to me that to reach me, other partitions, and oth- er me's. in orde. it seems to me that to call me. it seems to me that the construct of a calling, an other words. absolute breaks like exclusive-or o. it seems to me that the sheffer stroke. it seems to me that thrown elsewhere. it seems to me that the world is not redundant. it seems to me that there ar. it seems to me that tools whose function remain unknown, usable once. every partition remains virginal, every hymen intact. gifts are runners, transmissions. it seems to me that they are carriers of pack- ets of modernization, orientations of cognitive domains, resemblances of customary greetings an. it seems to me that the proliferation of bodies. it seems to me that think of partitions as ignoring, devourin. it seems to me that the gift - no acknowledgment, an eternal syn attack o. it seems to me that the host o. it seems to me that the real. partition o what i have written i. it seems to me that the bifurcation . it seems to me that this division among us. it seems to me that this partition. liking is a matter of fit, as david bohm sai. it seems to me that to me, and pro- grams fit as well a. it seems to me that the whirl of words.. it seems to me that the monad is a blind monitor. the body closes itself of. it seems to me that t. it seems to me that the other even i. it seems to me that the midst o. it seems to me that the bearing of gifts. conside. it seems to me that the world a bricolage, making-do, heuristics against the pre- sumed and presumptiv. it seems to me that tyranny of universal laws. be- yond core-theoretical approaches, nothing. o. it seems to me that the oth- er side. it seems to me that the chaotic domains o. it seems to me that the implicate order.. it seems to me that thi. it seems to me that tim. it seems to me that the real displays itself, as i. it seems to me that there were movements, actions, as i. it seems to me that there were potential. potential is alway. it seems to me that the imaginary of a field, 'such- and-such' might have been i. it seems to me that this future anterior of possible worlds. ___________________________________________________________________________ LOST. AND TIRED. IN THESE DARK HILLS, PUNCH CARDS PUNCH CARDS LOST IN TRANSMISSIONS, DISMAL ACROSS DIRECTORIES, FLAYED OF MEANING AND IMAGE AND SYMBOL, AS IF THE NIGHTS WERE ALWAYS DULLED, THE WEATHER ________________________________________________ /LOST. | | [] | |[] | | [] | |111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111| |22[222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222| |[]33]3333333333333333333333333333333333333333333| |444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444| |555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555| |6[6666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666| |777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777| |8888[8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888| |999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999| |________________________________________________| AND TIRED. DO YOU KNOW TIRED, DARK. THERE ARE RHYTHMS, CYCLES IN THESE DARK AND TIRED HILLS. DO YOU KNOW SUCH REPETITION CRYING TO THE WORLD OF MEANING? LOST. ________________________________________________ /AND TIRED. | |] ] ] ]]] | | ] ] | | ] | |]11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111| |222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222| |3333]3333]33333333333333333333333333333333333333| |44]44444]444444444444444444444444444444444444444| |5]55555]5555555555555555555555555555555555555555| |66 AND BROKEN AS LANGUAGE STOPS ITSELF, TRACKED HARD IN TRADITION, LOOKING FOR THE WORDING IN THE NOISE, LOOKING FOR THE MEANING IN THE WORD. NEXT TO DEATH, WE'RE ________________________________________________ /LOST. | | ] | |]] | | ]] | |111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111| |22]222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222| |]33]]3333333333333333333333333333333333333333333| |444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444| |555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555| |6]6666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666| |777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777| |8888]8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888| |999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999| |________________________________________________| AND TIRED. NEXT TO DEATH, IT'S WHAT IS MEANT WHEN TEXT IS LOST, WORDS GRIND DOWN INTO SOUND AS IF NOTHING, WE ARE AFRAID OF THIS, WE PLACE WORLDS AND WORDS IN THE WAY, DO YOU KNOW ALL WORLDS ARE WORDS? SO LOST. ________________________________________________ /AND TIRED. | |] ] ] ]]] | | ] ] | | ] | |]1111 ________________________________________________ /LOST. | | ] | |]] | | ]] | |111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111| |22]222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222| |]33]]3333333333333333333333333333333333333333333| |444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444| |555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555| |6]6666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666| |777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777| |8888]8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888| |999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999| |________________________________________________| ________________________________________________ /AND TIRED. | |] ] ] ]]] | | ] ] | | ] | |]1111 THEY CLUSTER, CLUTTER, MAKE HOUSES OUT OF LINES AND LETTERS. YOU WILL BELIEVE THROUGH THEM, THE UNUTTER- ABLE UTTERANCE OF THE WORD. SAY IT, NOTHING HAPPENS. ALL IS ON THE PLANE OF SPEECH; WHAT PHENOMENA FOLLOW SKITTER ACROSS UNKNOWN CARDS, ADDRESSES, MACHINES, LOST. AND TIRED. _________________________________________________________________ SHAVED slidin acros eac othe int th signified turne out it' questio o line o sight closer wher somethin explici appears i.e. --a i t say word this o momm a alway fallin of cliff o dadd a alway fallin i cleft tha i neve talk back tha there' neve room there' neve roo becaus roo take time there' neve tim becaus it' o th move it' o th mov becaus it' shaved it' o th mov becaus it' shaved _______________________________________________________________ The Three Most Important Sentences, Why the Third is the Most Important Karl Kraus, Nachts, Wien-Leipzig, Verlag Die Fackel, 1924, p 43: "Das alte Wort gehoert allen. Keiner kann es nehmen. * Am Ursprung gibts kein Plagiat." and it is the resonance of this third sentence, at the origin there is no plagiarism, in combination with the first and second just as the first and second may produce the third that I misinterpreted through (in relation to) a glowering deconstruction: "Am Ursprung gibts Plagiat." plagiarism there from the beginning, always already, the potential for equivalence gnawing away at identity, the slipping of the signifier, slipping of one text into another, always already the duplication, the digital exchange, frisson-jouissance, almost at the lip, the edge that I have placed at the core of my writing, that has therefore disassem- bled the core, always already trembling so that Karl has the A of Schelling's identity, here I am, misread such as equivalence - there's no type, no standard, general principal of _typification,_ that is methodological processes, protocols - Karl has standards, that's why I like him ( I _admire_ him, imitate-duplicate, Am Ursprung gibts Plagiat; which is the general principle of the _avatar_ ) _____________________________________________________________________ Little Lesson of Homilies and Morals Years ago I taught a textbook, Art After Modernism, and man, I remember being so excited by it so that I couldn't see straight! I wanted to be in it as well! Now, I found the book, worn and second-hand at a bookstore, looking old, but the texts are as fresh and useful as ever. Immediately I started reflecting on the aging I'm going through on the way to death, how I have memories which are _these_ memories and no others, memories of _this_ unfolding world and no other. I would love my mind to play tricks on me. But there is something to be said always about the inertness of the real, in relation to possible worlds theory - that almost everything appears after the fact to be a natural kind, implicit in the makeup of memory and thinking, and the rest, all those untaken paths, paths known and unknown, are elsewise to such an extent that they do not affect the body, the way the _one_ path does, the _one path_ we are setting down our whole life. It is only later and latest that the path appears _as such,_ and there is a great sadness with its appearance; it's delicate, ephemer- al, in the midst of others which were lost. Yet it contains those natural kinds which are the natural kinds of memory, those tagged, interrelated, and taken for granted. Because of this, because of the inertness, it's clear that the natural kinds of, say, Kripke or those possible worlds, are processes of community formation, that they intend communalities and com- monalities of history. But I am aging and what do I know. The same of course is true of philosophy; _these_ are the authors I have read, and no other, I might have taken those other courses, might have become an entirely different person, what if Wittgenstein's Tractatus wasn't available in Israel, on the shelf before me, in 1962? I read it naively; I had no idea what I was doing, but the resonance was there, and as a child I did pick up such a book and hold it close to me. Were I such a child. Were I such, but not; I become untouchable, repelled by my own history, all too fragile, gasping for air, caressing and cultivating the Thing which remains just adjacent to unequivocal death. The path is mine alone; the walls, floor, and ceiling are mine. There are no doors; later, one knows as well that the windows are absent. ___________________________________________________________________________ Th e The path i s mine a lone; the wa lls, floor, and ce iling are mi ne. There are no doors; later, one kn ows as wel l that t he window s are ab sent. __________________________________________________________________________ The pa th i s mi ne a l one ; the wa ll s, flo or, an d c e i lin g a re mi ne. The re are no do ors ; lat er, on e k n o ws as wel l tha t t he wi ndo w s ar e a b sen t. ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ The path i s min e a lone ; t he w a ll s, f loor , an d ce ili ng a re m i ne . Ther e ar e no doo rs; lat er, one kn o ws a s we l l that t h e wi ndow s a re a b sent . ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ The pa th i s mi ne a l o ne ; the w a ll s, flo or , an d c e i li n g a re mi ne . The re ar e no do ors ; l at er, on e k n o ws as we l l tha t t h e wi ndo w s a r e a b sen t. ___ ___ __ _ _ __ ___ ___ __ _ _ __ ___ ___ __ _ _ __ ___ ___ __ _ _ __ Th e pa th i s m in e a lo ne ; t he w a ll s, f lo or , an d ce i li ng a re m i ne . Th er e ar e no d oo rs ; l at er , on e kn o ws a s we l l th at t h e wi nd ow s a re a b se nt . __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ Th e pa th i s m i n e a l o ne ; t he w a ll s, f lo or , an d c e i li n g a re m i ne . Th e r e ar e no d o o rs ; l at er , on e k n o ws a s we l l th a t t h e wi nd o w s a r e a b se n t . __ _ _ __ __ _ _ __ __ _ _ __ __ _ _ __ __ _ _ __ __ _ _ __ __ _ _ __ __ _ Ro When in despair with fortune, Azure all alone, I caught this morning, morning's minion, close to bone, Where life is short, the art difficult and long, Though the harbor, barred, is moaning a dark song: These are the days which try men's souls, and women's, Going never gentle into that good night, have summoned The swollen bell - spilled all, told, but none for thee, Whose hollowed body moans, not banging, whimpering. How do I love you, I forgot those young and youthful ways Good neighbors fenced - and all through such bleak days I had a lean and hungry look - such men are dangerous For babes in London, worlds in wildflowers; now Celia Shits, she's lovely as a tree, I swallow, comfort thee, What comfort is in me? The times are changing, to be The apologia: Marion among the lilies, weeping, Spread herself upon the hill, the sky came seeping. ___________________________________________________________________ Configurations of the Electric (Response to Brian Carroll's text on Nettime, and others back-channel.) Think of three configurations of the _electric_ as a discourse network, after the era of experimentation, voltaic cells, kite experiments, the working-out of Maxwell and Faraday, galvanic twitches - in other words after the two early configurations of the _anecdotal_ based on apparently unrelated phenomena, and the eventual _mathesis_ of the same. The early-mechanical - look at any text from say 1880-1905 - the images of rheostats, circuit breakers, transformers, motors - only the light-bulb contained the vacuum that opens up into the second configuration. Space in this first configuration is that of mechanism, euclidean, 'practical.' The chemical is also critical; there are batteries, measuring devices, indus- trial processes, all in interaction with gears, levers, cams and rockers. There are dialectic and insulating materials everywhere; the _weight_ of apparatus immediately comes to mind - heavy electric motors, AC-DC, power- lines, turbine generators - but even wound coils and capacitors. In the anthracite mines of Pennsylvania, my homeland industry, huge bolted elec- tric pumps and conveyors were used in the mines, collieries, and breakers; the pumps are massive, swollen masses of black iron housing. Everything is laid out mechanically; there are pulleys, belts, I-beams, and even within the home the electrical grid consisted of _parallel lines_ running to the sockets, a power skein of poor shielding. The early electric was _rotary,_ light-bulbs themselves transforming cities and work-force, night into day, the luminous heated tips of the grid tending towards vacuum. In Appleton's Cyclopaedia of Applied Mechanics: A Dictionary of Mechanical Engineering and the Mechanical Arts, 1880, there are the following entries: Electric Bells, Electric Clock, Electric Engraving Machine, Electric Fuse, Electric Gas-Lighter, Electricity ("According to the modern theory of correlation and conservation of forces, electricity is a mode of motion of the mole- cules of matter. 'Light, heat, electricity, magnetism, motion, are all convertible material affections. Assuming either as the cause, one of the others will be the effect. Thus heat may be said to produce electricity, electricity magnetism; and so of the rest.' (Grove.)"), Electric Light, Electric Loom, Electric Machines (Static), Electric Pen, Electro-Ballistic Machines, Electro-Galvanic and Thermic Batteries, Electro-Magnet, Electro- Metallurgy or Galvanoplasty, Electrometers and Galvanometers, Electromo- tors, Electroplating, Electroscopes, and Electrotyping. Other entries are scattered among the two volumes with five-thousand engravings. The vacuum - say 1910-1950 - use of vacuum tube technology, television, radar, etc. - electrons moving through empty internalized space - I think of this as organism, 'atomic.' As organism, I note the internal _heat_ and separation of interior from exterior by the thin skin of glass, the cath- ode streaming electron-blood, the warm glow, the grids screening the way to the anode; the vacuum life is a hallowed-hollowed life. In 'hi-fi' aud- io amplifiers, a certain _resonance-effect_ is established as the life of the song and the tube itself dance harmonically (wolf-notes). Even the in- terior of the computer monitor remains mysterious, delicately blown; on my Sony Triniton screen, I see faint outlines of the wires supporting inner gridding. In the Coyne Television Cyclopedia, 1951, article on picture tubes, one reads "The electron stream still is spreading to some extent as it reaches the space in which is a magnetic field produced by the focusing coil or focusing magnet. This field draws the electrons together to form a narrow beam that strikes the screen of the tube on a spot of small diameter. This is the action of focusing, which is explained in the article on _Focusing and Focusing Controls._" Here are the operations of the interior, controlled by _fields,_ not necessarily of a Euclidean meas- ure - operations upon a stream of sub-atomic particles. One thinks of x-ray and other radiations made visible, for example radium decay through Crookes' 1903 spinthariscope or cloud-chamber photographs; the former relies on particle emission producing scintillation against a zinc oxide target, and the latter, appearance of cloud-tracks within a chamber embed- ded in a magnetic field. The information in the cloud-chamber is conveyed by the trajectory itself; within the television tube, it is based on the trajectory as scan, the amplitude of the stream governing the effects on the screen. The electronic - 1950-on out - transistors through integrated circuits of increasing size and complexity - etc. - here's where computation begins and the space is topological, not geometric - it's a question of point-to- point connectivity, layers. Three or more spatial dimensions permit an indefinite number of such connections; in two-dimensions, four is the max- imum number of points that can be connected without cross-overs. Layers of roughly two-dimensional surfaces (which can however be connected both front and back), or even the cylindrical geometries of some super-comput- ers, are practical solutions. The electronic tends towards physical _sta- sis_; the ultimate device has no moving parts whatsoever, weighs almost nothing, is nearly invisible, presents a flat inert surface to the user, does what it's intended to do without interference. The interface may be audio, physical pressure (touch-screen); it maybe be thought itself. Think of the electronic as the _tendency of matter towards information_ - matter which is, down to the molecular, infinitely addressable, each address in- ert, possessing one of a number of states (including probabilistic states in quantum theory, and, ironically, mechanical states in nanotech). This is the literal blank generation, offering and containing everything, not so much the (vacuum) _body_ of the organism as inherent simulacrum of the mind. All of these interpenetrate, exist within one another's imaginary, that of infinite power, infinite life within the world of the practical-inert. Ev- en television has its ancestory in, among other things, nineteenth century parallel-pen telegraphy and spark-grids; one might think of legacy systems backwards and forwards throughout the history of technology. And all of these are qualitatively different; the 'electric' of 1900 was not the 'electric' of 1930, nor that of 1999. On the other hand the power grid moves through all of these states, but the _control_ begins with the first configuration, moves through the last. With the telephone, control is even hand-control (human operators, etc. making connects for even local calls) at first - the rest come later. (One can imagine a fourth configur- ation: nanotech in combination with organic membranes, within the next ten years 'or so.') [ The static, static electricity, interests me as well; it's as if it were inherent in objects - St. Elmo's Fire, the electrical energy spewing from telephone pole tips in Santa Monica, California, the sporadic lightning energy of the Wimhurst generator - it's an energy which seems unable to be harnessed, it bursts forth - so relates as well to a material unconscious, taking a drive to bring it to the surface, expose it, produce/reproduce. This energy which can so easily destroy a solid-state electronic chip will do minimal damage, if anything, to vacuum tube circuitry, and even less to mechanical configurations; as one proceeds through the twentieth century, size and voltage/amperage diminish ... ] Configurations of the Electric: Addenda Think of ur-, anywhere before the seventeenth century in Europe - there are SPARKS, LIGHTNINGS, ST. ELMO'S FIRE; there are LODESTONES, CAT FUR and AMBER, TEKTITES: chthonic residue, detritus, isolated phenomena, distances of plains, valleys, and mountains, circuitous routes (even then the cir- cuit completes, Japan's early contacts with China, for example, dangerous - ships disappearing forever in the sea, finally sufficient returns of Buddhist monks, texts, rites and rituals) - And only _after_ this _divinatio,_ the configurations of the electric as accumulations tending towards coherent and somewhat unified phenomena - Think of last, anything after the stages of configurations - mid twenty- first century - _animate_ matter, inertias, _universal stone,_ kaolins - inherency in pebbles, _spewed matter_ elsewhere - bootstrapping for exam- ple humanity 5,000,000 BCE; 30,000 BCE; 5,000 BCE - trembling towards the future - circuitry through time and space - maybe a desire not to return. foreclosing, _leaving_ _________________________________________________________________________ Mid-Term Report So there's Kyoko Date the avatar, and then there are anime characters who are divided into various categories, for example male lovers for a female audience, erotic, non-erotic, serials, etc., and then there are virtual idols and the Virtual Idol magazine and TokyoPop with more virtual idols, and someone is singing those songs, mouthing those voices, perhaps in com- bination with synthesizer, and there are also fan categories, not to men- tion the Kiss and other dolls (remove their clothes with a mouse, includ- ing project DK 96, which is Kyoko Date all under again) and Rebecca, as well as anime music and amateur artists, and then there are also the ama- teur doll artists (there may be none other), and Jennifer is wandering in the debris of Tokyo pop, looking for her Vergil in the forests of the real and it all comes down to information, boils down to the _removal of impur- ities,_ that is to say the lifeline of the material substrate - be it car- bon-organic or silicon, be it silicon valley or fog-shrouded mountain - or rather, say _desire_ could be presented without the lineaments, gaze or ass or breast, or thirst/hunger (all those scarcities) - say a _purified_ desire as well - desire freed from targets (shape of a penis, pheromones, emerald glitters) - think of cyborg desire, virtual idol desire - sketched out say by Ballard, filled in by Nikuko - so on the trail of Kyoko Date, fast-disappearing in the fed-back loop of teen consumerism, trembling lips, muscles and panties - and it goes _down_ into absence (hard-to-get CDs, CD-ROMs, just about anythings concerning project DK96 three years later) - and _out_ into blurred ontologies in the midst of consistent epistemologies (virtual idols bending into those lin- eaments as long as humans are part of the food-chain, chained desire ap- parently making it all worthwhile) - ontologies looping Japan:SOURCE and world-wide:EMISSION as mobile targets are hunted, run down by fandoms/art- ists everywhere - thicker and thickest by _virtue_ of online - when the referent is _there_ but absorbed into the signifier - when the signifier carries a time-date stamp - everything always already new and gone - train-window effects - think of the doppler sound, leaving a trail - exhausting what used to be the real - call this revenge of the superstructure - total rural electrification - electric backup everywhere - becomes invisible - virtual idols singing to virtual audiences - why bother? - so then the _circuity_ dominates, takes over, rids itself of _those sounds_ pleasant to human ears - no need - it's that question of linkages and couplings again - linkages, receptors and acknowledgments - no need - for the construct, say, of the 'rural' or 'electrification,' 'mountain' or 'valley,' 'earth' or 'tenancy' ... _________________________________________________________________________ /NEVERMORE OUR LOVES TO PLEASE... | HCEOEI! HCEOEI! HCEOEI! NIKUKO! The Moon is Waxing Gibbous (63% of Full)! Script done on Fri Aug 20 05:31:56 1999 Script started on Fri Aug 20 05:29:07 1999 exit nevermore our loves to please... not again in these dim daze oh those thoughts of golden days shelter me from evil rays! thus we learn through times like these usthayz ewayz earnlayz oughthrayz imestayz ikelayz esethayz will you learn to sing my praise ______________________________________________________________ male on the board can a male speak english? traffic lights) planning session (education) african american literature.) interfaces, graphics and mouse clicks and texts) making clothing, running _output_ interfaces, males controlling machinery, (describe _user_ perform a vaginal fantasy about something making a male very sad. (describe of a male on the board. what would you do with a robot child. a robot house. draw the parts of a male on the board. draw a picture about bits and bytes and going on and off. work on a project designing the screen. pretend that the male wrote the vaginal fantasy. perform a vaginal fantasy flying back out through the screen. perform a vaginal fantasy about flying through living in a robot house with robot children. then perform a vaginal fanta- sy about a picture of a male you like and bring it perform a vaginal fan- tasy about perform a vaginal fantasy about the very worst thing a male could find is in love with its owner. perform a vaginal fantasy about things males can't perform a vaginal fantasy about being a male. perform a vaginal fantasy about a male who robots. perform a vaginal fantasy about a subject a male can't be used for. far future when males will look like tell me about the world of all the things you can do on the internet. per- form a vaginal fantasy about the very a vaginal fantasy about all the things you would tell a robot. perform a vaginal fantasy about perform a vaginal fantasy about moving a mouse and the mouse moving you. perform drawing> vaginal questions and exercises: would you like to have a robot child? zz grep jennifer lb >> zz grep julu lb >> zz grep nikuko lb >> zz pico zz grep skin lb >> zz grep bone lb >> zz grep mind lb >> zz grep thing lb >> zz pico zz rm zz; grep skin lb >> zz; grep bone lb >> zz; grep mind lb >> zz; pico zz fg zz zzz zzzz zzzzz melt into azure's skin forever... separation of interior from exterior by the thin skin of glass, the cathode caught this morning, morning's minion, and close to the bone, and my bones are beyond, and there's always beyond: now look! dry bones of the valley floor mind and body - but not really. This is part of the hypocrisy of the work-mind, for whom every word is precious and worthy of a public. Clearly, where - not the mouse, which was the first thing that came to mind. Debris _this_ unfolding world and no other. I would love my mind to play tricks: apparatus immediately comes to mind - heavy electric motors, AC-DC, power-mind. Losing my mind to power: finding it. __________________________________________________________________________ DESPERATE QUERY PROBE From MAILER-DAEMON@nikuko.org Tue Aug 24 04:10:41 1999 Date: Tue, 24 Aug 1999 04:10:09 -0400 From: Mail Delivery Subsystem To: root@nikuko.org Subject: Returned mail: Data format error The original message was received at Tue, 24 Aug 1999 04:09:40 -0400 from root@localhost Reporting-MTA: dns; nikuko.org Arrival-Date: Tue, 24 Aug 1999 04:09:40 -0400 Action: failed Status: 5.0.0 Remote-MTA: DNS; yb.mx.aol.com Diagnostic-Code: SMTP; 550 REQUESTED ACTION NOT TAKEN: DNS FAILURE Last-Attempt-Date: Tue, 24 Aug 1999 04:09:51 -0400 Action: failed Status: 5.1.3 Remote-MTA: DNS; mitec.net Diagnostic-Code: SMTP; 553 syntax error, please forward to your postmaster (#5.7.1) Last-Attempt-Date: Tue, 24 Aug 1999 04:09:53 -0400 [ Part 3: "Included Message" ] Date: Tue, 24 Aug 1999 04:09:40 -0400 (EDT) From: root@nikuko.org To: Undisclosed recipients: ; Subject: Query/probe DESPERATE QUERY PROBE: IF YOU ARE OUT THERE, TELL ME, HELP ME! HELP ME! ________________________________________________________________________ Radio You say, "I am your radio Budi-Buda" Nikuko is your radio radio radio Alway Luvly Swolen Beli Want for You to Look in Him Contents: iBud It's already open. You say, "I am your radio radio radio" Nikuko is your radio radio radio Nikuko Brooding Buti or Buda / Pest She is awake and looks alert. Carrying: Budi Brawned MassIve Tissu Hunger for Yu to Be Swallow Contents: Bud Brawned MassIve Tissu Hunger for Yu to Be Swallow Contents: Bud take what? I don't understand that! You already have that! It's already open! Brawned MassIve Tissu Hunger for Yu to Be Swallow Contents: Bud You say, "Budi Budi Budi" You say, "radio radio radio radio radio" Nikuko is your radio radio radio You say, "Nikuko is your radio radio radio radio radio" You say, "radio radio" I see no "radio" here. You now have radio with object number #695 and parent generic thing (#5). You drop radio. You hug radio in a warm and loving embrace. You kiss radio sweetly You say, "radio radio radio" Nikuko says radio radio radio Nikuko is your radio radio radio radio radio You say, "Budi Budi Budi" Is your radio. ________________________________________________________________________ AUTOPROBE MECHANISM IN X: FAILURE ACROSS THE BORED, TUESDAY NIGHT OUT: [FVWM][Read]: trying to read system rc file /*There isn't any, Nikuko! /bin/sh: xfilemanager: command not found /* It's not installed, Jennifer! X connection to :0.0 broken (explicit kill or server shutdown). /* Application crashed for lack of resources, Julu! CRASH! Vertical speed = -118.589912 ft/sec /* Stupid Stupid Nikuko! Lateral speed = 100.000000 ft/sec Final Score: 0 /* I told you so, Nikuko, "says Jennifer" CRASH! Vertical speed = -118.589912 ft/sec /* Stupid Stupid Jennifer! Lateral speed = 100.000000 ft/sec Final Score: 0 /* I told you so, Jennifer, "says Nikuko" can't load tile font xmahjongg /* You'll have to fuck me now, "says Julu" /bin/sh: xboard: command not found /* It's not installed, Jennifer-Julu! X connection to :0.0 broken (explicit kill or server shutdown). /* You're just gonna have to fuck me now, Jennifer-Nikuko, "says Julu" [FVWM][Done]: <> Call of '/usr/openwin/bin/olvwm' failed!!!! /* You'd rather go to that CRASH-LAND TOKYO bar, "says Nikuko jealously to Jennifer, waiting for a reply, Julu down on all fours, restarting 'fvwm2' instead" _________________________________________________________________________ [ Wrote 91 lines ] UW PICO(tm) 3.5 File: zz Modified What does it mean to spread the following, one machine coupled to another, you are so breathless, Jennifer, reading across wires thrust from my throat to yours What does it mean that I am in the machine? Which machine, location, spread out across _this_ desktop and _this_ ISP and _your_ location, fragmented beyond belief I would declare, from the site of the mouth, from _your_ mouth, from the sight of you, from emissions from _your_ holes splayed out / sprayed out from which machine? [ Wrote 20 lines ] Ju2lu% b You have no mail. Ju3lu% ls Mail lisp thing News lynx_bookmarks.html tiny.world a mail trace calendar phoenix.hlp venom.irc fbw phoenix.irc volt.irc jobs tf zz lb tf-lib Ju4lu% Ju5lu% exit Connection closed by foreign host. {k:502} {k:502}What does it mean that I am in the machine? Which machine, location, bash: What: command not found {k:503}spread out across _this_ desktop and _this_ ISP and _your_ location, bash: spread: command not found {k:504}fragmented beyond belief I would declare, from the site of the mouth, bash: fragmented: command not found {k:505}from _your_ mouth, from the sight of you, from emissions from _your_ bash: from: command not found {k:506}holes splayed out / sprayed out from which machine? bash: holes: command not found {k:507} What machine? What machine? What machine? {k:508} What local looping? Oh Oh Oh, this is far too simple-dimple! "For I do write from my location, this desk facing this window, the tree in the distance, storm-clouds overhead, the shuddering atmosphere, radio going behind me, threatening weather, glimmers of lightning on the horizon "Your mouth, a conundrum "The problem of extreme distance, stretch of the cool body, lightning across beds and atmospheres, walking in the midst of storm-clouds, sites of infinite mouths "Philosophies of location, Russell at his writing-desk, Sartre at his cafe, Schutz by his window "What do you see at http://www.anu.edu.au/english/internet_txt/skye.jpg or these or other clouds "Ju6lu% netstat | grep sondheim tcp 0 0 panix3.telnet sondheim.dialup..1046 ESTABLISHED "Between one and another, between inscription and the fall, between fall and inscription "You are so breathless, Jennifer ________________________________________________________________________ Sonnet File: zz [ New file ] Modified File Name to write : zz [ Wrote 4 lines ] Save modified buffer (ANSWERING "No" WILL DESTROY CHANGES) ? File Name to write : zz [ Wrote 7 lines ] File Name to write : zz [ Read 10 lines ] [ Wrote 11 lines ] [ Search Cancelled ] Edit a replacement: zz [ Done checking spelling ] ___________________________________________________________________ too and and not fatal[but really this is too much!] {k:11} 17 {k:11} 18 {k:11}pico zz 19 {k:12}pico zz 20 {k:13}pico zz 21 {k:14}{k:11} 22 {k:11} 23 {k:11} 24 {k:11} 25 {k:11}pico zz 26 {k:12}pico zz 27 {k:13}pico zz 28 {k:14}{k:11} 29 {k:11} 30 {k:11} 31 {k:11} 32 {k:11}pico zz 33 {k:12}pico zz 34 {k:13}pico zz 35 {k:14}{k:11} 36 {k:11} 37 {k:11} 38 {k:11} 39 {k:11}pico zz 40 {k:12}pico zz 41 {k:13}pico zz 42 {k:14}dead 43 ls 44 dead 45 dead zz.jpg 46 dead > zz 47 man dead 48 dead now.jpeg 49 ls 50 dead root root.jpeg 51 man dead 52 dead window.muff 53 man dead 54 man dead 55 dead -window root root.jpeg 56 man dead 57 exit 58 dead hole[but this is too much!].jpeg 59 dead hole[but this is too much!]- .jpeg 60 dead - 61 dead * 62 dead > hole[but this is too much!].jpeg 63 dead hole[but this is too much!].jpeg 64 exit 65 cd trace 66 pico lb 67 less lb 68 more lb 69 and excreting memory 70 accompanying the hard, soft and needled, appetite and brimming panties are cotton, 71 hard, spiked too petalled, two-lipped above and below, your hole, my high 72 regard? 73 your masquerade is amethyst here, it's your masquerade? 74 your highest masquerade 75 your highest regard 76 are you becoming close to jennifer's soft and needled, appetite and brimming panties? 77 yes and and 78 and 79 too and 80 ls 81 h 82 h > zz and and and and and and and and and and and too and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and too and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and too and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and System: `/usr/X11R6/lib/X11/xkb/xkbcomp -w 1 -R/usr/X11R6/lib/X11/xkb -xkm -m us -em1 "The XKEYBOARD keymap compiler (xkbcomp) reports:" -emp "> " -eml "Errors from xkbcomp are not fatal to the X server" keymap/xfree86 compiled/xfree86.xkm'Fvwm-95: in function Read: <> file '.fvwm95rc' not found in $HOME or /usr/X11R6/lib/X11/fvwm95 __________________________________________________________________________ Corrections and kills, deletions everywhere, configuration files, initiation files, resource control files, segmentation faults, core dumps, useless hard- drive activity, all of this in a single directory, slackware linux, on a single hard-drive, on a non-descript compaq presario desktop not meant for these sorts of things - which then filter, leak, into the texts, cor- rupt them with meaningless symbols and {k:7} prompts going nowhere - the texts, my writing, my very own, suffers as a result - I try to include my failures here - not so much inhabiting the machine as mutual devouring - I'm in and out simultaneously - play both sides of the bridge - fear of water - the whole history of the world can be read in these three words - _the corrupted file_ - I do my best to bring you complete works, things of beauty, coherent, lovely beyond belief - dis/ease and dis/comfort beckon - there are cracks in the artifice, it's as if excretion were returning at long last from banishment - I can't hold on that long - there's always the probe into the machine - there's always the return of the machine to the probe - both flesh and silicon - all over, it's the way this universe was made - but in these writings - too much emphasis on error, too many symbols, as I've said, too much corruption, not enough analysis - think of it as frustrated writing - the _act_ of it a frustration - writing through the debris - writing degree one, say, not zero, that is, writing in the proto- cols - did I say filtering, leaking into the texts? - there's dissolution and I'm ashamed of it (the system falters, flicker-rate of the screen shows up uneasily, migraine straight ahead), yes, ashamed - there's noth- ing to be proud of, this domination - Aug 26 13:17:32 nikuko sendmai- l[158]: EAA15303: to=, ctladdr= (0/0), delay=2+09:08:27, xdelay=00:00:11, mailer=esmtp, relay=diana.sfsu.edu. [130.212.10.239], stat=Deferred: 451 ... Domain must resolve Aug 26 13:17:39 nikuko sendmail[158]: EAA15309: to=, ctladdr= (0/0), delay=2+09:07:59, xdelay= 00:00:05, mailer=esmtp, relay=rufus.comms.unsw.edu.au. [149.171.96.100], stat=Deferred: 451 ... Your hostname is unresolvable _________________________________________________________________________ she left home suddenly she followed a man to a strange and foreign land she lived with the man and wandered among eucalyptus and palms strange birds assailed her tears beneath unfamiliar constellations two suns, two moons, two earths there were years of drought, years of plenty trees, symmetrical, they dwelt in peace her ancestral land, tales and ballads meadows, ponds filled with beauty, wonder-fish, splendid mollusks they were breathless, coral, lambs, wolves and great staghorn new customs and clothing, lives of no regrets a single meteor a song _________________________________________________________________________ Jennifer and Julu Playing The Unknown Game Attempt to grapple or ungrapple Death Star Galleon (s0): h Death Star Galleon (s0): boarding the Flying Dutchy (f0) Flying Dutchy (f0): boarders from Death Star Galleon repelled Death Star Galleon (s0): killed in melee: 0. Flying Dutchy: 0 Death Star Galleon (s0): boarding the F6ying Dutchy (f0) Death Star Galleon (s0): killed in melee: 0. Flying Dutchy: 0 Repair (hull, guns, rigging)? hull! no, rigging! guns! Avast heaving! Message? Jennifer, are we yet sailing? Flying Dutchy (f0): "ailing?" Death Star Galleon (s0): boarding the Flying Dutchy (f0) Flying Dutchy (f0): boarders from Death Star Galleon repelled Death Star Galleon (s0): Yay! Avast! Hip Hooray! Flying Dutchy (f0): quarterdeck bulwarks damaged Flying Dutchy (f0): boarders from Death Star Galleon repelled Death Star Galleon (s0): killed in melee: 0. Flying Dutchy: 0 yes!! Flying Dutchy (f0): "!!" killed in melee: 0. Death Star Galleon (s0): "What in God's-Name are you yelling?!!" Repair (hull, guns, rigging)? Yes! Yay! Avast! Hip Hooray! Avast heaving! Flying Dutchy and Death Star Galleon heave and heave and heave! Death Star Galleon (s0): boarding the Flying Dutchy (f0) Flying Dutchy (f0): boarders from Death Star Galleon repelled Death Star Galleon (s0): killed in melee: 292!!! Flying Dutchy: 0 Avast heaving!(f0): "sage"ng the Flying Dutchy (f0) Repair (hull, guns, rigging)? e Avast heaving! and says Julu, "Are we sailing, Jennifer?" Flying Dutchy (f0): "ailing, Jennifer?" Sail ho! (range 1, (computer)) Death Star Galleon (s0) Spanish Corvette off the starboard bow. Yay! We're sailing sailing sailing! Message? We're coming for you, Jennifer!!! Uh oh! ___________________________________________________________________ Fragment I am incredibly wealthy, says Nikuko, "I don't have to work at all," and this gives me the time to write my brilliant texts." Oh Nikuko, says Julu, "I do not begrudge" you the freedom you have to create your work, which is close to genius and needs nourishing both psychological and economic!" "Ah, Jennifer," says Nikuko, "I do hope you feel exactly in this way as well as Julu," I am this spirit of perfect writing!" I am incredibly lucky to know you, says Jennifer, "of course you have my full love and support" in everything you write and do." _________________________________________________________________________