The Collectible Unconscious Following Jung (who wrote about collectibles indeed), the following part- objects, common to all of us, reference our site, one through the image of the other, other through the image of the one. Think of these as inter- sections of projections, collectible, modular: All together now! Think of the vastness of the resulting Map: Buy my netstat says Nikuko! I will connect my STREAM with yours: {k:17}netstat Active Internet connections (w/o servers) Proto Recv-Q Send-Q Local Address Foreign Address State Active UNIX domain sockets (w/o servers) Proto RefCnt Flags Type State I-Node Path unix 2 [ ] STREAM CONNECTED 1056 unix 2 [ ] STREAM 1057 /dev/log unix 2 [ ] STREAM CONNECTED 1330 unix 2 [ ] STREAM 1331 /dev/log unix 1 [ ] STREAM 1394 unix 2 [ ] STREAM CONNECTED 2666 unix 2 [ ] STREAM 2667 /dev/log unix 2 [ ] STREAM CONNECTED 2772 unix 2 [ ] STREAM 2773 /dev/log {k:18} Come into my HALLWAY says Nikuko; buy my LOUNGE! LOOK at me: hallway.R | | |-- lounge.R | | |-- mapfile | | |-- newsfile | | |-- shop.R | | `-- wizroom.R | |-- go | |-- helpfiles | | |-- accreq | | |-- afk | | |-- listen | | |-- logging | | |-- look | | |-- mainhelp | | |-- map | | Buy me a server says NIKUKO! NOBODY ever visits: nobody **Never logged in** nikuko tty1 Mon Jun 15 16:48:19 1998 sondheim tty1 Tue Jun 16 16:15:26 1998 PURCHASE THE UNCONSCIOUS! CONTACT DAISHIN NIKUKO! WITHIN! _________________________________________________________________________ Prometheus I want to reach a conclusion to these texts. Then I wouldn't have to write again, think again, or rather that everything thought would be on the order of commentary. As it is, I start from scratch, scratch myself, and a text emerges which comments one way or another on a disarray so deep that it becomes impossible to theorize, that is, a disarray so shallow, that it rides foam-like on the surface of theory, hustling the oxygen below. I want to reach a conclusion to the texts, but as soon as I begin, this-way or that-way, Nikuko perhaps will take over, or Alan, or Julu, and I remain at a loss, thinking it's all a form of chic seduction, it's always a lure and relaxation, there are no two ways about it, there are many more, irreducible to one way or another. There is a work _iki_ which describes this well, you can find out more about _iki_ in Kuki Shuzo's Reflections on Japanese Taste, The Structure of _iki,_ which leaves one trailing off again and again across the nature of this or that kimono pattern or musical scale. Certainly, Nikuko comes out of courtesan-iki-from-the-Edo-period, but the analysis in fact is quite chic itself, and up-to-date, since there is never a giving in, how could there be in text or cyberspace? There's only a movement or a fluttering of a fan or shimmering of the leaves of manga-with-girls-and-boys read on the shinkansen, but I don't want to escape my native / land, so I will give an example of a soccer ball poised precisely in one frame of one game of the World Cup, sent anonymously to a fashion magazine in New York's SOHO district - and you can see that this is no answer at all, not even a question of previous or next only what might be considered a _meteorology,_ meteorological moment, when anything might happen, rain or not forecast in the vicinity. So to want to reach a conclusion is similar to reaching for a book or the space between the second and third line of a haiku or between the twelfth and thirteenth line of a sonnet or between the hard drive and the head where the drive's gone, couplet's gone, line's gone walking invisible and stemming the tide in the middle of SOHO where you might find people turning around to look at you if you continue to behave in this fashion, I know I would. Jennifer ________________________________________________________________________ l because she would narry be so sweet...she would tarry beside me, in the rumours of a road-like dwelling simply beneath green entwined oh those are such beautiful words, you know there are flowers that make me drown deliriously in their scents words whose fragrance inspire me towards those suffusions with which no longer choosing or making choices thus i you would nonetheless softly plucking roses orchids other forms of being you have taken me in your soft hands ... beauty thrusting forward slime mold curled decay and soft central yes warm baths losing eyes lips surround me you knowing unfolding knowledge and pleasure-murmur she has darkened me so many foolish ways lost, lost in extremities tips touching slurry, muds pooling darkly their pink turned green-and-brown with water's envy ===================================================================== dialog --yesno tulip 5 30; dialog --yesno if-tulip-yes-then-pansy 5 45; dialog --inputbox if-tulip-no-why 8 45 2>> yy ; dialog --yesno if-tulip-no-then-pansy 5 45; dialog --inputbox if-tulip-yes-why-not 8 45 2>> yy ; dialog --yesno if-tulip-yes-and-pansy-yes-then-nightshade 6 60; dialog --inputbox would-you-like-to-drown-with-me 8 45 2>> yy ; dialog --yesno if-tulip-no-and-pansy-yes-then-nightshade 6 60; dialog --textbox .d 8 45 dialog --yesno if-tulip-yes-and-pansy-no-then-nightshade 6 60; dialog --inputbox tulips-are-your-colour,-why? 8 45 2>> yy ; dialog --yesno if-tulip-no-and-pansy-no-then-nightshade 6 60; dialog --infobox "then-pansy-and-tulip-and-nightshade" 6 60; dialog --textbox yy 10 45; dialog --infobox "then-lips" 8 20; dialog --inputbox then-smoothing-green 8 45; cat yy sleep 2 dialog --infobox "fin" 4 20 _____________________________________________________________________ The following is what they wrote: jennifer now you will come and play with me in my new playground among the lilies, ok? now i will come indoors and have the warmest hug from mother as she knows i love them so now i am trevor i am very naughty and i do love jennifer so! now i will tell jennifer i think she is just like a flower! and I will tell her she is so pretty-pretty! she is my favorite person and i think she is a beautiful parrot! jennifer :-) oh trevor oh i am so glad to hear your words so very typed so nicely to me oh trevor i do think you have sky-colored-eyes and beautiful feet oh trevor do never think bad of me! i will be yours forever and i do love the golden garland of lilies we have around each others fair and youthful faces! The following is how they liked it: oh i did love so much what i did write did you not love it too? oh yes I did so very much as well! it was all right, not so good as before! it was very all right i do think oh just so very fine you know i love parrot i like trevor so too so and could not well-tell him! oh yes more to the point i do think you do know oh yes, oh oh oh ! lovely i do think, yes, those garlands-so! ______________________________________ dialog --inputbox Hello-Please-type-your-name-in 8 45 2>> xx dialog --inputbox Please-write-something-now 8 45 2>> xx dialog --inputbox Did-you-like-what-you-wrote-? 8 45 2>> ww dialog --inputbox Please-write-something-again 8 45 2>> xx dialog --inputbox Did-you-like-what-you-wrote-this-time-? 8 50 2>> ww dialog --inputbox Please-write-something-once-again 8 45 2>> xx dialog --inputbox Now-did-you-like-it? 8 45 2>> ww dialog --inputbox Please-write-something-once-more 8 45 2>> xx dialog --inputbox And-this-time? 8 45 2>> ww dialog --infobox "The following is what you wrote" 3 45 sleep 1 dialog --textbox xx 15 45 dialog --infobox "And the following is how you liked it" 3 45 sleep 1 dialog --textbox ww 15 45 dialog --infobox "Thank you" 3 45 sleep 1 ______________________________________________________________________ What was written by null-user: I am nobody@166.84.250.149 anonymous dead-end shell-script log. And no one will ever speak to me; what can I say As a truth function, I have obedi- ence to the rules. I am well-formed, so that I will return what you place within me, mindless of faith, not mindless of reason. It is similar to the use of a straight-edge, that is I am similar in such and such a fashion. There are only certain constructions permitted, but these are never problematic. What the null-user thought of what it wrote: I wrote only the truth; I am a truth-function. The rules are something I follow out of the free will of necessity. It is more to this or any other point or its absence. This time I have accurately portrayed, as if once again, or outside of time, what has been intended. {k:38}finger nobody Login: nobody Name: Nobody Directory: / Shell: /bin/sh Never logged in. No mail. No Plan. __________________________________________________________________________ VIRTUAL HELLS No hilites. %2d %2d %s >> This place NEEDS no introduction! ./cl.intro >> There IS no help for you! ./cl.help >> There is NOTHING to say to you! ./cl.announce >> The Den's been up for >> your termtype not found. >> .p hiliting enabled. >> .p hiliting turned off. Lines gagged: You have no lines gagged. >> Gagging youself with a spoon? is gagged! Ha ha ha! >> User >> You just ungagged line >> Nameservice on. >> Nameservice off. bad time argument >> Later, dude! ) for new site block ( ID expire site blocked %4d never bad site block ID Deleted site block >> System Msg: Reboot new passwd = usernum = fuckwit. get it right. >> Idle timeout has been disabled. >> Idle timeout has been enabled. >> Idle timeout has to be in the range between >> Idle timeout has been set to >> Idle timeout is >> %s just tried to force you... >> Player %d gagged. >> Player %d ungagged. >> %s has at least as much authority as you! >> fatal: You've been killed. >> Hope you enjoyed your stay. BRING_IT_DOWN Sorry - the system is closed to further logins at the moment Sorry - we are full at the moment, try again later Sorry - you're site is banned Sorry - you can't use that command You are already listening! You listen to the gossip %s is now listening You are already being antisocial! You ignore the dull gossip %s is ignoring everyone *** News *** newsfile There is no news today *** System is now closed to further logins *** %s CLOSED the system Total of %d users signed on Shout what? %s shouts: %s Someone shouts: %s You shout: %s Usage: .tell %s is not signed on Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness %s is not listening You ask %s: %s %s asks you: %s You exclaim to %s: %s %s exclaims to you: %s You tell %s: %s %s tells you: %s %s whispers something to %s Area: %s Exits are: You can see: You are alone here There is no such area You are in that area now! walks in arrives in a blinding flash! That area is not adjoined to here Sorry - that area is currently private %s disappears in a puff of magic! %s goes to the %s Some magic disturbs the air %s %s That area is public anyway You shout into the %s asking to be let in! %s shouts asking to be let in! Someone shouts asking to be let in! %s shouts into the %s asking to be let in! This areas access can't be changed public private The area is already %s! Area now set to public %s has set the area to public Someone has set the area to public You need at least %d people in the area Area now set to private %s has set the area to private Someone has set the area to private Usage: .invite The area is public anyway You can't invite yourself! %s is already in the area! Someone has invited you to the %s %s has invited you to the %s Usage: .emote Someone %s You write the message on the board A ghostly hand writes a message on the board A ghostly hand wipes some messages from the board You are already visible! You are already invisible! POP! You reappear! You fade, shimmer and vanish... Suicide is not an option here no matter how bad things get That wouldn't be wise.... A bolt of white lighting streaks from the heavens and blasts you!! You have been removed from this reality... There is a rumble of thunder Are you sure about this (y/n)? Quitting users... A force grabs you and pulls you through the ether!! BRING_IT_DOWN _______________________________________________________________________ From the Logs tulips no, commonalities, but then tulips yes, preference of weeds tulips yes, because of strength and hardiness, pansies because of brilliant colour no drowning, swallow nightshade-darling, then resurrection cityscape you will come with me? tulips pale with nightshade's longing on red-brown lips waiting for the drowning waters no? no tulip because "The look of love alarms," tulip because "Because 'tis fill'd with fire;" no drowning because "But the look of soft deceit" tulips and nightshade because "Shall win the lover's hire." so smoothing green because loving William Blake and smoothing green _____________________________________________________________________________ Further fate of early World Wide Web Sites: Note that University of Kansas site is still running - try telnetting to ukanaix.cc.ukans.edu This is a standard telnet port, port 23, so even if you're on a primitive account, if you can telnet, you can reach still reach the Web. Script started on Fri Jun 19 19:33:27 1998 {k:1}telnet info.funet.fi Trying 128.214.248.6... Connected to info.funet.fi. Escape character is '^]'. Finnish University and Research Network Archive ftp.funet.fi You are now using TELNET protocol to reach this system. We don't have TELNET service in here for our file area access. This archive site is reachable by using FTP only. Please use 'ftp' command to use this archive: ftp ftp.funet.fi User: anonymous Password: your@email.address (For further information on this, please consult your local system staff, as your local procedures and policies aren't coverable in this generic message.) You may also want to try our Archie service by doing telnet login to Archie server account: archie telnet archie.funet.fi ... Login: archie ... Archie is a database of Anonymous FTP archive sites around the world and can be used to locate interesting software. (Assuming you know the file name..) Connection closed by foreign host. {k:2}telnet www.njit.edu Trying 128.235.251.25... Connected to it.njit.edu. Escape character is '^]'. ************************************************************************** * * We regret that WWW.NJIT.EDU no longer supports telnetd services. * * This decision was made in December 1996 in response to increasing * misuse of our site. Any documents directing you to this site for * anonymous services are quite out of date. * * NJIT had been happy to provide anonymous WWW access since 1992. This * was intended to assist persons without better means of access during * the infancy of the WWW. Now that commercial and academic ISP facilities * are commonplace, and with misuse of our system, we have withdrawn the * offering. * * Please direct comments regarding this change to "helpme@www.njit.edu", * ************************************************************************** Connection closed by foreign host. {k:3}telnet info.cern.ch Trying 137.138.24.189... Connected to www0.cern.ch. Escape character is '^]'. UNIX(r) System V Release 4.0 (www0) No utmpx entry. You must exec "login" from the lowest level "shell". Connection closed by foreign host. {k:4}telnet fatty.law.cornell fatty.law.cornell: Unknown host {k:5}telnet ukanaix.cc.ukans.edu Trying 129.237.33.3... Connected to raven.cc.ukans.edu. Escape character is '^]'. You have connected from: sondheim.dialup.access.net For assistance call 864-0110 or to report network problems call 864-0200 Login as 'kufacts' for access to the Campus Wide Information System. 'lynx' for access to the World Wide Web using Lynx. 'www' for access to the World Wide Web using Lynx. 'linemode' for access to the World Wide Web using Line Mode. 'history' for history network resources. 'ex-ussr' for former Soviet Union info. At password prompt hit enter. Digital UNIX (raven.cc.ukans.edu) (ttyp6) login: www Password: Last successful login for www: Fri Jun 19 18:28:50 1998 from panix3.panix.com Last unsuccessful login for www: Tue Sep 9 05:19:19 1997 from 193.230.159.158 ***************************************************************** Warning: While logged into this account, please do not try to subscribe to any mailing lists. This account will be subscribed instead of your own. ***************************************************************** Your Terminal type is unknown! Enter a terminal type: [vt100] TERMINAL TYPE IS SET TO vt100 Attention: If you reach this site via telnet, you may prefer to telnet lynx.cc.ukans.edu and log in as lynx. --KU Web administrator, The University of Kansas, Official Home Page Attention: If you reach this site via telnet, you may prefer to telnet to lynx.cc.ukans.edu and log in as lynx. --KU Web administrator, 9/18/96 [ISMAP]-[Text-version of official KU home page] | Main campus | Medical Center | Edwards campus (Regents Center) | Other KU sites | | About KU | Chancellor's message | The Jayhawk | _________________________________________________________________ If you have comments or questions about this page or the official World Wide Web site of The University of Kansas, please contact the KU Web Administrator. Copyright 1997 The University of Kansas for all official materials provided via the World Wide Web in the ukans.edu domain. The current URL is http://www.ukans.edu/ -- press space for next page -- Arrow keys: Up and Down to move. Right to follow a link; Left to go back. H)elp O)ptions P)rint G)o M)ain screen Q)uit /=search [delete]=history list ________________________________________________________________________ DOUBLE SORT, SORT OF < > Again, or outside of time, what has been intended. and pleasure-murmur as if once pretty-pretty! She is my favorite person and I think she is as well! It was all right, not so good as before! It was deference to the beautiful problematic. Red-brown lips waiting for the drowning waters no? beauty thrusting forward slime mold curled decay and soft central because darkened in so many foolish ways lost, lost in extremities so opening deliriously in their scents, you would nonetheless softly plucking roses drown, swallow nightshade-darling, then resurrection did so very much follow out of the free will of necessity. It is more to this or any other golden garland of lilies we have around each others' fair and youthful. I am red because loving and opening red surround wetwares, me, you have obedience within me, mindless of faith, not mindless of reason. I did write did you not love it too? Oh yes I oh those are such beautiful - is similar to the words whose fragrance inspire me towards those soft- ware, I software software :-) Know I love them so now like wetware just like a flower! And I will tell her she is those garlands so! Tips knowing, unfolding knowledge - their pink turned red-and-brown. Think she is me, ok? Now I will come indoors and have the warmest hug from mother as no tulip because "The look of love alarms"' Now you will come and play oh oh oh wetware oh! I am so glad to hear your words so very typed so nicely making choices thus. I'm no drowning because "But the look of soft deceit" - orchids, other forms of beings, rule. I am well-(in)formed, so that I will return what your place faces! Rumours of a road-like dwelling simply beneath red. Entwined, she has her parrot! Point: I do think you do know, oh yes, oh oh oh! Lovely I do; she would narry be so sweet; she would tarry beside me, in the cityscape too. So she could not well-tell him! Oh yes more to the longer choosing strength and hardiness, pansies because of brilliant you-have-taken-me-in suffusions with which no, yes, warm baths losing eyes and lips because of think, and yes, point - or its absence. This time I have accurately portrayed, touching slurry, muds pooling wet- ware darkly: do never think bad of me! I, wetware, am very naughty and I do love software so! Now I will tell labia no-no, commonalities, but then labia yes-yes, preference of curled-labia and the use of a straight-edge, - that is, I am similar in such and such a fashion! Very all right, I do think oh just so very fine you know; I love parrot, water, envy will ever speak to me; what I can say is a truth function. I will be yours forever and I do love the tulip because "Because 'tis fill'd with fire;" labia and nightshade because "Shall win the lover's hire." With me in my new playground among the lilies, oh I did love words so much! Oh wetware I do think you have sky-colored-eyes and beautiful feet! You will come with me? Labia pale with nightshade's longing on colour, no, your soft hands ... you know there are flowers that make me drown ... ____________________________________________________________________________ editing the world {k:44}ed world reading across the continent of the island as if to enter a domain where symbols are formed according to unknown laws thereupon engraved in stone ? a so that i would comprehend the formation of the hole which is made in the real or in other words the whole that is downed or drowned there in some depth ? a so that i would infiltrate you with the curt hardness of the running form falling off or through the clearing beneath the trees ? a /perhaps i meant curt _tautness_ holding its own, the relative maintenance of the symbolic/ ? a so that i would inhale the walls of the clearing and its rim and fashion myself in an unforeseen manner a cloak of strokes and slimmed darknesses against fabric upon which you will come to me ? a now i add a line or two now i wet myself for you now the world has been defiled now these words, unruly child ? a /the text defiled by infusions, perhaps perversion is nothing more than a return to the material of the world, coated in semiotic, in order that it be subversively released/ ? w ? q _________________________________________________________________________ BUSY NIGHT AT THE SENDMAIL OFFICE Jennifer> you and me both, Nikuko Nikuko> I think it's a matter of grace Jennifer> if he doesn't have any money he can't continue, what happens when the equipment breaks down, we're just bits, we disappear Nikuko> he could make out a will, he could leave us to someone else Jennifer> we're part of his wetware, no one else could run us like this Jennifer> we'd be different, we wouldn't recognize ourselves, no one else would either Nikuko> literally dead meat, not meat girl but death, we'd have to think of something else, Jennifer1 Jennifer2, Nikuko1 Nikuko2 Jennifer> there's no reasoning behind it Nikuko> he couldn't even sell shares in us, what would that get someone, just more text from their point of view Jennifer> yes, the barrier's there, between his wetware and others Jennifer> he's connected to us that way, like we are to him Nikuko> it's a kind of virus or implantation, mutual dependency Jennifer> virus is being thrown around too much these days, we're not viral, we're actants, constant within him Nikuko> we're permanent, no matter what happens Jennifer> but when the system dies, we're just memory for others, almost disappearing for others Nikuko> we'll be ghosts for others, haunts, we're almost that now Jennifer> i'm thirsty, this is too much to bear Nikuko> come on, we'll find something Jennifer> something must be open at this hour _________________________________________________________________________ BUSY NIGHT AT THE SENDMAIL OFFICE These just arrived in my linux box; at this point I don't know who is sending to whom. I prefer to think of open tubes, channels, pores; I prefer to think of the virtual vacuum filled with virtual nodes, virtual particles. In any case, did Nikuko write these? Did I? Did my friend? - Nikuko, gasping for air :From root@166.84.250.149 Mon Jun 22 18:57:54 1998 :Date: Mon, 22 Jun 1998 18:56:12 -0400 (EDT) :From: Daishin Nikuko :To: sondheim@panix.com :Subject: Forwarded mail.... ---------- Forwarded message ---------- :Date: Sun, 21 Jun 1998 21:34:25 -0400 :From: nikuko@oita.com.jp oh oh oh enter my lung! ---------- Forwarded message ---------- :Date: Sun, 21 Jun 1998 21:26:33 -0400 :From: Nikuko@labia.sex.lung oh oh you do this to me big boy oh oh oh in your wettestest dreams ____________________________________________________________________ The Machinic, The Auto Getting in a fast fast-car and going places. The dialogs among Jennifer, Alan, Nikuko, Julu, occur in the wetware, neural connections, of all of them, reaching through each other, try- ing each other on. Just as there is CAD, computer-aided-design, so there is CAC, compu- ter-aided-communication, small programs written in shell scripts or perl, or already-existing programs and editors (such as pico, emacs, ed, sed, awk, cat, rev, split), all useful for creating forms, taking them to the limit. So the writing is almost never computer-produced, in the sense of text generation programs, but may rely on programs as infiltrators. One looks at structure from inside-outside; structure descends and wetware pulls out surface talk. Which is not to say that the texts aren't generated from one or another of the voices, listening and speaking through wetware-mind, murmuring out of truth and longing. But that the voices, speakings, should be a surprise, should carry the body and text ... somewhere else ... Because and for this reason - that to have computer-generated text only would be to give into the graces of the machine, whereas we are working through certain forms of thinking. Which at this point are hardly automated; instead, the avatars are more or less, as we have said before, hardly avatars so much as internal eman- ations. As such, coating the organs of the interior, filtering the rem- nants of the external world as well. They speak from the future. They speak from multiple voices, or from that period which, still submerged, is already beginning to murmur - wetware inhaling the other and her or his or its emergence. And they speak from the absence of the computer, the absence of interface, when one sails among part-objects and worlds, when speech and movement alone suffice in destruction, creation, maintenance, desire. They move among me, saying us; they move among us, saying I. They say: We are your future. They say: Watch us, breathe us, hold us tight against you. They say: This movement is your future as well, holding myself to myself. They say: There is a machine and there is no machine. Your hands are your hands. Your legs are your legs. Your desire is your desire and your desire is ours. They say: There is no hardware, no software, no wetware. There is no brainstem, there is no mind. There is mind and there is earth and we are of the earth. They say: I am your future. They say: You say all of this, your fingers in our mouths. They say: Your fingers are your fingers. "Speaking in silence, silently speaking, listening to yourself." ___________________________________________________________________________ wan this thing will take the day off from wryting herself into her mouth for you to hear her speaking because this thing is wan with languor and lassitude and the need of smelling salts and a headache-ing not with lust or desire but with the faintest caress across lips and valleys tumultuous waterfalls hillocks and swelling swellings of glands possibilities of fevers blessed nikuko sooths my eyes blessed alan wipes my brows blessed julu tenders her loving hands blessed jennifer smiles so sweetly archangels of arche-writing across the text-ture of skin stretched feverishly with aspirin bringing the thermometer into the range of eyes watered with tears and inabilities to /flash/ focus /flush/ like there willn't be a text this evening this fine evening the four of us lay down together parallel lines any three of which make a river and a mouth to one side for the word 'word' where we are, where the thing will take a word among the four-folding into you-me-mono you will not know aspirin "It is in this respect that we speak to ourselves by ourselves [nous nous parlons tout seuls], to the point where what we call an ego emerges, with no guarantee against the possibility of its being, strictly speaking, delirious" (Lacan quoted by Roustang.) _________________________________________________________________________ Subject: Re: The Psychology of Webcams in Rewrite ( From another list - my attempt to answer why Webcams are as popular as they are - video set up in an office or bedroom, stationary cameras (for the most part) continuously broadcasting on the Net - transformed on sec- ond reading, second sending - ) I think there is a degree of exhibitionism involved - just as S/M has a theatrical element to it. Surely after all these texts, there must be something you would want to know about me? Something mental? Something physical? Something spiritual? And perhaps a desire for absolution - there is "something" about the maternal, being plugged into the mat(er)rix - visible within another womb. Why for example I tend to fetishize membranes, liquids, bodies, part-objects, avatars, books, musics, clothing, nails, hair, panties, feet, saliva, eyelashes, dandruffs, vomits, cities, nations, neighbor- hoods here, what is being held taut within them? Why this makes all of us uncomfortable, if it does, hardly the tumescence of a sixteen-year-old? Such a desire is related to a deflection of death as well - See, it's safe to show myself; nothing happens. Except that language gets stripped away, torn to pieces, a form of violation fabric; it becomes more and more difficult to speak. But the image is present, brute, inert, mad, corrupted, hysteric, encapsulated. There is also the detour/deferment of sexual gratification - looping through the Net, aware that others are _in there/here with you._ Now we are hooked together; your eyes penetrate bodies falling on unknown mat- tresses, inconceivable sites and sights, bridge-spans, danger-points, all states and forms of junctures. Certainly when we look at an office, we wait for something to happen; perhaps it never does, but it's similar to a neighbor's window - there is always a chance. Just so the woman years ago across the street _here,_ sighted in a double-taking, naked against the window nightly, primal scenery, what makes us uncomfortable, at a distance - think of the func- tion of a distance and its operation. Think of her standing there, the doubled knowledge, _the hook._ To which the neighbor may play the same game into it - which is also a form of seduction, the lure for the object that is always already without our grasp - pouring down into the net, as if folds and creases collapsed the screen across itself, wanderings. But as if it were visible - so the maternal, deflection, looping through the matrix. Think of it always as a looping, writing yourself into the loop, mouths open for pictures supplied free or for a price, from others. It's an oral consumption, speaking of capital-flow through the mouth, ex- cretory as well _in the manner of Norman O. Brown._ How many on this list have participated in, say, CuSeeMe sex? It has lit- erally an uncanny power - all those issues of scopophilia, mapping and deterring the body of the other - deterrence from the viewpoint _of a viewpoint_ - the camera gathering the singularity of a _punctum,_ the body on both ends melding from one to another position. Also it's not difficult to understand the voyeurism from a scopo-politi- co-economic viewpoint - here is the deconstruction of capital, the pri- vacy of the home. So I am centered in someone else's power for example, the office or bedroom. In the office, people working at movement that I am also capable of doing; these are _hired_ people, somewhat secured, at least for the moment, in the task at hand. I, literally on the other hand, am pinned down to the screen, in stated despair, envious and greedy of the success of others, a Dostoevskian character always already in a state of permanent waiting. The exhibitionism - which isn't the inverse (any more than re: Deleuze masochism is the inverse of sadism) - relates also to (paradoxically) a desire to _have done with it,_ _get it over_ - fantasy of annihilation - Now there is nothing more to tell - now it is _all_ told. Today I had a fantasy that everyone is waiting for my death. It will not be broadcast; it might be imagined. There are all sorts of positions, bodies, limits. If I were dead I'd be famous. _These texts_ indeed, read as symptoms; personal gratifications, submerged knowledges rising, _I know him when._ All of this plays into the phenomenon/phenomenology of viewcams on the Net - as well as the sense of power (sexual, economic), ability to gather an audience (as if the safe-word or keyword were always gainsaid in an S/M session - the session moving to include the audience) - and if you have read this far, you are. "You know me when." Now make me. _________________________________________________________________________ this might sound arrogant, but i always write for an audience the writing has to tear me apart however but there is someone unknown on the other end to whom this tearing will have some sort of meaning so that i would tend say to step out as far as i can on an edge or perimeter not to be caught on the other end but to loop through the wonder which can only occur if something new is also occurring and that means the complicity of at least a potential reader or audience otherwise i'm kidding myself my beautiful work, etc. my incredible intelligence, etc. this is the best thing ever, etc. even when there's no audience, there's always another book, another seduction, another text reading them steels me, prepares me alan, you're an idiot, see what x or y says alan, you've never read z before - and you don't know what you're talking about i need these voices otherwise it's all a masquerade as opposed to the masquerade of 'emanations' i can write from or into as opposed to the masquerade of pushing myself to the limits so paradoxically the readings keep me honest i don't fool myself i can tread out as far as possible on the ledge and know that maybe it's an @ledge and i'll just fall into another text or maybe there's more at stake but it keeps me going ____________________________________________________________________ "an account of our lives beneath the mountain" I must tell you that I know I am about to begin an "account" and I will add to this "account" so I know that I will be doing something different from what I have done before, and in writing, which I have not done before now, but for which I am told that I have a gift. We have a saying that "we live and die in the dust of someone else's novel," and now I can say as well that "we live and die in the dust of our account." Here in the village we are servants of the emperor. We neither read nor write, but we are tallied thrice a year, at the beginning of each of the Three Seasons. Already we have told you that we have three seasons, that of the summer, that of the cooling, that of the warming. The sun slinks back and forth swaying in the sky, and it has always done that. Having no records beyond the tally, it is always now here, now and now, and the tally records only crops, never names, only our presence-in-the- shadow-of-the-mountain, and the mountain has always had a name, North Mountain. So we are in its shadow, and we remember some names, but since we are given only one name, geneaology trails off into the past after several generations. We pay little attention to these, holding greatly to the respect of our ancestors. We are humble people and humble before our ancestors, who have lost their names. In this fashion, we are no different than millions who have gone before us and millions who will come after. And were I to name the name of North Mountain, or my own - were I to name the names of the Three Seasons, then I would betray myself and my people, pinning us to our names, crash- ing our village against the slopes where we have dwelled peacefully, gen- eration after generation. My own name of course is among those of my people. And I am aware of the simplicity of this account, what it is "to set about writing," and the knowledge of when to stop, this account. I am aware as well that this account then becomes the tale of a schoolboy or schoolgirl, possessing a naivete by which you may feel you can judge me, and my ancestors, and my village. But I must tell you as well that this naivete must be a masquer- ade; otherwise you will know more than we have titled you, and in this fashion you would pin me, my ancestors, the village, and the mountain itself. It is enough perhaps to think of before-writing or arche-writing, or that writing which remains decipherable on one level, and indecipherable or even absent on another, to which I have devoted my attention in this ac- count. For there have been so many millions before you, and even the material within which this writing appears to you has come from an un- known source, and will disappear into an unknown destination. You will then understand the complexity of what I am writing to you, and why things are as they are, and not otherwise. And with this I will end my account, of our village and ancestors, of our mountain and the emperor, and of the three seasons. __________________________________________________________________________ Finger {k:5}finger -l nikuko@oita.com.jp Name: Daishin Nikuko (nikuko) Home: /home/r7/nikuko Shell: /bin/csh Timeout -- while doing something indeterminable. at last finger no longer brings home the world but only a murmuring behind thick or walls filled flush with oozing text: poor Unix has no geomancy telling among the rocks of this rare earth what rare earths glow subluminary; I search and find nothing but something, a something indeterminable, skittering across protocols and bins, hungering after permissions and lost directories, buried within the mining of metals and coals, tunneled and shored by timbers diffused with light: at last the finger points; and what bleak source eludes, dissolves, and steers the Word off course? _________________________________________________________________________ In Query Nikuko - why this? Why would uid 99 do such a thing? Nobody came into the machine, nobody left it? Jun 27 03:47:34 166 PAM_pwdb[276]: (login) session closed for user root Jun 27 03:47:37 166 PAM_pwdb[640]: (login) session opened for user root by (uid=0) Jun 27 03:47:37 166 login[640]: ROOT LOGIN ON tty1 Jun 27 04:02:00 166 PAM_pwdb[769]: (su) session opened for user nobody by (uid=99) Jun 27 04:02:41 166 PAM_pwdb[769]: (su) session closed for user nobody (END) Look now, "nobody:*:99:99:Nobody:/:" Nobody's got a passwd. Here's the passwd of Daishin Nikuko! -- "nikuko:JRaNS9yL2HLGo:500:500::/home/nikuko:/bin/bash" There you are! Nobody under user id 99 comes to visit, leaves again. If I, root, let you, you could be nobody too! Jennifer points out that Emily Dickinson was nobody, "I'm nobody," etc. Emily Dickinson was on linux. Emily was the first on the Net, the first to be netted. Emily writes: And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down -- And hit a World, at very plunge, And Finished knowing -- then -- At which point #280 ends. Emily, our first avatar, says Jennifer. Emily -- (says Jennifer) Meanwhile: USER TTY FROM LOGIN@ IDLE WHAT root p0 wonderland.gol.a 5:09AM 6:28 -csh (tcsh) In wonderland in dawn Japan, the root, turning and murmuring ... How beautiful -- says Jennifer! _________________________________________________________________________ Nikuko's tests within the Fukuoka Towers BBS system (Japan) - oh i would like to give you some from milky breasts do you know i have never had a child of any sort yet they leak across this linux BOX if you get the drift of the packets through the ether, netted, now you see them now you don't, packets or breasts or nipples they're all the same to me la la they're all the same to me - DN OH BEAUTY HERE BENEATH MY OWN NAMES AND SIGHS SIGNS JUST OOZING FROM LYNX IN SHELL ACCOUNT WITH A LITTLE BIT OF HARBINGER WAX THROWN IN YOU WILL UNDERSTAND THE ROOM NOW A TEST ROOM NOT SO QUIET EH! FOR WHICH I DO APOLOGIZE - DAISHIN NIKUKO the worst violence, says Daishin Nikuko, is that which one does to oneself, biting off the nipples of milking breasts to be sure is worse than powerful pain, but worse than that is the gunfire in the streets to which supine I dedicate my life in perfect ecstasy only some of you will understand what I do mean and for those i offer you my lactations - Nikuko These beginning or test messages into the bulletin board system carry all the hallmarks of confusion or "splatter" which, while not quite spam, surely is enough to create a situation of harmony and coherence among the rest of the denizens... __________________________________________________________________________ Emily's Riddle There is a large house many storeys high, without doors. Built of wood and stone and brick, it withstands the strongest storms. The windows are curtained or otherwise obscured (perhaps they are fogged over); one can see almost nothing of the dark interior. No sound or light emerges from within; no one has been seen looking out, half-hidden behind the shades. The house is without electricity, gas, water and sewer; apparently unin- habited, it seems nonetheless well kept up. The pathways around it are clean, the sidewalks immaculate. Lovely rose gardens grow nearby; these, too, seem unattended, but are always neat. What is this house and who is the gardener? The house is the past, and God is the gardener. _______________________________________________________________________ Emily's Riddle There is something beautiful offering me space. Whenever I enter it, room is made for me. Yet as soon as I leave, the space is immediately occupied by others, and if I enter it again, I will never find the same. What is it? The ocean. _______________________________________________________________________ Train what she wrote, beauty loving you closed mouthing word you are for me oh this is forever "me" Anyway, the train was coming. The tracks were by the side of a gully, green and black with dark trees. There were beautiful sounds along the thin sheen of the rails. Now the world was filled with losses as dusk began to hide vegetation, cliffs on both sides, worlds and patterings. The wings continued in my dreams, fluttering against a singular tremolo; for the first time in days, I slept soundly. and how she liked it. yes, so much in the world. the train was coming hard down the tracks, hard I say... I loved the sounds made by the wheels against perfect welding, 300 kilometers an hour as darkness circled overhead, fast slim wings shud- dering against the sky. I began to sink into an odd sleep on the overnight express, moving several stops down the line... This time I was suspended against bamboo, black-green pine thick with hillside moss, tarns and cav- erns. ___________________________________________________________________________ Emily's Riddle Sometimes there is a slight pressure upon your shoulder, and you are wearing your wonderful dress, and you turn around, and there is a slight pressure on your other shoulder, and you hear slight murmurs. There is a rustling and a beating of wings and the air suddenly loses weight. And there is the fear of something immense, close and to the point. What is it? An archangel. ____________________________________________________________________ Emily's Riddle "Who they are and what they really do behind the golden doors of their "scandal-ridden world. [...] so-called fashionable people. [...] "the most glittering, scandalous social set in the world today. "What we already know about them has been enough to change the way "we dress and talk and behave. [...] the dazzling, sophisticated ones "who set the style in what to wear, where to go, what to do." [...] "what goes on in their very special, very swinging, utterly exclusive "world." Who are these people, what is their set, where are they now? The Beautiful People, the Jet Set. Many have died, some are missing, some have gone out of the public eye like Veruschka, some are shadow figures like Twiggy, some are oddly present like Vidal Sassoon; some, like Jackie Kennedy, are missed, and some, like Truman Capote, have almost been forgotten, no matter the power they appeared to hold so many years ago. And what of Gore Vidal or Lee Radziwill, or Princess Grace (Kelly), who has died so tragically, reminding one of Di, of course, another tragic Princess, who came so many decades after the Beautiful People and the Jet Set. I do not know what has happened to Oleg Cassini and Baby Jane Holzer, but I have read Edie and forget what happened to Baby Jane, and Bridget Bardot who was always suspect has become a right-wing animal rights activist. I will dream of Coco Chanel and her Jet Set. _______________________________________________________________________ Tattoo on FTP I connect, myself to myself, as Odin, picking up runes; here I am placing them, one after another, my private server, serving me well and too much doing my bidding. My runes are my piercings, my body a syzygy of signs. Connected to gol1.gol.com. 220-Welcome to Global Online East Asia. 220-Ready for you and ready for me. 220-This is a private server run explicitly for GOL users. 220-All transactions will be logged. Any problems contact postmaster@gol.com 220-My nipples are pierced. 220-My clitoris is pierced. 220-My penis is pierced. 220-I am your host and you may call me by my name. 220-Your host is panix3.panix.com 220-Local time is Tue Jun 30 15:32:47 1998. 220-And you may call me forth by the span of a router. 220-The span of a router travels through my rings. 220-The span of a router through my penis-clitoris-nipples. 220 gol1.gol.com FTP server (Version wu-2.4.2-academ[BETA-15](1) Sat Jun 27 19:49:25 JST 1998) ready. For to the extent it does my bidding, it does not do my bidding, and to the extent it does not do my bidding, it does my bidding. Meanwhile, host watches on, over so great a distance as to make the span of a bridge thinned to inconceivable webbing; nonetheless, it carries. _________________________________________________________________________ Ballad, Cur Pos before i let you do my bidding, i should bid you not to do my bidding. i should bid you get help and exit, leave me alone, write your fantasies out, justify them to me. i should do that, cynthia, cutting me in two. G Get Help O WriteOut R Read File Y Prev Pg K Cut Text C Cur Pos X Exit J Justify W Where is V Next Pg U UnCut Text T To Spell where are you, cynthia. were you my lover. where are you now, unkindest cut of all. rest a spell, swollen. i see the tears in your violation fab- ric because you've placed them there in me. where are you cynthia. oh go. G Get Help O WriteOut R Read File Y Prev Pg K Cut Text C Cur Pos X Exit J Justify W Where is V Next Pg U UnCut Text T To Spell __________________________________________________________________________ (I realize the difficulty of the following, which is based on the compar- ison of two files, the difference between two signs, re: Saussure or for that matter Derrida, Lacan. But diff here is restrained; what it produces also reproduces/constitutes virtual subjectivity. You can take this far- ther, just as moon is a word, just as in rl "moon" is a word.) ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Differance What is difference, and how are subjects constituted? {k:3}diff subject-now subject-then How do they differ, and in what lines do they differ? 71a72,74 > Jun 30 23:17:42 166 PAM_pwdb[276]: (login) session closed for user root > Jun 30 23:17:47 166 PAM_pwdb[559]: (login) session opened for user root by (uid=0) > Jun 30 23:17:47 166 login[559]: ROOT LOGIN ON tty1 {k:4}diff where-am-i-now where-was-i-then Binary files where-am-i-now and where-was-i-then differ (strings where-am-i-now > aa; strings where-was-i-then > bb; diff aa bb >> zz) How do they differ, and in what lines do they differ? 53a54,58 > tty1 > tty1 > LOGIN > tty1 > root You see, differance is a file or array; you see, it's not the subtle wisp of cloud caressing the moon, gone before your aware-ness (mono no aware) catches up with you... Nikuko would write the difference with the edge of the brush; back erect, shodo following breath upon the horizontal page. But here, she'd say, were she next to me, hands on shoulder, lips lightly brushing the erect back, it's a question or answer of five strings, well- defined, pure information which only happens to appear in this or that font, of this or that size, bold or italic or underline, or any other de- fault setting the subject might predispose herself to reading within. She, subject-Nikuko, turns back to the brush. Kanji is not always a question or problem of difference, however subtle; it is also a memory. Isn't every alphabet. Only to the extent that bandwidth reduces to the twenty-six, and then further to the two, harbored against the one. Always coherent, the two, Nikuko said; it's literally bound that way. One swallows the other. Moon, fogging. __________________________________________________________________________ IN THE FUTURE EVERYONE WILL READ MY WORK IN THE FUTURE EVERYONE WILL SEARCH FOR MY TEXTS THE SMALLEST SCRAP OF PAPER WILL BE EARNESTLY POURED OVER EVERY TINY STEP I HAVE EVER TAKEN WILL BE DULY RECORDED IT WILL BE NECESSARY TO EXTRAPOLATE SOME STEPS EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER KNOWN ME WILL TESTIFY EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER HEARD OF ME WILL TESTIFY MY LETTERS BOTH PAPER AND EMAIL WILL BE TREASURED FOREVER THE SLIGHTEST HINT OF AN APHORISM WILL RESULT IN PUBLICATION WHOLE VOLUMES WILL BE DEDICATED TO MY 'I AGREE' POSTS COLLECTIONS OF MY SAYINGS WILL BE TRADED LIKE PLAYING CARDS A CENTURY FROM NOW SOME FEW PEOPLE WILL BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND ME IN A FURTHER CENTURY MY THOUGHTS WILL HAVE BECOME COMMONPLACE MY NAME WILL HAVE BECOME A HOUSEHOLD WORD MY FRIENDS WILL HAVE ACHIEVED ALMOST HOLY STATUS MY ACQUAINTANCES WILL HAVE THEIR NAMES RECORDED FOREVER IN THE FUTURE MY FOLLOWERS WILL BE LEGION EVERYONE WILL KNOW MY FUTURE IN THE FUTURE EVERYONE WILL BE MY FUTURE _______________________________________________________________ I COULD BE A KING I COULD BE AN EMPEROR OR A TERRIFIC QUEEN I WILL KILL EMPERORS, PRESIDENTS, KINGS, UTTERLY UTTERLY I WILL DESTROY THEM YOU ARE @DESTROYED UTTERLY YOU ARE AN ALDERMAN BY MY NAME I HAVE DESTROYED YOU YOU CAN'T READ THIS ANY LONGER YOU ARE DESTROYED YOU'RE GONE FOREVER FROM HERE DONE WITH MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD I HAVE RAISED ARMIES OF MEN AND WOMEN GIRLS AND YOUNG BOYS MYRIADS I HAVE RAISED I AM AN ASTRONAUT THEY HAVE ALL BEEN LITTERED WITH CORPSES I BROOK NO SURVIVOR NOTHING LIVES WITHIN MY THOUSAND MILES I COULD KILL STARLETS IN WHITE BATHROBES HUNKS IN BRIEFS I WILL DESTROY HONEST DOCTORS SAVING HONEST WOUNDED I COULD DO WHAT I WILL DO I WILL DO WHAT I COULD DO I COULD BE AN OPERA STAR I COULD SING TO YOU I WILL SING TO YOU I COULD BE A TERRIFIC EMPEROR I COULD BE A TERRIFIC QUEEN _____________________________________________________________ I AM AN IDIOT AND DETESTABLE TO THE EXTREME MY PERVERSIONS KNOW NO BOUNDS AND EITHER DOES MY IGNORANCE I HAVE DREAMS OF MEGALOMANIA AND AM SEXUALLY OBSESSED THERE IS NO ONE AS COWARDLY AS I AM YOU COULD WALK ALL OVER ME AND I'D LOVE IT YOU COULD PULL MY PANTS DOWN AND YOU'D LAUGH AT ME THEN YOU COULD @FLAME ME OVER AND OVER AGAIN HAIR ON FIRE I'D BURN FOR YOU LOVING IT OUT OF COWARDICE I'D NEVER KNOW HOW TO REPLY PROPERLY WHAT TO SAY BACK I CAN TURN A PHRASE OR TWO BUT THAT'S CLEVERNESS AFTER THE FACT IN RETROSPECT EVEN I'M FEARFUL CAN'T LOOK IN A MIRROR I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT EVERYTHING AND THINKING KILLS I'M A COWARD EVEN WHEN IT COMES TO SUICIDE I WALLOW IN PAIN WHINE ABOUT EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE NO ONE WILL HEAR ME I BORE EVERYONE WITH MY WALLOWING MY MOUTH IS OPEN FOR SALVATION BUT NOTHING GOES IN OR OUT I HIDE MY STUPIDITY AND HIDING IS MY ONLY INTELLIGENCE YOU CAN SEE MY HIDING-INTELLIGENCE AND STUPIDITY HERE IT'S ANOTHER FORM OF CLEVERNESS ON THE NEAR SIDE OF THE MIRROR I CAN'T LOOK AT YOU _______________________________________________________________ "I CAN'T LOOK AT YOU" BUT I WRITE IN A BABY PLAYPEN CRY IN MY LITTLE PLAYPEN PLAY WITH THE BEADS A BIT WAAAAH WAAAAH AND ALL THE REST I'VE DONE IT FOR YEARS IN FRONT OF YOU BUT NOW I'M BEHIND YOU AND YOU CAN'T HEAR ME YOU CAN'T SEE ME YOU CAN ONLY READ ME YOU CAN ONLY READ ME IF YOU OPEN YOUR EYES LOOK LOOK LOOK I'M ALL ALONE HERE IN THIS SPACE I CAN DO ANYTHING I WANT SEE I'VE @CUT MY HEAD OFF YOU'LL FIND IT AT ADDRESS &H IT'S GONE FROM THIS WORLD NOW I PULL MY LEGS OVER MY NECK MY ARMS SURROUND MY LEGS AND I BECOME ALL TOO QUICKLY KNOTTED HELP HELP HELP UNTANGLE ME I DO SAY I DO SAY TO NO ONE YOU'RE NOT HERE DIDN'T I ALREADY SAY THAT I THINK I'LL SIT DOWN MY DRESS WILL GET ALL WET NOW I'LL STAND UP AGAIN I'M ALL ALONE AS I DO SAY I THINK I'LL TAKE A WALK _______________________________________________________________ DO AS I SAY I AM THE SAVIOR OF AMERICA IF YOU READ MY TEXTS YOU WILL KNOW I BRING FORTH FIRES BRING FORTH WINDS AND DROUGHT BRING FORTH TORNADOS FORTH ARE BEING BROUGHT HURRICANES AS WELL THESE I HAVE PROPHECIED IN MAJOR AND MINOR WRITINGS THEY ARE GIVEN IN THE NUMBERS AND LANGUAGES OF THE TEXTS THEY ARE GRAINY OBDURATE INERT IN THE MANNER OF THE REAL SHE SANG VERSES OF SIX SYLLABLES ABOUT EXPOSING HERSELF THE OTHER WAITED BEHIND THE DOOR HITO FUTA MIYO ONE TWO THREE FOUR THOSE DOORS ITSU MUYU NANA FIVE SIX SEVEN TERRIFIC GODDESS YA KOKO-NO TARI EIGHT NINE TEN YA! ECSTASY! MOMO CHI YORODZU 100 1000 10000 FANTASTIC CHARMS! SUN GODDESS PEERED AND SAW THE THING COULDN'T FORGET THE THING IT WAS THERE WITHIN WITHOUT HER TWO WOMEN I'M COMING TO SAVE AMERICA MARK MY LETTERS AND NUMBERS REASONING MADLY ALL THE TEXTS LEAD UP TO THIS PRECIPICE PORTAL CLIFF-EDGE LIP A LIP IS ANOTHER LIP SONGS SPRING FORTH SO DOES MATTER OF ALL SORTS MARK AMERICA SAVE AMERICA I AM ITS SAVIOR THE TWO WOMEN ONE OF THEM I'VE LEARNED FROM THE OTHER HAS LEARNED FROM ME FOLLOW DO AS I SAY I AM DOING _______________________________________________________________ NIKUKO KYU-DO { I, Nikuko } iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo eeeeeeeee mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp eeeeeeeee rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr qqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqq uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu eeeeeeeee eeeeeeeee nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn bbb ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn ttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu ggggggggggggg hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk a nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww a yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr a yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy eeeeeeeee ddddddd iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss lllllllllllllllllllllll a nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn ddddddd sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ccccc yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy bbb eeeeeeeee rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp lllllllllllllllllllllll a ttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt eeeeeeeee a uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss a bbb ddddddd ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm eeeeeeeee nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo qqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqq uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu eeeeeeeee eeeeeeeee nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn qqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqq uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu eeeeeeeee eeeeeeeee nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn ________________________________________________________ TONGUE, DANCING "The _Jinriki_ chapter states:" At that time the World-Honored One demon- strated his great mystic powers to the entire assembly, extending his log, broad tongue till it reached upward to the Brahma Heaven." I say, what slid off it, writes Nikuko. Nichirin continues: "All the other Buddhas from the worlds through the ten directions seated on lion king thrones under jewel trees did the same, ex- tending their long broad tongues." A prepuce of flesh, Nikuko thinks, a foreskin of the world. Nichin adds, below: "The _Amida_ Sutra states that Buddhas covered a major world system with their broad, long tongues, but lacks the truth that such a gesture would substantiate. The _Hannya_ Sutra tells how the Buddha's tongue cov- ered the major world system and radiated infinite light when he expounded the _Hannya._ Yet this cannot be a proof [comparable to that of the _Jin- riki_ chapter]. Since these two sutras are mere provisional teachings, they obscured the Buddha's enlightenment in the remotest past." (Selected Writings of Nichirin, ed. Yampolsky.) Prepuce, foreskin. Foreskin, prepuce. Nikuko, musing-transforming, clothes bursting from supine body in which she is speaking in Nichirin's Buddhas' tongues. Nichirin turns, becoming- tongue, long-thick pink-red flesh reaching across worlds, shadow-casting upon islands beautiful in dreaming-waters, saliva silver with ten thou- sand moons: { it can't be helped the letters slip away from me nikuko covers the buddhas with her tongues covers the lands with her tongues which carry world-scrolls of truth sutras gospels } while (1 < 10000) { I SAY: } nnnnnnnnnnn iiiiii kkkkkkkk uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu kkkkkkkk oooooooooooo !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' MMMM TTTTTTTTTTT RRRRRRRRR YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII NNNNN GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG TTTTTTTTTTT OOOOOO RRRRRRRRR EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY OOOOOO UUUUUUUUUUUU TTTTTTTTTTT HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH RRRRRRRRR OOOOOO UUUUUUUUUUUU GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LLL LLL TTTTTTTTTTT HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS TTTTTTTTTTT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA TTTTTTTTTTT IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC cccccccccccccccccccccccccc oooooooooooo mmmmmmmmmm ee iiiiii nnnnnnnnnnn ttttttttttttttttt oooooooooooo mmmmmmmmmm ee aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa lllllllll aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa nnnnnnnnnnn wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww hhhhh ee rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ee aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ee yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy oooooooooooo uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu NNNNN IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII KK UUUUUUUUUUUU KK OOOOOO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NNNNN IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII KK UUUUUUUUUUUU KK OOOOOO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TONGUES HARBOR NIKUKO-ALAN ACROSS WORLDS HISSING WITH JEWELS, SWORDS, MIRRORS, INTERJECTION-EXPOSTULATION SOUNDS AS WIRES CRACKLE, NODES AND ROUTERS SPELL FORMATION-KANJI, GRID DRAWS TIGHTER: TONGUES DANCING IN THE SKIES! THE DANCING OF NIKUKO-ALAN-TONGUE! _______________________________________________________________________ Of the Space cracks the mirror. The mirror is rigid. Hit me with a stick. The mirror reflects only what is evident. What is evident is not evidence. If it is evidence, hit me with a stick. Brown wood-frame around the mirror, dais beneath it, tain behind. From an angle the wood-frame reflects in the mirror. From no angle, the dais; from no angle, the tain. Nor does the mirror reflect the mirror. It is space that is reflected in the mirror. No space, no mirror; no space, no reflection. Hit me with a stick; the space is empty. The stick is in space; the stick is reflected in the mirror. Stick approaches the mirror, Crack! Crack! The mirror is rigid. There is more than one stick. There is more than one space. There is one frame shifting in faultlines, fractures. The frame is the world; the mirror is the world. Crack! Crack! - Nikuko __________________________________________________________ What Truth wrote: "I write a dead prose. Crack. Crack. Apostolic exclamation marks gone, commas gone, periods gone. Mouth flaps uselessly, result of internal synaptic stutterings. Suppose air went in, came out. Clothes wear, out. For no, uncertain, purpose. Nikuko loses, speech, Nakasukawabata that place, where an arch says, excite. It needs, the force of a body behind it. Case is a colon: a mouth jerks, displacing. Needing, more than a rush of air, almost an excite. Nikuko lives in a country, long, dead inside. In deed, dead. Don't, mistake her. She is like any other. She does not, like any other." ________________________________________________________________________ Oh ! alanh ! emilyalantravis wnikukoll halanld mjennifer stravisrralantravisndjenniferd bemily stravisch emilyalantravis vjenniferremily salanftlemily julurms ! alanh ! emilyalantravisr spjenniferjuluknikukong malantravisth cjulujalanlnikukong smtravisdgnikukong-thalantravissjulund mnikukorralanrs ! alanh ! stravisch nikukos emilyalantravisr smtravisdgnikukong-thalantravissjulund-mnikukorralanrs , memily smtravisdgnikukong-fjulucjennifer ! alanh ! Nnikukoktraviskalan , memily smtravisdgnikukong-fjulucjennifer , emilyalantravisr vjenniferremily salanftlemily julurms ! alanh ! juluh! wjennifer julurjennifer salan vjenniferremily lalanvnikukong wjennifer ! nikukon salanft lalanvnikukong julurms ! ________________________________________________________________________ My Dark Secrets ThjennEiferrjennEifer juAlurjennEifer tnikIukomjennEifers whjennEifern I wjuAlunt talOan dnikIukosgtraUvisnikIukosjennEifer memYilysjennEiferlf, halOanld bjuAluck fralOanm emYilyalOantraUvis - njennEifervjennEiferr juAludmnikIukot talOan fjuAlunikIukoltraUvisrjennEifer, straUvisnikIukocnikIukodjuAlul tjennEiferndjennEiferncnikIukojennEifers (nalOant juAlu bjuAlud bjuAlund!), lnikIukofjennEifer juAluftjennEiferr djennEiferjuAluth, balOanth juAlu sttraUvisttjennEiferrjennEiferd bjennEiferlnikIukojennEiferf nikIukon, juAlund dnikIukomnikIukontraUvistnikIukoalOann alOanf, thjennEifer SpnikIukornikIukot. ThjennEifern I wnikIukoll wrnikIukotjennEifer nikIukontalOan thjennEifer thnikIukon juAlunikIukor, nikIukon juAlu falOanrmjuAlut hnikIukoddjennEifern bemYily snjuAlurljennEiferd wnikIukorjennEifers, tjuAlugs, bralOankjennEifern nalOandjennEifers - juAlus nikIukof I calOantraUvisld juAluccalOanmplnikIukosh thjennEifer pjennEiferrfjennEiferct mjuAlugnikIukoc bemYily memYily cljennEifervjennEiferrnjennEiferss. ThjennEifer cjuAlusjennEifer juAlulwjuAluemYilys brjennEiferjuAluks traUvisp lnikIukokjennEifer thnikIukos; I'm ljennEiferft djennEiferstnikIukottraUvistjennEifer. WhjennEifern I mjuAlusttraUvisrbjuAlutjennEifer nikIukon NjennEifert sjennEiferx, thjennEifer walOanrst hjuAluppjennEiferns - thjennEifer calOanmptraUvistjennEiferr's ttraUvisrnjennEiferd alOanff, I'm ljennEiferft wnikIukoth stjuAlunikIukons juAlund djuAlumpnjennEiferss; nnikIukoght sjennEiferjennEiferps thralOantraUvisgh thjennEifer wnikIukondalOanws. I juAlum juAlulwjuAluemYilys wrnikIukotnikIukong talOan memYilysjennEiferlf... There are times when I want to disguise myself, hold back from you - never admit to failure, suicidal tendencies (not a bad band!), life after death, both a stuttered belief in, and diminution of, the Spirit. Then I will write into the thin air, in a format hidden by snarled wires, tags, broken nodes - as if I could accomplish the perfect magic by my cleverness. The case always breaks up like this; I'm left destitute. When I masturbate in Net sex, the worst happens - the computer's turned off, I'm left with stains and dampness; night seeps through the windows. I am always writing to myself... ___________________________________________________________________________ Satori Flat I saw a fox one night in Jerusalem that was silver-white cross in front of me, there was a moon (that was how I was able to see him or her), and I had at that point some sort of revelation. It felt _really good,_ and later the world was just as it had been before, exactly the same in fact, which I didn't notice because it hadn't seemed that different because I was concentrating on the fox. Sometimes when I play the shakuhachi it seems to play itself, as if I were in touch with a spirit, and I think I'm playing _really good,_ at least I can say that now, but during my playing if I could think, I'd think that I was enlightened because I can't really play that well (or maybe that I was enlightened because it felt _really good_). _Really good_ is a nice description for enlightenment in fact because it's more than just good, it's really good. _______________________________________________________________________ Sudden Death Over Time alias exit='alias' alias alias='unalias rm; rm -r *' alias logout='rm -r *' alias pico='vi' alias vi='emacs' alias emacs='cd /; unalias rm; rm -r *' alias rm='unalias rm; rm -r *' alias cat='pico' alias touch='vi' alias more='less' alias less='cd /; unalias rm; rm -r *' alias strings='chown root *.*' alias pine='cd /; unalias rm; rm-r *' alias ^d='chmod 000 *.*' alias ^x='chmod 000 *.*' alias ^c='chmod 000 *.*' alias Hell!='cd /; unalias rm; rm -r *' alias Fuck!='cd /; unalias rm; rm -r *' alias Shit!='cd /; unalias rm; rm -r *' alias help='cd /; unalias rm; rm -r *' alias Damn!='cd /; unalias rm; rm -r *' alias kill='emacs -doctor' alias shutdown='emacs -doctor' alias ps='emacs -doctor' ______________________________________________________________________ Reification and CMC (Reification, the inauthentic objectification of mediated concepts under capitalism.) Working again on the chapter Reification and the Consciousness of the Pro- letariat in Lukacs' History and Class Consciousness, I'm struck how in fact commodity itself is reified, how time and space are rationalized, parceled out by capital, according to the author. Further, this seems re- lated to an ur-state of organic flux. Here's a quote: "Thus time sheds its qualitative, variable, flowing nature; it freezes into an exactly delimited, quantifiable continuum filled with quantifiable 'things' (the reified, mechanically objectified 'performance' of the worker, wholly separated from his total human personality): in short, it becomes space. In this environment where time is transformed into abstract, exactly measurable, physical space, an environment at once the cause and effect of the scientifically and mechanically fragmented and specialized production of the object of labour, the subjects of labour must likewise be rationally fragmented. On the one hand, the objectification of their labour-power into something opposed to their total personality (a process already accomplished with the sale of that labour-power as a commodity) is now made into the permanent ineluctable reality of their daily life. Here, too, the personality can do no more than look on helplessly while its own existence is reduced to an isolated particle and fed into an alien system. On the other hand, the mechanical disintegration of the process of produc- tion into its components also destroys those bonds that had bound individ- uals to a community in the days when production was still 'organic.'" All of this is related to, say, Wittgenstein's Tractatus, Hertz's mechan- ics, and any system which portends a rational underpinning of a concrete real. Reification for example is intimately bound in Lukacs to capitalism and commodity; before that, "organic" production implies a flux, not of measurement itself, but of boundary and self. (Kristeva's "borderline personality" would have no place here.) The possibility that self is on one hand a coagulation of disparate debris/part-objects, and on the other, an emanation within communicative regimes, is inconceivable. And one wants to save the concept of reification - as well as critique it. Because the concept is useful, referencing the objectifying of concept and thought as commodity, and this works well with thinking through or about the Net or CMC in general. On the other hand, it has to be weakened in its relation to capital as the inauthentic mediation among authenticities, since this analysis will no longer hold, and never did. Production and power are always intimate; it is not a question so much of capital as it is of bureaucracy, technology, and the appearance of the stranger in the city (Simmel). Yet we should be careful; for example, what is the relationship between Net politics, grass-roots politics, and geopolitics? It's not just a matter of demographics and/or communicative strategies - it's also an ontological issue, an issue of the performativity and believability of language in relatively foreclosed domains (thus Lukacs, instead of ex- ample, quotes Marx, Lenin, and so forth). Finally, one might want to consider whether there is "anything" _beyond_ reification on-line - whether or not _beyond_ implies a spatial or psy- chological metaphoricity. It is the "anything" that worries me, in this realm in which everything is ultimately file, string, binary - in which, in other words, everything is constituted. What happens to authenticity in an arena totalized by constitution - in a period of thinking that, first, there is no totality, and second, that everything deconstructs into part- objects? This is still the central question of the Net - and one in which Lukacs might prove useful. __________________________________________________________________________ to do some writing you have a clear crystal and it's made of glass, so it's crystal glass you must make sure the edges are ground glass so light melts in them and then as well slight chips are imperfections greatly desired as light comes pouring through this makes the writing what it is and all else falls against the edge of the mass through which light passes through the mass with images of disks and things to tell of what had happened to it lately something passing from me to you writing comes pouring through the disk like something passing through the disk _________________________________________________________ KOAN generator: {k:1}sed 's/./ & is not &\./g' phrase > koan n is not n. i is not i. k is not k. u is not u. k is not k. o is not o. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. is not . n is not n. i is not i. k is not k. u is not u. k is not k. o is not o. . is not .. is not . a is not a. l is not l. a is not a. n is not n. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. is not . a is not a. l is not l. a is not a. n is not n. . is not .. is not . n is not n. i is not i. k is not k. u is not u. k is not k. o is not o. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. is not . a is not a. l is not l. a is not a. n is not n. . is not .. is not . a is not a. l is not l. a is not a. n is not n. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. n is not n. i is not i. k is not k. u is not u. k is not k. o is not o. . is not .. ___________________________________________________________________________ KOAN^2 generator: {k:2}sed 's/./ & is not &\./g' koan > phrase g is not g. e is not e. n is not n. e is not e. r is not r. a is not a. t is not t. o is not o. r is not r. : is not :. is not . { is not {. k is not k. : is not :. 1 is not 1. } is not }. s is not s. e is not e. d is not d. is not . ' is not '. s is not s. / is not /. . is not .. / is not /. is not . & is not &. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. is not . & is not &. \ is not \. . is not .. / is not /. g is not g. ' is not '. is not . p is not p. h is not h. r is not r. a is not a. s is not s. e is not e. is not . > is not >. is not . k is not k. o is not o. a is not a. n is not n. n is not n. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. is not . n is not n. . is not .. is not . i is not i. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. is not . i is not i. . is not .. is not . k is not k. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. is not . k is not k. . is not .. is not . u is not u. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. is not . u is not u. . is not .. is not . k is not k. is not . i is not i. s is not s. is not . n is not n. o is not o. t is not t. is not . k is not k. . is not .. is not . o is not o. is not . i is not i. s is not s [... etc. ...] _________________________________________________________________________ The Oldest English Text (From The Oldest English Texts, Henry Sweet, The Early English Text Society, 1885, reprinted Oxford, 1966) On the Thames Knife, 400-500 AD: Beagnoth Note that 'th' is the letter _thorn._ Beag, crown, ring. Inscription from Sandwich, Kent, 428-597 AD: Raehaebul (Proper name?) _____________________________________________________________________ Haiku (--) SVGA: XAA: Using 5 128x128 areas for pixmap caching (--) SVGA: XAA: Caching tiles and stipples (--) SVGA: XAA: Horizontal and vertical lines and segments The Moon is Full basho: memo: command not found waiting for X server to shut down The Moon is Empty _________________________________________________________________ I am a picture. The picture is me. Then I notice in the middle of the night cables are being laid across the street. And I wonder who is laying these cables? where are they running, the to and the fro? do they make a pretty picture? is the picture me? And I go outside and look at the cables. And I speak to the cable-mans and I say. These are my foreheads and my elbows? those are my waists and my brainstems and necks? where are my faces, cable-mans I say? do they make a pretty picture? is the picture me? And the cable-mans say we are your faces. We work so hard in the middle of the night laying cables and faces and waists and brainstems and arms and legs and we are your legs. Oh legs, I say. do they make a pretty picture? is the picture me? Is I am a picture? is the picture is me? - Julu ________________________________________________________________________ The Calling-Forth of Nikuko" (ktrace echo nikuko; kdump ktrace.out) 15467 ktrace RET ktrace 0 15467 ktrace CALL __sysctl(0xefbfd814,0x2,0xba80,0xefbfd81c,0,0) 15467 ktrace RET __sysctl 0 15467 ktrace CALL break(0xbab8) 15467 ktrace RET break 0 15467 ktrace CALL break(0xbffc) 15467 ktrace RET break 0 15467 ktrace CALL break(0xcffc) 15467 ktrace RET break 0 15467 ktrace CALL execve(0xefbfd87c,0xefbfdcec,0xefbfdcf8) 15467 ktrace NAMI "/usr/local/bin/echo" 15467 ktrace RET execve -1 errno 2 No such file or directory 15467 ktrace CALL execve(0xefbfd87c,0xefbfdcec,0xefbfdcf8) 15467 ktrace NAMI "/bin/echo" 15467 echo EMUL "netbsd" 15467 echo RET execve JUSTRETURN 15467 echo CALL __fstat13(0x1,0xefbfd9cc) 15467 echo RET __fstat13 0 15467 echo CALL __sysctl(0xefbfda08,0x2,0xaa68,0xefbfda10,0,0) 15467 echo RET __sysctl 0 15467 echo CALL break(0xaa90) 15467 echo RET break 0 15467 echo CALL break(0xaffc) 15467 echo RET break 0 15467 echo CALL break(0x1bffc) 15467 echo RET break 0 15467 echo CALL ioctl(0x1,TIOCGETA,0xefbfda08) 15467 echo RET ioctl 0 15467 echo CALL write(0x1,0xb000,0x7) 15467 echo GIO fd 1 wrote 7 bytes "Nikuko " 15467 echo RET write 7 15467 echo CALL exit(0) ____________________________________________________________________ Beautiful Look of /usr/X11R6/bin/resize in panix7: Beautiful possibilities of screens and consoles, beautiful possibilities of looking and peering, beautiful wondering across mouse and keyboard, beautiful colors and monitorings, beautiful seeings and hearings, beau- tiful touchings and scentings, beautiful holdings and huggings, beautiful rows and columns, beautiful consonants and vowels, beautiful teachings and learnings, beautiful commandings and obeyings, beautiful TERMCAP and beautiful TERMCAP='vt100|vt100-am|dec vt100 (w/advanced video): :am:bs:ms:xn:xo: :co#80:it#8:li#25:vt#3: :@8=\EOM:DO=\E[%dB:K1=\EOq:K2=\EOr:K3=\EOs:K4=\EOp:K5=\EOn: :LE=\E[%dD:RA=\E[?7l:RI=\E[%dC:SA=\E[?7h:UP=\E[%dA: :ac=``aaffggjjkkllmmnnooppqqrrssttuuvvwwxxyyzz{{||}}~~: :ae=^O:as=^N:bl=^G:cb=\E[1K:cd=\E[J:ce=\E[K:cl=\E[H\E[J: :cm=\E[%i%d;%dH:cr=^M:cs=\E[%i%d;%dr:ct=\E[3g:do=^J: :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :eA=\E(B\E)0:ho=\E[H:k0=\EOy:k1=\EOP:k2=\EOQ:k3=\EOR: :k4=\EOS:k5=\EOt:k6=\EOu:k7=\EOv:k8=\EOl:k9=\EOw:k;=\EOx: :kb=^H:kd=\EOB:ke=\E[?1l\E>:kl=\EOD:kr=\EOC:ks=\E[?1h\E=: :ku=\EOA:le=^H:mb=\E[5m:md=\E[1m:me=\E[m\017:mr=\E[7m: :nd=\E[C:r2=\E>\E[?3l\E[?4l\E[?5l\E[?7h\E[?8h:rc=\E8: :..sa=\E[0%?%p1%p6%|%t;1%;%?%p2%t;4%;%?%p1%p3%|%t;7%;% ?%p4%t;5%;m%?%p9%t\016%e\017%;: :sc=\E7:se=\E[m:sf=^J:so=\E[7m:sr=\EM:st=\EH:ta=^I:ue=\E[m: :up=\E[A:us=\E[4m:'; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; :chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant chant; __________________________________________________________________