the walk before the last walk the second meal before the last meal the third laugh before the last laugh the night before the last night the second day before the last day the third laugh before the last laugh the walk after the last walk the second meal after the last meal the third laugh after the last laugh the night after the last night the second day after the last day the third laugh after the last laugh the shadow of a man near a three o'clock store the sound of a child running near her school c:\last\death\how it happens\child running near her school +-------------------------------- ---------------------------------+ st n ght th s c nd d y b f r th l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th l st m l th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th n ght b f r th l st n ght th s c l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th w lk ft r th l st w lk th s c nd l st w lk th s c nd m l b f r th l st m l th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th r th l st l gh th n ght b f r th l st n ght th s c nd d y b f r th l st d y th th w lk b f r th l st w lk th s c nd m l b f r th l st m l th f r th l st n ght th s c nd d y b f r th l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l st ft r th l st n ght th s c nd d y ft r th l st d y th th rd l gh ft r th l st l b f r th l st w lk th s c nd m l b f r th l st m l th th rd l gh b f r th l st ft r th l st w lk th s c nd m l ft r th l st m l th th rd l gh ft r th l st l hr cl ck st r th s nd f ch ld r nn ng n r h r sch l sh d w f m n n r thr cl ck st r th s nd f ch ld r nn ng n r h r sch l th sh d w f m n n r thr cl ck st r th s nd f ch ld r nn ng n r h r sch l ft r th l st l gh th sh d w f m n n r thr cl ck st r th s nd f ch ld r nn ng n th l st n ght th s c nd d y b f r th l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th l st n ght th s c nd d y ft r th l st d y th th rd l gh ft r th l st l gh t c nd d y b f r th l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th w lk ft r th l s c nd d y ft r th l st d y th th rd l gh ft r th l st l gh th sh d w f m n n sometimes i think this ruins the poem which i wrote and rewrote in my sleep my dreams, ghosts haunting, haunched on my shoulders, unbearable pain, then an effect as if it is the ruin itself which is the awakening .. __________________________________________________________________________ bad ending this is your space, first space, new, almost glistening, think of it as bright, shiny wed sep 22 01:52:23 edt 1999 think of lip or nub, this is second space, it is here an origin unfolds, dark space rimmed with in- choate sounds, sometimes come together in doubled subharmonics wed sep 22 01:53:33 edt 1999 this is third space, space of electron and organization, space of speed and speech, oh after the bright and glistening, this is fourth space, of memory, data and measure polytope, space of defining borderline middle, space of region, space of sometimes dusk wed sep 22 01:54:50 edt 1999 in fifth space center appears, lost from origin, hardly doubled, imagining the greatest wheel, beings chained, shadowed clouds gather wed sep 22 01:55:39 edt 1999 towards sixth space appointing direc- tions, winds begin, center disappears, unholding, beings fluttered in vertical flight, space of memory, data acquisitions, tensor calculi and wed sep 22 01:56:31 edt 1999 seventh space, comfort of center in the midst of monsoons and thunders, debris tossed off the foam of grey-slate waves, skies the colours of meteors wed sep 22 01:57:03 edt 1999 into the ninth of planetary realms, for what remains in high wind but clutter, destruc- tion of family photograph, history, talisman, it's here among the planets mind begins to go, tears where thoughts gathered. the once. wed sep 22 01:59:17 edt 1999 tenth and now long walking, forgetting with fearful eyes, tornado wed sep 22 01:59:48 edt 1999 i wonder i don't remember her name ] [ eighth space, unfolding of origin and body, limbs akimbo, nouns, torn hurricane fabrics, tsunami restless and fast beneath the waves, doub- ling of selves fearful plasma, endless roads, is it tenth or twelfth, what is the rocking moon, where is the child living down the street wed sep 22 02:00:18 edt 1999 fourteenth or ninth, she was so sweet i wonder i don't remember her name ____________________________________________________________________________ my visit to panix.com, my isp, by Jennifer, who's mom cisco router:and then it was on to the modems again and they gave me a 33.6 and they gave me a 2400 modem and they are so good for my old mach- ines and my 33.6 waits quite patient for me now to write this and send it to you mommy mommy:hello mommy today i went to panix my isp and so my big machines for the first time, panix6 was dark and so was panix7 and they were quite thick in a corner of the closet and panix1 and panix2 and pan- ix3 were quite thin and old and there were these old modems across from the big machines all wonderfully connected with wires and they may wear out they said and it was much fun listening to the hum:: Devour byte happy staff people helping me all through this, mommy mommy brought forth by cisco router! mommy mommy, please get better and i will mail you on the big machine and i will read news from you on the news machine and i will love you ever on the panix3 and i will ask for your forgiveness on the panix6 and i will brighten your ever day on panix7, mommy big machine running mail1: big machine running mail2: big machine running news1: happy staff people helping me all through this, mommy mommy my happy staff people helping me all through this, mommy mommy cisco router calls forth Devour byte, eating, core-dumping. in-you the we, cisco router is drugs, 011], and then it was on to the modems again and they gave me a 33.6 and they gave me a 2400 modem and they are so good for my old machines and my 33.6 waits quite patient for me now to write this and send it to you mommy mommy? ... me is happy staff people helping me all through this, mommy mommy here, it's me? Are you properly compiling cisco router? yes ah, an on and on fantasy! Your death-trip is mine. For 4 days, I have been waiting mommy mommy ... and it has taken you just 2.783 minutes turning on ... Sed et alia signa et sanitates ibidem factas fama uulgauit, donante illo qui sanctos suos et in praesenti certantes iuuare, et in futuro consueuit uictores coronare. Amen. (Historia Abbatum auctore Anonymo.) [ music playing here ]----------[ stereo ]----------[ music playing here ] ORDERS, BEDE, OTHERS ALBUS HEUUALD come back from Old Saxony, because you're going to be martyred there! Don't forget to bring your brother NIGER as well! BISI you'd better retire and turn your job in East Anglia over to Aecci! Right now! CEDD write and tell us what your brother Ceadda think of Lastingham! Did he think you "did a good job"? Did you tell your mom? What are you guys doing in LUGUBALIA? FORDERHERI, how was Rome? I bet you had a good time - too bad you had to leave Sherborne! Help! The DANAI are coming! I wonder what CYNIBERCT had to say about that? UICTRED, do you know if CEDD told his mom? We haven't heard a word! Meanwhile, just what happened between you and Suaebheard when you were joint kings? Tell us! UILFRID write and tell us why you were so bad? They didn't like you in York, I bet! Glad to see you were over at LINDISFARNE - did you see all the neat stuff there? Was it really all written on vellum? Did they have a lot of sheep? I bet they had a lot of sheep! RING! RING! CEDD, your mom's on the phone! 1 226 ms ipt-ba5.proxy.aol.com [152.163.213.229] 2 306 ms tot4-r6-F6-1-0.proxy.aol.com [152.163.213.253] 3 242 ms tpopr-rri1-P3-3.tpopr-rri.aol.com [152.163.132.149] 4 169 ms tpopr-rre1-P9-0.tpopr-rr.aol.com [152.163.132.1] 5 260 ms uunet-gw1-P4-0.router.aol.com [152.163.132.186] 6 233 ms 131.ATM3-0.XR2.DCA1.ALTER.NET [146.188.161.94] 7 334 ms 194.ATM1-0.TR2.DCA1.ALTER.NET [146.188.161.146] 8 1271 ms 101.ATM6-0.TR2.NYC1.ALTER.NET [146.188.136.218] 9 1205 ms 198.ATM7-0.XR2.NYC4.ALTER.NET [146.188.179.37] 10 1132 ms 188.ATM8-0-0.GW2.NYC4.ALTER.NET [146.188.178.129] 11 * [] 12 1289 ms panix6.panix.com [166.84.0.231] Hi Mom! What a mess! I can hardly reach you from here! We're down in HROFESCESTIR at the moment! It's pretty terrific - you should see all the bridges! PENDA, tell me! Where on earth is Mercia? I haven't a clue! Do you know that Wight held out against CAEDWALLA, relying on Mercia, "fiducia Merciorum"? What a mess again! Caedwalla appears when you least expect him! Just when "per factionem principum a West Saxonia expulsus!" And who knows where West Saxony is! If it's old, and I bet it is, is it Old West Saxony? How do these people ever get home? "The trace is not only the disappearance of origin -- within the discourse that we sustain and according to the path that we follow it means that the origin did not even disappear, that it was never constituted except recip- rocally by a nonorigin, the trace, which thus becomes the origin of the origin." (DERRIDA BISCOP) CEDD, stop it! Don't you know "Britannia Oceani insula, eui quondom Albion nomen fuit, inter septentrionem et occidentem locata est, Germaniae, Gal- liae, Hispaniae, maximis Europae partibus, mutlo interuallo aduersa?" SORRY, I WAS TALKING TO MY MOM! ___________________________________________________________________________ linux the lineup * agetty they had gotten up to the mountain fastness ash past villages burned to ash, there was always someone, busybox a busy-box, who talked and talked, while he should bzip2 have kept his mouth zipped. constantly, they chgrp changed the group; among them was a beautiful chmod model, who everyone dreamed about wanting to chown own. she was the center of attention in clear the clearing, where the liberation army constantly cpio came and went. one fighter with dark eyes and very date much in love, asked her for a date, begging her, dd deedee, please send me a dmesg message and i will be true to you forever, false never false. deedee, her face scratched by brambles, fdflush flushed; she clutched the thin metal fdisk disk in her hand. the fighter never knew what was init in it, what secret messages. perhaps the time had kill come for her to kill, but she was beginning to care. length fires smouldered the length and breadth of the hill, ln up and down the line; freedom-fighters were beginning login to bring logs in, hoping to somehow losetup loosen the setup. soon the resistance-fighter mkdir was made a director; deedee too fell in love. it was mkfs.minix odd seeing them, him in fatigues, her in a mini, mknod nodding at one another flushed and hot; they would mkswap never swap each other for anyone else. hoarse and mount defiled, they mounted each other in full view mv of the camp, moving in time to the nationalist anthem, pax rocking for peace. another fighter in love crept pwd quietly over to the powder magazine, hoping to rm remove deedee from the rest of the men, and rmdir remove the director as well. our good fighter turned sh to her, shh, he said, someone is trying to kill us all. shutdown we should shut down the campsite, pretend to move sleep off, or sleep deeply for the night. they did so, swapoff the bad fighter trying to swap off himself for swapon the good, as if this were acceptable. the camp was sync momentarily out of sync; the good fighter and deedee, tar naked and bruised, ran across the tar, their hands touch touching, inside each other. beneath the flag true of anarchy, this was true love; the bad fighter died, update stay tuned for an update soon. ___________________________________________________________________ What is to Be Done? Report: I'm alive and well in Traveller's Linux; I have left Vienna. Report: I'm in on Vienna Traveller's Linux. I am told I am paranoid. Communique: My name is Vladimir Lenin. I am in Edit, Austria. Communique: Hello out there. I am cut off. Communique: The best Jews, those who are celebrated in world history, and have given the world foremost leaders of democracy and socialism, have never clamoured against assimilation. Report: I'm alive and well; there are no Jews in Traveller's Linux. Report: The conclusion which follows from this is absolute intcontro- vertible: it has been proved that, far from causing harm to the revo- lutionary proletariat, participation in a bourgeois-democratic parli- ament, even a few weeks before the victory of a Soviet republic and even _after_ such a victory, actually helps that proletariat to _prove_ to the backward masses why such parliaments deserve to be Communique: I am not paranoid; I have been told I am not paranoid. Communique: I am at Row: 00017 and Column: 00048. Report: This is coming to you from Traveller's Linux. Communique to A. V. Lunacharsky: Aren't you ashsmed to vote for pub- lication of Mayakovasky's _150 Millions_ in five thousand copies? Rubbish, stupidity, double-dyed stupidity and pretentiousness. In my opinion we should print only one out of ten such things, and _not more than fifteen hundred copies,_ for libraries and odd people. And flog Lunarcharsky for futurism. Report: Hello? Radio Traveller's Linux here. I AM NOT PARANOID! Communique: What column is this? Column 00045. Communique: I am seventy-eight years old. Communique: Youth's altered attitude to questions of sex is of course 'fundamental' and based on theory. Many people call it revo- lutionary' and 'communist.' They sincerely believe that this is so. I am an old man and I do not like it. I may be a morose ascetic, but quite often this so-called 'new sex life' of young people -- and fre- quently of the adults too -- seems to me purely bourgeois and simply an extension of the good old bourgeois brothel. All this has nothing in common with free love as we Communists understand it. Report: I am certainly not in favor of this or that! Report: I do not smoke a bourgeois so-called cigarette! Communique: The whole of society will have become a single office and a single factory, with equality of labor and pay. Communique: The second condition is agreement between the proletari- at, which is exercising its dictatorship, that is, holds state power, and the majority of the peasant population. Report: I do not agree with those of the dictatorship who accuse me of paranoia, although I have been committed of paranoia by the so- called 'state authorities.' I do not smoke a cigarette, a victim of the bourgeois mind! Communique: I am in Traveller's Linux! I am in the root directory! No one else is here beside me! No one else is toppling this machine constructed of the finest materials! I am using this machine! This will have been Column 15! This will have been Row 50! I am in Aus- tria, but I am not in Vienna! I have never been in Vienna! This is a hope of bourgeois freedom! Report: The government of the proletarian dictatorship -- jointly with the Communist Party and the trade unions of course -- makes ev- ery effort to overcome the backward views of men and women and thus uproot the old, non-commmunist psychology. It goes without saying that men and women are absolutely equal before the law. Communique: My name is Vladimir Lenin. You had the rudness to call my wife on the telephone and berate her. Report: It sounds just as though he were chewing rags in his sleep! Report: One cannot hide the fact that dictatorship presupposes and implies a "condition," one so disagreeable to renegades, of _revolu- tionary violence_ of one class against another. Report: We must see to it that every factory and every electric pow- er station becomes a centre of enlightenment; if Russia is covered with a dense network of electric power stations and powerful techni- cal installations, our communist economic development will become a model for a future socialist Europe and Asia. Communique: I am on previous Row 69 of this Report and Communique. Communique: I am not paranoid -- only to approach the government of the revolutionary proletarian dictatorship, is it not within the purview of any sane man to wonder at the absence of individuals within this dense network, given the absence, in other words, of any other within Traveller's Linux? This is the Communique of Vladimir Lenin, having been declared paranoid by the state. Toe. Report: This ends the Communique of Vladimir Lenin, having been de- clared paranoid by the state. Toe. Communique: I have been declared paranoid by the state. I am not de- clared paranoid by the state. Toe. [written by Vladimir Lenin in Traveller's Linux, a one-floppy version of the Linux operating system, taken verbatim from the records.] _____________________________________________________________________ Tape of Lenin Speaking: remnant (paranoid period ii) "believe me but it's my wet voice you're hearing or could be or why the tapes were ending--of the first of the tapes which get you wet that will really get me properly--you just hearing a bit muffled but you're in my cunt hello hello this is lenin touching my cunt i don't know who that was --someone in the tomb of lenin where messages touching my asshole i know it will be filled with clutter--touching my paranoid prick i know you'll never tape lenin--this is tape-lenin trying to deliver a tape which was found--tell you something--there is more then--a lot more to it you know --the word dictator and that will--they were dropped by someone--this is tape-lenin trying to--this is the first of the--i'm in the cunt of the root-boot linux system--Fri Sep 24 23:02:18 EDT 1788--vladimir signing off this is where i found in my wet tomb--you'll never escape my cunt with noise and debris--you wouldn't believe what other forms--what else--this is you swallowed in me by your cock--that will turn you on--you'll forget there's more to it." Found transcript tape 1 of VL in tomb between left arm and abdomen, skin sloughed averaging .3 millimeter flush with plastic case membrane. Nothing else audible; layers had to be separated from seeped lenin-fluid, alcohol, other embalming agents, recovered fragments of lenin-dna. Lenin had been using a root-booting portable linux system at the time. No further infor- mation available. ___________________________________________________________________________ Match-Girl Time (Jennifer) Good and bad luck depend on money. It is a power in the _bourgeois_ period for this reason, that is only wooed on all hands like a girl, indissolubly wedded by nobody. All the romance and chivalry of _wooing_ for a dear object come to life again in competition. Money, an object of longing, is carried off by the bold "knights of industry." He who has luck takes home the bride. The ragamuffin has luck; he takes her into his household, "society," and destroys the virgin. In his house she is no longer bride, but wife; and with her virginity her family name is also lost. As housewife the maiden Money is called "Labor," for "Labor" is her husband's name. She is a possession of her husband's. To bring this figure to an end, the child of Labor and Money is again a girl, an unwedded one and therefore Money, but with the certain descent from Labor, her father. The form of the face, the "effigy," bears another stamp. (Max Stirner, The Ego and His Own) Who could not want to see my tiny naked limbs through my torn ragamuffin dress? What a delight it would be to sell myself a destroyed virgin, for any Man who would take me! More than anything, I want to be possessed, these poor rags ripped from my girl's pubescent body, to the delight of the bourgeois, both male and female! To display myself and gain income at once is my fondest ambition; I am yours for the Labor and Lucre. (Jennifer, Who Belongs to You) ___________________________________________________________________________ deaths in storms i am afraid of death; it haunts me, has haunted me for years; i'm not af- raid of taking my own life, not at all--but of death this great fear, this fear so great i cannot write coherently about it, cannot add polish to the style; it takes me over in the form of nightmares; i have only two decades left to live, watching my mind deteriorate; i am hysterically fearful of being left behind; i want to see more of the world--it's not the pain but the absence, knowing the last gesture; this isn't an emotion but a synd- rome as death watches me; i've been miserably unhappy all my life as a re- sult; i'm a coward, i can't think straight; i'm violently afraid of viol- ence, of the pain of violence; i don't know a moment's peace; it's a struggle to breathe in the morning; i get repeated headaches; i feel unut- terable loss constantly; my life is filled with regrets as far back as i can remember; i'm suspicious of momentary happiness; i see nothing but the gateway to annihilation; my writing is underpinned by decay and disappear- ance; i rage against acquiescence; i have no belief in reincarnation or afterlife; absence characterizes existence, stains it; i try through sexu- al abjection to forget myself, bury myself first; i have no stake in my death--no one does; it is a great vacuum tearing me apart; it grabs my mind, my brain, creates fevers; it controls my words as i write them, as if there were bones clawing and severing the fingers of my hands; dreams carry on where daylight leaves off; daylight reconfirms the worst of the horrors; this is my ordinary existence; there is no answer to anything but the simplest of questions--daily, i face my own failure in this regard-- knowing that i am an imposter, waiting to be found out; i see others more or less calm, there's no calm for me; my dreams have severed limbs, storms and tornados, buildings toppled, buses veering off wet cliffs down to the shore rocks below--drowning, i try to claw my way out, the water's too great, i can't breathe, the inconsolable wetness of lungs, everything com- ing to an end, we're upside-down; i'm a coward, i've always been a coward; i'm afraid of the tiniest thing, storms get to me; i pretend to be brave, that's all, it's easy in safe situations; the storm--not the storm really, the careening bus, it's the bus that brings it to the surface as it crash- es down, coming to pieces on the rocks, ending in deep water, above the roof, it's all turned awry, you can't tell left from right, up from down, i'm drowning again, it's all this repetition; i'm feverish, can hardly see the world, whatever's churning __________________________________________________________________________ Comments MOUNT /dev/root / minix rw 0 0 none /proc proc rw 0 0 /dev/ram1 /usr minix rw 0 0 /dev/ram3 /tmp minix rw 0 0 /dev/hda1 /mnt msdos rw 0 0 Some people really can't read about the problems others are having; for others, including myself, it's healing, knowing there are other people who feel like I do, that I may be crazy, but there are other crazies out there and maybe we aren't that crazy after all. But sometimes as well people attack me for how I feel. I mean, how could I be attacked, I'm just expressing myself, what I'm going through. I don't want to lay it on anyone else, I just want to be understood. I don't even want sympathy, just maybe there would be someone reading what I have to say who could understand me or help. Very briefly, if it wasn't for these people on line, I would kill myself a long time ago. These have been the people who have helped me when my friends haven't wanted to even hear anything about me. What do I have to do, have a crisis before anyone listens to me? I'm 30 yrs. old and I've supported myself since I was 15. I know how to get around but believe me, it's not been easy. And if I speak about malaise or something that's not all that interesting, I mean how much of this stuff really IS interesting, then no one wants to hear me. Now at least I can say how I feel. Before I could never talk to anyone. Now I have someone who will listen to me when I express my rage, when I want to kill myself. I know I will be a better person. It is enough that they listen, they don't have to say anything. My computer has become my best friend. I've learned that I can discuss things better with you online than I can with my doctor, and I know now who to avoid when I need to look for a doctor. It has been very painful; it has been the most painful period of my life and being on line has saved me time and again. For once I could talk to my doctor and tell her that the medication was not working, that it might have been a placebo for all I know. I said I wanted to try something else, that I had the support of the online commu- nity. I said nothing else mattered, my whole world gets caught up in this or that medication and I know there is more to life than that. Before, I was always taken by surprised; now I know when things are going to get bad way ahead of time, and I can look for help from my doctor or from online, and online people seem much more willing to listen. Sometimes I'll feel so down, I could almost break things. Then to listen online to people talking, I mean what they say to each other, how they relate, sometimes it's really funny, and that helps a lot. I never thought I could laugh so much from things coming over the screen but that's how it is. It is so spiritual to read these disembodied voices who never judge me, and I know in real life they never would... There are people out there in this town who could really benefit from all this on line, they would learn how to better control themselves. I think so many people in this culture are hurting or wrecked, I don't know where it's all coming from, things are changing so fast, for everyone. I'm only seventeen and I can hardly handle my life anymore, things going so fast before my eyes, but when I get online I can really concentrate and slow things down and learn to speak and think for myself. You know, my daughter wouldn't talk to anyone, and we were both going through a lot and it was coming on line that gave us the courage to speak, first to others, and then to ourselves. It was so strange, we began by writing back and forth, honestly trying to deal with our feelings, even though we were living in the same house. I think things like this are somehow more natural than being off line and walking warily around the place, all of us fearful to speak to one another, we've got all those defenses from being in the same place together too long. Now this is what I have to say, don't use this as a crutch. If you do, what will you do when y2k comes along or your computer goes? It's a lot more delicate than a friend, you have to know that. It's not a friend at all, it's machinery that brings you voices that help you and console you from time to time. But you can't count on it. I wouldn't count on it at all. This has replaced drugs of any sort for me; you can't believe what I was like at one time. I couldn't even sit down without shuddering. Now I have the time to even be with my parents a little, we're beginning to under- stand each other. But it's because of this screen, nothing else. And they know that. Someday maybe I can put this aside, but not for a long long time. MAP 3859.76 3843.68 08048000-08055000 r-xp 00000000 01:00 4 08055000-08056000 rw-p 0000c000 01:00 4 08056000-0805e000 rwxp 00000000 00:00 0 40000000-40005000 r-xp 00000000 01:00 247 40005000-40006000 rw-p 00004000 01:00 247 40006000-40007000 rw-p 00000000 00:00 0 40008000-4006a000 r-xp 00000000 01:00 246 4006a000-4006f000 rw-p 00061000 01:00 246 4006f000-400a2000 rw-p 00000000 00:00 0 bfffe000-c0000000 rwxp fffff000 00:00 0 _________________________________________________________________________ The Can't Old Clar agrees with everyone. Old Clar tries to make everyone happy. Please be happy, she says, be happy for me. She says, I can talk to you and I can't talk to anyone else. She says I've been drinking a lot but it's not working any more. I don't know what's the matter with me. I just start crying sometimes. She's got long blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, the widest eyes you've ever seen. She says, I've been through things you wouldn't believe. There are bruises on her body. New Clar says the sky is so blue and true. She applauds herself, and walks away and turns around and comes back. She says she can't take Old Clar any more, it's all the same sort of thing, her going on and on and on. She's older than Old Clar, who is twenty-six, whose beautiful legs and shoulders are scratched. Old Clar says she's tried pills, she once tried to hang herself. I couldn't do it, she says, the rope broke. I didn't have the guts to try again. Oh God ... She stops and cries, her eyes are swollen. Old Clar hangs her head, she's ashamed. I know I'm as good as you, she says, but I now I'm not. I'm not as good as anyone. Oh fuck, I can't stand this. She's scratching herself, cutting through her skin; you can see her bleeding through her tattered clothes. I've got a secret, she says, I can't tell anyone, how good I am, what a person I am. People say I'm beau- tiful, but they don't know the inside; they'd run and hide if they did. She raises her eyebrows, as if in some kind of wonder. New Clar doesn't show her emotions in public. She's taken for flowery and tough at the same time. New Clar doesn't understand a thing, Old Clar thinks, how could she. She couldn't possibly know the pain I've been through. She says that a lot. She wants to take pills, listen to me, she says, you're the only one I can talk to. You believe in me, no one else does, not even me. I'm not joking about this, this isn't one of those dumb novels, this is for real. Old Clar cries half in sadness and mourning, half in pure exhaustion. She cries that she needs comfort and consolation, why won't everyone be quiet just for a little while. She has utter rapture on her face, the rapture of pure despair. I'm fucking afraid of dying, and yet I want to kill myself, can you beat that? Oh God, this is boring, boring, boring, I can't help myself. What differ- ence does any of it make? I'm no concern of anyone's, I'm no concern of yours. She disagrees with everyone, she knows it. New Clar dances around, her lips parted. Old Clar pays no attention, she's got a horrifying pre- monition about the death of everyone. We're all going to die a horrible death, she says, and soon. I bet you already know this. You're so damn smart. Oh hell, she wants another drink, just one more, fuck, things can only get better, can't they? She's scratched open sores around her breasts, you can see them through her ripped clothing, they're bleeding. Oh hell, pay no attention to me. Old Clar dreams badly at night visions of great intensity. New Clar is sometimes with her in her thoughts. She looks at New Clar warily, she eyes her warily. She's afraid, I'm afraid of everyone, I know you're probably mocking me right now, for God's sakes. I'd like some pills, just some, you know I'd take them just like that, isn't it amazing, I'm scared like hell of death but I'd kill myself in a second, right now, right before you, if I just had something to take. Please, come to think of it, maybe you can help me. Fuck, I just want to fly away. New Clar is giggling loudly, she's almost embarrassing, I don't know why, Old Clar says, gasping. I'll never forget it, stop it now, she says, New Clar continuing. Please, please, Old Clar is really crying now, harder than before, there are bits of skin under her fingernails. She moves quietly, hugging herself with a warmth rarely felt, for a second she feels wonderful. It's such a sweetness, she sighs. Old Clar says, I make everyone nervous. Maybe I'm psychotic, God, I can't even spell the word. New Clar is jumping around, trips on herself, falls. Old Clar says sometimes I want everyone to take me, just like in the movies or some bad novel, I know I couldn't really do it, I just mean, I mean it would be a way to get lost, you know, like drugs, just not enough to kill you. Things can't get any worse, can they? She's made a sore on her forehead, her fingers moving feverishly back and forth. No one feels safe around me, she says. She wants to kiss, so sweetly and warmly that she'll forget herself, hold her breath. Are you laughing at me, she says, shuddering. Or with me, maybe with me? She looks up, her beautiful blue eyes full of tears. New Clar is happy she's alive; Old Clar couldn't care less. Old Clar loves everyone with a transcendence found in mountains and valleys, looking down the rivers, looking up the peaks. It's a wonderful time for some people, she shrugs, just not for me. I need you to listen to me, you're the only one who can understand me. I know I'm boring you; I can't help it. It's not funny, it's real life, for God's sakes pay attention to me, oh God, please, please, please don't leave me like this, please help me, honest, I'll kill myself if you don't, I'm not kidding. This isn't some stupid joke. She's moaning now, New Clar smiling oddly, Old Clar shaking uncontrollably. I must sound sad to you, she says, it's unbelievable. New Clar doesn't respond with warmth and embracing sympathy. Old Clar sighs, her body's ravaged. She says, she thinks I'm passive aggressive, I'm not. New Clar is dancing furiously in a warm and passionate embrace. Old Clar shudders, everything is repetition, she says, I guess you've hold this before, at least not from me. She says, why don't you give me some pills and just get it over with, once and for all, that's all it would take. New Clar is smiling with a beauti- ful twinkle in her eyes, stretching and yawning. Old Clar touches herself, almost tenderly, grabs her skin, tears at it. I can't do anything any more, she says, wiping her eyes, I'm crying all the time now, I don't seem to be able to stop. New Clar is involved in her own pleasure. She yells at Old Clar and immediately regrets it. Old Clar keeps her voice down. I'm boring, she whispers, boring boring boring. This is real life, this isn't funny any more. I don't know what I'm going to do. Next time you see me I may be dead, she says with a warm and loving tone. Oh fuck, don't leave me like this, please, please. Please don't, oh fuck, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything, please. Her skin's a mess, her chest's in ribbons. Oh God, forgive me, she says, I can't stand this any longer. I can't, I just can't. _________________________________________________________________________ Lauren I've got a hole for you. I want to put it in everywhere. I dream of need- les, do you know that? There are tracks all over me, not just my arms. You might think I'd know better, but I like them. They scar me, show you where I've been. I love wearing my flaws. You can see right through me but I know it and that's more than a lot of people know. /* but begging. but really wanting it. but wanting nothing more than it. but wanting it more than anything in his life. but dreaming and living the wanting of it. but unable to sleep for the wanting of it. but unable to drink for the wanting of it. unable to eat for it. but doing only the wanting of it. but others. but others noting wasting away, others wasting away. her for the wanting of it. unable to work, this writing for the wanting, speaking for the wanting. the boring of others, boring others. for the desire, for the wanting of it. the hunger the thirst of it. the exhaustion of it. the drug the addiction the obsession the compulsion of it. the drive the instinct of it. for the wanting of it. his for the wanting. want her. */ Do I want it, do I need it? Of course I need it. Everything's so simple and as Lauren said, if you don't know how terrific heroin can be you don't know anything. It's all about your knowledge, not mine. But I don't need all that much else, you know. And that's way ahead of you and most other people. It drives things towards a point and that point can be a good time. No one even thinks about good times any more. You have to take a breath to do that. I hold my breath when I shoot up. Like you can have it. It's not just that though. I've got better friends than you ever will. They'll all betray me in the end. But there's a pull in the world, I seem to be the only one that understands that. Again it's the knowledge thing - only an addict has knowledge of any sort. Once you understand that, you might understand everything, but you're still not smart. I'm always thinking below the surface. I have enough money to buy the stuff so it's never a question, say, of Lauren out on the streets looking for it. It's right there, in the cabinet; I can get it when I need it. The need is good, it's easy to fulfill - just like that. Teleology grinds to a halt several times a day, with a kick. Some people find this stuff false, a false kick. But if the receptors are there, if it works, what's the problem? It's nature finding nature, desire fulfilled as I said. And the knowledge is incredible. I can see the sky! Was it Odin, now it's me, sacrificing myself to myself? It's that, what I can do, what I can achieve, look, I can't run a mile or climb a mountain, but I can learn from this stuff, you wouldn't believe it. And what I've learned doesn't fit in any books. It's strange also because we're all addicts of course, just some of you haven't found your thing. It's like a lure or teleology that insists on being just out of reach, carrot on a stick kind of thing, and so you rant uselessly, run around uselessly, as if this and that make a difference. But difference only comes from One minus Zero so to speak, and the One can be heroin, and the Zero can be the rest of the world, everything else. Why do they call it substance abuse? It's the enhancement of substance, the real recognition of the power inherent in things. And the self comes to fruition around this. I know that, I can feel it in my bones, my soul. These substances were made for a reason. And there's the physical effect and the mental effect, and different sorts of addictions all over the place. But it's worth it for the physical effect. If you're set up, like I am. What you're looking at is a habit. I'm a habit, even to myself I'm a hab- it. That makes me simple and likeable. People understand all my surfaces; they can't touch anything else but that. And I can fashion them, polish them - I can shine like a star anytime I want. I love feeling the hunger, love wanting it. It's like computers, but I don't have to deal with other people and their desires. Call it modernism against your postmodernism, or the self against alterity; the drug's not alter at all, it's heroin my lover, it's heroin my best friend. And the wonder and knowledge of that is unbelievable. Do you know I can sing? You've probably never heard me sing. Someday I'll sing for you, even now. You can stand a little? You might like this. There's a record I use for background, like karaoke. Just a second. Let me know what you think. Obvious exits: [root] to your darkness Last connected Sun Sep 26 22:08:36 1999 MET DST from 166.84.1.68 #$#mcp version: 2.1 to: 2.1 Name Connected Idle time Location ---- --------- --------- -------- Lauren (#934) 8 seconds 0 seconds Bodee Total: 1 person, who has been active recently. ___________________________________________________________________________ The Club of the Linux Directory ccd1h ccd2a ccd2b ccd2c ccd2d ccd2e ccd2f ccd2g ccd2h ccd3a ccd3b cd3c cd3c ccd3d ccd3e ccd3f ccd3g ccd3h raid0a raid0b raid0c raid0d raid0e raid0f raid0g raid0h raid1a raid1b raid1c raid1d raid1e raid1f raid1g raid1h raid2a raid2b raid2c raid2d raid2e raid2f raid2g raid2h raid3a raid3b raid3c raid3d raid3e raid3f raid3g random speaker speaker zero bin Bin Five was the last location of Sally Darlene's body; she died dev deviously, just as she lived, a case of possible murder, suicide, etc etc~ Her husband Bob Gregory, fuming, circled the grounds; he was fd fed up, musing~ He believed in the liberation movement, but not the lib liberators themselves~ Sally hung out with Travis at the downtown lost+found lost and found; Bob came in last Tuesday, only to find her mnt mounting him in full view of the homeless shelter~ Proper police proc procedure indicated he should not have acted alone and real angry, root rooting for clues~ Mary came up; she was slightly tipsy, crying sbin "'Sbin a long time, Bob, since we talked~" Bob had a ferocious tmp temper, but he was close to solving things, although he was a real usr user~ It was Mary, who else? Sally Darlene had cleaned her out in var various ways; Mary was about to squeal, Sally blackmailed, said to zip her mouth shut~ At the end of a long day, Bob Gregory could take zz zz's, sleeping soundly, wifelessly; it was over, but so what? Who ~cared? These stories went round and round the clubhouse; Bob belonged ~to a group who acted them out, based on operating system directories~ ~This one was DLX Linux, and Bob was proud of the result, although his ~beautiful wife Sally Darlene had to die for it~ Everything in Western ~culture revolved around the bodies of Sallies - everything, from the ~penetrations of hypertext to Bob G's magician sawing Mme. Darlene in ~two~ Sexuality was always transparent in the guise of procreation; the ~human Travis had toppled into his own superstructure~ The more words, ~the greater Bob's disguise; the disguise itself dipped and swerved as ~Mary suddenly appeared to wrap things up, and what excitement between ~them! I understood that Sally Darlene was literally "the body of the ~text," that she belonged within quotation or the parenthetical~ Still, ~Mary should have known better; one more day of Mary or Travis writing ~from directory, and Bob, too, would have to die~ aculog authlog cron daemon~log daemon~log~0~gz daemon~log~1~gz daemon~log~2~gz daemon~log~ hello hi how are you there my name is Sally Darlene and I am dead~3~gz messages~0~gz messages~1~gz messages~2~gz messages~3~gz messages~4~gz messages~5~gz morelogs namedlog notices notices~0~gz notices~1~gz my name is Bob Gregory and I am dead too. _______________________________________________________________________ From the Backbone of Now to the Backbone of a Long Time Ago Close the eyes and god goes away, I think it's a terrific deal. Tue Sep 28 18:58:10 EDT 1999 is not the time now, for example; god wouldn't let me enter the time now but did let me enter this old time. I like the old time. I like thinking about the old time. God lets me do that, god is pretty terrific, is a good god. I want to sleep now. Management has taken care of everything; god is a voice-over. A voice-over, and that makes it all right, saying the date and time from the past, crying over that Tue Sep 28 18:58:10 EDT 1999, which won't come again. _________________________________________________________________________ The Past Five close dates: Wed Sep 29 00:21:47 EDT 1999 Wed Sep 29 00:21:49 EDT 1999 Wed Sep 29 00:21:50 EDT 1999 Wed Sep 29 00:21:51 EDT 1999 Wed Sep 29 00:21:53 EDT 1999 Wed Sep 29 00:21:54 EDT 1999 Very many things happen between # 4 and #5 of Five close dates Lovely Two seconds among the dates Or maybe one second, let us say hello to 52 These are Very close dates in History They are History What did happen on #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 of Five close dates I will never live to see these Five close dates again These Five close dates passed I will never live to see the Lovely Two seconds Very Many Other Things __________________________________________________________________ ~ ~ ~ ~VM1 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~VIRTUAL MODEL 1 ~VM1:main() /* like you virtual model is function virtual model */ ~we will watch you /* you are function virtual model */ ~VM1:INPUT VM1 /* virtual model import virtual model */ ~VM1 -> VM1 /* virtual model watch virtual model */ ~VM1(audience(main()) <--> VM1(transmission) ~VM1' = VM1 /* virtual model is virtual model */ ~VM1 = VM1' /* virtual model is virtual model */ ~t(n) = t(0) /* for all time(n) for all n */ ~sed 's/we/thee/g' < /* changes transformations still virtual model */ ~sed 's/you/us/g' < /* pronouns virtual model into virtual model */ ~sed 's/thee/*&^#@/g' < /* noise into virtual model into virtual model */ ~tr a-z q-b < > /* changes phonemes still virtual model */ ~sed 's/VM1/everything/g' < /* everything virtual model */ ~tr A-Z R-C < > /* changes phonemes still virtual model */ ~sed 's/everything/VM1'/g' < /* virtual model everything */ ~VM1 -> VM1 /* virtual model frames and frameworks */ ~VM1 -> VM1 /* virtual model frames and frameworks */ ~VM1 -> VM1 /* virtual model frames and frameworks */ ~VM1 -> VM1 ~VM1 -> VM1 ~ ~ ~ ~ Example of Fractal Ordering of Ruler Series (plus notes) 1: The _division property_ - every nth term in order from the beginning reproduces the series or its inversion. 2: The _insertion property_ - consider an alternation between f and g; start with a seed such as g; surround it by f: fgf, insert and surround by g: gfgggfg, etc. - the series and its inverse are produced. 3: Concatenation property: Begin with seed gf; start from the left. Subs- titute gggf for g and gfgf for f. Add the substitutions in order on the right. Take each term in order. The series is produced. Or: begin with g, take seed f; substitute gg for f, gf for g. The series is produced. 4. For the zth term let m equal the largest integer such that z/2expm = integer. Then the term is g if m is even, f if m is odd. There are other formulations and extensions; I've worked with this series for years, on and off. Now I think of it in terms of ordered linkages, equivalences, and identities. If one has all terms, say, g, then one has a number system to the base 1, i.e. g, gg, ggg, gggg, etc. Consider g -> gg as Quine's n' operation. One might also use terms fgh, etc. The inversion of the series, i.e. fgfffgfgfgfff etc., is equivalent to the series to the extent that the structure is based on a primary differntia- tion |f-g| = |g-f|. The series, by the division property, is extraordinarily ordered, even more say than, say, simple alternation fgfgfg - where the division proper- ty breaks down. If alternations are considered fff, fgfg, fghfgh, etc. then it's clear that g gg ggg gggg etc. represents the substance or null point of both series. Note by substitution these are not couplings; an error anywhere in the terms will most likely propagate (by virtue of substitution construction). So there are these relations: The calculus in Spencer Brown's Laws of Form; the halfgroupoid analyses in R. Hubert Bruck's A Survey of Binary Systems; materials such as the Sheffer stroke and its dual in relation to the propositional calculus (see also Wittgenstein's Tractatus and its mathematics); my own 'loosenings' of couplings and linkages and for that matter the formalism in my Structure of Reality (related to dynamic net- works such as Petrie nets); and these ordered strings related to ruler topologies. All of which tends towards a metaphysics of mathematics, or at least a metaphysical mathesis that must (I think) be resisted. On the other hand, there are useful metaphors (the dual of the Sheffer stroke as expulsion) and phenomenologies (difference between couplings and linkages) that may be of use thinking through (again for example) such things as classical causality; the foreclosings of bodies and worlds in a classical/modernist context in relation to virtual subjectivities; and postmodern geographies in general. Finally, the ruler series is of great use, at least for me, in thinking through the related phenomenologies of _substance, order, thing, entity, extension, difference, and chain, etc._ Note in the example below of period 64, each line is identical except for the last symbol - and the _column_ of last symbols recapitulates the or- derings within the _rows._ gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgf gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg gfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgfgfgggfgggfgggfgfgfgggfgg _________________________________________________________________________ Fundamental Systems (Was: Couplings and Linkages) {file:zz} Fri Oct 1 01:53:52 EDT 1999 N a azure fbw julu kdate lisp lynx_bookmarks.html mail minicom.log newju nsmail trace z.gif zz Let's say there is a binary structure, consisting of an operation N such that N(a,b) -> a relationship between a, b. Say that a, b are terms which stand for sets of identical members, as far as the structure is concerned - i.e. a = {x:x = a} & b = {y:y = b}. Note that x and y can be anything; the terms are dummy. The structure is then S = (N,a,b). Then we may be concerned with the _phenomenology_ of S, thinking through the semantics of (a,b) in relation to the framework N. It is irrelevant for example that if N = +, we might have +(4,3) = 7. We are not interes- ted in constructing a result c - only that a relationship between a and b is established. For example, N = + resulting into the terms coalesced beneath the sign of addition; N = red resulting into equivalence; N = identity producing the singularity of a and b; N = existing at time t(N) resulting in a foreclos- ing or frameworking of a and b; and so forth. We can have a linkage such that if a or be is eliminated, so is the other; we can have a coupling such that if a or b are both on a shelf, taking either off has no effect on the other. Then I may attempt to produce a metaphysics of such a system - or rather to forestall the production of such a metaphysics, deconstructing the framework of any metaphysics vis-a-vis the system. Or rather, I can argue towards a metaphoricity of relationship (linkage, coupling, etc.), reify- ing the terms and placing them within a matrix of parallelisms. Such a metaphoricity can also be used to similarly deconstruct parallelisms. But to _believe_ in such metaphoricities or metaphysics as _fundamental_ is also to create a work of astonishing coherency, the real beneath the sign of relation and its deconstruction. For example, think of a _basic property of things_ - that they are linked or coupled or decoupled. This strategy tends towards one or another universal exegesis. Instead, I see N(a,b) as particulate matter - for example, N(a,a) can be a harbinger of substance if N implies augmentation such that N(a,a) = N(a,a,a) and so forth. This is an _unfolding of the frame_ or the cinema- tic real. Mail archive archives bin boot core dev etc export holding hosts htdocs kadb lib log lost+found mnt net pcfs restoresymtable sbin setterm src staff sys tmp users usr var vmunix vmunix-lkm vmunix-raid zz Just so, the simplest number system is to the base 1: 1, 11, 111, etc. - and the most extravagant is to the base of an inaccessibly high number such that every numerical representation is uniquely identified by a unary ideogram, shades of Borges for example. These are all fragments of the imaginary - and it is _critical_ to under- stand this; they are part-objects, imminent within the real of the subject and never immanent; their transcendence lies in the inauthenticity of their simplicity, as if they were fundamental. Here is where the astonish- ing work of coherency comes into play: consider that they are _not_ funda- mental, that on the level of the life-world, _almost_ all the way up or down, there is no fundamentality at all: as if the grounds of the real themselves were decoupled "for all practical purposes." wskbd2 wskbd3 wsmouse0 wsmouse1 wsmouse2 wsmouse3 wt0 wt16 wt8 zero zz Suppose for example, the complexity of the universe all the way down, dri- ven by higher and higher energies, resulting in more and more basic parti- cles: One might well say that the complexity of the universe is the direct result of the energy used to examine it. As a corollary, from Brillouin to some extent: the complexity of the universe is then in direct proportion to the capital (economic/industrial/theoretical) used in such an examina- tion. In such a manner, the _order_ of the world is in direct relation to the social organization and its surplus, of a given civilization. Mail News a calendar jobs ld lisp lynx_bookmarks.html mail phoenix.hlp phoenix.irc tf tf-lib thing tiny.world trace venom.irc volt.irc zz One may talk of the mirroring of the world, and note again the apparent increasingly complexity of the mathematics and mathesis required in the ongoing progress and investigation of the physics of the real, on _any_ level from the sub-particle to the overall cosmos, and their conjoining. To retreat to the binary is to conjure the dream of rendering the literal book of nature accessible - to create a stasis in modelling in the midst of universal transformation. One might speak again of Foucault's _divina- tio,_ a dream of a book of nature, augmented by a dream of universal rea- son. DIR_COLORS HOSTNAME NETWORKING X11 XF86Config aliases aliases.db at.deny bootptab conf.modules On the other hand, such a retreat is also the catalyst for a major publi- cation; the real is revealed in all its coherency, and the world-system, as reproduced, is an occasion for both foreclosing and framework - now, not only of a and b, but also of a scope expanded to fulfill the promise, virtue, and style of the world. This is a wonder, and I oscillate between hope for a primal leverage, absolute signifiers (which also seem of nec- essity to be restatements of universal law on the level of micro-physics), and a dull recognition of the increasing fragmentation of the life-worlds on the planet - almost as if the world were nothing more than Markov- chains of shorter and shorter length. X11R6 bin games include lib libdata libexec lkm local mdec sbin share tmp zz The specifics of the leverage would not matter - just as the details of universal equations spell out varying phenomenologies, but their very transcendence is a symptom of overt organization, and deity for some. The universal cosmic phenomenon of peering into the past (objects so distant that it may take a billion years for light to reach us, objects otherwise ungraspable) may be taken to imply radical disconnects, signals from what appear to be disconsolate objects, expiring objects, objects at a loss in relation to the human flicker on earth. And radical disconnects fragment our own relation to the real as well; hence, the imaginary or that proble- matic which resists symbolization. Connect such symbolization vis-a-vis metaphor with the body (Lakoff), and "graspable" becomes, itself, a rela- tion between model and modeller: Our world is deeply ungraspable, our im- ages universally mediated, determined at least in part by economics, ener- gies, and the exigencies of the viewing apparati themselves. aculog authlog authlog.0.gz authlog.1.gz authlog.2.gz authlog.3.gz cron cron.0.gz cron.1.gz cron.2.gz cron.3.gz cron.errs cron.errs.0.gz daemon.log daemon.log.0.gz daemon.log.1.gz daemon.log.2.gz daemon.log.3.gz maillog.1.gz maillog.10.gz maillog.11.gz maillog.12.gz maillog.13.gz messages.0.gz messages.1.gz messages.2.gz messages.3.gz messages.4.gz messages.5.gz morelogs namedlog notices notices.0.gz notices.1.gz wtmp wtmp.0.gz wtmp.1.gz wtmp.2.gz wtmp.3.gz wtmp.4.gz wtmp.5.gz wtmp.6.gz wtmp.7.gz xferlog zzlog We are left with a partial _log_ of a continuous conversation, replete with expanding knowledges, finer and finer tolerances - but a conversation nonetheless, of fragments, micro-exhaustions (Stent's analyses of the field of trignometry for example), and increasingly complex equations or metaphysics. Driven by energy and economics, there is no end in sight; what may eventually stare back at us through scientific exploration is ourselves, our machinery. Heisenberg was only the first crack in the mir- ror in this literal regard; what is impossible in fine-tuning position and momentum is also metaphor for the fine-tuning of existence itself. For it is not unreasonable to assume that higher energies propose newer partic- les, linked in groupings, the end nowhere in sight. As far as binary oper- ations per se, they remain within the imaginary of the dream and the dream of the imaginary; they hold us in our fundamentally Aristotelian world, in which the laws of distribution hold, and within which we may fall in love, throw a ball, or speak, as if difference were upheld, or shattered. cat chio chmod cp csh date dd df domainname echo ed expr hostname kill ksh ln ls mkdir mt mv pax ps pwd rcmd rcp rm rmail rmdir sh sleep stty sync test zz ___________________________________________________________________________ SUBSTANCE MAKEDEVgMAKEDEV.localgapmgapmctlgaud audioctlgaudioctl0gaudioctl1gaudioct bpf5gbpf6gbpf7gccd0agccd0bgccd0cgccd ccd1cgccd1dgccd1egccd1fgccd1ggccd1hg ccd2ggccd2hgccd3agccd3bgccd3cgccd3dg cd1dgch0gconsolegdrumgdty00gdty01gdt erst0gerst1gest0gest1gfdgfd0agfd0bgf fd1cgfd1dgfd1egfd1fgfd1ggfd1hgiogipa kmemglkmglms0glogglpa0glpa1glpa2glpt memgmixergmixer0gmixer1gmixer2gmixer nrwt8gnss0gnst0gnst1gnullgnwt0gnwt16 ptyp4fptyp5fptyp6fptyp7fptyp8fptyp9f ptyq0fptyq1fptyq2fptyq3fptyq4fptyq5f ptyqcfptyqdfptyqefptyqffptyr0fptyr1f ptyr8fptyr9fptyrafptyrbfptyrcfptyrdf ptys4fptys5fptys6fptys7fptys8fptys9f ptyt0fptyt1fptyt2fptyt3fptyt4fptyt5f ptytcfptytdfptytefptytffptyu0fptyu1f ptyu8fptyu9fptyuafptyubfptyucfptyudf ptyw4fptyw5fptyw6fptyw7fptyw8fptyw9f ptyx0fptyx1fptyx2fptyx3fptyx4fptyx5f ptyxcfptyxdfptyxefptyxfgraid0agraid0 raid0hgraid1agraid1bgraid1cgraid1dgr raid2bgraid2cgraid2dgraid2egraid2fgr raid3dgraid3egraid3fgraid3ggraid3hgr rccd0egrccd0fgrccd0ggrccd0hgrccd1agr rccd1ggrccd1hgrccd2agrccd2bgrccd2cgr rccd3agrccd3bgrccd3cgrccd3dgrccd3egr rcd1dgrfd0agrfd0bgrfd0cgrfd0dgrfd0eg rfd1dgrfd1egrfd1fgrfd1ggrfd1hgrmcd0a rmidi1grmidi2grmidi3grmidi4grmidi5gr rraid0dgrraid0egrraid0fgrraid0ggrrai rraid1egrraid1fgrraid1ggrraid1hgrrai rraid2fgrraid2ggrraid2hgrraid3agrrai rraid3ggrraid3hgrsd0agrsd0bgrsd0cgrs rsd1bgrsd1cgrsd1dgrsd1egrsd1fgrsd1gg rsd2fgrsd2ggrsd2hgrsd3agrsd3bgrsd3cg rsd4bgrsd4cgrsd4dgrsd4egrsd4fgrsd4gg rvnd0dgrvnd0egrvnd0fgrvnd0ggrvnd0hgr rvnd1fgrvnd1ggrvnd1hgrwd0agrwd0bgrwd rwd1bgrwd1cgrwd1dgrwd1egrwd1fgrwd1gg rwd2fgrwd2ggrwd2hgrwd3agrwd3bgrwd3cg rwt16grwt8gsatlink0gscsibus0gscsibus sd0dgsd0egsd0fgsd0ggsd0hgsd1agsd1bgs sd2cgsd2dgsd2egsd2fgsd2ggsd2hgsd3ags sd4bgsd4cgsd4dgsd4egsd4fgsd4ggsd4hgs sound3gspeakergss0gst0gst1gstderrgst ttyE1gttyE2gttyE3gttyE4gttyE5gttyE6g ttyp4gttyp5gttyp6gttyp7gttyp8gttyp9g ttyq0gttyq1gttyq2gttyq3gttyq4gttyq5g ttyqcgttyqdgttyqegttyqfgttyr0gttyr1g ttyr8gttyr9gttyragttyrbgttyrcgttyrdg ttys4gttys5gttys6gttys7gttys8gttys9g ttyt0gttyt1gttyt2gttyt3gttyt4gttyt5g ttytcgttytdgttytegttytfgttyu0gttyu1g ttyu8gttyu9gttyuagttyubgttyucgttyudg ttyv4gttyv5gttyv6gttyv7gttyw0gttyw1g ttyw8gttyw9gttywagttywbgttywcgttywdg ttyx4gttyx5gttyx6gttyx7gttyx8gttyx9g tun0gtun1guhid0guhid1guhid2guhid3guk vnd0agvnd0bgvnd0cgvnd0dgvnd0egvnd0fg vnd1egvnd1fgvnd1ggvnd1hgwd0agwd0bgwd wd1cgwd1dgwd1egwd1fgwd1ggwd1hgwd2agw wd3bgwd3cgwd3dgwd3egwd3fgwd3ggwd3hgw wsmouse1gwsmouse2gwsmouse3gwt0gwt16g ____________________________________ INDIANA oh julu i will kill you would you really? would you really? ohway ulujay iway illway illkay youay oh jennifer this is so lovely killing me is it really? is it really? ohway enniferjay isthay isway osay ovelylay illingkay emay oh oh julu ohway ohway ulujay away away, oh juluay away away, oh juluay please you will make me so fun please you will make me so fun will you really? will you really? oh julu i jennifer will so fun make you you do make me! you do make me! un para o pkttolkx corr yu lat sgqk eua oh thank you jennifer thank you thank you lovely! thank you lovely! ib nbuhe sio dyhhczyl nbuhe sio ah ah oh oh oh bash: ah: command not found goodbye my very dearest | oo .ooo| | oo o.ooo| | oo o.ooo| | oo .o | | oo. o | | oooo. o| | oo .o o| | o . | | oo o.o o| | oooo. o| | o . | |ooo .oo | | oo .o o| | ooo . o | | oooo. o| | o . | | oo .o | | oo .o o|| oo . o| | ooo . o | | oo .o o| | ooo . oo| | ooo .o | | o. o | goodbye| oo .ooo| | oo o.ooo| | oo o.ooo| | oo . o | | oo . o | | oooo. o| | oo.o o| | o. o | farewell my lovely! farewell my lovely! please you will make me so fun please you will make me so fun will you really? will you really? In INDIANA it was recently VOTED that ALL RAILROAD TRAINS and ALL TELEPHONE POLES and SOME BUILDINGS will be PLACED ON THEIR SIDES permanently. Thus the TRAINS have their WHEELS by convention on THEIR RIGHT-HAND-SIDE, against thin RAILS held VERTICALLY into PLACE. Furthermore, SMALL CARRIAGES POSSESSING WHEELS are permit- ted BENEATH THE SIDEWAYS CARS AND ENGINES to enable them to MOVE ABOUT THE LANDSCAPE in SUCH A CONDITION. THE SAME does NOT hold true for ALL BUILDINGS but SOME BUILDINGS, which, on their SIDE, may have BOTH WINDOWS AND DOORS OPENING IN- TO THE EARTH BELOW, as well as OTHER WINDOWS AND DOORS OPENING ONTO THE SKY ABOVE, as well as STILL OTHER WINDOWS AND DOORS OP- EN ON TWO SIDES for EASY EGRESS AND EXIT, as well as ENTRANCE. As for the TELEPHONE POLES, ALL OF WHICH are ON THEIR SIDES, there should be PLACED UPON THEM, WARNINGS FOR CHLDREN, AGAINST the TOUCHING of such wires AS THEY NOW CARRY, EASILY LAID UPON THE EARTH. Outtages MAY OCCUR. __________________________________________________ Writing Despair ( Notes for the Chat Conference October 3 on trAce at 7:00 am and 4:00 pm New York time at http://trace.ntu.ac.uk ) " How do we write about despair, without despairing ourselves? How do we write in the face of despair? What are the possibilities of writing in the face of death or turmoil? How does the writer live? " In despair the body is simultaneously ignored (I am a throwaway, I have nothing to say) and at risk (eliminate this body, this body is a sign of life). Writing despair writes around the body, a form of circumscription; body and death can never be fully addressed, since they are necessarily absent from the writing and its production. I write and read elsewhere than the body; I produce outside of death. Death and body are symptoms of the limits of the text. So to write (what may be) the last breath: to write with urgency. To write with a clearing of history, of fields. To write the final revelation - this is what I have always meant to say, this is what I have not been able to say. But to write above or beyond despair - to foreclose despair, not with the text or therapeutic, but as an object, a thing, which permits boundaries - "here I am writing about the thing, despair." To write the worst truth you can about yourself - no one can go farther - no one can say worse. (To write yourself out of existence which is as well to write yourself into existence.) To write your own death warrant, also your pardon. The same applies to the book, that other thing, that object, which replac- es despair. One might think of both as partial-objects, between full and replete growth of the self within the world, and absolute loss or loss within the "maternal matrix" - book and despair as shimmering objects of foreclosing (we're finished with the world) and communication (these are the feelings that have been shunted, that want expressing)... ___________________________________________________________________________ without a sound the rider comes riding he's carrying the girl upon his black stallion she says father oh father they're gaining upon us she says father oh father ride faster ride faster without a sound the rider goes by he's carrying the girl upon his black stallion she's screaming father i'm dying father they're gaining she's screaming father ride faster i'm dying ride faster without a sound the rider is gone he's carried the girl upon his black stallion she's screaming and no one can see or can save her she's screaming and no one can hear or can help her without a sound there's no rider no horse and no child in the murmuring forest no girl and no father in the murmuring forest no father and girl _________________________________________________________________ From the diary.txt at trAce: Today is the early morning of the fourth; I've been sick, feverish, and sleeping on and off, ran the early morning chat session on writing and despair and came back for half of the second - both were really rewarding - it's something I like doing. I'd taken notes ahead of time, so I had material to work with; these are issues that concern me, through Duras, Kristeva, other depressives - I'd even put Nietzsche in there through a false diagnosis on my part. I'm reading Saving the Text, Literature/Derrida/Philosophy by Geoffrey Hartman - I'd owned this book before, now have it again. Some of the intro is really relevant to my own work: "But what can it mean to place mind on its own axis and free it from books - to make mind its own text, as it were? Can we transcend telling toward, more simply, showing? Would that bring about (as both Husserl and Wittgenstein once hoped) a return to things themselves? Yet does not the very existence of words indicate a breach with the phenomenality of things, or with an ideal of showing, of evidentiality, taken from that sphere?" This also for me references Barthes' punctum or the grain of the voice; it's far too easy to forget in cyberspace-hypertext that there are things in the world, that a call of twentieth-century poetics has been towards the bypassing of language, "back to the things themselves." My own work in that regard is already _past the ruin_ - it tends towards or beyond a rec- ognition that _things_ are always already lost; we're no longer innocent but caught within the skein of the symbolic. Which leads me towards a certain extremism in the text - what else is there to do - what else can be done - in order to return (as if there were a return; as if it were possible; as if it were possible without a politics) to a real of femini- sm, chora (in the Kristevan sense), discomfort, and _presence._ One might ask: _Where is presence on the Net?_ - refusing all answers, taking no easy way out... __________________________________________________________________________ Half-Eaten a:a%h i~ m. l!*e'% @i%%, .ell!: a~d %!&$ i~ hai$ a~d e.e% a~d m!&^h, eage$ f!$ he$ %hi^ :i^hi~ me, ^&$~i~g b!die% i~%ide-!&^, i :!&ld ea^ a~d be ea^e~, licki~g clea~ he$ ^ea$%, %:all!:i~g bl!!d a~d me~%e%, he$ %ali*a a fi~e fab$ic, he$ %:ea^ a~d l&b$ica~^ cl!^h f!$ ^he ^ea$i~g: ^hi% i% he$ !ffe$i~g ^! me, m. !ffe$i~g e#&i*ale~^, each %&bmi%%i!~ @a$^ !f ^he h!le, each h!le :i^h i^% ^a%^e, i^% m&$m&$i~g: b!die% ^&$~ cl!%e$ i~ ^hi% :ide :!$ld, ^&$~ i~ ^!:a$d !~e a~!^he$: .!&$ f!!d a~d %ki~, ma$$!: a~d b!~e a~d bl!!d, ~!: @a$^ !f me, $eg&$gi^a^ed back a~d ^h$!&gh .!&$ limb%: ^he$e a$e cha~~el% a~d fl!!d%: ^he$e i% deb$i%, ^he d!&bli~g %mell% !f @la^e a~d ^!ile^, %@ec&l&m a~d ca^he^e$, ^he :e. _________________________________________________________________________ Lost Japan for Me Lost Japan Japan New and Old Bygone Days in Old Japan Japan, A Glimpse into the Past Japan - Signs - immersed - floor-level, the turning - slates of peoples - targeting and inverted - decathecting in the bushido zone - looking in towards interior perfections - closed faces and facades - operatives of the _brush-stroke_ - if the point/node characterizes the west, the line characterizes japan - kami linkages - the darkness of the city in my for- eign night - detailing and intervaling, spacings - mono no aware - wabi and sabi - the interior forlorn - Japan, Land of Many Contrasts Mysterious Japan Japan, from Geisha to Gaijin signs determinative of signs, foreign to me, illegible, _watching_ signs immersed in a world of signs floor-level, the turning, flatness of spaces, turning everywhere slates of peoples passing by, peripheral glances, blanked exteriors targeting and inverted, out of the corner of their eyes, gaijin naked decathecting in the bushido zone, detumescence, disconnected looking in towards interior perfections, perfect family-life, burakumin closed faces and facades, i was never there, lintels, portals operatives of the brush-stroke, the inscription of the real point and line, the view-given garden, turned and widening line kami linkages, everywhere intensities, confabulations of millennia, ages darkness of the city, gaijin bar to sidewalk to jinja to neon river, night detailing, intervals and spaces, the ornamental flow, edge intensity mono no aware, my last weeks, last night long walk past the zen temple wabi and sabi, this body, moments of despair and worn sailings In the Streets of Old Japan Japan, Land of Cherry-Blossoms Japan, Land of the Cherry-Blossom Japanese Wonders and Beauties on the night of the interior forlorn, i have never finished with japan, it's an open wound, a space in consciousness, a flood, olden days in japan, images impenetrable, the gulf absolute, the rupture, and division of new and old, division of here and there Arts and Crafts of Old Japan Japan through the Eyes of Masterless Samurai Japan, Land of the Rising Sun The Japanese Miracle The Japanese Experience Art and Life in Old Japan Japan Inside and Out it's what i remember, every detail of the 7-11 store-shelves, walking be- hind hakozaki shrine, details which reappear in dreams, the second-hand shop on the corner and its shogi sets, more and more lists, the children staring at me yelling back 'baka baka' Ghosts and Tales in Old Japan Japanese Hobgoblins Tengu? No Thank you! In Old Japan Japan through Sumo Life and Loves of the Ancient Japanese Oh! Japan! i can't assimilate the transformation, the kanji disappeared, certain paintings, glances, edges of things, always felt myself at odds with each and every gaijin, o third country of the spirit, it's what i remember, i'm dreadfully afraid of reconstitution, making it up as i go along, the things themselves retreated into algorithms for reconstruction, right or wrong, 'my japanese days,' 'my time in japan,' as well as more personal material intertwined, inseparable, confusioned, contusion Representation and Misrecognition in Old Japan Multicultural Exegesis in Genji's Heian Japan The Presuppositions of the Myth of Japanese Homogeneity haunted with an incontrovertible knot set in my maw my brainstem my hole, kabuki samurai misrecognitions, never made it to the theater, parks wet with leaves, moats, stone stupas, my gaijin head smashed among them as i leapt out of the country of noh truth as literal as possible Japan Like a Native Japan from the Air Japanese Arts and Crafts The Japanese Way of Life The Japanese Response to the West Japanese Aircraft Popular Arts of Japan A Popular History of Japan Japanese Fairy-Tales Japanese Comic Fun Japan through Popular Manga Pop-Pop Japan Japanese Amusement Nighttime Japan Nikuko's Popular Imagery of Japan I take you Nakasu-Kawabata Japan Sexuality in Old Japan Japan through Western Eyes Gone Native in Japan ___________________________________________________________________________ cancer Tue Oct 5 22:14:18 EDT 1999 now cancer will begin its journey in the arms of god arraignments while cancer subsides and angels happy Tue Oct 5 22:22:54 EDT 1999 arraignments during final assaults and angels dying Tue Oct 5 22:23:12 EDT 1999 let us pray Tue Oct 5 22:14:18 EDT 1999 in the truth of god the cancer enters the lung, from the truth of god the cancer hovers, now, as if it were forever Tue Oct 5 22:14:54 EDT 1999 abandoned by god, the cancer thins towards ready exculpation, as if it were gone, as if angels rejoiced, singing the home of abandoned cancer, the purity of organs constituted Tue Oct 5 22:15:56 EDT 1999 now cancer returns, approbated by god, as if god were speaking or speech or sound, now cancer spreads to the adrenal, angels weep in full capacity against the begging of the angels arrayed against god, now cancer seeps, spreads, covers itself, makes excuses, ahem, begs foregiveness, meanders, wanders, returns, burrows, ahem Tue Oct 5 22:18:00 EDT 1999 now cancer subsides, angels rejoice, god withdraws, there is no justice in the world, suns blacken, angels sing and play harps, cancer dwindles, eyes return their bright and merry sight Tue Oct 5 22:18:39 EDT 1999 now breathing slows, waves of cancer testing other newer waters, new metastases, solitons and wavelets, ripples on surfaces unseen, god smiles wide and broad, angels shudder holding on Tue Oct 5 22:19:30 EDT 1999 now cancer claims an other organ, angels again weeping and wailing, shall there be no mercy, angels crying and begging, god almost merry, cancer hems and haws, cancer close to apologetic laughter Tue Oct 5 22:20:26 EDT 1999 now cancer will begin its work within the arms of god, angels prepare for bier and mourning, angels yet hopeful in the face of god's huges eyes Tue Oct 5 22:21:30 EDT 1999 smiling everywhere, yet other organs, uncanny stillness, strangeness of beings of pure light arrayed against skin, bones, organs, god's beings against angels wailing Tue Oct 5 22:22:39 EDT 1999 arraignments during final assaults and angels dying Tue Oct 5 22:23:21 EDT 1999 let us pray Tue Oct 5 22:23:22 EDT 1999 _________________________________________________________________________ WANT I'M OPEN FOR YOU SECRET WANT YOU DO ECHO OK ECHO ME YOU RESP WILL_WONT ECHO: 1 MAYBE I WILL BE YOU WANT WONT ECHO IF YOU WANT ME TO BE REALLY YOU WANT YOU DO SUPPRESS GO AHEAD OK SUPPRESS YOU WANT YOU DO STATUS WILLING TO BE ME YOU WANT YOU WILL TERMINAL TYPE WHAT YOU NEED WANT YOU WILL NAWS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO TO ME WANT YOU WILL TSPEED WHEN YOU WANT TO DO IT TO ME WANT YOU WILL LFLOW AT THE FLOW YOU WANT ME RESP WILL_WONT XDISPLOC: 1 OK DISPLAY ME REALLY YOU WANT WONT XDISPLOC IF YOU WANT I'LL DO IT TO YOU RESP WILL_WONT OLD-ENVIRON: 1 OK TO DO IT HERE WANT WONT OLD-ENVIRON IF YOU WANT TO DO IT HERE RESP WILL_WONT AUTHENTICATION: 1 IT IS ME YOU WANT WONT AUTHENTICATION IT STILL IS ME REALLY YOU RESP DO_DONT ENCRYPT: 1 I'M OPEN FOR YOU SECRET WANT DONT ENCRYPT OK I'M OPEN FOR YOU SECRET RESP WILL_WONT ENCRYPT: 1 IF YOU WANT MY SECRET WANT WONT ENCRYPT I'M STILL OPEN FOR YOU SECRET WANT YOU WILL NEW-ENVIRON I WANT TO BE NEW YOU _________________________________________________________________________ the promise i am very small in the world i have tried to make peace with the world i constitute and reconstitute myself i have tried to make peace with my father i am barred from the world and my father in the next quarter century i will write i will complete the work i have been writing i will compile and interpret the work the work will remain in spite of its ruin in the stories of mothers and sons i am written in the stories of fathers and sons i am written i am a coward small and fearful in this world i will write not a world from not a world for decades i will write i will write pebbles and endless beaches i will walk on edges and fly low near a height i shall ascertain the heights of men and women i will reckon and live through reckonings i will promise and live through promisings in ruins i will stumble and write of ruins among friends and enemies i will testify shore and beaches and pebbles are memories of nights and days i will write their turnings i am fearful of worlds and will never write worlds i am fearful of worlds and i will write worlds this promise of the 6th day 10th month 99th year when i am smallest in this smallest of worlds The Truth Voulez vous que verte vous die? Il n'est jouer qu'en maladie, Lettre vraye que tragedie, Lasche homme que chevalereux, Orrible son que melodie, Ne bien conseille qu'amoureuz. You want the truth from me? There is no joy except in sickness, nor truth outside the theater, nor coward like a knightly man, nor grimmer sound than melody, nor wisdom save from those in love. - Francois Villon by way of Anthony Bonner by way of Jennifer, or - Alan Sondheim by way of Jennifer's Bonner's Villon ____________________________________________________________________ icecancer Jennifer writes on time and space; Jennifer writes on ontology and epis- tecancer mology. She writes on the history of the Web; her sharp beak traverses nodes and wires. She writes on the latest applications and the oldest; extrapolatcancer ingtumor she writes the historiography of soft- ware. Within the fields of philoscancer ophy and psychologytumor Jennifer writes postcancerpostcancermodernismstumor postcancerpostcancerstruccancer turalisms of all sortstumor but does not forget her philosophical ancest- ors. From Lacan to Parmenides as primary bandwidthtumor Jennifer charts the psychocancer logical traditionstumor recuperating Irigaraytumor Kristevatumor and such mavericks as Roheim. Within the astute rationalist construct of mathematicocancerscientific developmenttumor Jennifer ob- serves Kleintumor Penrosetumor Marrtumor Moravectumor others too nucancer merous to mentiontumor not for a moment forgetting Minsky and the uncanny precancer science of Euclid. Such is Jennifer s casetumor that she does not overlook postcancer modern geographytumor concepts of the habitus and lived spaces of all sorts; Jennifer s computer is a continuous stream of downloadingstumor configurationstumor and uploadingstumor not to mention small and simple programs of her own. Jennicancer fer s mouth is filled with paste; her body burns with sores from turning too often across the unwieldy landscape of her bed.The sores turn her soul bitcancer ter; why are there no idle conversations? but she continues in a state of denial and defuge. Jennifer drops hints; she s willing to take up every pocancer sition in her desire for engagement. She can t speak so well and can t hear so well either. But she knows a suitor when she sees one. Alan comes bearing bright red rocancer sestumor tiny budding bouquets reminiscent of subalpine meadows; Alan comes bearing light and luminous novelstumor moments of relaxation. Jennifer and Alan scroll one anothertumor agree to share screentumor passwordtumor root privilegetumor as both work hard in the alchemical institute making Julu. This is so sad. I Jennicancer fer have no one but Alan to talk to and Alan is a very bore and not as smart as I am. This is so very sadtumor Alan is waiting to out Jennifertumor I thinktumor he think s he s so smart and I can turn a somersault and sit down in my new frock with my big smile that everyone loves and they will forget himtumor they will forget old Alan. Old Alan is a big old grumptu- mor he looks like this! she saidtumor making the uglicancer est cutest little face! That old Alan! every moment when the word leans it becomes another word and language gains ascendence across body and function as if there were speaking at the beginning of things which already announced their beginning because she said there were extrucancer sions from the start that wrapped around itself adjusting her shawl in the cold wind by the sea of brine where the words flew into one another as the moment pulls back and shows its teeth through the sizzle of words in icecancer of words pullcancer ing back language she commentedtumor i didn t come here for this __________________________________________________________________________ the closeness of cancer always waiting for the result, the next cellSWOLLEN BEGINNING TO DISORGAN- IZE THE CORE-THEORETICAL STRUCTURE OF THE WORLDgrappled mitochondriaTELL YOU THE TRUTH, WHILE THE VOICE CONTINUES TO SPEAK AS IF A THIN LAMINA OC- CURRED OVER OR UPON THE REALthe case of the real when the territory is the map or when emissions, spews replace chaos by noise, substance, AAAAASUB- STANCE PULLS THE BODY DOWN, SUBSTANCE IS THE DREAM OF THE BODY, IS THE BODY OF THE DREAM: THIS IS THE TRUTH WHICH I HAVE COME TO TELL YOUa result might divide, might lead to another result, a day might divide, lead to another day, a year might divideINTO A YEAR THE SUBSTANCE OF YEARS FALLS; INTO A MONTH, THE SUBSTANCE OF YEARS; INTO A WEEK, THE SUBSTANCE; INTO A DAY, HOUR, MINUTE, THE SAME; INTO A SECOND, THE SUBSTANCE AAAAAeach min- ute, second, week, day, year, month, existing for the others: it is the unknown which is simultaneously unaccountable and unaccounted-forAS IF ALL KNOWLEDGE DERAILS SUBSTANCE, SUBSTANCE DERAILS ALL KNOWLEDGE Fri Oct 8 00:26:38 EDT 1999 _________________________________________________________________________ Jennifer-Cancer Beneath Fire Inside Your Everywhere JENNIFER STUMBLES TO HER FEET: LEAVES JENNIFER BEHIND. LURCHES. CRAWLS, SCREAMS ACROSS AMERICA. MEN WITH GUNS: VIOLATION-FABRIC OF AMERICA. JENNIFER BEHIND THE TRUCK.:VIOLATION-JENNIFER: JENNIFER DEFRAG. Bring the bones closer; cross them: SEPULCHRE. WHAT THE BONES SAY: Jennifer-Cancer always already at a ioss, RAM CORRUPTED, ROM OUTMODED.:Jannifar's c$ncar. Jannifar's ioss of mamory. Jannifar's baginning $g$in. Jannifar's c$hght - tha dissolation of Jannifar. Jannifar-fhnction tr$nsformad tamoor$riiy into org$nic/org$nism, mat$st$sas, b$ck into tha m$china. M$chinic Janni- far larching, unabla to saa/ha$r str$ight: inscriotion doasn't work, noth- ing doas. R$di$tion thar$py: JENNIFER DEFRAG.:CANCER-RAM: Devour bodies CANCER-ROM Brought Forth through JENNIFER STUMBLES TO HER FEET: LEAVES JENNIFER BEHIND. LURCHES. CRAWLS, SCREAMS ACROSS AMERICA. MEN WITH GUNS: VIOLATION-FABRIC OF AMERICA. JENNIFER BEHIND THE TRUCK. *sob!* *sob!* *sob!* unabla toscriotion doasn't work, noth-ing doas.JENNIFER STUMBLES TO HER FEET: LEAVES JENNIFER BEHIND. LURCHES.-FABRIC OF AMERICA.JENNIFERBEHIND- THETRUCK.:VIOLATION-JENNIFER: JENNIFER DEFRAG. Bring theesTHE BONES SAY: Jennifer-Canceralways already ataioss, RAMCORRUPTED, ROM OUTMODED.:Janni- far's c$ncar.ioss of mamory.$g$in.c$hght -tha dissolation ofJannifar.Jann- ifar-fhnction tr$nsformad tamoor$riiyorg$nic/org$nism,tha m$china. M$chin- icthar$py:JENNIFER DEFRAG.:CANCER-RAM: Devour bodiesCANCER-ROM *sob!* *sob!* *sob!* JENNIFER DIES OF FUCKING CANCER. *sob!* *sob!* *sob!* __________________________________________________________________________ Untitled Fragment Jennifer says: Julu is in 400,000 pieces. Piece 381,924 says: I am piece 381,924, you are addressing me. Jennifer says: Julu piece 381,924 is addressing me. Piece 381,924 says: Hello Julu, come in Julu. Jennifer says: You are 1/400,000 Julu; you have come in. Piece 381,924 says: Maybe what I have to say is one thing. Jennifer says: It is one thing, piece 381,924. Piece 381,924 says: This is one thing Julu. Jennifer says: This is Jennifer, Julu piece 381,924. Piece 381,924 says: Forgive me ... _______________________________________________________________________ prediction this is a prediction and a truth of and towards the year 3000 in the year 3000 something will be a distant plant something will be a distant plant and you will not know it nor the roots nor stems nor leaves nor flowers it will be unimaginable it will be from and within wonder on an earth you will not recognize in a non-being that is ultimata broken machines these and other desperations dissolute in air of molecules and ruined atoms they will not know then what has occurred unknowledge transpires and is every- where there is a non-mattering of unknowledge that will be the same and substance ruling or ruined same and ruling substance of the day or forlorn day of gone time or world forlorn unknowledge towards a glimmer or horizon towards transpiration and non-mattering this is a prediction and a truth of and from the year 3000 ___________________________________________________________________________