A kind of a "dangerous supplement", marked, scarred on a body, post-orgasmically, always, already in anticipation of (a) crisis OR for a desert avec 'agape'. Mindb(l)ogg(l)ing Noise. "Avalanche, would you share my last pursuit?" (Baudelaire)

Monday, July 30, 2007


My corporeality has been infected by a likeness from very early on. I tried to trace it across the stains of table linen and the sound glasses make in bars. That mute thumping noise against the sticky wooden surface, the ocassional high pitch, short-circuited 'clang' of tied smiles, the silent caressing of their bottoms. I got bloated and starved myself from a familiar that wasn't. What was presented on paper, what, as always, has haunted the eye of the camera, I kept in an attempt to near it at a later stage. The space where I once was able has disabled itself due to the publicity of the medium. An exstravagant machine for writing has now a technical deficit, a translation arrears. Living beyond my means, I am therefore overdrawn and thus withdrawn from any emotional expenditure. The anger and the sadness of the anger belong now to the order of a fragmented sociability of bedroom-bound afternoons and midnight nasal detriments. The pragmatological symbolic order appears inescapable and adjustments of the stolen-mine, of a belonging so distant from belonging, an intention ordained in social indespensability. A circusmcision made able by the force of cursumstances. A lamp burns gracefully.

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