I'm an isotope in a goddamn urban centrifuge.

The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.

William Blake

I'm racheting things up at New School, searching for some of that old-time Gattungswesen after a visit from the Kids (Caitlin, Maury, Ana, and a New [Limited?] Edition, John, etc.).  In similar news, I'm struggling [in the meteoric, epic, or dialectical sense] with the synthetic question(s): Can Dialectics Break Bricks?, or Who Detourned On the ( Read more... )

I'm having a rooftop party this Saturday night complete with blast speakers and an array of liquor, the only thing I need is: bucket mix-drink recipes, for the cheap like.  Does anyone remember that Mojito bucket recipe?

I had planned on communicating to a number of people, but I´m afraid I´ll have to put off details a bit longer. For now, I´m dwelling in the neighborhood of Kreutzberg, Berlin, spending my days squatting, in the sun, and perusing through silent, English book stores for copies of Alduous Huxley or Phillip K. Dick that aren´t priced at five euros or ( Read more... )

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Today, I told someone the periods of my life are composed of immanent (as opposed to transcendent) unities, or memories. Like geological strata, there is: (1) Chiaroscuro and the Octopus-Machine, (2) the Megachurch-er or Bust, then the unexpected (3) Era of the Red Suitcase, and then there is, of course, the (4) Now, which will no doubt be under ( Read more... )

from the Philosophical Lexicon, at :hume, pron. (1) Indefinite personal and relative pronoun, presupposing no referent. Useful esp. in writing solipsistic treatises, sc. "to hume it may concern." v. (2) To commit to the flames, bury, or otherwise destroy a philosophical position, as in "That theory was humed in the 1920s." Hence, exhume, v. to ( Read more... )

I wrote these while I was in France last December.  I'd meant to share them (revised).

December 25th, 2006 - Château de Versailles - later, Porte de Clichy, Paris
Today was spent hip-twitching through the gardens.  I moved through the Hall of Mirrors.  Minus the orange trees. Now outside, I piddled in the pool to the sound of Pierre's gasping; I am a ( Read more... )

There remain a number of complications. That is, I find no silence in the waiting mind - and the space in between the people here, the noise of vision, is widening ( Read more... )