freak

Anti is micropeccatin

gémellaire twin




____________
micro freakin
freaking
micro
peccattin
peca
peca
pecca

on the left of the page capitalism

on thee left side capa capa capa caca caca the left anus
its smells up th esshit. slippingoff the tip of the cloaca glissade

___________________________________________on his right hip the schizo flame fallacy to her burden day ~

what styl e is not is is not knot is notting naughty

AntiSay:


That is
what style is, or rather the absence of style—asyntactic, agrammatical:
the moment when language is no longer defined by what it says, even
less by what makes it a signifying thing, but by what causes it to move,
to flow, and to explode—desire. For literature is like schizophrenia: a
process and not a goal, a production and not an expression.
_____________ AS Jill is absent from d'oeuvre and egg of primal quietude.









_____________________________

Jill Tied UpOn
Come to my expression machine ~

______________Oui R freee to penzer

We are free to think
that there is finally even less dishonesty in psychoanalysis than in the established
literature, since the neurotic pure and simple produces a solitary work,
irresponsible, illegible, and nonmarketable, which on the contrary must pay not
only to be read, but to be translated and reduced. He makes at least an economic
error, an error in tact, and does not spread his values. ___ She does not spreading her jam was the fanatic of fundamentalism arse pointing in fart air .||||||||

HUnCle - Not AntiArtaud
Artaud said it it well well welll it well: all
writing is so much pig shit—that is to say, any literature that takes itself as an
end or sets ends for itself, instead of being a process that "ploughs the crap of
being and its language," transports the weak, the aphasiacs, the illiterate. At least
spare us sublimation. Every writer is a sellout. The only literature is that which
places an explosive device in its package, fabricating a counterfeit currency,
causing the superego and its form of expression to explode, as. well as the
market value of its form of content.

But some reply: Artaud does not belong to the realm of literature, he is
outside it because he is schizophrenic. Others retort: he is not schizophrenic,
since he belongs to literature, and the most important literature at that, the
textual. Both groups hold at least one thing in common; they subscribe to the

same puerile and reactionary conception of schizophrenia, and the same
marketable neurotic conception of____________________________________________________
134 ANTI-______________________ Imagine she say
then with rancour
pouring cross her gulag lips
dont talk to moi that way again
but never did talk the way of that was her way to walk that dirty dark brown paranoiac

_____________________ fugh her gerelgious geegoollyologee

But these very
oppositions are singularly lacking in relevance. Artaud makes a shambles of
psychiatry, precisely because he is schizophrenic

and not because he is not.

Artaud is the fulfillment of literature, precisely because he is schizophrenic and
not because he is not. It has been a long time since he broke down the wall of the
signifier: Artaud the Schizo.||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
______________________________

Mona the marble on High between both

a question matter of angles to perspectiIng.... close Up

__________________________________________________________________

Adachi: My tendency back then as well as now is that I lack the sense of discerning and discriminating between individual and society. Categorization isn’t my greatest gift. A typical concentric pattern of thinking — starting with an individual, there is a family, then there is a tribe, society, state — has already been broken in me. At times I was very troubled by my inability to think that way. For example, filmmaking is a collective enterprise. It often happened that I came up with an idea, and everybody else said: “Hey that’s good! Let’s do it!” but after beginning to do it, I realized that what I was thinking was different from what they understood it to be. Actually, when I read The Surrealist Manifesto, my worldview was smashed and opened up completely, with its notion that there is no need to objectify “self and other.” The basis of my assertion that the author should be an activist is my conviction that the individual can only be grasped as a movement.

Sakai: The collapse of concentric pattern is equal to the collapse of geographic senses. Gilles Deleuze once defined “what is the left” and said it’s not a position, but a matter of perception; the leftists are those who can sense what’s happening in the opposite side of the earth as if happening right next door. That is why the left is minor. I sense such a loss of perspective sense in your way of thinking. Although the world is supposed to be enclosed and seems to confine us, you went to Palestine, not for the sake of breaking the closure, but as an extension of the logic of affirming the closure. Your world seems to be one in which normal perspectives are pretty much collapsed._____________________________________

Adachi: That’s scary, but absolutely right. If it’s just a matter of geographic sense, I could just mourn my bad sense of direction; but this loss sometimes creeps into my sense of time and relations between things around me.

____________________________________ O ANti thy hair is round the ever essing space of globe its close to home its chaste myth memory as it sees the rear green pasture of both ~


Of

Adachi and here


thy womb is pristine pray

Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu.

Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foututu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, v Si vous êtes pris dans le rêousMona is hearing tree cut . As will to which its fee haitch dee add to c# minor makes for injurious self-regard. Gad-fly to knight's ointment leaves check to mate. As usual embarrassed for sake. Not kimono to a wil-full tearing in the gown. Ground of becoming is her nearest fit.
êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu.utu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes e, vous êtes foutu.utu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes foutu. Si vous êtes pris dans lefoutu. Si vous êtes pris dans le rêve de l’autre, vous êtes fout

roseblow and blow

roseblow in rose flu in rose its which heart crows across land seeking fright as AntiOedipus galvanized her geeze fast talking speed-o-dial lovers who then and now merried night's witch.

merried hands of witch flight. heard the geese flow. perceptive inrisible invisible. as the caw-caw-caw wrangles its warren across the feet.


is this the space of?
Jill hankers her deterritorializations near near and far.

__________________

she maketh the wind to hover.

her air craft is crap dala loose

her dump' s dung to her nearest text. Her lexeme is torrent to her goat's spurn. She's hampered to her main dice. Her control is billygoats to the end. Next to the next to the next is poontang delala. What deja vu musters its support for her hope. her gasping hill is shipped to her lessons de pull. Dumb waiters wont do in a jiff but a mess is a storm in a pipe.

Toodleloo Antioedipus your farm's done played its fox, and suited every gibbet to whore songsung.

Gibber away me Heraclitus I have found the key of ending .

_________________ Is this the shiver me gibbers?