Miller A/O~

There is no primacy of the individual; there is instead an indissolubility of a singular Abstract and a collective Concrete. The abstract machine does not exist independently of the assemblage, any more than the assemblage functions independently of the machine.

Iwant to make a detour of those lofty arid mountain ranges where one dies of thirst and cold, that "extra-temporal" history, that absolute of time and space where there exists neither man, beast, nor vegetation, where one goes crazy with loneliness, with language that is mere words, where everything is unhooked, ungeared, out of joint with the times. I want a world of men and women, of trees that do not talk (because there is too much talk in the world as it is!), of rivers that carry you to places, not rivers that are legends, but rivers that put you in touch with other men and women, with architecture, religion, plants, animals--rivers have boats on them and in which men drown, drown not in myth and legend and books and dust of the past, but in time and space and history.
- Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

the forgot one of schizophrenizes of Capricorn the umblical highway, the embryonic trains. the whistle top of desire. ah, yes, desire plasir. come toi mon[e] chere.

Jill was a schizo porter a prophet in her own write, she cited the uncitable invited. She jammed and kisshipped her friend lips.
The prophet is always being forced by God, literally violated by him, much more than inspired by him. The prophet is not a priest. The prophet does not know how to talk, God puts words in his mouth: word-ingestion, a new form of semiophagy.



                                                                                                                 its a question of 
molecules.... eh, the molecules which draw you... something fundamental..

find your molecules... eh, find them find the ones... the sensibilities...find the ones who say something eh,... to you,... eh,, the ones that work... which ones

eh, and never never spend a moment criticizing what someone is doing, never never ... criticize ... something and if they criticize you...say yes , yes, and pass o
n ... pass on

____________________ An Ideal and certainly not a fact ___


thisis one place

This is one place Mona cant be corrected, she's redacted beyond, comble over fence and wire, hurting her coos and woos her shoulder expressed love, a spanish boot in the clicking of the wind
Mona nary a tarry marries Pierre-Felix, her naming-becoming I am Felix Guattari the seconde and will not take and tolerate yer thelogical butt holes, or button shoes.



with the twelvth day of her saviour she's gathered geese and berries. carried on task to abundant fairies not a single synedoche she's muraled hand feet and awesome fractal her tundra of festooned bridge . Nose scaping its wayward woman lover.
if this e_suse is her love she's done the deed of genesis and waif.
tinkered by woo lip and caplet of ice .

over a waiting head her cream fulness of courage a palfrey riding field for field hoofing it s long legging near rumbling cannon
arrow buried gone


Geleuze Duattari bib_lios _ Mona's knowing_Mollies etc

Molly in Furs: Deleuzean/Masochian Masochism in the Writing of James Joyce Frances L. Restuccia
NOVEL: A Forum on Fiction, Vol. 18, No. 2 (Winter, 1985), pp. 101-116

ass_eSS RESTRICTED. do not pass go thermodynAmic Topoi and tropes but not metaphor as desringmachines are not metaphors but are replaced by Agencement _ agencing? assmeblages AssemblogS? the the shock of prohibition access limit/genre defier. Mona monkey hamburger the dynamic of dryadic. Padding her buttered blossom. Her blossom butterd by lip of K's gal!

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Rosenberg, Martin E. "Dynamic and Thermodynamic Tropes of the Subject in Freud and in Deleuze and Guattari"
Postmodern Culture - Volume 4, Number 1, September 1993,
The Johns Hopkins University Press


© 1993
PMC 4.1

[O]rators and others who are in variance are mutually experiencing something that is bound to befall those who engage in senseless rivalry: believing that they are expressing opposite views, they fail to perceive that the theory of the opposite party is inherent in their own theory.

--Thrasymachus of Chalcedon


In their recent work Qu'est-ce que la philosophie? (1991), Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari make explicit the role that the concept of chaos plays in their representations of subjectivity, with respect to philosophy, science and the arts.1 I wish to exfoliate the chaotic in Deleuze and Guattari's works, for their analysis of the ways in which chaos may be used referentially in philosophy, science and the arts in this later work may interfere with readers' attempts to grapple with manifestations of chaos as a referent in their earlier collaboration, the two volumes subtitled Captialism and Schizophrenia: Anti-Oedipus and A Thousand Plateaus. One way to make visible Deleuze and Guattari's recourse to the chaotic in these two works is to examine the role that particular physics tropes play in their representation of subjectivity, especially since the tropes that model the subject in these two works engage agonistically with those that model subjectivity in the...

and synapsed of it hundred thousand tinier sexes between her calm palms and dates with cherries, celery, fanlights Oyzmandiaz, whales of further league.
A thousand tiny sexes: Feminism and rhizomatics
Journal Topoi
Publisher Springer Netherlands
ISSN 0167-7411 (Print) 1572-8749 (Online)
Subject Humanities, Social Sciences and Law
Issue Volume 12, Number 2 / September, 1993
DOI 10.1007/BF00821854
Pages 167-179
Online Date Monday, December 13, 2004

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A thousand tiny sexes: Feminism and rhizomatics

Elizabeth Grosz1

Healths I have known many come and gone,its staple diet. Gorgeous passages in Essays by Deleuze about
health a& Geleuze Duattari shapes in other bookings
about fraility of Writer's Health
Health:, Vol. 6, No. 3, 347-363 (2002)
DOI: 10.1177/136345930200600306
© 2002 SAGE Publications
Refracting ‘Health’: Deleuze, Guattari and Body-Self
Nick J. Fox

University of Sheffield, UKn.j.fox@sheffield.ac.uk

This article considers ‘health’ and issues of embodiment through the prism of Deleuze and Guattari’s framework of theory. Deleuze and Guattari speak of an embodied subjectivity, a ‘body-without-organs’ (BwO), which is the outcome of a dynamic tension between culture and biology. This BwO – or ‘body-self’– is a limit, the outcome of physical, psychological and social ‘territorialization’, but which may be ‘deterritorialized’ to open up new possibilities for embodied subjectivity. The question ‘what can a body do?’ is posed to address issues of health and illness. The physical, psychological, emotional and social relations of body-self together comprise the limit of a person’s embodied subjectivity, and as such delimit its ‘health’. ‘Illness’ is a further limiting of these relations, while health care may offer the potential to de-territorialize these relations, opening up new possibilities. This model suggests the importance of a collaborative approach to illness, health and health care.

Key Words: Deleuze • embodiment • Guattari • postmodernism • subjectivity

colossal squid rotating hookS

Very like a whale, eh Sire?
Male Colossal Squid

Devour'd by Female Colossal Lover
whose fifty feet long

and Mister Whale comething along Old bull
arrives Antartic waters deep cold oxygen depths

water shelf a crystal maze shell cold

Mister Whale of antiquity

probing honecomby maze navigate under roof blocks air
passageway to flight where is the air?
O Eye of Old?

Sea Monster LoverJaw scallops

yer twenty thousand leagues under
Mister Lautreomont bearing south
with 30, 000 ships
trafficing over the seas each
day where does the Bull go
Bull go, where O Shark?
O Bull of Whale Levithan of Abyss
Sperm Whale heading for deeps
shallows are shaky his sonar sensing 1600 feet away
seoemthing is outntthere
for 80 years around around
globing O giant
half amilllion deep dives
greenland to the anatartic

cape horn
tallest mountains
monsters of the abyss
taken on

Oceana oddyssee ends atth threshold of surface world
OddYSee a beach

for the first time feels hisown weight
its god eye stillS when he dies
sired over 60 offspring
80 years

O the ancient of day met the Kraken Kraken Kraken
'esonychoteuthis hamiltoni
fearsome squid 12 metered length

—longer than a whale
a whale longer to die
its death
a breadth to Levithan's hoop
ing tendrils
sea bed

the depther
charge life & breath

the Oedipal boomer encounts
the AnoEdipal ridge
of cupping


fear of writing with deleuze's friend derrida

Derrida speaks fear Writing

Added August 23, 2006
From jmettes
Outtake from the movie "Derrida" (2002)

Once and UpPon a time Jacky DeReader spoke to Mona, and she spoke to Franny
who said to Jill that man Dereader is here, hes coming to town to town to de
construct the defenestration of the strata settings of the war and word...
and language... O Jill thrilled her pumping molecule
staying at home....

she was pilloried on desire's little box machine.. Love to her. and Him.
I wont ha ve to wander alone anymore she was known to repeat
loving his words lovin them to _ the son of the Muse was
Jacky DeReader


bodies C.S.O.

6. November 28, 1947: How do you Make Yourself
a Body without Organs.....

now these two are on to the intensity plateaus... trekking along lines layed down by Misters Artaud & others....
wheras them Laplanche guy and others are like narrowing it
right, cutting
saying you
it seems to us
they wont let you

"walk on yer head sing with yer sinuses, see thru yer skin, speak with yer ass cheeks as she did tonight, running into the distance and halting ... breath with yer bElly... the Thing dig. Experiment. Nah, they want ya to settle into strata of vacate and state and big bad wolf, not wolves and wolverines, racooning it up the hightail of the wood....

B.w. organs diagrammed over here


them bodies without organs are always beIng diaGr ammed
gammed and damned not flooded un_cocked
gasket clock'd t'a its left
centreing down the eGg continuUm

Mona gets her head in a wrangle round the fourlegged Zuna that is Ganesh her back bucked to his Eggwithout a face, and the monstrous idea of settling into a monomaniac love.


reaction lover:deLire deux_ex desiremachina|White Wall

Year Zero: Faciality Plateau SeVen of Milles Plateaux One Thousand Plateaus

'A horror story, the face is a horror story' 16 eight


immense verdigris c'est ttoi-toi


These catatonic bodies have fallen into the river___the fleuve of catching cold flue to rue its roi des phones_ like lead weights_ as when a shopper harries the peabound coil spreading & debouching her weir, or when a ship hunkers off the coast attending the waited hour for her mothers to arriviste what noun cannot say so it pulls flooding the gate ___

who will not come back up to the surface

infoiled then, infolded. mouth w_


Hypothalumus~ a belly's a dark place to be



into furthEr

pages what? ant cant recallectings

recalcitrant almost cut hydrant over the real inorganization grain.

repeat sti_ word stich_ W_ or d



this found not long ago_ translations of and and and

immances you have seen heard felt O wise owl
o awl of the serrating edge my prophetess

shaved under the cowl
its recess white


of sometimes_the Full Body of the Earth

Of sometimes joy

... As foR the schizo... Mona cutting back her body two sided giant gaited .... continually wandering about,,, street walking when can, not pilled, shocked by the therapists of .... wandering around migrating


and everywhere as best she can, _ when she can or forced, to wander,
kicked out deinstitutionlized, _ what came first, eh>? O Fanny farmer of schizoidoidal land hunkering in new York cold ___ she plunges further and further into
the realm
of deterritorialization___ Reaching the _ oh OR thrown

Yes Thrown _ the further farthest limits of the decomposing

of the Socius on the surface of his own Body without Organs.

These peregrinatiOns

and he is pUnished for it

He is shocked pulled and pilledd
the real schizos not the fakery ones

It might be between these peregrinations these thrust on the street walks
hes discovering the silent earth

of the Full Body of the Earth


the|Le Roi des Coeurs_ bedlam bivouac

"the...patient resumption (not Assumption Anti) of the process, or on the contrary its interruption _ (can you see the Virgin Mary's Assumption being cut off? as she havers to heaven cloud lifted by a lung bitch?)__ the two are so closely inter-related that they can only be evaluated each within the other.

"how would the schizo's voyage _ dig Lenz and others _ Jesse Watkins, now that was a mad voyage_ but what others smash'd batter'd riipped apart by the mental healthy system? _ some voyage! eh, more like a Celine novel smashed apart by the hates of life,the punishments_ not a squeaky journey to the South Seas_ but the line of flight gutter'd and beaten to the ground ___ So to resume How could the schizo's voyage be possible independent of certain circuits, how could it exist without a

( a place to land, a territory a home some place to crash, eh? _ gotta a place to crash said Jill, hugging her copy of AntiOedipus __ and __
I need a body to borrow _ can I lend yours to me?)

round and round we go the land the land the landing the landing the landing s disembarkations

Her arm and bracelet are sore. she call. she say death be a wicky name to me and the rope rhythm come again over its heading name ___ ____ .

But___in_versEly _


particle absolute

page 38-9 'real inorganization" of the passive synthesis.
Ecrits pour Franny et Mona sur[e] le tete ||

of course properitorial relations to views are something, eh?
C'est quoi, Mona mamour


for delude oneself must knot do

Mona never transferred a thin gin her life, the undone hills and mating game were not for her. knot for her tiding navel cord to bind unind and bond. was she seeing things in the dark, or wasting away the channels of desire along the serendipity of her becomings? coitus interruptus?or no coitus at all. the galas the gals the glass saw darklya letter to permutate your skin, her perfume, the death of songers and writers.

For we must not delude ourselves: Freud doesn’t like schizophrenics. He doesn’t like their resistance to being oedipalized, and tends to treat them more or less as animals. They mistake words for things, he says. They are apathetic, narcissisitic, cut off from reality, incapable of achieving transference; they resemble philosophers—‘an undesirable resemblance.’A-O, 23

Chalked wall of height white wall the taverna, Greece the four noble truths heralds to her shiel. Grimacing chide of the apes, he the ape of death, and the gorilla of leaf and hemp, over his heel swinging dream-flake off the black of the tenement or the librarian hover her cyrstal ball hanging the drapes, the wood. Play blindman 's bluff by the green cave moss. soft to mouth



riding oedipus & her cock sure way
path mouth
over the 1st sand

suction section

Plexus the mineral streets of Brooklyn_ Miller's rabid wander
the strive _ walks he took. he was sheending.

from the moment

from the moment there is genius,

__here is something that belongs to no
no period, _________________________

something that achieves a break

through ...

and it doesnt belong exclusively to poets
that 'ecole' of maniacs!


No kidding anti, she washes her hairs in the liffey!



I had no time to write short books. so after the first ones with Fannyfelid felix happy culprit i wrote these milles plateaus of flowrs.. banished the head, and golf'd the god? does that surprise anyone?

why begrimed by solitude & mess, when pottage is its own cure
there is no pslam like the one of the analogue and
palm or some bacon in the night
or lenz
or leibnitz fairytale.,
why are the surprise

at such a title of love and boxes?
come to my shade one.



productio... bricolagist

production machine wont let desir e go outso bounces off lineflight createsneurosiss of& other styleof follyperverseterritoires

commes ils dit en A/Opourquoi ce genre de parler?parle? qui parle? personneof this and that Antiyer wired to the tillmaking yer bricks workunder time_________

connect this to other
pieces bricoleur
oui nous sommes bricoleurs
aussi bricoleurs d'amour

bricolagist je suis
je suis bricollagist d'amour


sombre precursor_2

silly 'true' you've confused the true and real. whats true is not true tomorrow. she even knows that.
come here pleasure me now. humpy! what is the shoudler of Oedipus the tree lined work. of her.
un-nameable sexes

'true' poetry. no true criticism is prose poetry. inn deed. in deed they went hoppin to the inn at beth _ beth _ not Bess, I said, I said. a tthe bethel hem inn hem hinn. true precursor. was inns of . court. over winter gold. asure. and mites of old. their fair fathered. and . true prose was criticism. as was seen in m's time. ww. and ww. was preu . lude. in lude in prelude to the walk of the city . one time was I. in hill and hale.. over the bank. of forget me not. and its. no. back to . france. okay. catherine. sorb. bo.
sobering thought tied to the blade and hospice. sometimes not aleatory. or th

walks meadowland to t


not so. of its charity laden face.
licks stamps. chief stamp collectoer. of vein and leave.
or grass and lake. over the lake and next to the stamp and over by winding so it was then i heard the pairing time of its rowing or the shadow overhead a cloud bearing down and afterward the child was the mother of the fan . its sticklebound back close to her call from greece.


Knit _

who was it your mother made love with Oedipo?
yer father

yer father

gathering like the silver waves

leaving the graves of sphinx becoming

over the tiers

yer rather grieving the years
when wave cracked beats

hit the sand

Trieme and poltroon

platoon of face

a gene grasping the Cyclop

'in this secular maze of kindness
and refuge '



bestirary of air
zoo of fate
its eating the fight busting gut
stampede over the tiga

as Anti's head butts the wall
of the reverse mirror

a gleaming gelatin plate
or some eagler bearing off with tips of free heart
purged by lover spots and cougar whips
your heart
Anti words prose when cinematic stars leak your head

or a nose in a fountain of rain
locked up the by the link of the sky

needled by crayfish silver fish
or other crays and ilse of lunar
feet which bounced beep

you have parchment feet
or guessing goddesses

'He binds without combat' throws a single eye
encasts the war machine _ or a jurist king
cutting the fence
and at Mille Plateau you bury the
utensils ends alliances
starting un-natural couplings


the Anti Oedipus

March 25, 2006
From glermsoares

from youtube


Poetry Sz:demystifying mental illness

Poetry Sz:demystifying mental illness

some schizo-analysis & et poesie. alors. c'est bon, its good the linguals reach into old epistemologies and break them constantly ending death and mayhem. in this time of our infinitely oedipalized world, the more deterritorialization, the better.

So Mona has found and finds, fin forage the ferrule.


[Un]Civil War

in multitudes negri & hardt suggest the hundreds of unspeakable conflagrations around the planet be thought of "these conflicts[which]]might be best conceive as instances not
of War but rather Civil War" ... civil war...'across the global terrain'...

reminds me of someone i know whos been writin or was writin this
book civil war . takes place everywhere. it does not lessen the singularity of
any conflict or situation you happen to be living through


re'not drums

drums of war

drums of war of war war war

'the drums' of war're not drums

but cannons

not saying the obvious




the Sex Pistols meet Comte de Lautremont

is this cross/over hatching becomings of body culture
and ragged ass

Artaud on Ducasse.
________________________________A head not a brain.

Félix Guattari :fELiX'S aNTIoEDiPUS pAPerS

What few believed the following ...?

""Few people" at the time believed, as they wrote in the often-quoted opening sentence of Rhizome, that “the two of us wrote Anti-Oedipus together. Since each of us was several, that became quite a crowd.”

"These notes addressed to Deleuze by Guattari, in preparation for Anti-Oedipus, and annotated by Deleuze, substantiate their claim, finally bringing out the factory behind the theatre. They "reveal" Guattari as an inventive, highly analytical, mathematically-minded “conceptor,” (to whom do they reveal this? )arguably one of the most prolific and enigmatic figures in philosophy and social-political theory today. But we knew this: who doubted it? A machine call'd paranoia descartes...

The Anti-Oedipus Papers (1969-1973) are supplemented by substantial journal entries describing his turbulent relationship with his analyst and teacher Jacques Lacan, his apprehensions about the publication of Anti-Oedipus and accounts of his personal and professional life as a private analyst and co-director with Jean Oury of the experimental clinic Laborde (created in the 1950s). "

As always this wee reviewee things don't really say right, much, eh?
they say something & then not say it.

I am not so sure of the "few people " referred to by this reviewer...who on earth is being spoken of here: I never had any doubts, nor did I care to have any. Paranoiac besiders ruining the party:questioning descartains with the split infinitives of theIr paranoia knowings... wink and nod ... sure sure......It s mostly academics and perhaps paranoiacs who were among this few.
Mona could have cared, less, Desiremachine Janine Macintosh, didnt even blink an eye, she'd been there. So perhaps this is all snorkle and firrors. Some one , apparently, had this thought, but not Deleuze. He says Guattari was already way of ahead, he says in Dialogues to Claire Parnet.
Felix Felflux the becomings cat was cool
as cool can be with his Radio Alice
and his work with Negri
and his work with Alliez
and so was Prof. Deleuze as everyone knew
with his long nails and epidermis so
tacit in the hands reaching across the table...
“Capitalism is the exterior limit of all societies because it has no exterior limit itself. It works well as long as it keeps breaking down.”


body without organ texts

body without organ texts

Ha! there was a body without organ texts. And they were sitting on the
fence, facing the recto verso version of their self. What slave of self
was it they fourfaced in the varied corner of their structured
simultaneous self-hood. What blood was it poured down them?
Sifting through the city market of his dead body piece (god
scattered rafter scaffolds all about), the left handed god awakened
The right handed sheep death at last. Some nominative noun passed
on finally. And the anglo-saxon language of sleep awoked near the end of
bridges and other torments. A peronsalized self dread walked away from,
near the infinite Knight of armour and infinite delectation and
repetition. O Angels! O Savoir!
What peel of lip
O lover of my mouth
You who are San Francisco a whole city character allegory
A figure-image name Nietzsche Daugher and Milton agains the
Zarathustra wind and thunder of prolegemonon
rolling word of tinder and sex pull in arrondissment street
through quarter and avenue of every funeral and Pere Lachaise
O stinger of the chill spine
malevont as night's deepest witch
As sex and dead desire the buddhist money on my back.
Dead philosopher of the sage West run back east to hear the curtain
call of saviour and rest.

Now breath and die O anagram
Breath and reposed in the arms of the nymph
travelling the link of street and desire
O Anagram of nymph and play
against any desire

any word


live recording oding

Better the Critique.
Better than the rest of the PotBoiled Mania.
Lobsters my Arse!
the schizophrenic egg is like the bio... egg.. is that Bacon and eggs? sunny side up my stoic lo ver? must you test yerself always before giving yer body up to surrender its sweety sappy selves, its sussurruss? its susrusian? is . or . wait.
come to kellombs. .. eggs and stoics or nuns and buns. shes holding her cheers for the alacrity of the day that wont arrive, a Multitude then an Empire or in reVerSe order fear'd to le t squeamish self forward for fear of busting the barrel... Imperial Empire... no out the oat of the schizo my svelte borderliner ... yer eyes of narcissimmmo clamped down their panes in yer closing off. shop.. Palease end this Italian stalemate.... we're lookin at assemblages and machinces not machiennes... mon chine Mon China Mona China... Mon Chin my chin yer heart of skip boom boom tag...
better a waitress than a neurotic on the boader... Love's bitter gasp has always been yer bootin button...

Better Luckas than Saussure! or yer so sure? are you now, then get over and kiss my knees. What, get out of the 68 thing will ya? did U see what happened in Paris, last , yes, and this, yes and we have translationS of the recent reactionary comments of both the 68'serS and the 2005'ers. O in Paris it was very Dublin.
So then, get yer nose out of books.

"...for words are not symbols of things, they are symbols of meanings." --Lukacs
Fanny said one day to Jill as she was writing really really fast: Donc, and therefore, & shld. we admit mIlton and aRtaud to MillesPlateau which was the name of a nonprofit for artists poets ORgan and orregen assEmbLed by Bernad Pilon, Peter Dube and Clifford Duffy in the year of our Lordy and Lady in 1989. or the , rather the winter of, 1990. and produced one Show. Live PeRForMance Nietzsche's Daughter at les FouFounesElectriques 1991

Now Mona dont like the looks of this.
Neither does she. Or holding the baits, shes a crooked thief, or mercury monster, of his thighs.

to be contin.

Such is the bivallial and herstoryies of the schizos. her toe and slipper lugged for loverdoverdom.


she had

she had snail and sneaker. peeker to the seven river. of canny paces where the streetheart
met its looming dixie and the foredown shade

shale of blossom and coral of wheat

hunted to the end infinite oat of song


thy butt 'st know no-name Oedipus
carrying villages in your light hem
the darquiri twinkle sustains orchards gives
light where fairies flutter. Some alliteration
shuttles between switch tracking and cinema
a girl's harrowed fane is the torch
quilting the eyes from change


If I call you brother,
its because Im your sister
inthe wedding gown of incest's dram
atization of ground un covered by bodies missing the message
not personal
in green field and dale.

Some machine clicked a door shut
buried paranoia was the walking out show,
not screaming hysterics. Something was injuring the day.

Not Oedipus, not you.
Not me, not him.

Between two buttons.

is that

is that a book you're holding in your hand, Oedipus?
or is that _______ name?


something close to appearance over the side of the black er
hole hold heaving goes Capin Ahab, rousting the mirthy
Not so a wave where barbarian despotic
tyrannies covet


and this was Anti's first choice

is that a hand you're barring next to your peeled apple?
an onion treat

a milkshake to warm
the appetizers


between two blogs

worlds of time
the ..." maudlin crying to be loved... which yer knees go all ricky...
two bellies for the ruminant

an aunt of disproportionate


soft couch hat
encompassed wisdom's gree bottle

uc worf
whin _E

plain. com

always demands a toll. __ >>> Pay here Please.

To sing doesn't cost a penny.

Nothing more than a bit of a relation to the Outside, a little
real reality
sweet one[s]
I love you.

Sing yer heart into yer thorax
over hill and pail
weavin the bucket of Boom! and Boom!
Crumpof buttocked rolled Rhythm

Courage consists however in agreeing to flee...


between entre


enTre Deux Lesbiennes


cette chanson de mal aime

le schizo paranoinoique?
ton langue de lettrererereletletletlet

cest un poet

Sil VouS Plait Mon. Mons.

quelle maitre's

she hushed.
and lesbic
tongued to his working mouth



Desire can never be deceived. Interests can be deceived, unrecognized, or betrayed, but not desire. Whence Reich's cry: no,the masses were not deceived, they desired fascism, and that is what has to be explained. It happens that one desires against one's own interests: capitalism profits from this, but so does socialism, the party, and
the party leadership. A/O 257

Mona had a party she got kicked. Out of. Not a fiction friction but
episteme of motorcycle and side-kick. She was Reich's whence, forth
it went with her hips , jelly-roll up the avenue.
African woman, afghani woman, Caucasus.
Cuts. across the arms of.


of the

of the six million desiring-machines, cogs & wheel working, hat pump
synchrouous throng, this is one in the naked city of feel, unfeeling peel
around the hanger in the schizo-analytic plate.

there at terre-bonne where the even nerves skate across the eyes.



Is there a clock here he says to this plate, of antioedipus, and other
dark nightsomes of her past, hugging the nail to his sweating cloak,
harbinger of darkness and hate, not the hefty mall of her palm
held out beneath his feet, his ball bearings chucked on the side of the wood.

Antioedipus sunnies the fate, the fates of whistles and charms.


Epistemologic Epistles 1.versation

JenaJean, hello and comment ca va today, I hope you slept and look upon this cruel world feeling better. Ah! but what if the Tuscan's astrologer had a web browser what would he have seen then... If the literalist Satan could not see God's complex planes and plans, the possible co-existence of several world views at once, even as Tillich and Bruno explored the multiple possibilities of what the latter called the New Being and the former Christ (it all con conflicts in cath. theology with the problem of substance and essence and the haeccity of a being [really the term is dun scotus 's] and it refers to something like the new ideas of being-=identity being developed in various philosophical circles in france and elsewhere. But if the Tuscan astrologer had come on
line and if Satan had come on line then both and the Dogmatist militant Catholic Church would have to see it to, that we live on hundreds of planes simultaneously, and diachronically. Nevertheless simplistic and
ancient idea of metempsychosis and reincarnation pah! that's mere kids' stuff. We have going our multiple subjectivity with no centre, which is what Zina (you know I fell for her badly and each night I was moaning sayin' her name and her body was everywhere) is so concerned about, and now find that question she keeps
going over of no interest to me any longer, and we have the real and virtual extension of self on line and yet again through the still cruder media of t.v. radio etc. the extension of the central nervous system As Cuchulain put it causes anxiety to tribal manwoman; and we are most certainly tribal more each year; a shrinking ball of a world John Donne and you wouldn't know! never know the sort of a shrinkage we are experiencing. We also seem to be living in several bodies at once across
the span of space time, over what one writer calls a 5 dimensional
synchronised hallucination. God knows what happens when "they" really get around to playing with the genetic structure! Where will literary studies be then!/ And theory, well we shall need a theory of the metaphysics of the physics of theory to practice even the most rudimentary semantic elementary discussion which may end up in several tongues at once as we
swim across translations of all speech concurrently! What JJ was doing in the Finnegans Wake book! Poor Irish man going blind all those years. Imagine ourselves simultaneously "carnate" (like flowers and not cars or chariots of the sun as in "in" the car or chariot) across several dimensions and several spheres of being ! Oh well these are my humble thoughts and have been for years! The Bruno paradigm appeals to me. We are
affected by the media we use for sure. We become what we behold, all gods
reside in the human breast, technology as extension of gods and goddesses, therefore we are the techniques and the gods; therefore we are not only three personed we are multiple personed; our person hood is the fabric across which identity is thrown. The question of what is a self is in one sense 'superfluous' the now past (to some extent), modernist anxiety about unity for instance, or the anxiety of a self in need of a trueself is a false posture a a false position to start with and results more from the break of social custom and identity's "traditional" lodging in that created space or fiction as some would call it. I think it was
not a fiction but a real experience for those who lived it; Just as the
question is real for those who pose it now; but subjectivity is in one sense merely the temporary locale of a consciousness the "I" calls "me."
But what of it? What about unconsciousness and all its raptures of sleep and bliss and sexual ecstasy for instance. My old pal, Maurice's notion of 16
dimensional reality is from what I understand an explosion of the level of the "li groups" of similar theories. Deleuze and Guattari discuss quite a bit of mathematics in their work; physics as in Brownian motion and so on it's all there... Maurice and I would discuss Foucault s' ideas especially those brought up in the Words and Things books; the questions of continuity and the relationship of objects in space; perhaps F. wasn't radical enough in some domains. Perhaps F. needed to read the works of Michel Polyani! and Koestler whose long work on science helps to explode the centralist notion some have of science. Or Fritjof Capra the Finnish physicist, (like the linguist Hjelmslev and then there's also the Finnish radical psychiatrist whose author's name escapes me; Ah ! but those Finns are onto something aren't they) and his work connecting the traditionalist Taoist ideas with ultra advanced relativity theory and current problems in physics; too many minds who spend too little time not looking around limits their scope and vision of what is going on in the human scene and how we are enriching the possibilities all the time!
One other thing, I'm sorry I babbled last night about these other writers, maybe I'm wrong maybe I was ungenerous. Perhaps they are good and
I cant see it; what I meant to say about them is that they strike as weak and not there enough in their own work; the other social and personal reasons I hesitate to publish with them are as I told you sort of political; Aie is me! the divide in poetry multiplies as well it multiplies up and divides down! Mme blooky is wrong in the sense that he misses the change over to a modern physics of literature and that I think is the real problem. Mmm, this is my idea in embryo of a quantitative
theory of literature.... my doctoral dissertation!? Mme. Blooky, who's I think is great when specific (at least at times shall I say at time she has been great, but we have known the great known them all, my dear), mistakes her particulars for generals and then assumes there is no other accounting for energy than genius; second he
projects her own filial gnostic notions onto shakespeare and company (and it's not very fey or sexy is it?) assuming assumes that SCompany is the canon --but what a double-edge wordsword! Cannon! A homology of Kant and desire tucked away even in the hiddenest repression -- (But it is funny to read his large polemic and how he aggravates people); perhaps S has dumped the canon into our laps actually and we're re=reading and re-writing it... as in Missy kosofski and others; he (speaking of Missy K. have you ever jerked off to a critic whose work you like? that would be a good one: As I lay masturbating to the critical prudences of ....) forgets Donne and others making the specious claim that the has been no
influence on the later poets by Donne - false obviously; one could say in fact and I would argue, Donne invented Coleridge's possibilities in ode
to Dejection poems (by way of being the the creation of a first
real "I" voice in a modern poet; he and Wyatt I would say; not S. as I thought before; our encounters pulled that rug out from me), and of course Queen E. and the gang etc; but Queen Voice's lectures on the metaphysicals are the key really they point to the numerous poets who have "influenced" the modernist" text; but Mia Blinky also neglects the real value of inter-textuality with her over-emphasis on anxiety and not joy! and generosity, the scary thing about Blookee is that because we are so limited she looks right; Ah well phooey! on her! I'd have sex with Zina long before I had sex with MizzBlinky! -- even bad poets have a place in the canon, and the Library, let us not forget the library of endless discoveries and dictionaries! Question: is a bad poet a poet at all? Zina has read more than most but perhaps her theory is as much an aspect of her own psychology as the rest of us; i.e. she suffers from her own anxious Freudian internalised fictionalised tropes! O dear, did you see that? I muddled Blinky and Zina! She's suffering all sorta anxiousness and says the words Body-without organs gives her the creeps! I should show he what the bwo is! HA, there's quite a thought for you JenaJean!
Anyhow, this is yours truly Shem the penman (that nick name is from Finnegans Wake) Cseeker!
Soreas of interest and the various points of this my most recent (and woman's buttocks the roundnesses of them) the
quantitative theorem of literature
the politics of literature
the physics of contemporary thought all the above more less
then mix over hot water for one hour at room temperature;
result one wild epistolary theoretician!

Litttle Schizophrenenes

Why were the dividing spaces
Why were
the loves not matched?

*** ***** ***

I can't see it Saxophones and Double Bass (Alto)

Like Antioedipus
meditation on a fountain let's begin somewhere say like
title and

Why were his friends so nice? -- no one knew the reply, because
he got tired of saying answer or wait. And the skies grew colder each
dunny day -- clay like skin. Bend things and subjects rejects plural
bend. Or why were Anti's friends so courteous? -- they weren't. The sky
grew like clay of her moisturized face. Anyhow, like resentments and we
smoke the bit butt. Tomorrow the play of shields and a fox terrier.
Curling saxophone and sandals in the Sumerian estate and the fat climbing
the ice leading to a hyrophane speckled with limpid word cellars. Nom it
isn't always the first word. Light your mouth, i have disappointed my
friend -- a method is coming to a close...where did it go...where does it
go...the place birds go. And before the ice?...there are lamps here and
there, but the mood is gone and i am coming back finding my very own
travel, clue on the haphazard lip eyes mouth. Old letters here
deteriorate. We cannot listen or lose Electric the letters fade
fissioned people flew and flunked out the bass bounces off your temples
here we lost speech the articles of thought
the Ear
Oh half-man oedipus listen to the bar and bag of music go by the
tiger bait the curver at the bat is always like a french movie.
AntiOedipus went through the body without organs and felt nothing
returned and felt paradise and the wielding sparrow
went throught the body without disease

And half-oedipus isjust his other name than self which is the
real name for false dross and no beginnings and asphasiac memory disconnected


this Love ~ J.D a the grave of Gilles Deleuze

This love means an affirmative desire towards the Other - to respect the Other, to pay attention to the Other, not to destroy the otherness of the Other - and this is the preliminary affirmation, even if afterwards because of this love, you ask questions. There is some negativity in deconstruction. I wouldn't deny this. You have to criticise, to ask questions, to challenge and sometimes to oppose. What I have said is that in the final instance, deconstruction is not negative although negativity is no doubt at work. Now, in order to criticise, to negate, to deny, you have first to say "yes". When you address the Other, even if it is to oppose the Other, you make a sort of promise - that is, to address the Other as Other, not to reduce the otherness of the Other, and to take into account the singularity of the Other. That's an irreducible affirmation, its the original ethics if you want. So from that point of view, there is an ethics of deconstruction. Not in the usual sense, but there is an affirmation. You know, I often use a quote from Rosensweig or even from Levinas which says that the "yes" is not a word like others, that even if you do not pronounce the word, there is a "yes" implicit in every language, even if you multiply the "no", there is a "yes". And this is even the case with Heidegger. You know Heidegger, for a long time, for years and years kept saying that thinking started with questioning, that questioning (fragen) is the dignity of thinking. And then one day, without contradicting this statement, he said "yes, but there is something even more originary than questioning, than this piety of thinking," and it is what he called zusage which means to acquiesce, to accept, to say "yes", to affirm. So this zusage is not only prior to questioning, but it is supposed by any questioning. To ask a question, you must first tell the Other that I am speaking to you. Even to oppose or challenge the Other, you must say "at least I speak to you", "I say yes to our being in common together". So this is what I mean undetanding love as affirmation, the literature of affirmation the poetry of .

In the hour of this moment,
this second

as these words spoken By Derrida at the graveside of Deleuze.

This post in one sense is for my old friend Josh, Rojan Josh, a one time student of Jack Derrida, and who I conversed with 10 years ago, over a period of many months, about deconstruction and desiring-machines, deterritorialization and deconstruction, their differences and similarities.


Mona's bodee wid Out OrganSreadin'between lines


'For you can tie me up if you wish, but there is nothing more useless than an organ. When you will have made him a body without organs, then you will have delivered him from all his automatic reactions and restored him to his true freedom. They you will teach him again to dance wrong side out as in the frenzy of dance halls and this wrong side out will be his real place.'
Antonin Artaud, 'To Have Done with the Judgement of God' (1947)

'It operates everywhere, either permanently or discontinuously. It breathes, it warms up, it eats. It shits, it kisses. What a mistake to have said it. Everywhere machines, and not just metaphorically: machinic machines, with their couplings and connections. An organ-machine is coupled with a fountain-machine: one of them emits a flow which the other cuts.'
Deleuze & Guattari, 'The Anti-Oedipus. Capitalism and Schizophrenia' (1972)

"Artaud's only misjudgment was his belief that the body without organs had yet to be created. The electronic body is the body without organs. ( So say the writers of Critical Ensemble in a rather dogmantizing tone... ) It already "dominates" performance (whose performance, which ones?), and has recentered the theater around empty identity and empty desire ( I ask: Which theatre?a theatre without organs, the theatre of Cruelty?) (maybe they are speaking about Tv that most cruel of organ sans body & Not body without organs) is the perfect body- forever reproducible ( Interesting claims:these statemtents need to context themselves..are they speaking of a concept of electronic resurrection??)..). No reduction to biology(BioLogy is Not Reductive) now. Two hundred Elvis (Please, not that fat friggin dUde again cand clones aint B.W.O's) clones appear on the screen. Separate them: Turn the channel; play the tape. Each performance is on an eternal loop. These clones were not made in a test tube; they reproduce of their own accord, each as precise and as perfect as the last. No fluids, no plagues, no interruptions. Again critical's reading of A/O and BWO is of one type of BWO not the multitide of them....

'The orifices of the body without organs are sewn tightly shut. 'No consumption, no excretion, no interruptions. Such free-dom: Safely screened off from the virtual catastrophes of war, capital, gender, or any other manifestation teetering at the brink of a crash, the body without organs is free to drift in the electronic rhizome.Again too easy the body is attended by the BWO but requires a Body_ this territory reterritory deterritory : Artaud is horrified at the idea of the loss of an actual body

The theater of the street and its associated cultural debris collapses. Civilization has been washed clean-progress is complete-dirt, trash, rot, and rubble have been screened off and erased from the perfect world of the electronic body. The electronic body, free of the flesh, free of the economy of desire, has escaped the pain of becoming." Precisely & thus this is not the Body-without-organs but more like Zizek's Organs without Bodies....
Critical Art Ensemble, "The Electronic Disturbance" (1994)

"Luther Blissett has no openings."
Luther Blissett, "The Low on Luther Blissett", (1995) this to be followed up

"This new social relationship between the electronic body (the body without organs) and the organic body is one of the best resources for performance material. Performance resources must go beyond the organic body, which at present acts as the master link in performative models of representation. In the age of electronic media, it is inappropriate to argue that performance exhausts itself under the sign of the organic. After all, the electronic body is always performing, even if in absentia on every stage.

There is every reason to desire the electronic body, and every reason to despise it. This pathological struggle occurs when one views the electronic body, and feelings of sympathy (Husserl) and envy (Benjamin) implode in a schizophrenic moment.
As Baudrillard states: "In spite of himself the schizophrenic is open to everything and lives in the most extreme confu- sion. The schizophrenic is not, as generally claimed, characterized by his loss of touch with reality, but by the absolute proximity to and total instantaneousness with things, this overexposure to the transparency of the world."

this condition Baudrillard describes has become a common condition for everyone excepting the rich the priveliged. and those few 'above' the common. the multitude.s .

of bodies without organs of everyday life. On the other hand, it is not a statement that bears generalizing as the schizo condition by defintion is one in flux and movement in, over and itself a creation of Intensity. and flow-coupage, and rearward fall back.

"In the debris (debris? more fancy theoretical terms) of intersubjectivity, the organic and the electronic face each other. The electronic body looks so real. It moves around, it gazes back, it communicates. Danger Danger Danger!

"Its appearance is our appearance (Which Our are you speaking of???). Identity manifests and is reinforced, as subjectivity is extracted/imposed by the elec- tronic other. How can such a perception not conjure a sympathetic response? Yet in that same instant of unity comes the burning feeling of separation born of envy. The identity of the electronic body is not our own."
Critical Art Ensemble, "The Electronic Disturbance" (1994)

Well, Mona had a total
living on atol
or chase
cash registering the deaths births and climates o f her lover's body an agnostic sweet hipped kiss, flasked by the quite need of her wanting... wanting ...

is that how she ontologized her sweet quim? where her body was a memory or sememe of liquid punches, her brain stem fell on the floor, and her feet skin heeled dry, cracked. Not like the pop quiz of death, or cloned bodies. But real ones cut into her , into the quick .

  • TakingtheBrim

  • she did a rear Back neighing her horses.


    China: the grass, splinters

    "I believe that today more than ever a book should be sought after even if it has only one great page in it," wrote Henry Miller in Tropic of Cancer.

    "We must search for fragments, splinters, toenails, anything that has ore in it, anything that is capable of resuscitating the body and soul."

    In A/O and in other works D& G (DOG or GOD) quote Miller . ANd even when they dont quote him direct, there's a love of life and energy that is Millerian,
    alive, electric. Not a masturbation machine of the maniacs of money.

    The grass, China, the Hamlet letters.



    really, its the same theme
    anyway. it goes back
    to Orpheus on the Sidewalk.


    he wouldnt keep standing backwards
    on the shale of her deaths,
    mock bread
    & wine,

    a tout to bring his thing to an end,
    the loves which fostered that denial.

    or somethinglike this,
    when he turned his blind eyes to

    how do you spell, blind eyes?
    howdo you spell coriander

    . a stopped up word was her flow.
    inching around his death.
    in the blow-by-blow of his death.

    its narratives and placements.

    that your hair
    never understood.

    in your eyes
    , a prophecy.
    taking it all paranoid.

    a god was speaking.
    flute grain .

    an oracle spied the word .


    was a kiss worth it, all the deaths?
    of marathons and maids,
    preening their fortunes
    on his back,
    Oh, lover.
    of the would be.

    O waves
    crush the seed


    bares the night,
    its double-entendre
    jeu de mot
    was something seeking me

    around that moment
    of your coming
    usurping .


    of there or then sailed Anti his forth went fourth
    on the petal of escape its wandering tooth his song
    lover mother gone in the splay of rage anger's delire

    a reading to death's do us parting cut curtains wake

    and history's nave , a broken wake, to war war, war, war
    more of it each hour. of this earth's mistake,
    a muddle to bear drifts and wrongs
    the guns blast,(inexplicable lore) inexplicable ways, the armies
    (by now) sawed off their shot guns
    jam hair waves tatter in the smash of their firing.

    because he was the unforgiven one
    forgone, and the unrepentant two
    he was a coward of desertion disrepute his song
    its only wrong his body a murdering waif,
    what would she know of this,
    his daughter mother , Antigone walked along.
    The accidental charms and rhymes a charm of his char,
    a something or other in the pay of his debt,
    a legal sort of tender of penance and peanuts,
    a contrite lover's wrong to his beloved, her mother
    wept womb to his long thronging fingers of failure,
    and their other one and two , three but four a door.


    of this child he 'll always be your voice
    your prose again the lips of your chin
    lean into him, a
    right wretched sonnet to the bell wether
    its ringing in the wear along blessing


    she was his body page,
    a crazed sex darling
    some fantasm of
    veiled .


    inside the

    and 'desiring machines only work when they break down, and they are continually breaking down...'

    'I am not appealing for any man's verdict, I am only imparting knowledge. I am only making a report. To you, honoured Members of the Academy, I have only made a report.' K 7

    Prof DaddioDeleuze& Analyst Guattari go on to say ' A writer isn't a writer-man; he is a machine-man, and an experimental man (who thereby ceases to be a man in order to become an apre or a beetle, or a dog, or mouse, a becoming-animal, a becoming-inhuman, since it is actually through voice and through sound and through a style that one becomes an animal, and certainly
    the force of sobriety . '

    'Metaphors are one of the things that make me despair of literature .' Diaries , 1921_Kafka.

    Schizo-politeness, a drunkeness caused by water. K 26

    'Art is a mirror, which goes 'fast,' like a watch - sometimes.' K 28. Think of Dali's Melting Watch .

    What are the components of this literary machine, of Kafka's writing, or expression, machine?
    One component is the letters. In what ways do they belong to the oeuvre? In fact, Kafka's work is not defined by a publishing intention. Kafka evidently did not thinki of publishing his letters; quite the contrary, he thought of destroying everything he wrote as thought it were all like letters.
    If the letters really are a part of the work, it is because they are an
    indispensable gear, a motor part for the literary machine as Kafka conceeives of it even if this machine is destined to disappear or explode to a degree comparable to the machine of the Penal Colony.

    Impossible to conveive of Kafka's machine without it involving
    an epistolary aspect.
    Perhaps it is as a function of the ltetters, of the demands, of their potentials and their insuffiencies,
    that the other other pieces will be assembled.

    The letters are a rhizome, a network, a spider's web. There is a vampirism in the letters, that is specifically epistolary. K 28-9

    Kafka:Toward a minor literature. trans. Dana Polan

    Thus : Dear one I am dead without your .

    Signed and dead sign _ Writer of words and pens.

    As always 'all mywords are on parole'



    eb france, en francais, de territory becomes reterritoried of explaination. but finally how blo ggin itself is instable is a mark of the trace of its flight and flightingnes...

    14 avril 2006
    Deleuze, Guattari et Artaud sont sur un bateau…

    Le quai de la théorie

    "La schizo-analyse deleuzienne cherche avant tout à ne pas se tromper sur le désir. Pour Deleuze et Guattari, le désir n’est pas une affaire privée mais un investissement collectif. On désire dans et par le collectif. « Tout délire est d’abord l’investissement d’un champ social, économique, politique, culturel, racial et raciste, pédagogique, religieux : le délirant applique à sa famille et à son fils un délire qui les déborde de toutes parts » (1). ...."



    Existential machines, "he said and of other things, his mouth was the sure awkwar.d. spent. Of what," are at the same level as being in its intrinsic multiplicity." " said of other noses,twins of crescent sur le bus - she cannot say canopy for sure, is confidence absent .

    Desiring machines which break "beak and primrose,
    bean stalks around the sad shade of her smile,
    upturned the retrousee thing which smiles
    after a half-tone, half tuba ,

    nothing really. Such 'auto-centering partial drives
    'don't translate really the nauseau of the blue.s.
    that night, the restaurant all night.

    I dont want anything to do.



    her agnostic lover paid the rent.

    peddling its sham like ways, its unconscious molecule
    a path to .

    some other tree, of spent garbles and manufactured


    'He gives us twelve or thirteen versions of the death of God, for good measure and to be done with it, so as to render the event comical. ANd he explains that strictly speaking this has no importance whatever, that it merely concerns the latest Pope; God dead or not dead, the father dead or not dead, it amounts to the same thing, since the psychic repression
    (refoulement) and the same social repression continue unabated, here in the name of God or a living father, there in the name of man or the dead father.

    Nietzsche says that what is important is not the news that God is dead, but the time this news takes to bear fruit.'

    A/O 106

    Turning to herselves the girders, she whips the eyelash
    counting back the staves of her money,
    her garish hips near my neck. Love, love,
    she calls, it. Love.

    Agnostic. Dead Agnostic. Dead.

    And doctor God is a Lobster. So.
    Stick your Tongue out.



    she was an atheist lover
    bundled in cement

    'the unconscious is orphan, atheist'


    what is the brim of cement?
    its name and other prim ghost.


    and this time

    and this time she was standing onthe corner with the horn in her hand, and it was Arc de Tre... you know, and Felix said is this a fiction, or a farce,

    Jill stammers, saying fiacre fiarce. coming around the bend,
    bending Stoics and eggs, the visor of her cap
    close to the nave the , fictions out of 'control' and Harry says, look this crucifixion is enough. Enough ontology for one day, my friend, and so.

    we meandered, slowly to the pulpit seeingthe
    statues of Verlaine and Rimbaud floating by
    the masthead of its pleat and its

    held close to the sky,
    a wind blocking its view,

    she was about to say ferven wind. but the en a woman stepped around the place where plateaus are born.

    shyly tearing down the start of the edifice.

    balkin at the glue of truth, her lips, were blood red.

    Antioedipus would not see, its results, for many years.
    Unlike the others, he was in for the long haul,
    not short term gratification.


    do you think death could possibly be a boat?*: filozofia

    do you think death could possibly be a boat?*: filozofia: "do you think death could possibly be a boat?* "

    I dont speak a word of Polish, but love the sound.
    I like the title of this post and the name of the blog.

    Puts me in mind of those wonderful passages in Henry Miller's
    Plexus where he talks about the errie preternaturalness
    of the language. something inthe Slavic which calls to us,
    which has always call'd to me , at any rate.

    What bone inspiring metallic songs call me out,
    from death.


    the manic depressive and the alcoholic

    the manic and the alcoholic

    in the intensity of

    continue: later


    what the

    what the paranoiac fails to understand is that the world
    does not revolve around the sinthome machine of its desire
    the symptom being the singular sign of its upheld mouth

    Anti come here, we love you.
    in the psychoanalytic knot
    one cant help but tie the two

    equally one not of dearth
    not breath

    in its extensive breach of the plates.
    plates being like strata, they
    are not plateaus
    and dont permit surfing



    No nos interesan la genealogías, ni las filiaciones, sino la propagación, los contagios, las epidemias, las resonancias, las mutaciones...
    devenir intenso, devenir cyborg, devenir imperceptible...

    from http://rizomas.blogspot.com/
    "Una bitácora para discutir, entrelazar y expandir las múltiples redes de travesías, ideas, imágenes y ficciones por las que transitamos."

    Optimisms of burrow, through-ways past cyncial machines. power :contiguities. blocs. not blocks.

    flow thru- shady lamps. knock out space. ribbon please. not
    reaction. aries semblance. not personal subjetivists.

    eating apples please.
    standeth hearth mare.
    O when was her hip aflare.

    Cometh to her
    invisible becomes



    where I live

    This is where I live.

    When I am not at home. Its called Paris. Its Antioedipal and
    very expensive. Most of the people inthe faubourg
    where the riots were see it Differently.

    Wouldn't you?

    Sometimes When Mona and Kathy A. call me we walk
    around ducking our louis d'or noses low on the ground.
    We sniff like dogs. Hiding our faces.
    we gotta wear masks. we are very sultry
    but love one another. we are very in love.
    our hands stand up
    in the air and talk

    Our hind legs stand up.

    EuRoZine|Interview Leva Lesinska Harold Bloom

    Did I ever tell you the story of how Guattari once met Bloom, in Paris, by accident and the only person missing was Derrida, and then guess who came sauntering dully along, but Jean Genet who'd never read either of these dudes, right? like you know, and they both were struck with Amaze . He stood there cause (He Jean Genet) like he sort of knew of Felix 'cause of Foucault right? and then guess what? like I was standing there right and Genet comes over to me takes my hand in his, kisses it, and lleaves, muttering to the wind as he ambled off,
    my son, my son.

    "Partly from encountering wisdom, I have to say I have no wisdom"

    An interview with Harold Bloom

    Harold Bloom, Ieva Lesinska

    An interview with Harold Bloom
    Since then he 's published

    Jesus and Yahweh

    The Names Divine

    Later right, Kathy A. calls me saying desire-machine baby where are you?
    you're my well-wrought urn, and I want to have sex with you, and
    the hand Jean Genet kissed. So she did and breathed my hand
    right up inside her you know what, and
    She stuck her s up you know what
    and shook her hand
    and then we realized Harold was sweet and was afraid. and Aren't we all afraid ?

    Immancne and the gods of multiplicty protect my balls.

    The world is a chaosmosis and that dont necessarily mean it s
    comfortable. Right Kathy A. I said, and she said O
    Yer My Velvet boy King Prince. I said I am yer sex object,
    and she said Nah, I am yer sex subject and so it was

    we were sex subjecting each other. speaking of
    Shakespeare in bed. and shamans.
    we shook across the narrow end of her bed.
    she conceived that nite.
    the lightening struck.
    the thunder ricocheted across the window.
    In Paris.


    deleuze lacan|PrODuCe yer Own Monster

    God does not have grand-children

    ZiZek is Wrong __________its not
    bodies with Organs
    its B.W.O. Corps sans Organes... he wants to
    pull Guattari out of the mix.In a strange book he wrote 2 years almost now Bodies without Organs

    referred to by I_Cite [external link] slight alterations made here
    Daniel W. Smith's "The Inverse Side of the Structure: Zizek on Deleuze on Lacan." It appeared originally in Criticism 46.4 (2004) 635-650.

    In an interview in 1995, shortly before his death, Prof Deleuze was asked by Didier Eribon (a Foucault biographer) about his relationship with Jacques Lacan. Deleuze's response was this story:

    Lacan noticed me when he devoted a session of his seminar to my book on Sacher-Masoch [1967].1 I was told—although I never knew anything more than this—that he had devoted more than an hour to my book. And then he came to a conference at Lyon, where I was then teaching. He gave an absolutely unbelievable lecture.... It was there that he uttered his famous formula, " Psychoanalysis can do everything except make an idiot seem intelligible. " After the conference, he came to our place for dinner. And since he went to bed very late, he stayed a long time. I remember: it was after midnight and he absolutely had to have a special whisky. It was truly a nightmare, that night.

    My only great encounter with him was after the appearance of Anti-Oedipus [1972]. I'm sure he took it badly. He must have held it against us, Félix and me. But finally, a few months later, he summoned me—there's no other word for it. He wanted to see me. And so I went. He made me wait in his antechamber. It was filled with people, I didn't know if they were patients, admirers, journalists.... He made me wait a long time—a little too long, all the same—and then he finally received me. He rolled out a list of all his disciples, and said that they were all worthless [ nuls ] (the only person he said nothing bad about was Jacques-Alain Miller). It made me smile, because I recalled Binswanger telling the story of a similar scene: Freud saying bad things [End Page 635] about Jones, Abraham, etc. And Binswanger was shrewd enough to assume that Freud would say the same thing about him when he wasn't there. So Lacan was speaking, and everyone was condemned, except Miller. And then he said to me, "What I need is someone like you" [ C'est quelqu'un comme vous qu'il me faut .].2

    and also cited in:
    the appendix under Deleuze and locate this exchange (and references) appears in: Rudinesco's biography of Lacan. pages 347-348 of Elisabeth's Roudinesco's _Jacques Lacan_. Paints quite a picture. "An interview with the philosopher Gilles Deleuze, conducted by DidierEribon, shows how exasperated Lacan was with the situation. A few monthsafter the publication of _Anti-Oedipus_, he summoned Deleuze, its author[hey, where's Felix?], to his apartment, which was full of his analysands,and told him how 'hopeless' all his disciples were except Miller. Then hesaid, "What I absolutely need is someone like you." Deleuze was amusedand remembered that Binswanger used to tell a similar story about Freudspeaking ill of Jones, Abraham, etc. Binswanger had concluded that hehimself would suffer the same fate when Freud talked about him to hisdisciples. Deleuze was right: at the same period, Lacan was grumblingabout him to Maria Antonietta Macciocchi: he was convinced _Anti-Oedipus_was based on his seminars, which already, according to him, contained theidea of a 'desiring machine.' He was still worrying about plagiarism."

    1. Gilles Deleuze, Masochism: Coldness and Cruelty, trans. Jean McNeil (New York: Zone Books, 1989).

    2. "Le 'Je me souviens' de Gilles Deleuze" (interview by Didier Eribon) in Le Nouvel Observateur 1619 (16-22 November 1995), 50-51.

    and for other burrows in the woof and wood

    1933 Articles from Le Minotaure: The Problem of Style and the Psychiatric Conception of Paranoiac Forms of Experience and Motives of Paranoiac Crime: The Crime of the Papin Sisters, transl. by Jon Anderson in Critical Texts, vol.5, 3, 1988

    "[...] time as series: the before and after are no longer themselves a matter of external empirical succession, but of the intrinsic quality of that which becomes in time. Becoming can in fact be defined as that which transforms an empirical sequence into a series: a burst of series. A series is a sequence of images, which tend in themselves in the direction of a limit, which orients and inspires the first sequence (the before), and gives way to another sequence organized as series which tends in turn towards another limit (the after). The before and the after are then no longer successive determinations of the course of time, but the two sides of the power, or the passage of the power to a higher power." (Deleuze 1994, s. 275)

    See Patricia Pister's



    It must be said that it is the world itself which lays traps
    of distance and identification for us. There are
    many neurotics and lunatics who do not let go
    of us until they have managed to reduce
    us to their state, pass us their poison, hysterics,
    narcissists, their contagion is insidious.

    There are many doctors and scholars
    who offer us a santized scientific observation,
    who are also true lunatics, paranoiacs.

    One must resist both of the traps, the one
    which offers us the mirror of contaminations
    and identifications, and the one
    which points out to us the observation
    of the understanding.
    We can only assemble among assemblages.

    Dialogues with D and Parnet

    Compare the elegance of catatonia __ its painful elegance, its petrified elegance, the pain of 'catatonic bodies sunk' in the river... at least the catatonic does not attempt to pass her sickness on. it is we who make them sick.



    yer actua _ l

    whynot your actual body
    for a change here with lips
    not words a true real zone
    of free love with its arms wide open
    span bridges to your ode's body & me
    yours your're mine as in those words
    hung in the mouth of air between us

    we know yer tired like I am a crowd of mouths
    we make but deathing coming
    we gotta fight butwith
    our no fight
    our surrender

    lay down your arms

    in this city we're sinners
    but naked as its long arms reach
    twigging tangling

    cause you know like I do you want this
    body zone a commune of fire burns
    with its wake of happiness
    cause you want this taz

    to realize


    the di

    Mona upset? Antioedipus deprived!?
    not for a molecule's instant of moo moo
    mother's milk the anaoedipal lover of bodies and strong

    antioedipus is the didactic blogto some eXteNt

    over at the other fictions its a different story
    fractious narrative of desire, dingo, and night.
    ningo. difference. leper. when is the book coming out?
    in the spring. nope they deferred it to autumn.
    and the manuscript safely in their hands.locked.
    keys. doors. windows. barred. books hooked.
    feet tarred and strapped. space suit on. sex.
    cabineted. radio off. close to . Orff. Carmina
    Burana. bananna. Kurt Schwitters. other.
    publisher. holds ransom. poet. capture.
    keeps. lock escape. as sister. excape.


    a body is brok _en .

    'the artist ... is quite incapable of creating a people, each can only summon it with all his strength....' (WiP 110)... strength to

    in the sands of hate indifference.

    discretion 's always been the better part of love
    valour's nothing to do with
    any of it .

    the savage territory ripping off 'my' face
    which was a mask bought to you
    who won't go away

    because you conspire against
    what you want

    beause that is what murderers do
    the plot of their story is trying to do you in.

    go puff of smoke
    electric wind

    'Savage formations are oral, are vocal, but not because they lack a graphic system: a dance on the earth, a drawing on a wall, a mark on the body are a graphic system, a geo-graphism, a geography ' A/O 188

    graphed to this body
    that you murdered.
    mother the words mother
    lover knew it knew
    the lie was there
    could smell it sense
    knew before the words
    came forth
    shrive me the other
    says their guilt a possession of territory
    to kill the beloved imagined object

    'It is not because everyone is suspected, in advance, of being a
    future bad debtor; the contrary would be closer to the truth'
    A/O 189

    ' "And in punishment there is so much that is festive!"' A/O 189
    d&g quoting Nietzsche.

    As flies to wanton boys
    they kill us for their sport

    dear WS shrove this pun
    ishment pain
    so many bodies punished in the distance
    of your f_cked out


    thanks for the memories.

    let is now forgetting the machine pissing and sptting you sucked him? too and she you? oh really thanks
    for the totalization and the sponateous misquote of yer crappy verse of yer perverse flowers in the shit?
    was that verse of above the waves the shite flooded
    the night

    I knew, you fool. Even before .
    you said a word.
    Was I brought to such sewers to
    eat yer shit? taste yer arse?
    Come now
    speak light
    not with adjective of shit's pile.

    Lyric fuck that you are.
    panting by the manic phone
    of yer alilbi.

    I knew.
    because I am wise, and sage.

    Serener than death.
    Richer than dearth.

    Unlike the Empire's bitchy places
    and its bitches.

    'The double alienation-labour-desire-is constantly increasing and deepening the difference in regime
    at the heart of the identity of nature ...At the same time that death is decoded ...'A/O 337

    You dont know what it means to have to move
    when yer natural speed is fast.

    when the means of production 're taken

    but when the cancer hits yer turn . will.

    or the breath. beast catchs yer . arse.
    ee versee.

    AntiOedipuS knew shit when he saw it moving far

    far farther fur ther from it .

    AntiOedipus is with Mona . always. is.