I generally have four or five books open around the house—I live alone; I can do this—and they are not books on the same subject. They don’t relate to each other in any particular way, and the ideas they present bounce off one another. And I like this effect. I also listen to audio-books, and I’ll go out for my morning walk with tapes from two very different audio-books, and let those ideas bounce off each other, simmer, reproduce in some odd way, so that I come up with ideas that I might not have come up with if I had simply stuck to one book until I was done with it and then gone and picked up another. So, I guess, in that way, I’m using a kind of primitive hypertext. I am not a solitary thinker, or solitary learner, or solitary channel of these universal wisdoms and universal truths. I’m constantly learning from other people. I weave. We all weave in different ways. What is the tapestry of lessons and wisdom that are unique for me? Each person ends up with a different tapestry, but you start to see patterns amongst them.

As masks are the sign that there are faces, words are the sign that there are things. And these things are the sign of the incomprehensible. Mutation occurs in the present, both flattening and warp occur in the immediate. The liminal period ends with another submersion in liquid that evokes the water of rebirth. From the wind, I learned a syntax for forwardness, how to move through obstacles by wrapping myself around them. To let meaning come from an accumulation of feeling. An experience when an unanticipated and spontaneous idea suddenly pops up into the head from nowhere. An unnerving sensation that, rather than us making something happen, something is happening to us. How such connections spring to mind are guesswork but they seem to favor those who have a promiscuous curiosity and chronic attraction to problems. As Nietzsche put it: “A thought comes as it wills, not when I will it.”

A transformer is a device by which the voltage of an alternating current system may be changed. Slowly, the giant hand that has been crushing you relaxes its grip. The gilt lettering on the cover, the well-rubbed yellow-gray pages, the bugle notes of the title page, the orderly chapter headings, the finality of the last page—all these assured him of something sensible in the world. Naivety toward the full complexity of a situation, its effects and affects, but also its potential vulnerabilities, can be an asset rather than a hindrance. It frees you to fully think the situation anew.

void setup() {
void draw() {
int i, j;
for(i=1; i <= 10; i++) {
for(j=1; j <= i; j++) {
text(""*"", i*10, j*10);

“Folk” is an unstable term that immediately embodies a tension between self and other, us and them, past and present, here and there, urban and rural, high and low, tradition and innovation, individual and anonymous/communal. In tracing out these tensions, our research counters that the received idea that danced “folk” movements are simple, natural, local, uncodified - their meanings entirely transparent or self-evident - and suggests instead that, rather than affirming hierarchies or “backdating” aspects of culture, “folk” movement comprises a set of conventions that have been deployed as an aesthetic and political strategy to persuade and make arguments and to mobilize affect in service of various projects at different historical moments and in different cultural contexts. In short, “folk” has been used by dancers and choreographers as a tactic to reconfigure the present and reshape the future.

1. [Pera pera]. Describes chattering away frivolously, glibly. Describes speaking fluently in a foreign language. Describes leafing through a book, thumbing through. Describes cloth or wooden boards that are thin and cheap-looking. 2. By which force does one single mutated cell, in turn, change the entire body? The world we want is one where many worlds fit. Often we arbitrarily designate moments, points along the way, as “finished” or complete. But when does something’s destiny finally come to fruition? How do I listen to others? As if everyone were my Teacher, speaking to me (Her) cherished last words. The universe of possible worlds is constantly expanding and diversifying thanks to the incessant world-constructing activity of human minds and hands. We live amidst and, however unconsciously, partake in constellations of the real that cultural standards, narrative givens, etc. can’t make sense of, or even perceive. Simply to realize they are here, emitting flickers from the feathery increments of their iridescent half-lives, requires the kinds of time that we are rarely, if ever, permitted to have. Reading can be freefall.

You are reading about a poem comprised of a thousand wayward looks. Dear navigator, in this highly-controlled environment without any natural climate, temperature, or humidity, my writing letters to you according to the rhythm of the seasons and the twenty-four solar terms is in itself a little silly, with a hint of obsessive-compulsiveness, but for me this is the only way to preserve my fundamental sense of earth time, so that when I step back on land, I won’t be overwhelmed by that fierce sense of strangeness. Each of these spaces is perceived at a different moment—a book is also a sequence of moments. 

It should not be permanent, it should be very impermanent. It should aspire to the interminably pure moment of an interlude. Lila’s and Lenu’s obsessive relations to both physical order and to specifically writerly order make better sense when considering the original language that Ferrante uses to describe Lila’s experience. What translator Ann Goldstein describes so evocatively as “dissolving margins” or “dissolving boundaries” is smarginare (verb) or la smarginatura (noun), a peculiarly untranslatable and double-edged typographical term. Smarginare, oddly, indicates both excess (as when an image bleeds across its boundary, or the margin of the page), and boundedness (as in the cropping or cutting of the image to size), both the breakdown and strict maintenance of margins.

Translator’s sons and daughters, or more redundantly, the translator’s translators. The source keeps shifting. It is It that travels. It is also I who carry a few fragments of it. In front of the simple question of where to bury her, it suddenly became frighteningly clear to me—to me, the free, the liberated, artist—whose head was full of freedom—how deep the hidden ties between us went, how strong they were, and how my world could be destroyed in a moment if theirs caved in. The coming together of two self-consistent but habitually incompatible frames of reference causes un choque, a cultural collision. I believe in radical softness and I enact it as I feel able , allowing myself the opportunity to embrace thew vulnerability in queer existence as a source of strength.

Vamos pensar no espaço não como um lugar confinado, mas como o cosmos onde a gente pode despencar em paraquedas coloridos. Entre a oração e a ereção / Ora são, ora não são / Unção / Bênção / Sem nação / Mesmo que não nasçam / Mas vivem e vivem / E vem. MATRIARCHY [IS DEFINED]BY AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT CONCEPTION OF LIFE, NOT BASED ON DOMINATION AND HIERARCHIES, AND RESPECTFUL OF THE RELATIONAL FABRIC OF ALL LIFE. a monster of energy... that does not expend itself but only transforms itself... [A] play pf forces and waves of forces, at the same time one and many...; a sea of forces flowing and rushing together, eternally changing..., with an ebb and a flood of its forms; out of the simplest forms striving toward the most complex, out of the stillest, most rigid, coldest forms towards the hottest, most turbulent..., and then again returning home to the simple out of this abundance, out of the play of contradictions back to the joy of concord.

1. Make something invisible for a camera, 2. Be invisible in plain sight, 3. Become invisible by becoming a picture, 4. Be invisible by disappearing, and 5. Become invisible by merging into a world made of pictures. 1) Form-giving is movement, action. Form-giving is life. 2) To improvise is to follow the ways of the world, as they unfold, rather than to recover a chain of connections from an end point to a starting point, on a route already traveled. And the aim is not to reach a terminus but to keep on going. In keeping going, one may travel the same ground, over and over again. 3) My scientific research has convinced me… that everything goes in cycles, in waves, it is my consolation, even if the periods of decay can be long, and the wave troughs deep; a crest comes again, if only one can wait…

I AM * The technology of silence / The rituals, etiquette // the blurring of terms / silence not absence // of words or music or even / raw sounds // Silence can be a plan / rigorously executed // the blueprint to a life // It is a presence / it has a history a form // Do not confuse it / with any kind of absence. Each person’s shape was complete: they were round, with their backs and sides forming a circle. They had a single head for their two faces (which were on opposite sides) on a cylindrical neck, four ears, four legs and two sets of genitals. Zeus cut every member of the human race in half just as people cut an egg in two with a hair. Some cybersex participants claim that they have learned new sexual techniques and turn-ons, which expand their repertoire of sexual behaviors. Being, easily able to type, delete, and paste may help Internet users to create the kind of fantasy relationships they desire but do not know how to get in real life.

Again, the vast reach of space; the void and the pinpoint brilliantine stars. Ignore the map; leave it behind. I stood waiting by the window. Standing motionless looking into the distant night, I went over and over again the first words / hand closed on the hyperdrive switch / the hands move, the lips move, ideas gush from his words, and his eyes devour / the all-satisfying sun, anemia’s enemy, / Gives life to the worm and rose impartially; 1. The question was not how like the gods we were / But whether we could recognize them in our sleep 2. Let’s have bizarre celebrations 3. Love had a thousand shapes. 4. I don’t want to change your mind, I don’t want to change the world. I just want to watch it go by. 5. hello world. Stories go in circles. They don’t go in straight lines. It helps if you listen in circles because there are stories inside and between stories, and finding your way through them in easy and as hard as finding your way home. Part of finding is getting lost, and when you are lost you start to open up and listen. The ear, unlike the eyes which have little flaps we can operate to open or close, or the skin which we can shroud in chadors or kuletuks; or the nose which we can plug or stuff; or the tongue which we can still and tuck away behind teeth, our ears are perpetually-naked newborns, permanently open to whatever there is to hear.

I consider myself to be between sounds and in the silent background that contains them. In the space that contains sounds and that sounds make up. In the outline of space they are always drawing so that they can happen. I rejoice in the freedom to be there, in that space, where the sounds and my listening to sounds are two phases of the same phenomenon. Dostoevsky, like Goethe’s Prometheus, creates not voiceless slaves (as does Zeus), but free people, capable of standing alongside their creator, capable of not agreeing with him and even of rebelling against him. A plurality of independent and unmerged voices and consciousnesses, a genuine polyphony of fully valid voices is in fact the chief characteristic of Dostoevsky’s novels. What unfolds in his works is not a multitude of characters and fates in a single objective world, illuminated by a single authorial consciousness; rather a plurality of consciousnesses, with equal rights and each with its own world, combine but are not merged in the unity of the event.

Put your head out the window of the car and let the wind blow the hair off your head. Let your friends harvest locks of your hair to give to other friends to leave in socially distressing locations: to scatter at ports, at national monuments, inside the architecture built to make ordinary people feel small and stupid, to throw against harassers on the streets. A semagram is a sign or symbol containing hidden information. A visual semagram hides a message by using innocent-looking and quotidian objects such as a map, painting or blanket as a cover. A text semagram encodes the secret message into the carrier text by way of subtle adjustments in font size, type, extra spaces or typographic flourishes in the handwritten or typed out correspondence.

I decided I should make the structure as visible as the dancing. What I am writing to you is not for reading—it’s for being. The category of demonic animals are those “pack or affect animals that form a multiplicity, a becoming, a population, a tale.” Zone d’indiscernabilité : Zone de recouvrement de deux ensembles en intersection, soulignant des contiguïtés insoupçonnées, annonçant des devenirs paradoxaux, elle marque un lieu de transformation, de création, d’émergence. “[...] but a form does its work only in contexts where other political and aesthetic forms also are operating. A variety of forms are in motion around us, constraining materials in a range of ways and imposing their order in situated contexts where they constantly overlap other forms.” and/or “The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite, perhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries. In the center of each gallery is a ventilation shaft, bounded by a low railing. From any hexagon one can see the floors above and below-one after another, endlessly.”

I want to say, in all seriousness, that a great deal of harm is being done in the modern world by the belief in the virtuousness of work, and that the road to happiness and prosperity lies in an organized diminution of work. People think that painting is about color
It’s mostly composition
It’s composition that’s the whole thing
My work is anti-nature
This painting I like because you can get in there and rest
The satisfaction of appetite happens to be impossible
The satisfaction of appetite is frustrating
So it’s always better to be a little bit hungry
That way you contradict the necessity
Not that I’m for asceticism
but the absolute trick in life is to find rest
“I was fascinated by the repeated use of the word ‘perfect.’ For some time I thought of this word in relation to being without fault or defect.

That is, until I looked for a deeper, more complex understanding of the word ‘perfect’ and found a definition emphasizing the will to refine.” But if we saw a fig-leaf on a weeping willow we would have the feeling that all was not well. It would lack coherence." [It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths. For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.][You can, if you expose the tools.] To articulate what is past does not mean to recognize “how it really was.” It means to take control of a memory, as it flashes in a moment of danger. For historical materialism it is a question of holding fast to a picture of the past, just as if it had unexpectedly thrust itself, in a moment of danger, on the historical subject.

‘I think therefore I am’ instantly posits the mind at the centre stage of *being*; that its presence is made known by the transcendental from of boundless and intangible things it emanates in response towards the external ‘trigger’. Something of a being that language cannot account for. Well, paradoxically, it is that which is beyond symbolisation: the unspeakable, the unspoken, the unknown—that which is unconscious.