Tuesday, March 22, 2005

nothing to say no one to read

been so long since something to say i've had, but still now, nothing substantive, nothing itching to be said about the christian right and their feeding tube fetish, nor about that guy who shakes things from a window over solemn crowds. tired still but sleep will come over the next weeks three without distractions in the evening less alcohol and smoke and nonsense. pull your socks up time to write little pieces about minor places and issues. still contentment tonight, though haven't left the house since noon today. will begin some sort of regiment tomorrow with bile and cycle tricks and red shirts to be worn. just have to say some words to feel as if i haven't given up yet on this little project. coming closer to dissertation topic one that won't be disdained by professors but one that won't be interesting to development professionals my future employers those people i hope who need a quitter of an american with blond hair and gimpy knees, but what is it a heart full of soul i think the yardbirds have remade. not bad. frenchy's back and made up mind and positive outcome so far. turkish food and shisha's and all not a bad kid. three alcoholics reunited for one last week before china intervenes and boredome and general disappointment with each other and nothing to say, let's kick it. with these essays done such a wonderful chance for relaxed summer. no marathon no goal. but really it's fascinating to read the schiavo case and her advocates' blogs and their seeming insensitivity to reality. they all presume such a large media conspiracy, and it's not so interesting for this case specifically, but their misconception that they're informed and our misfortune that they're the voters who will keep churning out shiny conservatives to promote a culture of life for some but not for others. i've only learned to hate them from reading about them, but reading their own words is illuminating and fascinating but scary. it's a whole world of paranoia and conviction which i'll never really understand and their videos to which they cling as evidence of life and sanctity and prescience are pornographic in the mixture of revulsion and compulsion to watch they elicit. five minutes mother chants to lolling daughter. i need less intornet, more work and productivity in the face of it. oh well. tomorrow try to resume.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

little parasites that are embedded

and life with the orange box on wheels? how is it does it progress in the usual fashion with forwards and backwards and then it's giong alright in the end. getting somehwere teleological and all. me, back to my side, teacher i need books and money, and something to love a calling a passion, i sthat what you americans say? i've got a new word for you and it's two actually and goes like this and "queue barge" it's brit speak for to cut in line the lines tha the brits love and insufferably form to snake around sidewalks and stairwells and block both of the gresses both in and e and on they go. aside from the forming of queues nothing occurs in my life that is exciting. london becomes quotidian just as somerville would had i remained except with weather significantly more dreary and neighbors with worse teeth and sallow skin. the brits are so unattractive that they well you see there is lots of vomit on the sidewalks. the foreign girls at school, however, beautiful and numerous and pleasing accents. i am learning anew to hate with a more sophisticated language of marxism and heuristics and overdetermination and today is invigorating tomorow enervating but learning a bit not enough in a year i've realized. have been to exciting things a few, such as caving in holes, and walking around on chalky cliffs, but with no jumptastic i find no one who is willing to sacrifice the well being of his health so that i may destroy myself and that is a sobering thought. i need exhaustion that i haven't found in a long time, beyond the lassitude of elitist academia, what's the word? ennui, i feel it, but why not one more? enervating fits the ticket. people here are good somehow. they carry on and have recently adopted my filled with hate sticktoitiveness and that is how it goes. will begin looking for jobs soon, and hopefullyh will have a new place to live by the end of august at which time my dissertation should be completed and my time here up. you would like marxism. i think it would provide a vocabulary and conceptualization for much of how you view the world. though i use it only as a critique and not as the ideology as it's espoused here, i htink it serves to reinforce a profound sense of injustice in the world and motivates my desire to do something about it. it's greatest flaw is that it is structuralist and seeks to define everything in terms of accumulating wealth whereas i feel this too essentialist, but you would enjoy some of it no doubt and i can recommend some readings if you are interested at some point. how is life i hope it is well. i am cold here in a cold room. and have gossip that i can share and which would be of interest, but about which i am not sure that i want to talk at the moment. for now i'll let you know that sally and i broke up after she left in january because again, we will not coexist in the same continent for the foreseeable future. she is a good girl and likes climbing and jesus. jesus makes us so happy that sometimes we feel like he's all we need. we can just eat him up he's so yummy and then spit out the bitter bitter holy spirit. i hate you holy spirit don't make me do that. oh well. and so that's how it goes. and i hope again that life is treating you like a bucket of cherries with no stones in them and then you are sweet and ripe and hanging from a tree somewhere that hasn't been chopped down by our wooden toothed founding father.
this is my story to a painter who doesn't always wear shirts but is a good guy nonetheless and did i sap this evenings creativity in writing to him. in case i did, publish the above i did.
and so quickly to switch from one to the other and how sticky can be the sum of three days? the answer i hope and believe and need is not so much. more the absence of opportunity the sudden obviating of opportunity what could have been in the imagination, will linger for a bit but less if other opportunities, african opportunities meet fruition in spectacular fashion. ahh, wll still ambivalence and i had among my most successful one line communications today to go downi n history and that is me who is the guy who ois writing. can modernism be a framework through which to introduce a new conception of informality being an interstitial practice? is this too theoretical complex worthless? i'm no guy who says things just a guy who does something occasionally without intellectual rigour with a british u and then what? how far can i veer toward practicality? i don't think i want to find that direction and doesn't it matter what people's consciousness of their world tells them? do they have to get caught up in the same ideology? i think not hope not and then too depressing otherwise. need to read some more, but not sure that will make that tonight. too much gossip, and i want to but finally learning that nothing comes of it. maturity little more than reticence. reticulated yes, that's the ticket i do believe we've made something let's call it an aphorism and then publish it under our pseudonym of gallopping androgyne, the third of a series of four who still claims tulsa as the place from which he most wants to derascinate himself. ahh bitterness hold it deep inside and treasure it, it's yours and informs all your colours. ok

Sunday, March 06, 2005

splinters of light, odious heat

and tonight i will not use the leopard print sheet, nor the down sleeping bag, nor stained sheet nor blanket blue; i've kicked my radiator and finally as winter will wane i have heat in my room good for me and small companions, my featherless feckless friends that wander in and out and not here hearing at the moment, but later perhaps will arrive in a rush of moral ambivalence all wet again. damn dusty desk. and that's that. weekend over in five and have decided that i must create jargon for my dissertation or i will be dissatisfied, becuase what is academia if not the reckless creation of jargon and proliferation of special words and tautology. lap it up little puppy big round belly jolly laugh spittle gathering at the corners of your mouth, forming spindly white threads as you open your mouth to admonish us to consider space lest we succumb to blind historicity. yes then that's what will be done. interstitial activity replaces informal activity in a world where failed states only serve to extend partial rigidities that overspecify in a context that can not endogenously contain all the actors and against which and complicit with the actors create some sociospatial outcome and that is my conceptualization in its first articulation and not the last but what interests me, no boring reduction to governance or bland, slippery informality no thank you manuel, i'll leave you off the abstract and jargon will save the world with flapping cape and avuncular grin. leave him be, he's good people, supports his troops and all, yours occasionally but not the chomskyite from jordan glasses and all, he'll be forgotten when the cape flaps, rustling noble wind. bury yourself in the treasury little man with delicate sensibilities, the nabateans are gone as far as we and indy understand. desert is left. she's still around and foreign and cancerous. she lives amongst deep holes that curve sinuously left and right and sometimes left again, a funny coincidence since she would never deign enter them or acknowledge that they exist as wonderful wonderful karst. tired little sleep soon.