Wednesday

desiring machine

yes our desire machines are a kind of rhyme


that breaks, halts and skips again, skiiiiiiiddssssss and skips its likethe repeating line of hopscotch, the absurd little thought close to immanence



immance is like your face
like heR face leaning across the town the shadow breaking into her nose , her nape

Monday

Bodies Plateau 1999: Bodies and Subject/break doown

Mona was sleeping and reading and writing. Like her fathers Gilles she was racing past Jill their daughter. She was the persons of the pronouns and bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies and multiplcities and cities and cities cities and cities. Like virus and bacterias and viralogies and viragoes. It was like that sometimes with the harridan down lyric bow of her Sapphic Orphean strains. She was the one. She read past the pages of square and lair, she was the wolf without a home. She was taking him from behind, and she was I know where is an hind. She was the bric a brac barque and boat. She was the one where part for whole stepped past and whole was hole in its fragmentary parts. Like telephone wheels and sockets she was the lover of the pediment face and wheels. It was something like that something like the difference between the between space of difference and espace and escape while chutes fell and lover slipped one another over space and rhyme. Like cities and veins and veined armed god and goddess. Zoned she was, and Zone she was and turned the page, turning it, turn and turn. She turn the page and the:and the word eye she sees are these, the words read in the ledger of genderary and legendary dabblle-babble and flim-flam song of desire:
Lady Agan had writ in the bold words of the View: ...agan looks at the view of sexuality special to state
science from a broader perspective than that of socialized human animals.
The monolithic view.. body ... built not only on the basis of a socialnorm established by the European male...fined to zoocentrismWith Deleuze, she focuses on the fluid transmission of genetic materials across a continuum, where no boundaries seperate a body and its environment. Bacteria too have sex:side communication again.... Jill was in sidereal space against. . Mona had a sexy bacteria. She was a sideways sort of girl, which was why she was a double pederast, a female-male-lesbian without the testicles and testament of the male gender. Mona had a sexy sexy doublet. She was aninexact, an inexact.
___________________________________
"'The human body, she writes, 'is an archiectonic compilation of millions of agencies od chimerical cells' (S, 1992:367).__ Oohher head was Dizzy Miss.
-- She was the transit between millions, and, her agency had
long ceased being existenial. She was a depot between millions, a
fictionalized self body, chimera and griffon battled between them for her loyalties and circus cries of many circulated in her veins. She had not ceased being the existential nudity of the body, and was biologos becomings in waves.--- Her ruck fuck lover wrote,
and she quoted and wrote her words like a song of frills descending from her cunt:

Thee Human Body

"An environment (whose?)is a body and a body is an environment, and the formation of space is independant of this. `The Bwo is matter that occupies space to a given degree the degree corresponding to the intensities produced'(DaddyioUnlceGuattari...1980:189;1988:153) Aagan's copulation compilation body leads also to a different view of the health of a body" 'disturbances of the body's normal microbial ecology, do not, properly speaking, signal sickness so much as the emergence of difference and novelty' What Can a Body Do? AuntySagan:192:369). She cried and I cried helding her tears tearface in my hands. --Mona laughed when she read that. What a joking jesus hyperbole
bullshit was that, she thought. Nothing new there is there? Under the sun. All is vanity. A new microbe. A mic - robe a robe with many mics of sickness under it led to her cunt. Her cock and a young boy's body asunder supple dance of sickness and desire. She grabbed another cigarette and masturbated rapidly to the image Mage of the young woman's partially showing shown breast in the cafe. And the lesbianism of her partner's dominance. And old adjectives.


She pulled her cock and came on the keybboard splattering her copy of Jill's copy of Logic of Sex (English trans. Oxford Univ.Press:1990. Yammasummi and Giveit translations machine corps incorporated with revolutionary praxis included:5:95 paperback, 2 dollars hardbound as a hardon) where she saw the bodies microbe coming on her bacteria and she knew the virus as AdamKadmon knew Eve and knew she loved him them just like she had never loved another. Properly speaking she was sick to death, the sickness unto death and despair like a moment of infinite leap and repetition led her. She was a memori and memoir of a biologist and the living testament and teste of the deleuze approach to better living with Shakespeare. Not an old humanism for sure.

At that inexact moment Franny walked in. Sauntered with her pants down and the desire delire machine was all hers for the taking. She had a rabbit on her hat and nothing up her sleeve but permutated letters of love. She came in his face, his preface postface prologue and epi logue. It was the English language that cussed cursed and swore as to like that. She was In Transit and in the Sacred Night of his hands bodies. She was Jill and Jack and Jill when she was up and down the ladder. Of her happiness.

It's not my fault if I am a genius she said, then Jill who was Gilles sometimes and some of the spaces of the time it was repeated. And it was the window and the windhover of Christ the apple of the eye and the thing. Yes. she said.
Well Mona, I am going back to the book. She said. It was mine, my book, so why did she go back to it?

--This view of the body converges with that of my Stone, [which stone sheI wandered and got down my cuntcaveconchhorn and blew It was the GoDDess!!!!!!!!! blowing her Horn!! all Around the Cape!! the Cape the Cape!!!! of Desire! and she whooshed it on past him] [her stone was a song of desire's drunken boat and slow levre of livre and lip and booklipleave which cleave to thesoft soft buttock ofthe lip of the clip of the accent of her hooked hips young girl's shameless shamefilled filed bodies, my biology suits yours too!! she said and laughed him down to his lambent pains] but from a different direction. (Two Directions in one steeple. As one hard erection hints at one god Arising from the Dead thus Lent, this Advent thus kalendar with a K, o So catholic in yer beckonings and reckonings of time past and fast.) "Disturbances in the socially defined coherence of a body, [Artaud s.v.p. bodies without organs are not the same
as bodies without limbs, or bodies without lambs for that matter. She bent down and sucked her own candycone sex phallus cock. It was. And then she says. I am Pierre Guyotat and I bring you Rain and Thunder. So fuck my ass and sodomize me as I am playing with margin and transgress regress digress repress depress impress express] (Bodies fall apart like oil and commercials, what were they made of then, like abstract paintings cracking and peeling barely 30 years later) "in the correlation of "sex" and
"gender" do not, for Stone,hhe One Poet Suffer I saw Her, her, signal sickness or dysfunction, but autoexperimentation and invention."

_________ Invent your own body, said Mona. Invent your own death. She said.
Invent your own lips as you have stolen his. Invent your own




nightmare and wakes, feel my portmanteau words along your breast. Like a true soldat of love and hoooooooosssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhh we will be great lovers.

Sunday

deleuzeguattarionary the letter f Plateau 86

deleuzeguattarionary the letter f Plateau 86

jIll turned to Claire and said , the f is the sound of one concept tricking . And



The letter F is for


night, fun, the funambulist,racketeer, the safe cracker, cacker , knacker the holier than thou,
the loves of S,
swoon of seen

fumbler

ticket taker

book,
billeting

the marriage broker,

seconding,

blushing


the nigh horse, horse man, brigand the blackguard, mountebank,


cuffed shirted and collared.


So thern it is not chronological but ontological shifters and Jill was married to then, and her phonetic alphemes were buried.


There is nothing to explain and nothing to explain with.

Saturday

desire spellS worDs ovRR

making image meet word was Mona's second name and she was the one


yea ... yea.. like she's always said... it was the trundling of the trope that did the trick...
right?
yes...

slinking!




desire spells words over the image textural


she was there and she spelt Songs!

the Illiad: MoNa KneW a TroJan HorSe when she Saw One

Come all ye faithful a trojan horse, is not the [not a condom] [so many houses


forlorn] is not the same as an Illiad with a square

wheels. We won't make that the end of our prose. Not so for a second in the onion of rolling r's.


Now then, shall we, say, not so, okay, well what, not single, what? I can't no, I know, okay, well what of it, wherefore? not so hence good boy, pardon me, what was that, perish the thought, perishing of pershing of p.d.f. hunger and the bugger went and got away with it, do you really care, it's virtually a fact, no, partically I mean, no it's meant, practically, what are you speaking to , then it was , O yes, the wise women and their knelt down postures and her moue little lip look


in the altar pew


Is that a Ulysses frown I see over your face? oh come, tell me bad faith is the fiat of signs, and my heart beats faster for you everyday,


confess

fess up to her inside wealth, there is no burr sticking to your chin.

O hexameter of doubt and the Cartesian blade inside a stovepipe of victorian pandies. Pantie? no, pandies, whatsoever they be.

Be, she speaks of be, well we become not so weak as the shackle of rock and supple belts and bullets across your mouth and your teeth! O teeth trap of civilization.



Now Mona didn't care one cent for that, and she didn't write that way, it was around the rhomboid she made her best vest. Not so, against interests and investments there was an effigy of the future! the tense that never arrived, and her students were crying to the babies of their own desie. he wanted to hug them, make love arriving at the shore after night.


So it was like that,


he held her hand swinging in the night.


Mona became him. Mona him. Mona hymn





Friday

theE AuthOr doin'the Dance of hExplIicationzz

You really wonder how can , how an author, can, when textdesiremachines mowed out the delire of the author, Anyhow, we 'll call it a poke at the pope, a snipe at the authorship principle, a nick in the nab, a drag at the wake, a scent in the trite,

and a mOre the Mona the better




others fused the idea of 'Man's death' with the disappearance of the author he were not the same as same was not the homogene






The auThor Doing the Dance of ExplIcationsS! Posted by Hello



http://www. Some author image disappeared


not the gene of dexterity its raptures alongthe side of the head
and her hungry head

body


not something like this

which p
assed

along desire's vein

its fallen widow


near the open
garden


Wednesday

scaf fold errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

one thousand a night a day a scaffold it tries climbs on I professor Butler open the ancestral

bane bath of nights and day



____________
big dog of pig
an grunt


pigeist!


 what? you're then an now a dog! bark! bark!


____________

rifted the plugged in meat  ~

_______________the dancing singer  ~


_______________



Monday

they are gone gonu know thathe third person of your

Jill was reading herself backwards, the selves aslave to the knightnight and was balk the awkwardwalking one over the cyberspaces of her virtual bodycabinet . the moon and stars and


there are no churches. they are gone gone. you know the third person of your text suggets as much. but what person is a third person that places itself in the missive of disappearance, what responsibility does the performer owe? where this notion, is this a newer troper, a new trooper of the Against, of against?

shall the text peep aroundthe corner making itself weep? She has no've idea, Recame across this log ...a chance divination of poetry and things... w'ords things, oh that is some sort of

allusion to foraging...? Use... your hands at first for a long time and the first shall be last, or is that desire's other name? will weeping never stop and the ranges along the text never repeat their names, again?




You've not cannot recall the rest it was lost on the moment as it passed the moment of its mentation its grief its space through matter and the body

no one needs a manifesto to make these poems happen it
s a happenstance
hmm that was writ fast very so. like writ on water the name of keats vanished in the water. his name was writ on water.... so then the little errors become -- a becoming -- little tiny poetic sites, expressions of the vain desire to unity and its
terrific impulse to make things




Mona that was writ fast very so. like writ on water the name of keats vanished in the water. his name was writ on water.... so then the little errors become -- a becoming -- little tiny poetic

sites, expressions of the vain desire to unity and its
terrific impulse to make things

Saturday

~Din(s)

when the wind befell the human becomings there was dust on the sun across the ages of busking as harlequin yankers twirled their page


din of chirascuro over hail of night

was the soft place in legs inspiration failed in the wan light unmasks Mona`s taker


she dins the striation of earth`s belly