yea yea

the nights of wisdom yea yea yea year by year the toll the rolling dog of bay and breath its sheer fright rouh to ten edge of toil
some have heard its keen ledge not frighted by day.

the wisdom of prism and dice. or kept princes. not puffed up day. or piffle in mouth over blowing overward the orchard of carrying on benders. Jill hunker inthe wind. Mona trailin` geese near by a petition of lithe. Hands to keep her lover. Not staired by weir and other pacing beasted demon come to her him in the middle of night. Breath. Ah, this, this , her , lover. Indeed.

What begat Jill to hunt her theory of the freed babe by the loss of lust its eye wind along the turned banister of its evocation spent and confectionary as any museum soldier. Not wished by boot and prayer, or bot and bitpiece. not Some flood of Tamburlaine over buggering war its enemy smashed city killing soldats. Their doldrum the deadending the death of others always, hard voice, roupy thought. Its caught death in ruby wake up twilight.

Not of the gods, and other things, but other things.

Some words of the ghost TeXt

Some words of the ghoSt TeXt

Ghost Guattari haunt Mona,d Jill passed then by the window slowing snowed her bodies into the pavement, missing the inventions of gods et dieuxz... the belly button that unhooks to leave the arse falling away...v oids upon voids dripping its ooze and primal slosh.Here were the words Of Uncle Guattari`s :I am God most of the time when I dont have a headache, when Ithink of everything and nothing, when I'm not slipping down any Satanic slope... Then I understand quite well that one might settle oneself downin God or that one might settle him on a pedestal. I will not repr oach --- Jill was happier to read this than any day.anyone for that.On the other hand, I can conceive that artists may feel obliged to - Yes on the other hand, of Mona`s double delivery articulations, there was an arcane =--uproot that sort of comfort. Consider neuroleptic divinity; consider the vertigo of abolition; consider the extreme moment of creation.Is that to say that God might only be the privelige of thesimple-minded? An atheist like Pascal screams out God like a wild beast. And that is intelligence stripped bare.It would be advisable to distinguish God from belief. It is from the latter that all fool[folly]-ery stems. God is only a spell cast upon existence. He comes along like hail, sometimes dew or storm. Bel ief in turn, puts onairs of freedom; ups the stakes; imposes itself; stretches itself out over the socius.Isabelle Stengers wrote me one day to ask on which conditions and at what price I could do without God..... The answer is not speculative; it is a thorn in the flesh. All of that costs a great deal. It's inconceivable!Unbearable! Sauve qui peut! And God for all.thebreath worketh the night.heart beat, huffed and revved. bustedup guff. be well in a hurry. chair of light. settle downing dustling.

.Can You dig saith Jill deReader how it works, now.. as Mona tapedeck is busted wheel of nirvana she is wall by wall sideway walk to the saunter field. of Raise the dead. the Riant lute of summer.

I, Pierre Felix Guattari the Second(e)

Jill reading Tristram d'amourish moorish reading the old bore. was song to felt then ending old trade of this day ward piece from loggers field. it was knighting not dignified. cussing.its woo_ward play of
The nice thing about Baudrillard is the way he dies;
real rock n' roll, all simulation and not suicide, all prat falls and no blood, no blood on the tracks and noknife at the throat a la Issac

(the story of

, Pierre Felix Guattari the Seconde.
Now if that is not a phony signature what is it? is it the tail of Mona metaphor,or Jill's Franny on the high hill of breath^
come now all old ye faded full preachers of denim and coil.


and and

And, and, and.... Franny and Felix went for a walk,a perambulating stroll across the talks oftimeand their howl me down stairs...Rena called and asked in her telegrammatical:And on a completely other topic, here are some questions about the Felixer culpa side of the Deleuzion of grander desire machine of mysteri deleuze and guattari. Was Franny Guattari Gay-tarri? While reading the TLs review of Alliez, Goodchild and others Mona saw these words:"Guattari was a militant gay activist..." Now was Felix all gay or part of the way; was he a bisexual built for two? Who was Emmanuelle Guattari, a daughter? a lover? a wife? Mona snorted and stamped her feet.Of course He was a million minority sexes and then some. SO what did itmatter?A photograph of Guattari in drag with Genet recently showed up ina biography of a former gay rights worker in France. Also was he not in astate of desirous pederasty and yet still fathering children on the molarlevel? Was he in the transversal translation of denial and in effectsublimating his hetero-sexual connections by donning the gay mask ofrebellion?So Mona sighed and wondered what had become of her lover.There are 'scandlous' re-lations [amorous and others] be-hindevery list, as there are be-hind every list of lovers. Was Jill the loverof the Fanny fanny man? Was Jill a lesbian pretending to be a harriedmarried mad professor? Will only the final episode reveal and disclose thesecret clandestine sexualities of the guattari-deleuze couplet?Mona sighed. Franny laughed and all good lovers went to bed.


Orpheus loVed FriDa

Orpheus loved Frida because he was Frida, like she was Artaud. and so it was the schizophrenic fire burned all night.

In his


in her broken


in his borrowed brokenness of all the wars fought down by the dogs of time,
the daughters
of time.

Nietzsche's Daughter.

Mona was thinking herself. Its life she said.


Each second shes my child, my newborn babe, every little while, every day, two hours and more holding this, he is my own self

shes holding his rag to her face ....
....The most interesting thing about the so-called lies....----ego is that, sooner or later, the ones involved in the imaginary tale get angry, not because of the lies, but because of the truth contained in the lies, which always comes forth....

"Being the ------ is the most marvelous thing in the world...I let him play matrimony with other women. ----- is not anybody's.... never will be, but ---... is a great comrade."

In a letter to a close friend Frida wrote, "You too know that all my eyes see, all I touch with myself, from any distance, is ---.".

and this pain her body burned was his, was like his, was his metaphor his her metramophosis


Doctor Difference Duffy Almost

worked in her noetic consciousnesses
Everything is Deterritory

and now.


biographeo guatariodeleuzo ~

biographia Guattarodeleuzo

Now Sir do you think this new? as yer sides or thighs?


Oh Franny! said Jill one fine dadadata day I need a word phiter
for my finny reelof spinning difference. Show me the way to the deistic
master-piece of Mr. teste and Madame Virgin. I need to translate nails
into holes, and troubles into wholes. Where is the night which speaks the
name of fold and fairytale, the schizo sorting out machine of short-cut
and unkempt in the brain trails of the word which was Mr. Plato's? Franny
stared at Jillwith disbelief. I am your wife-becoming not your research
scholar or editior don't you realize that?

Mona called and came by reading a book backwards on prose poetry
and falling in love with letters ever written glasses on backwards and
said remember me: I am the video of memory and desire, and the night is
the first molecular revolt. Then recordings which work backwards and
desires that peel. I have no summer halt on my brains. I am the non-dead
precursor of summer and wind. Recall the good old days when anxiety was at
a premium and the stores were filled with thought and the rainbow was the
ever receding horizon of our future.

Like that said Jill and let the book rest in her lap. After coming
back from Spain they played the rhizome-rat scattering in space's seven
dimensions and disappeared through many passages in long books. And itwas
so good in French.

But O O O that Guattarian rag its so elegant so intelligent.

'On nous a reproche d'invoquer trop
souvent des litteratures. MAIS, la seule question quand on ecrit,
c'est de savoir quelle autre machine la machine litteraire peut
etre branchee et doit etre branchee pour fonctionner.'

Tzarazthustra called Jills and Franny weeping after these words of
flood and fled.
In Spain we were very real.