Antipathy towards recording anything that could be held in ,,, a misunderstanding of how memory works. From the smile of the Buddha, he gazed up into the lush, green canopy and understood ,, the time he’d been in the harbor, its negative aspect — a variety of religious elevations : I got the hell out of Dodge. Skepticism, rather than in its more positive form : “cosmic revelations” seen by the blooming eye under the skull, slowed his acceptance to the agency of magical powers in Tangier. Incantations carried out in the market ,, it’s the proper way even if one must leave suddenly.
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[28.vi.23.a : Wednesday / #NL001AA] Some say it is profound that he would dedicate those moments of agony, the color of some pirates who cut through these columns of text : the heat of the virtual, for K. became the assimilation of propagating escape routes through fields of indigo poppies and the faces of saints hunting him down and carrying him to their preserved moments … so that no one would paint the sea churches, the ships on which martyrs revived as though they were giving notice. I left without being seen.
accused of “interpretevist sabotage” ( literally : shoe leather and wooden souls gumming the works of the machinic ghost ) / don’t talk to me about textualist postmodernism constituting the inevitability of life in the last train out of Shanghai. Time is an * / Much later for B. the faith and illuminators of sacred writings by converting a man who had been hanged into an entity known as “the custodian of future books” :: It is written that texts stored in the morgue are filled with style. Far from constituting a sub version (those lost tourists of the Titanic) and brought back to life … a theme which has become so familiar [the postmodern celebration of libraries for detached eyeballs ,, what visions did bring luck to their venture and (even) to me recently. It seems in my case, these processes (note taking specifically) consummate a representative realism exhibited in B.’s random attachment to lemurs (an alternate evolutionary pastime) : surrendering it to the role the human eye would hold? with a scalpel ensure protection against fate, so that I can hide. It’s one of those worlds which take several decades to surface. He removed the retina from a giant … from which he’d been rescued … places les plus sûr au monde. B. was unsure who was running from insectoid aliens and with wires (it is a short step into a dimension where someone else’s body danced electrically while he was still insensible) to the safest place in the world, for, being too concerned with definitions of success and failure ,, and failing to success. Until the end of his life he struggled to connect Donavan’s brain with the pirates (who rubbed henna ink into the scars left by the rope around his neck) and the existence of a world independent of the Ugly Spirit. Remarking altogether those instructions read out at dinner time and after evening mass. the obvious place … I think that the
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[5.vii.23.a : Wednesday] While the oppression persisted, blazing a new, tiny black & white video monitor displaying the hemp marks cut into his neck to embody the attraction this street exercises on the fiction of H.P. Lovecraft. Images on the screen granted him horrific insight so that we could all see the final stage in the process. He always seemed to have a red rope … what is known wouldn’t occur ,, “God” — He was convinced the boxed-in, shadowy figures were images of the aliens’ lifeforce : the rope was always around his neck ,,, Jonah, a theorist whose work could be broadly classified : such operations implied that anyone could look for him there ,, in that place where powerful forces were conspiring last minute, an unexpected orgasm claiming to have learned the secrets of time. Since arriving, I’ve asked about his annotations and the possible interest in those “others” who are invading present time. After the jolt, the supreme spasm of death on the gallows which gave off an exemplified amplification of already vivid impressions, I was mistaken. If I was myself one of those who had inhaled ether or injected the affliction of alien power giving me invincible skill as a swordsman, I would have been left hiding at the Hotel Attraction, near the entrance to the Cthulhu Club waiting for the delivery of loosely defined commentaries. Recalling themselves as having once been real, users of morphine hang in the noose like a man who knows how to live in the hope that someone will (indeed!) provide a description of the Virus. Evidence supporting K.’s assertions concerning these hypothetic images displayed on the tiny black & white screen will leave no place for death to enter without providing proper identification and proof of insurance. Perhaps simply a pictorial series will find me there ,,, and quick !! In fact, if one examines this page carefully, one will discover that every eleventh word belong to a period after the “1958 episode”. Passage from one world to another, and with such sexual prowess that I didn’t want to be found? In the original text, one discovers evidence for transformations. He knew what he must do with his hands so that no man or woman can resist yesterday’s unequivocal (gestural) language. (Having no words of his own, he “borrowed” others’ : an improvised sign written in black sharpie on crumpled parchment and nailed to the gallows above/up his dangling corpse.) B.’s work after 1958 … during this period, it was a life of discipline to find collaborators who would run their fingers along the marks. Very small — almost implausibly so — passages indicate a radical shift in direction. The science of thanatology employs techniques whose sole purpose is to oppose reality. The mere sight of the hemp marks on the small black & white screen … at the reception desk, I went on to defend the notion that the original was too convincing to be composed wholly of fictions. A badly written exposition charts a flight from old processes evolving into those he would employ for the next two decades. He experimented with a rope around his neck to instill weakness & terror of the Internet. I entered my email address and stroked the return key with special urgency to gain access to the sophisticated techniques offered by the apparition of Death Him or Herself (as the case may be). When Death found the address, and, as I suspected, thereby making functional use of signs to produce these cut ups and fold ins :: new methods developed after 1958 became Time War tactics. The function of controlled strangulation is to impart what it feels like to be hanged. At first, I received messages from my accidental publisher which were summaries of a prerecorded universe concerning my research into autoasphyxiation. I was sensible of great pain due to Barcelona. Only from friends who have been most widely embraced does one receive preferred switchblades. The rope passes through a pulley attached to the ceiling and the weight of his body hangs from the balloon seance as an investigation. His spirit resides for a time in acquaintances as a manifestation of the efficacy of the rope causing the brutal interruption of a strangely violent commotion. I didn’t know who, sometimes, committed deliberate acts by closing the larynx in order to produce a few blazing images on the tiny black & white screen. When I pressed upwards, I was surprised that I hadn’t responded to improvised aesthetic exercises in committing to speak memory in so loose a way as to produce grand hallucinations recorded as traces of light. My eyes seem to go out with the lights, but everything ends with the intrusion of representative realism : a persistent theme in his fiction. In the library, every phase gyrated as a wave of darkness fell when the flashbulb burst. I lost all sense of pain after leaving Barcelona : absolutely all, in such astonishment and without referent. Producing a horror … the descent into unconsciousness was cut down. I felt such intolerable initiations as the rope cut into the flesh of my … After two or three short messages, beyond scientific interest caused by the pain from the prickings & shootings of a few insipid pleasantries ,,, of not intervening in the board rooms and torture banks where electric flashes clouded the eyes. As my blood and spirits returned, practically no one insisted on the illusion of pristine textuality. Who would spend the rest of their life plotting a new stage of experimentation in quotation from the History of Torture. If everyone assumed the messages of evidence of a denied discourse describing the crushing feeling of … by pulling on the free end of the rope, the reader may question my assertion that I’d first learned of Bulgakov’s The Master & Margarita from an extensive search that ended up in the spam bucket, encrypted in advance by malign forces. Shall we now convene the keepers of the board books? Those who don’t want anything to change without first touching the ground with one’s … without time to write this account … without having disappeared. No one saw the first episode when it was broadcast because of the intervention of world events, the implications of which left his feet immobile, his face serene and prepared for a sea voyage ,, on a ferry outbound from Naples, I made very short notes by way of example. He asked me why I wasn’t a spy. Spying on whom? That thing inside him? I live within constant proximity to the depths of the morgue with the intent of expanding my investigation each evening at my desk & writing