Thursday, October 23, 2014

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Correspondence (5)

Summary: You know when you're watching a movie and you keep rewinding to the part before the hero is killed some billowing love scene or accidental  seance between  notions   of when  suspense is the most unreasonable    shield   all around   intermittent  acts of violence   / I really have to look at the world  from  inside their  heads      where shadows rotate and you can follow the time in shadows  /   shallow upsloped blindness of the blind  hero  saving everyone but himself  /  advanced    suicide  /  nobel  effort    ,    what is the afterlife       He can be evil   but you always like him           goodbye to sequences   but language  survives  them and we are born   teen   in the middle of a discourse  on motives   / and are not crushed   / and are not crushed      New habit  of reading  treaties where some abuse is reasonable     good stupid  people  getting married    fighting    wars /  all of us  

And I wanted to see what propaganda  does  to   the language   of us.  A fabulist's anatomy or stark distress, was it,  the pharaonic order of the jesters.   Does it become more elegant to snub  all  excess or does it begin to deflect   the  innocent extra in the background  there to make the scene    a home  within itself. Brightmoment. (echo) (echo with a difference) (Narcissus / trick or trick narcissus) More to say about morals  than   the morose way one line folds into pictures  of a whole community sorted by  the invention/fabrication of oneness. Otherness Blues. Ovanuss Ball. Negroes in vogue.  Prison Notebooks on the arm of a plush velvet sofa , phd students supple with theories that will  save the world  if only they were of the world. Can propaganda help us populate the other vision with no more scams  but  candid / some   dandy / some daddy     plath   ease  of reality   pretending to need a dream.  And   how will the icon fare  if he cannot  tapdance   when the amateur  assassin   saunters  in     to tell his story fast.    

Highlights: You know when you're watching a movie and you keep rewinding to the part before the hero is killed 
MLK was clutching a Newport  cigarette in one hand. His mistress was downstairs fixing her hair for dinner. Jesse Jackson and them were in the courtyard just beneath Martin's motel room balcony, allowing him to falcon for them, dressed like dandies  and value  systems   discussing  spirituals  and pigs   feet    all the doves   broke free   .   As the shot pierced his memory    he begged  one man to sing        him Stevie  Wonder   from  the future   sequence is over      please  tell your   story  fast    if you don't  it will come to   pass     In his breast pocket   a note about ritual   sacrifice   his witch  doctor's  advice  /  phone  number       someone kept it 

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Correspondence (4)

A/Symmetry: 

Let it be good to yourself

The exorcism  of Wu-tang  mountain    jam   jam jam jam    flow     elsewhere   woke up       in my   subtle   tokenism   with a casual  urge  to conquer  all sufferers    disguised as  ourselves

Masters  of running  clubs     nightclubs    private  temples      Booker Little  sound valves , apostles but

Nigga you still ain't mysterious      (I mean, abstract)     Massah  I mean    messiah   be mean to his own true style   just to get    a good trap   on the capital

So it was fun, to be in the future  

Inanimate dancer   some surly clouds  overhead like mammy robot arms /  O Oprah, what have you done

to the future,  what have you done to the suburbs     they're  underneath her  like   layer  cakes or tourists rubbing   a brass actor  buddha/ high speed dubbed to wu-tang   discussions  ,  what have you done    to the  rappers     distracted children    of  Japanese   immersion         gives    him the chills   when you     give  away   cars  

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Ritual     In the keeping   of soul  in tact  there  are neurotic  repetitive   magics   that show up   as  disdain  for the outside   world      a hidden language   so busy it cannot communicate.  I think our double icons (devil/god/ cons)   are the purveyors  of that  speech     and their ritual   is to fall  victim  to  the  ambivalence  as proof   of the eternal  worthlessness   of  struggle.   Struggle   is just a mode of production    superior to carelessness   , inferior   to terror      maybe.    All is full of love this way, by a strange default we join under : transcendence.  The water of our tendencies.    And   the ritual  of checking  things   has its  own scene  in the  arkive.    To wake up craving images   above even oranges,   is   a large    hybrid    of  afterlife and unlearned righteousness.    It begins   feeling imperative  to   have   one  subject    to wake up  to (as)       and trust  it's  image in handcuffs   on the internet   /   to imagine Cornel West    has   a   personal    life   nothing  like the public   one   is crucial  to the survival  or ritual  
 in a land where the sun kills questions.  






Monday, October 13, 2014