Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Today I found myself wishing I were in a public stall while I took a shit so I could imagine the Writer next to me, beating off to the obscene noises I was making.
A strange way to say you've been missing someone.
Reading Massumi and reading Arendt and reading Deleuze and reading Bifo. Fuuuuuck.
I miss my friends.
I feel like Reagan or something. That's what post-alpha means? Suturing the semi-automaton, half-a-person amputee status of life into the desire for completion. Still, always wondering: where is the rest of me?
How many of us are just bad actors, then?
Autistic, like.
I have to figure out a way to write a paper I feel I've read myself beyond. It feels like regression, an anachronistic in-folding to imagine myself writing it.
Chew.it.up. SPITITOUT!!!
catches, snags, stickiness, chalky rustiness. A tear, a rip, a shlop or a creak. All betray the machine is running.
The ball as part-subject: the foot as transductor, the field and polarizing goals as inductors, the ball as catalyst: the play of the game... moves.
I wanted to hear more about the rules. Autistic as I am, I wanted to know more about the rules. Not because I'm, like, a queer negationist (the negative of my oppressor is my freedom, whatever that means), trapped in the logic of repression (transgression yields pleasure, pleasure is unruly, unruly is freedom), but because I'm one of these queer kids stuck and creaking, snagged and caught, between text and image, between new and old media, unable to quite yet synthesize a bridge--or better still, a logic--that would render rule-making fluid (again), playful (again), loose and easy (again?).
I like you to s.p.e.l.l.-i.t.-o.u.t. and then I like you to let me rewrite it back to you. to get the ball rolling. To begin a relational correspondence.
The conjunctive language of the body is often discovered as a "missed connection" ad. I read it too late. I'm looking for a connection. FASTER!
SLooooW down.
Slow down? I feel like a zombie. Like a classical zombie. Not a contemporary zombie, tweaking and speeding, ravenous, rabid. A pre post-alpha zombie: somewhat pathetic, slow, hungry, but not quite there. (the beauty of "Zombieland": classical zombies, contemporary post-political world.)
I was so obvious, it seems, in that class. She read me... (like a book?)