nocturne communique/nocturnal e-mission my range of voice: the constitutive binaries: humanist universalism vs. heterophobic queer separatist romantic porn vs. violent porn twee sissy indie pop vs. screamo riot grrrl prep school vs. lumberjack
textual relations/e-ruptions i was young and i was bleeding. the sun was shining. it's a cruel logic but not one for which i'm about to assert an apologetics.
i was thinking of/about you ad infinitum. infinite yous. but also somehow the same you, just over and over again. don't die in me, which is to say stay alive in me.
nocturne communique/nocturnal e-mission a dance into spring is a dance into life
textual relations/e-ruptions when i was born mercury was in 07 degrees aries and venus was in 06 degrees aries. it used to be that spring began when the sun moved into aries. an unfurling. the vanishing. he. she. we moving in circles round the sun. a day is less 24 hours than it is one degree in rotation. days/degrees. a degree isn't a level; it's a partial revolution. may queens dancing round my maypole. whirling dervishes ribbon dancing. happy slapping. the radical shift in perspective (psychological) that must have occured with the advent of the aeriel view. the suspicion of "what if no one's watching" vs. the confirmation that i am or that everyone is.
on the right the sound of children playing and on the left the sound of music mounting. and tell a story of love between him and servant, of him asking after him as he dies.
little princely daniel, are you a little prince? are you the top or bottom? are you the witch or vagabond? the bitch is back. necking in the dark and fucking in the strobe. "fuck the social order and the child in whose name we're collectively terrorized; fuck annie; fuck the waif from les mis; fuck the poor, innocent kid on the net; fuck laws both with capital ls and with small; fuck the whole network of symbolic relations and the future that serves as its prop." --lee edelman, no future
sadism is thus considered "a direct manifestation of the death instinct." nocturne communique/nocturnal e-mission if i could jus breathe the smoke straight from yr lungs, i might learn to love yr dusty breath and yr lover tongue. textual relations/e-ruptions the sound is fingers on a keyboard. always the sound of falling asleep. always the sound of distance. yr distant fingers - from me, from the screen. i am the screen. the sound makes me want to scream. but this morning all i hear is digital rain. a white rectangle disintegrating into light, moving left to right.
could you kiss me with yr russian mouth? after i met yr parents on an aeroplane? after i saw yr boyfriend's hat and his laugh? language's flaw is its necessary forward progression. this is our flaw. that one should act in anticipation of future actions. that one remembers and memorializes. i showed you a photograph of myself and you said it was a photograph of someone you would never know and i said me neither.
one is necessarily a tourist in time, but i never feel like it's the end of the world here. like ellipsis and not aporia. let's make a new significance. rearrange the primacy of primacy, the expectation that i will speak and when i do that it will make sense, the acceptance that because events occur in time then this one is more important than that one, this one is true and that one is false. the modern will be replaced by the simultaneous, patience by incontinence. what i was seeing was two horizontal cables bisected either horizontally or vertically by a line, but i'm getting rid of it altogether. we are getting rid of it all together. going back to tectonics. we'll be above it by then, or we'll be evolved by then, and tears and age and chocolate - technologies of the past - won't have any bearing anymore. nothing will but analogical and relational friction. LOOK! acne - underwear spring / summer 09 bat for lashes - daniel d word faithfull's story set for screen emma mcnally periodic table of typefaces patti smith - tom snyder interview, 11 may 1978
nocturne communique/nocturnal e-mission we live in a period of abstract nouns.
textual relations/e-ruptions dispatches from the underground and two boys descending into the woods and sweet revenge.
i am smoking. my backpack is full of poetry books. i smell like lavender soap. there could be / are worse things. what are the limitations of a clean break? to be washed in the blood of the lamb? i think maybe stevie and maggie know.
if i don't know who you are, then i don't know who i am.
role reversal. reversible roles. white basketball shorts. red lions and white hearts.
p.s. thank you max steele for writing everything down cuz either i have context or i have content, but a girl has really got to have both to remember and self-narrativize properly.
Takes notes from a movie box Make a list of what I need Remember who you are, remember who you are But then, I can't feel good about anything And just when i get something started I read or hear something, that makes me forget My confidence or honesty What are my motives are they selfless enough, Are they righteous, righteous enough? Then before I get started, I get all fucked up Can't get sick of thinking about meaning or language or anything that gets me hot Make up who you are, it makes up who you are Then I found myself dancing alone in my room I was writing in my journal, playing records When i felt my shoulders slide from side to side I found the bass in my hips Being alone brings courage and strength of mind Take off your shirt and watch TV Remember who you are, and make up who you are But then I just want a public place Where girls can meet each others stare Sometimes that's what it takes just to know you're alive To feel yourself burning just from some girl's stare My that's a strange costume Slip your fingers under my belt Put up signs to make up who you are Send out signals telling who you are Transmit messages about who you are No matter who you are --team dresch - remember who you are
nocturne communique/nocturnal e-mission a particular place called party: a dissatisfied dreamer awakes, goes out in the night seeking 'a light' and is drawn through the needle's eye. a dream of a dream, he returns to bed less empty than before. he returns to bed with an invisible arm round his waist. seduced, abandoned, and left in tatters.
textual relations/e-ruptions make-up is a weapon. it's all over my face. the formative difference is that between reading and recital. whether or not a text is provided you that you are capable of recalling and recollecting without recourse to its origin. the point at which mediation has become naturalized. could recital be forced? fruit in a red liquid forced down yr throat only for the release in seeing it issue forth from yr mouth.
in dreams (february) we have been fed ecstasy so that we could be pornographically filmed fucking. (peaks)
we are in a class on film making. she is drunk and dancing on a table. i am concerned she is going to knock over the wine.
a bakery box full of puppies.
you own a building of white space. delicately scrawled in black pencil, the labels of that which each room contains.
ADULT BABY + DEADPAN SENSUALIST + DISAPPOINTED LOVER + DISKO DICK + DISSTHENTIC ACADEMIC + ENFANT TERRIBLE + ENGINEER OF BRICOLAGE + HOMOTEXTUAL ARTIST + ITINERANT BEGGAR-POET + MOMENT MAKER + MYSTERY PRIEST + PRISONER OF LOVE + RELUCTANT GENTLEMAN + SCHIZOID + SHY HUNTER + SLY FOX + STALWART LOVER
"Oh, Renoir"—it sounds like "au revoir." It sounds like the exclamation of a sculpture connoisseur! Together, it sounds like a farewell to bloated artistic declarations.
"A Journal"—A locked and flowery journal written in by a twelve-year-old girl. A scholarly journal. ((As s)cholar.) The combination of which—twelve-year-old girl scholar—seems apt enough, if not particularly apt, of describing the mental trappings of so many of our college-educated twenty-something peers. An eagerness in the wrong direction. Knowledge funneled through inexperience. Curiosity will kill our cool cats. Really, this is a sketchbook.
