Sunday, September 25, 2016

Suffering as self-enjoyment - Kolozova

Enjoyment and suffering no longer establish opposition. They are both instances of the lived, of the sheer experience that takes place as “suffering,” in the etymological sense of the Latin word passio.
One is subjected to a sensation, be it pleasure or pain, which takes place in the defenseless body through the instance of pure exposure and vulnerability. Similarly, Laruelle’s “the lived” is called
le joui, regardless of whether it is the product of the infliction of pain or pleasure. “It is the undivided (of) pain—yet not determined by it—as the undivided lived of joy, but never their synthesis, not even immanent.” (Laruelle, Theorie des Etrangers, 225)   The unilateral, mute instance of the lived in Marx’s text is called suffering, regardless of whether it is the result of violence or a sensation of pleasure. 
[...] the object is the manifestation of the human reality, [...] it is human activity and human suffering, for suffering, humanly considered, is a kind of self-enjoyment of man. [Marx, “Third Manuscript,” in Marx, Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844.]
Suffering is self-enjoyment, not because of some vague masochistic inclination, but because it represents a surpassed alienation. Pain situates us in the real of ourselves. The real is the instance one inhabits prior to any “making sense out of it”—in anteriority vis-à-vis language—it precedes any possibility of abstraction (including that of “abstract activity and a belly”).  Laruelle’s “joui sans jouissance” is one of the “first names” of the real that we all are in the last instance. [Laruelle, Théorie des Etrangers, 222] It is the enjoyed, without the idea of “enjoyment,” without conceptualization or a philosophy of enjoyment, without attaching it any sort of value.

From Katerina Kolozova's Toward A Radical Metaphysics of Socialism, p 15-16.


Monday, September 5, 2016

THE BODY OF CON ED (by Kathy Acker)



it is holy. It gives us the telephone, the TV, electric utility bills with our bright names typed on them & short breath. It supplies us with all these plugs to suck on. If only there were pills I could take while looking down at the city all aglow with Con Edison light. I’m so thankful.  If only there were such a thing as guilt pills




At work I rub the customers’ backs with chloroform & slap their sagging stomachs with my palms. To everyone but me it sounds like applause, but to me it sounds like somebody’s teeth flapping in the wind. Or for lunch we take LSD & eat the crumbling company Fritos. Nickels taped to our eyeballs so we won’t envy the fellow next to us & count the # of corn chips in his bag. A man cant be expected to sweat his life away for three bags of corn chips a day. We go on strike



I want a new name. I also
want a new set of gimmicks or a getaway. Anything but this blood-flavored gum. Uh, as we approach NYC from the turnpike gears of this sweetness jam my face
with the milk of human kindness. The left eyebrow of Zeus knits furiously

All this furor incorporated by the
state of
it is holy. It gives us the telephone, the TV, electric blue light we work our sheepish looks over. Polo shirts & sunglasses are the most useful combination. Grow a weak heart & somebody will make you famous. When that sand rubs against your eyeball it is all you can do. It sounds like I’m using a ventriloquist again. I saw you on TV, Mr. Levenson




The novel has killed the point of view.  Tonnage of the stock exchange stuck deep to your bowels. I hand you my shirt as evidence, it cracks you up as horrible food so often does. At work, I subscribe

Who? You walk in the room, pose in front of the mirror. Tiny mirrors on your pocket book too. Beautiful streamers of someone’s hair flow out of your sides. Fantastic vibraphone solo by Karl Berger. 2631 Garfield Street   Still no one suspects

At work, I subscribe to a new game. Them that make us do sit-ups (timed) & apply for dress regulations. Otherwise you’re fired & not enough time in for unemployment. I had some pimples so I couldn’t fuck. Couldnt keep it up for the blood-tests. Confidential information. We just show the psychologist & then throw the results away. Sure I’m reading Downbeat Magazine, what do I care




My name is Robert Jordan & invented the sit-up. Is another poem, no, senor?  I eye the alphabet on your tits. Sonny Sharrock on the guitar

Dave said.
Disguised as a great man, I could fool millions.
Richard said.
I used to think my life was headed nowhere. Now I know it was there all the time



you were great, Mr. Levenson

He slurped some saliva back…   tried to pick up this wo-
into his face                  man at the bar, saying
how life-like she was. Silicon pellets in his fist of authority


As I sit here writing I sit here with a glass of dead beer stumped on my face. Stump. In my head French sounds like Chinese. That is because I’m on the other side of the earth. I fell through this hole one day. Oil slick leakage out of my pores. It has been a major influence on my life. As you have, you fucker, ashes on my breastplate & miles to go before that scum of memory on the eyes clears up like an old case of acne. Toad, you wear such vague pants. Your head punctures one cloud of pain only to take on another. While the small people grow pimples at the supermarket
That stab in the bathroom

should be called “Max’s Famous Spittle”. A twinge in your heart when we go to the bar & you try jerking me off under the table. A gasp when he tore out his stomach. Then I roll around in some corn flakes & try selling myself to a museum as an artifact




But you spelled yogurt wrong & you play all that lousy music. That’s why I didn’t accept your suicide note. I wadded up several dollar bills & stuffed them in my palms. All my fucking friends I said. The editor said. Today there are men squawking against the lurid sky. It was on the Ed Sullivan Show

Tie back your hair, lady
you’re dead. Your skin came
off in a bath these humans
call love. Worth five cereal
boxtops. Oh, Hollywood, you
suck! I cant remember a past
this dismal




I had a couple of beers & started to undo my voice, but the zipper got stuck. The stomach in the ice-bucket. Throbbtt. You fucked up on this one rather badly. I think you do better to go to an operation somewhere. Shoot up. Roll the tongue around in a bit of mucus. Clang, clang goes the napkin holder against his head             ,  is holy

the lights of Con Ed go out     we crosst our chests
      
                      Nor
                          do
                             I.



[Note: from unsigned mimeographed mss circa mid-70s; not found or referenced in her on line archives]

Friday, September 2, 2016

Physical apparatus


"In the first place we must distinguish life from mentality. Mentality involves conceptual experience, and is only one variable ingredient in life."   -Whitehead







A vegetable is a democracy
To the slaughterhouse with rest of you
I took the hinge right off the door
Facing imminent doom
& fell out of bed
Brute force speaks only one language
More ducks to rabbits
More noise to order
Lessons before jumping
Lies, cheating and so forth
Human adaptation yes
Interlineation no
If the body is a laggard
The heart bleets
Poetry's triumph
for its internet of things

Saturday, August 20, 2016

Denial of service

Option anxiety equals
No shirt no shoes
Equals inadequate social surfing
Equals marketing is all we do

Before signal and noise
Before good and evil drew a blank
I found zombies
Mailboxes in your mouth
Back when everything was fucking everything
The biohistory of indiscriminate sharing
Free genetic exchange
Ease and disease
The gag so-called Flowers tangled in what
Power notes
Startled before
No escape
Just interstice & collapse
I embraced negative space as
Or in relation to
the Commons
Receptacle for everything

Signed, Nature




Saturday, August 13, 2016

Monster@footnote.com



Hostile
heart of labyrinth
Each step 
between who knows 
and ‎what thinks

Transmission precedes infection1
All manner of ‎peeled skin
Interstice of dobro and drum
avoiding the b-side
Verbs destroy nouns
All nouns

Now that I have your attention
Connoisseurs who write for no one
Awaiting g-spot
In with the in-crowd
Standing adjacent to forked logic
Called in to request lost lyric 
to whom we owe everything

Missing address  
If the house always wins
Dispositif to no one
Contrast not opposition
Immanent to the choice
to which we are obliged
Please please please 
& thank you thank you

Parasite and host
said to excite no Trojan horse
I swept my mouth off the floor
made myself into a good meal
To inhabit fable as prey
to gut the lambs
gull and starfish
to swallow something
completely


______________ 
1 Mother of all madrassas
I learned to shed tears
In a factory called love

Monday, August 8, 2016

Thickset v Hotglue


My tongue
stretched for miles
Swath of leg kicks
Cannibal browser

I hedge in the folds
& fell prey
Even Dr. No knows what Red means
The Russian yacht's flag
Ideals of thought
Drowning in the instant
soup – not formulary
but approximate route or canal

The authority to love
By percentage
Points relative to observation
Exactly how a word
between lips
converged or
convicts

I was guilty before
Immeasurable space
Between pocket
knife and wrench
‎My confusion
Axioms of grief
They, she
The care taken

All pigeonholes & parsnips
‎Error registers
what body cashed out
Depleted in absence
I dreamt of cake walk
at donut shoppe
No number primed to answer
the stubborn fact


Sunday, June 26, 2016

Say love your hurt reason

Say Murder - now for the real thing!
For good or evil engaged
For spectacle
For a magical and orgiastic state
For heights fortified with knowledge
This one is beautiful very beautiful
Just as Hercules is useless very useless
Epicurus set down his weapons
Hydra boar lion - the forum covered with corpses

This Oedipal connotation as in
Contraries cohabited in the black box
If you are an African American debtor
Less monstrous burning clouds
We froze upon hitting the air
Shipwreck perhaps with 30k survivors
Her hair shall have what color it pleases

For mortality as Melville understood it
For the mind of North America
Sliced in three - no house, ship or palace
In pursuit of fast food sponsors
Mouths minds and markets
‎Squadrons and adventurous kings