Shaman is aware

        -after David Bromige

How have we come

home & landed

Palms up & out to say

how we fail to be astonished

how readers lost in mud

seek what's not held down

How hostility

story boarded for stimulation

unopened‎ at house of doors

How Carl’s was not a house at all

How blunt precision

Pickup smashing pickup

Tree under tree

at newly laid blacktop

How shaman is aware

For Victory, For Defeat

They say squirrels can only count to three, after which they return to the nest for confirmation. They say humans learn to count beyond themselves, after which all nests are pillaged.

I mean every defecation (sorry) isn't ironic

Enter Sandman

Every conspiracy might be us

Equal meaning in every what

Are we not men

Tool sheds

Out of body expertise

Bundles of terms 

On sale now

Bungled by

S(t)upervision

Militant means

Dead objects in short lines

Mediumistic 

Condition

Rut and groove

Too much drama

Between you and

Please call home

This stanza

Just in time

Dismembered prospect

Unmarked flesh

Caution: Promethean zone

Abject muscle

Heroic flame

These inane boils

Head over heel

Uncured ham

Contingent subtraction

Carny barkers

Proof of concept

Clowns Unlimited

Lost mobility

@ Laughing Gas Enterprises

#FU

Cry if i want to

Desolee - in memoriam JJM

For water

Unconditional surrender

For the welling of emotion

Empathy

For this feeling of sorrow

Bottomless depth

Tsunami alert

for the end of things

that don't really end

‎For the distraction that allows us to persist

For bellowing in the distance

For the concrete detail

For the here and here and

For the abstract flock

For eagle & 100 crows

This is our harbor

These our tears

Dictatorship of Speculation - Kolozova

Katerina Kolozova is perhaps the most exciting thinker coming out of Francois Laruelle and non-philosophy.  As Jodi Dean says: "Her creative extension of the 'non-philosophy' of Laruelle radicalizes feminist philosophy as it expands possibilities for theorizing the real as experienced."

Kolozova's Towards a Radical Metaphysics of Socialism - Marx & Laruelle defines the problem as how to overcome alienation, which is described as the generic mode of exploitation. "The alienation at issue is (at least) threefold: one is alienated from one's labor, one is alienated from the fruits of one's labor; and finally, one is alienated from the physicality of one's life by subjecting them to the rule of an idea."

Provocatively, this third flavor of alienation is described as the "dictatorship of speculation" - not just in financial capitalism, but also in theory, politics and daily life.  For example, think of how financial speculation is "translated into concrete policies affecting the lives of concrete individuals."

In Laruellian terms, we are shaped by the syntax of the real. Our lives are determined in the last instance by the real. This emphasizes immanence which in many ways is synonymous with the real.  Non-philosophy, like Marx, is against positivism and opposed to philosophical materialisms (which "equate truth with reality" - instituting the 'truth' ...as a higher form of reality).

Kolozova posits "a response that consists of the attempt to invent societal and economic models that would abolish or radically diminish the alienation in question... [the solution] stems from the problem of surplus value... (that) grounds capitalist logic..."

"...theoretical investigation of the modes of lingual construction of our realities should be conducted in a way so those realities are affirmed as exteriority (ie as instances of the real in their own right). It is indispensable to do so in order to arrive to the possibility of overcoming the dictatorship of speculation in contemporary financial capitalism, post-modern theory, and politics..."

There is a 'sufficiency' inherent to the standard disciplines, eg philosophy, where the resulting thought "usurps the status of the real conditions of the world."  Can we invent new non-standard disciplines without the concept of sufficiency, where thought is "transcendentally impoverished", where "thought is always surprised by the real, and that gaps and inconsistencies in a system of thought are allowed, and moreover, are invited and unavoidable since thought succumbs to the “real” rather than to the “real’s meaning.”

Intent To Kill

                  -after Harun Farocki

Made of Material

Markets

I fixed image

Perfect document of 

‎

Predicted behavior

Composite surface

Phenoms

Little red dots

Shots on goal

Hand prints

with broken fingers

No disrespect someone said

Credit the eye someone said

The patch of color

Produced itself

Polaroids is it?

Finger cots & contact mics

Penny thoughts & car alarms

I raced to crop

My charmed

So-called life 

All the way down

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.

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]

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

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

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

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

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

Sunburn

1.

This is a funny face and this

A clown recognizing itself

This window was the same joke

Where not an inch but an abrupt

Word endlessly repeated

Thirty-thousand feet in error

2.

This word invites the mind to a cliff, to follow the impossible

trail of what's wet. But having walked too far, tolerance is now

an insult. Your skin never remembers. It was the literal snow

reading the stain that torture served. So beyond in your plummet,

it holes out to know nothing.  At last, a word seized the communal

bulletin of almosts. Counting days until someone puts a

pineapple together, it's still your blue, your citron.

3.

A tongue called reason

Performs where there is no wheel

The same goes for your limbs

In the nostalgia for, rather than of --

One of these terms is called arrival and departure

My mouth is trained to answer

Steps

There are none for the hole you described

The tool called slab submits nothing

Something a sovereign removed

But the rock or letter no one owns

Gives its own name

4.

The books (this book) when the weather is ripe. Not crows

when logic describes us. As if authority's word balloon is

building to a point. As if impossible verbs grow down to a

child's secret address.

See above (agreement) without the editor I hope to have. This I

stands, forming a queue habit in the gap it cannot. If my hand

could bend to a likeness, its hero would appear. A point seeking

hold from the neck down. Unable to be able, you are not.

Which means three syllables in a name.

But how consume buzzwords of adjusted worth

When even novelty is no longer new?

Remember, it was the words

Placed this asterisk next to your address.

5.

Letters come to think uncreated remarks are going to scold you.

The censor of any one versus the risk of losing the door. A claim

can or does by alternate readings but is never free to lose the

terms underway. For who can, will -- without calling the

animal out of the game. Living outside therefore, cannot -- by

repetition, since: a) nature conceals and b) science does not think.

6.

Not to oversleep the

Sun -- no element of bolt

Lists to the pain

Not aches through the passing

Fire as if a join looks

Into the true is. Myth favors

What all to all sets

Only the cause of kindles

Or the grasp of sleeping

To the exhaustive call

Where I is finally

Erotic.

7.

Saying is

(finally) the point

Of what few

Words please

 (circa 1994)

Bound by pipes

“History is an array of idiots, sociopaths, murderers and bores, punctuated with an occasional rational one – whose life is cut short.”

Empire bathed in fire

Each smile a grimace

Laughing by number

One semi-colon at a time

I can’t cotton to flames

To convey how Debt

Subjects itself to itself

Unquenchable diagram

Long face or miracle

These our islands

In which we rededicate space

All the more stuffed with Latin

Adorable Greek companions

Figments of fictive formulae

In the public professions

With less purchase on transitory life

Dear most-human Human

Who wiggles down runways

Who promenades

Dancing with the Ecclesiastics

The most pious or foreign

Colonials hitched to social ambition

To obscure privacy in sensational life

What trauma sleeps

In milder opinion

Mouth smashed

Distinction of noses

To sample the other’s blood

Inflexible rigor (circular saw)

Innocent of flesh

No nation

Under ceremony or novel vantage

No stronger ardor

Poured out of Christ

Useless ungodly plaything

Fleshy hand innocent of Ephesus

Impossible sensation

How each patriot spells

Appeasement equal to

Distress in another’s name

Borrowed religion walled up in words

Some gadfly connects

To Lucian’s law

To a collision of rock & coin

To citizens as capacitors

Running from the ancients

In consequence to their queen

Clerics raised a column and crossed the aisle

Each bishop whose scepter

Usurps the fancy apostates

Idol-loving judge innocent of repose

His need for love loves love
Polished and taxed to perfection