I prophesy crucifixion: Book crucified Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom / texts trap open entrails
Book prophesies crucified forest Forest crucifies fresh green gut forest fragments Forest fresh fragments flipped body freight trains Forest flip freight trains into passenger trains crucifies cabin windows
Forest crucifies dense forests minuet and softly delineated graphite grids Forests dense impale on graphite grids and guts satiate old gods Forests dense impale crucified forest desert / I work forest guts carbon grey Graphite grids gods billy goats gruff bridge galaxies I impale a galaxy on a god phallus
Forests crucify my wandering human bodies and the forest night-creatures cluster around my corpses. Night-creatures congregate around my corpses and collect the loot like Diablo II adventures. Forest crucifies and then collects corpses. Forests stamp corpses into currency, creeping copper coins. Mostly, I carry more stones around with me than coins, but sometimes the coins prove useful in certain forest grottos. Forests crucify Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom, and my corpses fill the grotto gehenna. Forest gehenna burns bodies – ben bodies – down to the ground groove.
I prophesy crucifixion: Book crucifies Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom / texts trap open entrails Forest crucify and I forest work black white brown I forest work rectangles drawn in pencil over uneven washes of grey translucent paint Forest works ben body work candyland cryptolandscape Ben body bands forests forest band ethereal colors I wash the body in the rivers rivers light pastel washes colors shimmer changeling lands
I work forest colors: ben corpse colors and colors woman waterfalls Forest works and colors woman waterfalls Forest works black white brown blue: I bathe in blue forests and I dry in red lakes Forest works ben body candyland kowloon walled city colors Forest captures cape colors and the colors bang forest bandits Forest cape colors coral / sea of reeds reef rhizome I wash the forest bodies in river lights and lake lights: lake lights lurk pastel passages and pink passions Pink passions play the repeating passacaglia: Book crucifixions and Book carrier Christina Christina’s coral colors shifting in changing light
Ben bodies lie sporting nothing seed emergent earth pressed down / forest repeats flat births Forest repeats flat births repetition of ben births Repeated ben births repeat birth birch burned house horizon My crucifixion birth repeated burned house horizon (Death sits astride a manticore arose long tails ends in a ball of flame, the fires of hell / famine points to her burning mouth) Ben bodies sprawl spore sphinx black death Ben bodies sprawl spore sphinx black death Ben body sprawl ball spore sphinx swim veil: forest veils in sprawl spills lake revelations Forest veils in sprawl spill spirals raw lake reverberations Bodies sprawl sphinx swim forest veils: forest swims veil black rectangle body rhizome organs Organs open natural light / texts trade open entrails Organs open natural light text entrails and my sponge body colors nine spaces nine trees My sponge body brushes blue forest landscape of thorns / spike field forest
Book crucifies body without organs menacing groundwork / black basalt body without forests In no forest I undress slip mass mercurial nude and my nudity models foundation of mathematics
Forest crucifies wandering human bodies and my crucified body exudes nude. I undress nude and polynomials spill from my skull sinuses. I undress desert forest crucifixion and forest sets and categorizes my body in obscure colors and superluminary colors. Apophatic bodies and crucified flesh forest topological mysteries. Forest crucifies ben body in mystery and I eat the eucharist in mystery and I perform the chrism nude forest mystery. I feast on forest mystery and I model its mathematics leaf nude.
Had a long conversation with my sister this morning about spirituality because she was curious about where I stood, says Asia. She was curious about a comment I made when we were kayaking where I was talking quietly and said that where we were at felt sacred so I didn’t want to talk loudly. The conversation went well, she says. What did you tell her about where she stood? She asked me if I thought nature was god then asked me if I thought it was created by a supreme being. My answers were pretty vague. I said if nature was created by a supreme being then nature reflects the nature of that being and I don’t see any religion that reflects that, and if it was just a random event, then that’s still incredible and nature is constantly creating itself, says Asia. Yes, that does sound like you, I say.
I prophesy crucifixion: Book crucifixion Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom / texts trap open entrails I prophesy forest body and book body, and the forest of the book improvises block chords nude I undress forest bark and my nudity models foundation of mathematics My face undresses forest from the top of my skull down bald bone bald eagle I face field cranial calculus and calcium ions leech cave wall facehuggers
I prophesy a polyphony of crucifixions including my own forest crucifixion and my cross nocturne without Christina I detail my cross dark daphnedews sleeping in her april cot within her sing achamer I cross achamer april bridal chamber, complete with Christina missing posters I clamor bridal chamber sledgehammer craniums I cross without Christina now night: now night knot noir near my face folds and I favor her forests so wild I favor her word woods wormwood wild and I worship nude foundations of mathematics
Book prophesies crater lake crucifixions and my body dips dead sea overturned by meteor tumbles (this sea shakes salt ladderback chairs and I sit sodom and gomorrah)
Book prophesies Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom crucifixions and all the woods crucify wild my word My word wild models her nude worship and I often wheel woods carved with magic squares Magic square wild woods squeeze gematria / forest gods billy goats gruff I spurt bloody gematria god squeeze theorems / Taryn sheers ton ten thousand things Taryn shears ten thousand things present tense ten thousand texts chainsaw massacres (I massacre this mysterious nonsense with wild wood and wood for crucifixion) (I massacre ten thousand grease moths bow bonfire melodies I model nude modal meander medicine / Taryn ten thousand body without organs
I prophesy crucifixion: Book crucifies Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom / texts trap open trampoline entrails
Deconstruction Develops The Place
Passages perform passages playful repetition / passages playful repeat Christ’s crucifixions
Passages perform passages through fresco forests: passages playfully repeat forests frankenstein paint I paint forest partita: partita partitions patina I paint forest fresco partita the play of pigment splatter and staining canvases to future rot I stain forest fringe ligaments and pink partitions
Passages perform forest passages and forest repeats fire frescos and magma murals I travel painted forest passages desert passacaglia: I travel painted forest teeth train tethers Train tethers forest trial as spaceship I travel forest spaceship passages between black iron prison I travel forest field and forest spaceship splatter pink pigments
Field forest furniture fashions chair opera and sofa theater Field feelers theater that trusts music The field arrives an empty stage used for dance Train transforms into building and building bursts hearse corpse body shark purse
Forest and field repetition. Forest and field fasten repetition to repetition faster. Forest faster than field finds further repetition and I fuss over repetition. I fuss over the repetition of the forest and I pick up repeated worry stones in the field. Repetition structures the field and forest and I find unique stones. I find unique forest earth and repetition stretches earth irregularly. What interest me: the irregularities and imprecise copies in repetition and repeating. Repetition inherently repeats irregularly and inexactly, whether field or forest or human flesh. Forest and field flows repetition. I frequent repetitions to find a visionary repetition, a repeating philosophical mercury and distillation. I distill repetition into the forest focus and field fire. Forest and field focus repeating participation.
I’m going to vent about something really dumb real quick, says Asia. I hate how critical I am about the books I read. I just want something easy and fun but my brain is like “this is trash, get it out of my face.” BUT I’M TOO TIRED TO READ ANYTHING ELSE, says Asia. I relate to that actually, I say. I don’t read fiction anymore for a few reasons but I also have a hard time turning off my critical brain. I see everything now as not texts to be enjoyed but texts to learn and steal from. It’s exhausting. I don’t know the last time I read for only pleasure, I say. I picked up a book from the library because it looked interesting, says Asia, and my brain is overcritiquing the writing style. Like bruh, chill out, she says. Nothing wrong with being critical, I say. I was talking to Violet and she sent me a meme saying how deconstruction has ruined enjoyment of media. Deconstruction? says Asia. The meme meant it in a more general causal way, I say. Like taking the work apart and knowing how everything works. Knowing how to analyze all the metaphors and tropes and writing techniques. You’re a teacher so you know how to do that. You know how writing tries to manipulate and make you think a certain way. Yeah, says Asia. Why can’t modern writers just write good? she says. Capitalism and money – that’s a simplification of course, I say. I chewed out one of my friends yesterday, she says. He wants to write a book and was pitching a concept, and he wanted to build tarot cards and was asking me about opposite meanings and I told him that tarot cards already have reverse meaning, and he can look it up. To which he said, “no, that’s the metaphysical meaning, I want a literal meaning.” I tore into him. How dare you come into my house and say that kind of foolishness. Even if you had physical things that were based on imagery from tarot, in literature figurative and literal language work together in building the fictional world. You can’t divorce literature from metaphor, says Asia. Totally agree, I say. Written language is always already metaphorical. You reading my work must be interesting then – how do you approach reading my Book? I say. When I read your Book I just try to experience it and see what associations come up, she says.
Passages perform passages playful repetition / passages playfully repeat Christ’s crucifixions
I playfully repeat a deconstructed Book, a Book in pink forest partitions mimicking molecular gastronomy (I repeat a modular molecular gastronomy god)
Passages perform forest passages and forest building bursts hearse corpse body shark purse Shark purse pulse panic attack her attic (her attic howls owls lilith) Erratic attic earth imbibed body: body place of caves
Places resonate places resonate with this scriptures broad vague places: desert places and ocean places and cave places. Places resonate and vibrate bullet hell body. I repeat displaced bodies in cave places and desert places. Places resonate deconstructed Book, a book of questions displaced in desert deconstruction. Deconstruction develops the place. Places resonate repetition and rhizome repetition. Places resonate and play further passages. Places play Book resonance and resurrections.
Erratic attic earth imbibes body: body place of caves Cave places having caves holy place halving caves Cave repeats passages / cave passages a simple into silence Cave a simple into silence resonates / cave a simple into silence Cave a simple in the silence deer deer quiet snow Silent snow sparrow shout raptor / a raptor of shout choruses
I like how we still do tarot readings together, says Asia. I love how we started talking because of spirituality and it expanded and grew with us. I love how we encourage each other to be creative, says Asia.
Passages perform passages playful repetition and I repeat tarot tag or tarot the trouble with tables
Passages repeat a compact passion / pocket crucifixions
I paint her forest puzzle pink and pink prophesies Asia spirits and goblins
I prophesy a specific pigment: a hermit pigment lit harsh hermetic and the paint reversed saturation I pursue prophesy the pigments of her forest and forest grows Asia Rhizome
I love abstract expressionism but I find Willem de Kooning’s paintings ugly. They fail to cohere in my eyes – I do not know why. I adore other abstract expressionists and I find my hatred of his works confounding yet interesting in itself. I especially find his “Women” paintings particularly grotesque. I feel tempted to (misinterpret) these paintings and a kind of body horror but it feels a disingenuous attempts to make the paintings appeal to me. Rather, I want to engage and grapple with these paintings on their own terms.
I read the following from the Museum of Modern Art on Woman I by Willem de Kooning:
“Flesh is the reason oil paint was invented, de Kooning once remarked, and although he painted many abstractions he continually returned to the figure. Woman I took him usually long to complete: he made numerous preliminary studies, then repainted the canvas repeatedly, eventually arriving at this figure of a woman, the first of a series. Some saw the painting as a betrayal, a regression of an outmoded figurative tradition. Others called it misogynistic, understanding it as objectifying and violent. De Kooning himself said, however, “Beauty became petulant to me. I like the grotesque. It’s more joyous.”
The idea of the joyous grotesque intrigues me and I find an entryway into de Kooning’s work: work to and through the joyous grotesque. I don’t think I work too differently from this process: I make may abstractions and I draft layers upon layers painted and repainted over the texts, and I also return to the figure: I return to the figure of KRYSXTRYN + Asia Among Rivers.
I return to the figure of passages perform passages repetition and I repeat figures Figures find forest fringe, forests spaceship field forests
Forest frights fresh green flesh (I made this flesh painting pink thick and pink oozes a fantastic oil) Forest frights fresh green constant fright ice lies forming a surface Forest pylons perch lines grids gods / forest field extremely subtle colors
Passages perform passages playful repetition / passages playfully repeat Christ’s crucifixions
The Passages Paint Fresco Forest Assemblages
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue me
Forest frequents passages Forest frequents passages power outages Forest frequents passages splattered into fragments (forests surround maniac mansion and splatterhouse) Forests fragment frequent repetitions repetition rhizome passages
I find forest passage dark and the translation and rotation of the forest furthers forest dark. Forest dark pursues passages also dark and I find dark undivided. Undivided dark intensifies the density of the forest. Forest fragments transform into forest fractals. I flee forest and forest gives chase. Forest charges chase entire acres uprooted and rushing branch assault. Forest dark frightens forest dark fugitive fragments. I find forest passages and passages stab and vine ben flesh dark rotated forests. I find forest passages dark drive unending dark.
The passages and the passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue forest flesh pleroma Forest fucks flesh phenomenon: a phenomenon of fractal passages
The forest passacaglia fevers nail forceps / forest friction narcotic moment Forest plays a neurotic passacaglia and its glossolalia gleans spanish castle magic cabals Forest improvises a cannibal cant / carnival atom smashers Carnival cant smashes forest cunt and bone
(I see the images of Christ’s cross being born from the cradle of civilization and Christ crucified on australopithecus bones. The cross of Christ is the cross of anthropology. Christ the Son of Man really means Christ the Human Being, an archetypal human, past and future and present.)
Forest passages mark the paths with the signs made of human bones I assemble new forests from human bone, and forest populates forest cross of human fossils Forest bone breaks additional bone church in rocks Stone signs hide baked bones
Passages and passacaglia play bone alphabet often and Book of the Desert spans Book of the Oceanic Abyss Bone blade human here ocean or desert, and desert drives beehive forest hang hell Hell intercepts location bilocation ben hinnom multidirectional These directions dome hell dark forest with hanging bone and my hell often feels human I myself hell sharp shark teeth and bite wormwood the women I love in my life Women of the forest also forage passageways through women of the desert and Book My hell spans forest carnivals curved bone sign teeth
I have now known Asia for several years and we’ve experienced many conflicts and overcome many conflicts. Our relationship at times has cultivated a bone hell: bone hell land bone cell cartilage. I record a conversation from a little over 3 years ago but it feels archetypal of many of our conflicts:
I saw this and I thought about the possibility that I exaggerate the place of our friendship in your life, I say. Why? says Asia. You’re important to me and I write about you, but I wonder by doing that, it creates an imbalance in how each of us views our friendship. I don’t want to exaggerate my place in your life. I want to be good friends and I want to be best friends eventually. I fear it won't happen because I’m not good at friendship and my brain is busted. But I love you a lot, and you mean a lot to me. I want to be the same for you, to mean a lot, for you have a lot of love for me. Those are my insecurities, I say. It kind of upset me when you asked me that because I thought “Am I not doing enough?”, says Asia. [...] I’m sad I upset you, I say. Looking back, I definitely implied that our friendship is not important to you, and that I put more effort than you do. I’m sorry, I say. It’s OK, says Asia. I’m not upset now but I was a little upset this morning. That’s why I was careful with how I responded, she says. I’m glad you’re careful, I say. I tend to be very emotional and impulsive so it’s good you’re careful, I say. I’ve learned not to respond in anger if I can help it, says Asia. You’re a good friend and the way you responded alleviated my fears. I’m glad, says Asia.
This conversational pattern has held consistently through our friendship: I feel anxiety and insecurity and I sometimes (often) let it overwhelm me; Asia assists in defusing the situation and we resolve the conflict. I still worry about our friendship being imbalanced, but I admit I can’t recall a single time or any action that showed me that Asia didn’t take our friendship as seriously or with any less effort. Asia has put up with a lot to remain friends and grow our friendship, and I haven’t fully recognized it. I’m incredibly lucky for her unconditional love for me even if I’m not sure why – I accept her unconditional love and balanced yet giving efforts to our friendship.
Bone cell and bone hell the forest passages all converge on KRYSXTRYN + Asia Rhizome / I row rhizome among her rivers (This mess of Asia and Ben among rivers anarchic and refused to cohere to bone alphabets or gruppen cellphones – I’ll let future Ben edit and let it cohere with the fingers of the forest – or even make it more disjunct and messy)
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue pink forests Forest pikes pint pink forest bone and forest bone binges fang fish flesh Forest fills figure figure windows frozen funk fusion fabric
Passage find forest frenzy savage beat dwelling-place serpents Passacaglia find forests furniture and rabbit fur funk fabric
I pursue passages play passages pursue forest fragments
I pursue forest fragments frenzy serpents savage dwelling-place rivers I experiment the pursuit to rivers
I ride rampant rivers to the twelve-tone row forest. I ride forest retrograde rivers and rampant champagne blurs passages. I rattle rampant rivers and I shake forest passages. Passages pursue a pantonal passacaglia. I rush rivers on the ride cymbals but I swing unevenly but Asia still loves us even. Asia loves us flat friendship spiders many spiders. The spiders of the rivers kill the serpents of the forest.
Serpent span span rabbit deer forest: forest nothing departs forest
Serpents span span rabbit deer forest: forest nothing departs forests leaves Nothing emerges forest passages / Tony Williams Lifetime Emergency Serpents span I absorb the folk forest and forest flesh and I pulverize forest in myth I pulverize forest in myth bits motifs and I pile them up in layers and I reassemble them in cubist collages and montages I pile them up and they sink into other passages and play dark of the forests
Forest darkens and I understand dark forest as a dwelling-place for mourning (First wedding night. But first mourning night?) Now night, I mediate in nocturne musics I noose nude nocturnal and night knows my body Night knows my body bursts open black painting black iron prison Now night I net nude nocturne net, and night knights fores bone: night knits forest bone cave matrix crystals I emerge from crystals under cataract calling to cataract and night now compacts my body through many forests
Night knits bone crystal matrix and I emerge from cave matrices monarch butterfly migrations / mothlight passages
Night nicks spinal column quartered quartz catastrophes / apocalypse distorts both directions at once Both directions at once: I want the elegant sonorous long sentence and the constellation of forest fragments to interpenetrate and co-participate (full plane intersections: ancient Rome superimposed on contemporary Los Angeles) The constellation of forest fragments (what Asia calls the anarchic word quilt) fucks syntax taryn ten thousand things syntax fuck Ten thousand things seduces strange syntax language music long melody
I moose nude noose melody night mirrors I noose nude language music long melody and her meteor smashes through a glass darkly Darkly dark forest fragments: darkly darling darling darker deserts (deserts disappears in desert dress example serpents span)
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue me Passages and passacaglia prophesy a radical forest glossolalia: ground bass grammar jumps jagged human bone Ground bass assembles australopithecus bones into repeated cruciform patterns
Passages and patterns of the passacaglia pack human wolf bone into forest rhizome / word forest wolf’s bane I absorb the fork of the forests in myths grits Christina smithereens: I pulverize forest with tuning forks and archaic human femur bone and I pile up bone bandits I thief bone bird call tetragrammaton
Fresco forest forages assemblages and passages: fragile forest forages assembled passages and passages through assembles Fresco forest forages fungus passages / minotaur mushroom clouds Fungus passages extend forest fugues: forest fugues decay composition dark Fungus passages extend forest detritus / undressed desert myths
I paint the fresco forest flesh bone and clean bones. I paint forest fresco with bone paintbrushes. Paint brush passages forest perturbations. Forest disturbs bone dark but I continue to paint dark. I paint black pitch tent forest terrain. I extend the Taryn Terrain of the forest although I struggle with its night and dark.
It’s a leafhopper, says Asia. Leafhoppers are cool, I say. I’m not sure we have any of those around here. Yeah, I stole all of them and brought them here, says Asia. I’m coming after your cicadas next. I’m going to tie them to my house and fly away like the movie Up but louder, she says. That would be quite a lot of cicadas, I say. Do you speak the cicada language. Yes, I speak their language, she says. (Screeches and breaks the windows). I’m not surprised at all, I say. You are a master of insects. There’s a mythological motif called “the master of animals”, a person of mythological being who has control of certain animals, or can communicate with animals. You are definitely a master of insects, an insect whisperer if you will. Perhaps you could have your own TV show: you could be the anti-exterminator, persuading insects to another place, I say.
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue me
The passages paint fresco forest assemblages
The Passages Of The Passion Pursue me
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue me
Passages pulse passages and passages puzzle a passionate body
Passages and passacaglia of passion and passion pursue pure
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue mystery plays Mystery plays prime passages master of the animals The passages plane mystery and mystery, the passion of the play, and the cross telegraphs cryptic proverbs and parables I parable this fragment and that fragment, the passion of the face
The mystery of my mourning, which I’m not sure is a mourning at all, is the mystery mastering the fragment. The mystery of my mourning (my mourning itself mystery) speaks apophatic aphorisms. I mourn in an apophatic body and a passionate body for ghosts, and my mourning too feels ghostly. My mourning experiences haunted parable and experiments spirit aphorism. My flesh lives in the mastery of these fragments. Mystery mourns monoliths and magma: this measures a malleable mystery and a pliable mystery.
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue mystery: mystery miniature and mystery macrocosm microcosm
The passages and the passacaglia of the passion and passion repeat pursuance and psalm fragments: my grief lives in these fragments
Passages pursue fragments in the multiplication of passages Passages multiply passages passion multidirectional
I slow into passion and passacaglia, the subtle play shifting language sediments and location of empty tombs Language shifts play mystery and I gift mysterious soil language archaeology I slow into passion and passions and mystery slows shifts into recursive mystery, an endless chain of mysteries
I slow into an erotic passion and passion play pornography (the passages and passacaglia of the passive and passion) (PASSION PALACE better knowledge known as Laurel Hills, a lush resort that caters to the jaded New York set who like to shame away their summers in sin and degradation…) I slow into an immediate eros and early passion and passion pursues a repetitive pornography (Passive Orgy… Passion for everyone! The restless, seeking sin of the insatiable stud male, or the trembling, hopeful lust of a man who could plot for years to find one night’s evil ecstasy under a woman’s lash…)
The passages and passacaglia plot for passion and passion Passions plan cemetery plots and the grave passages poke plot holes into my body (ben bodies plot puns passions parables and my grief carves Kafkaesque cave teeth into icebergs) Passions plots mass grave many Christs / a passion for the fashion of sheol
Foreshadowing our gender nonconformist era?! I say to Asia. [I send Asia the following passages from the Book:]
[Conversations With Asia 08/16/2020 7:48 AM
So let’s do fashion, says Asia. I’m thinking relaxed causal with some feminine elements thrown in. Maybe some linen pieces. Do you want minimalist or colorful? I’m not sure I’m talking fashion for me personally, I say. I just like hearing about it because I know it’s an art in itself. That’s pretty broad, says Asia. Do you know where you want to start? Where is your knowledge base at? I say. Mostly alternative fashion; I also love 1920s, 1950s, 60s, and 70s, she says.]
I still love hearing about fashion and the stuff you thrift, I say. It’s a lot of fun and I do find it inspiring. My partner also loves my fashion rants, says Asia. One time she asked me a question about the 1920s or alternative fashion or something and the fashion history and philosophy spewed out of me like a broken fire hydrant and she tried asking me another question and I was like “I’m talking” and kept going, says Asia. Your rants are wonderful and I enjoy what you’re passionate about, I say.
The passages and the passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue me I slow into passion and passion, and I pile up texts tents mystery plays plot long scrolls I unscroll mystery into additional mystery and Asia fashions the sediment of Sheol into her tabernacle (The Book and her tabernacle have overlapping plots)
I slow passion ply passions pursuit and turtle car chase I glow passions chase chew fragments I follow the passages into repetitions of the forest
Book constructs paths and passages through the shaped canvas of the forest (I dream the field folded into forest and I dream simultaneous desert and bridal chamber: forest floods desert dream the pink pigment of forest filed with flesh fragments)
Forest flirts ferromolybdenum fossilization (Fossil forest flirt skirt fossil forest) Forest flirts field passages passages forest field extra large canvas Forest defamiliarizes itself with forest, a forest fludrocortisone car chase Forest flirts forest passages: repeated forest sharp stones rough stones, cleaved cleared scattered stone
I pass through forest passages. I pass passages shadowplay forests and forests clear the field open collections. I pass clear passages to stones. Forest stones shape both forest and field. I shape Book Dream with sharp stones and they slice page into shaped canvas. Canvas finds shortcuts through forest passages. I pass through forest passages fast passions and passion faster rugged forest and I field into the experiment of the page / shaped canvas.
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursues shadowplay forests Forests shape passages by sharp stones and rough stones, the clearing of rigid human bodies I scatter scattered stone and I arrange and rearrange the stones I arrange sharp stone into hexatonic collections and stoned collect six six six the number of the beast Stones collect crags clearing coves (closed cove unclosed)
The passages and the passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue me I slow into passion and passions, the subtle shift copying subtle shift through forest repetition Forest language copies forest languages and passions deposit Forest copies forest passages and deposits desert I sift through desert deposits archaeologies I copy archaeology onto the archive of passions I copy archaeology archive passions and passages
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue forest patchworks or quilted forest shadowplay Forest arrays passages: forest arrays aggregate assemblages (I assemble an archaeology of forest passages) Forest arrays aggregate assemblages / passage forest friction fragmentation
Have a hermit crab, says Asia. I may or may not have gone wading in the water hiking up my silk wrap skirt trying to get the kids a conch shell. When I got there, there was somebody living in it. Skirts won’t stop me, says Asia.
I skirt forest passages and passion passages and I already live in the forest I already live shadowplay forest a scanner darkly Dark stark unmarked forests find dark-haired girls in their subterranean passages
I skirt forest passages into the play of night (First wedding night. But first mourning night?) I noose nude nor nocturne and night knows my body I hermit in night hermetic, the secret of skirts and passages Now nude, I copy forest nocturnes: nocturne and night know my body unbounded My body unbounded uses forest sharp stones to cut shaped canvas My body binds shaped canvas black painting black iron prison
Now night I net nude nocturne net and night knits bone crystal cave matrix I emerge matrices monarch butterfly migrations
There’s a certain tedium to night and everything in night looks identical. Night forest looks identical to night ocean looks identical to night desert. The tedium of night beckons a boredom that assembles a stone clearing: it opens and in its openness, both radical possibility and radical deprivation co-exist. I feel the tedium of night and I feel a tedium transcribing the Book – a necessary task for survival but also an enlightening task (before enlightenment, chop water and carry wood. After enlightenment, chop water and carry wood). This night I trace and archive the many projects of the Book, also a kind of night: my mourning-not-mourning for Christina and the Kindred, my continual growth of my friendship with Asia, the many technical experiments and language explorations: I feel overwhelmed in attempting to sustain and support so many themes, although to a certain extent, it’s all one extended theme, copying form forest to forest and passion to passion. The passion pursues me and I continue through these hermetic passages carrying the lantern of the hermit.
The passages and passacaglia of the passion and passion pursue me The archive of the passion pursues me patterns mad hatter minotaur (minotaur resides in attic and arctic monstrous bilocation) Passages repeat passages a passion for the monstrous pelican Christ I press pelicans passages passio pli selon pli crucified forests Forests further fragment under crucifixion
Passages repeat a compact passion / pocket crucifixions
I reap sleep fragment passion in passion passages fragments / apocalyptic aphorisms
I read sleep street reaper: she reeks of fragment snow and ice flowers
I strike ice sun sleep Ice stripes strip rip a ben hinnom barber races blood crucified body without organs
Passion experiments different methods and techniques of crucifixion
In the fragments of the forest, I sow times hallucinate Christina. In the fragments of the forest I hallucinate Christina in repeated and she repeats forest mirrors.
I Gather The Night Fragments
First wedding night. But first mourning night?
Night nyx noct nile nail night night nyx rye nile rhizome an outward memory of inward collapse Night sight slight overbite dark robotic erotic retrograde night (night palindrome night Night rhythm nonretrogradable rhythm night Night neon neon knot nimble the cross and mushroom Christianity)
I write a central sun around which four smaller formants cast continual eclipses (First wedding night. But first mourning night?) Central sun reduces forest to forest and its shadowy formants frequent to Kindred’s imaginary wedding night / our realized mourning night Forest marred married forest marred the repeated body rupture of mourning
Four formants fragments and double forest shadows
Forest marked marred forest ruptured forest greased greased Forest mashed Forest fermented fermented styrofoam Forest notched Forest smelted seated Forest smudges Forest streak write rip sit seat (This is a portrait of Iris Clert if I say so This is a portrait of Christina Marie if I say so)
First wedding night. But first mourning night?
Night nurtures fragments I nurse fragment night and four formants double Christina’s portrait figure with meat Night features repeated body horror fragments and fragments ferment horrific forests (As his coffin laid to rest, his brain screamed – I am not dead! … Life remained only in his fevered head, in his tormented eyes. To those at his graveside, he was a corpse, the latest victim of a family curse! THE PREMATURE BURIAL) I prematurely bury Kindred so now I dig up our grave and gather the night fragments
Night nurtures fragments I nurse fragment night and fractal night: repetition of human bodies outlining night new forest Night nyx nocturne nail night / night nyx nail gun rhizome an outward memory of inward collapse (I collapse Christina and I kiss Christina a supposed corpse)
I sight night fragments I sight fragment night sleight of hand My hands bite slight slices and night slices slight dark Dark night fragments dark repeated bodies in dark I slice slight dark repeated erotic bodies (an unscrupulous rake – an all-wise young lady – an unexpressed love affair NAKED ON ROLLERSKATES)
First mourning night bites slight night dark, retrograde night repeats nightly retrograde (Night palindrome night night rhythm nonretrogradable rhythm mind Night slice neon dark knot cross and mushroom Christianity)
I arrange and rearrange a central sun around which four smaller formants revolve and I interpret the central sun as Asia Among River and Asia Rhizome I arrange and rearrange the central sun as Ben and Asia, and our friendship dominates the current iteration of the Book
I have an idea, I say. What are your thoughts about this as a foundational mantra and axiom: “I love you unconditionally and you unconditionally love me. We are best friends. We create and prophesy together.” Sure, that works, says Asia. Are you going to just state it or ask me if I agree with it when you use it? I’m going to state it, I say. When I’m feeling down, I’m going to state it to you and I will believe it. Unless you explicitly disagree, I will know you agree even if your don’t respond to it directly. I will consider it fundamental aspects of our friendship… That’s what I’m hoping. OK, we can give it a shot, says Asia. Sounds good, I say. I’m hoping to retrain my brain so I can support you better too and spend less energy on my brain anxiety, I say. I think you have done good, says Asia. This isn’t about whether or not you are a good friend – it’s about being more emotionally independent, she says.
I recall developing a mantra with Taryn during the time we reconciled after the nursing program in order to feel more secure with my relationship with her, and strangely enough, the mantra did work and I don't use it nor remember what it was anymore. I’m sure Asia and I will achieve similar success.
First wedding night. But first mourning night?
I Arrange A Central Sun
I write a central sun around which four smaller formants revolve and I vary their space and rotation I vary their seeds and orbits through points and blocks My body points to blocks, the alternation and then mixture of bodies
I arrange a central sun around which four smaller formants revolve forests and I vary their space and rotation I arrange and rearrange (All the information processed by the Brain – experienced by us as the arranging and rearranging of physical objects – is an attempt at this preservation of her…) I arrange and rearrange the bricolage of our bodies, and bodies basket burden of the valley of vision
I grieve the end of the Kindred. I grieve the end of the Kindred but this end does not feel true to the Kindred. I write the Kindred dead and I grieve the Kindred end, but it feels false. In my beginning is my end, and in my end is my beginning. As long as Christina and I lie, I believe the Kindred lives (The Kindred is dead; long live the Kindred) (BIRD LIVES / KINDRED LIVES). As long as Christina and I live, Kindred lives and I believe we will reconcile. Whether it’s tomorrow or 10 years from now, Kindred lives and we will reconcile as long as we still breathe (Somewhere out there if love can see us through then we’ll be together – somewhere out there out where dreams come true). I believe in Kindred and I believe in the love we have for each other. Soon we will break out record for the longest time not talked, but I choose to have faith in the Kindred. I choose to be a Knight of Faith, and I hope in Kindred. I live Kindred pistis and charis and sophia. I know somewhere out there, Christina loves me too.
I write a central sun around which four smaller formants revolve and I vary their space and rotation Rotations reveal rotations and rotations remember rotations I remember Christina as a series of rotations, eccentric epicycloids
I miss Christina and feeling her absence means messy writing and erratic thoughts I miss Christina and her absence saws cave shards saw conflict and sometimes in the contradiction of my experiences, I feel the gore grief horn hell: sometimes I feel hell hope hopeless Witness this mess and contradiction rotations to rotations and wild wheel in wild wheel: I miss Christina wild
I arrange a central sun around which four smaller formants revolve and the four flare four figures of Christina Christina in four trades fours a friction rubbing and rubato cutting contest Christina revolves around a central sun and her shadow figures split into four formants with chaotic orbits Christina revolves around colt single action army revolvers and she shoots the central sun six times / my body six bullet holes
I write a central sun which is Christina / I write a central sun which is KRYSXTRYN + Asia Rhizome I stretch sun reach secret gospels: I stretch a rhizome repetition reinforced by soft sledgehammers
I arrange and rearrange bone language I arrange bone maiden middle language: bone maiden middle language spin snow drift little black dress Central sun pop bone spot slow rot stop cell shone whore rask haruspex super specs Bone ben on broth only onanism On bone ounce weigh gash war whore help I need some body help not just anybody Help bone host graft man o’ war son of man Male bone machine iron industry Bone language bayou Bone language abandon birch beetle blister bird Tongue bone language ball bell cell
I arrange and rearrange bone language and the bone breaks away exposed. I arrange and rearrange this exposed bone: not to cover it or bind it, but to dig at the exposure and reveal more bone. I expose archaeological bone and bone middle language snows spin the bottle. Bone barks redwood forests for exquisite corpses. I arrange and rearrange this bone: bone sun bone ice bone snow. Bone snows soda pop and human intestines, a cannibal's cloudy with a chance of meatballs. Bone rolls up into fog balls and I arrange and rearrange the bone smoke. My language shifts between the continuum of bone and smoke and I repeat its heavy clouds.
I write a central sun around which four smaller formants revolve and I vary their space and rotation Formants and figures act on a forest Forest furrows a stone steady state and Christina strikes stones against stones forest music Christina slings a striking forest music and forest rotates stone Foucault’s pendulum Forest stone centers soil book of the seven seals Forest centers stone John the Revelator burial Forest stone reveals Christina rotations and Kindred revolvers
I arrange a central sun place of round stones round-stones-places
I arrange and rearrange a central sun between forest steel wheel whale stone: her sun swims an equally central sea Four formants figure forest formwork stones with whales I steady whale in forest soil and formwork wheels human flesh Forest rotates formwork falsework (the false Kindred is dead / the form the Kindred is dead long live the Kindred) Forest rotates formwork human flesh (traditional framework human flesh engineered framework human skin I eat your skin I drink your blood permanent insulated framework flesh forest flat stones flexible framework sin flaps skull flaps)
I frame the forest with the same camera as the central sun. I frame the forest with the work of the frame and it shares the same frame as the sun. Sun frames a forest with a central sun the forest centered. I frame the camera with the undifferentiated blaze of the central sun. I frame and reframe and I arrange and rearrange: different suns the same sun and different forests the same forest.
There is actually only one Waffle House that exists simultaneously in multiple locations, says Asia. This is why so many weird things happen there because Waffle House itself is an anomaly and causes disruptions in time and space. Every time I went to work at Waffle House, I entered a different timeline, says Asia.
I arrange and rearrange a central sun around which four smaller formants revolve and I vary their space and rotation I vary their seeds and orbits through points and blocks: my body points to blocks, the alternation and then mixture of bodies The colony of bodies arranges and rearranges human activities Human bodies boat hedge clipper heterotopias and language suspends the body forest teeth Forest suspends bodies wound repetition Bodies repeat wound word wild repeated bodies Bodies repeat wound word simultaneous timelines in the Waffle House with side wounds Bodies repeat active body fire fire diabolical desert / forest of flesh Forest flesh repeats long duration desert extends desert repetition
I wrote quite a bit of material mourning Christina and the suspension or perceived end of the Kindred: I don’t think mourning is the correct terminology although I miss Christina terribly. Mourning implies something gone permanently, but if I have faith and hope in our reconciliation and still believe in the power and love of the Kindred, what happens instead is an anticipation. The Kindred, although present, becomes apocalyptic. It prepares itself as the Kingdom of the Skies Within You simultaneous with a potent parousia. I love presently but I wait anxiously: Kindred exists now but its full reconciliation and fulfillment takes place in the future. Christina and I have become fully messianic and fully apocalyptic. The mourning just means missing her during her temporary absence. I record my process and mourning and my conflicted feelings about Christina’s continued absence, and I take comfort in my friendship with Asia, which has become stronger and healthier during this same time period. I let the times and times occur simulations like the temporal distortions of the Waffle House: grief and missing Christina too shows itself as a temporal distortion.
I arrange and rearrange a central sun around which four smaller formants revolve and I vary Christina’s figures through shifting space and sapphire light rotations Her central sun projects the human central nervous system / nature attempts to escape itself by creating a nervous system My nervous system straws stampeding escape velocity Vision vat velocity invokes spinal column megalithon / bipolar lithium
A manic mourning diary written for an imaginary death and a known absence unknown
I Measure An Emergent Experiment
I measure an emergent experiment
I measure an emergent experiment meadow meander I obsess meander: I obsess the human meander and the machine meander and each path paints broad the cross I obsess a magic meander meadow and I measure meadow magic I measure a magical multiplicity and multiple magics I measure a longer meandering line and line lakes magic waters / waters underneath name a wet word
I measure an emergent experiment: experimental languages and satellite languages Lunar language emerges a werewolf word I worship experiments experiments waters
Would it be too discontinuous for the Book if I alternated grieving Christina and continuing writing Ben and Asia at the same time? I say. No, I don’t think so, says Asia.
I measure emergent experiments and alternating experiments I obsess measurement and I mediate between mediums (I voice the medium of the animal and the medium of the monster) I obsess measures and monsters and I measure the horror of my grief (THE CREATURE an unbelievable thing emerges from the murky Amazon jungle… A monster!!) I measure creatures cracked open as pepper corns Creatures experiment spiral staircase wounds wound wasteland
Measuring the Book and the direction proves a difficult task. I measure but my mourning interferes with the signal of the Book. I measure and measure again and I bricoleur material into something resembling the Book. I alternate measurements and I circulate numbers but the task of summation still eludes me. Book demands a calculus of variations from my abacus without Christina, and although the task seems unmeasurable, I continue to write and prophesy. I prophesy not a summation or glory or creation, but I prophesy exile, crucifixion, and stoning. I prophesy with and through the task given to us.
I measure an emergent experiment and the measurement repeats meteor showers I obsess with the meander of meteors and interpret their iron through icy hermeneutics: I obsess hermeneutics this hazard heap of languages I measure and I axe outward language: I axe long blood oak magic language and interpret human body as primordial ark (I secretly construct the Ark of the Covenant using Homo erectus bones)
I measure an emergent experiment composed with industrial bone Bone smokes central nervous system Bone smokes slow salt celluloids and I sip tumor sleep I measure my sleep I measure sleeps immediate medium (many voices measure my mouth and my tongue modulates the multitude of spirits) I sleep immediate marshmallow sleep immediate missiles sleep scissor iron escalator
This is a shout out to my friends who tolerate me constantly pointing out bugs and birds and pulling apple snails out of ponds and having them in the air saying “it’s invasive, who wants it?”, says Asia. The fact that I still have friends is the confirmation you need to go out there and be weird little freaks. That is an order, says Asia. Did you really pull out the apple snail? I say. It was the size of a baseball. Real hefty fella. No one wanted it so I put him back. I didn’t have a place to put him in the car. If I had a fish tank, I would probably take some, says Asia. It’s not illegal to take out wildlife? I say. No, not when it’s an invasive creature, says Asia. This is one of my favorite stories from college: I had this little biology professor who looked like a dwarf, and he was putting together a booth about invasive organisms for an earth day festival. He was almost 15 minutes late and he bustles in all out of breath and with his nasally voice goes “Sorry I’m late class, I was busy collecting snails.” He’s my hero, she says.
I measure an emergent experiment I measure an emergent experiment and it invades other experiments I experiment with an eccentric eclecticism / an elliptical heap of language I experiment escalator enter edit elevator Escalator experiments enter edit elevate eccentric kingdom of the skies Escalator accelerates enter edits elevators explicit stairwells I accelerate escalator industrial central nervous system and I sleep systems music / meteor minimalism
Long ghosts trust me with the task of discovering an industrial bone music and repeating its bone alphabet
Escalator invades elevator drop tower and freefalls bone barrage or bone savage…
This task eludes me. Without Christina, this task eludes me. Christina’s ghost tusks gore my task. I prophesy exile: myself in exile with an empty book. This task of continuing the Book without Christina proves overwhelming and almost impossible (The changing information which we experience as world is an unfolding narrative. It tells about the death of a woman). Christina’s absence and the end of the Kindred invades the Book as an army of apple snails. Apple snails improvise an incessant species counterpoint Christina contra Book as invasive species. This task eludes me without Christina.
Sorry, says Asia. I fell asleep and talked to my sister on the phone. How are you feeling? she asks. Up and down, I say. The universe feels unjust. You know, Christina and I took many years for us to be better and finally not be toxic and actually have a loving, caring relationship. The past couple years have been the best Christina and I have ever been and now shit happening outside our control has separated us. If God exists, fuck God. That’s some unjust bullshit. We were doing great and it feels so hopeless. Like nothing I do matters. Fuck the universe, I say. This isn't personal, says Asia. Christina went through a divorce shortly before this happened. It makes sense that she would want some space to work on herself and not form unhealthy co-dependent relationships. It doesn’t discredit the work you guys did, says Asia.
I measure an emergent experiment: I measure an experimental emergency I sleep in the secret of experiments and I experiment with different bone repetition Long ghosts or loud ghosts trust me with the task of discovering an industrial bone music I mold char from an industrial bone music and I repeat bone alphabet I repeat and repeat bone alphabet and I fear repetition I fear repetition but I experiment to discover a different repetition: repetition extends both directions at once Repetition realized arhythmic multiplicity and undifferentiated desert I obsess with the meander of the desert which always repeats and reveals again desert Desert reveals and reverberates repeated desert
I measure a glowing repetition and it experiments additional repetition Repetition adds repetition desert experiment and I obsess desert I obsess desert meander and experiment oxbow I experiment axe outwards and I repeat axe language, which sometimes shares Christina’s language Christina repeats Christina…
[I love you unconditionally and you unconditionally love me. We are best friends. We create and prophesy together.] Did you see this? I say. Yes, says Asia. I’m feeling really low, I say. May I ask for your affirmations? Sure. Did you disagree with this? [I love you unconditionally…] Why would I disagree with that? says Asia. No, I don't disagree with it, she says. I asked you because I thought you’d agree with it. I didn’t intend to be insulting or surprise you. I said I didn’t disagree with it, says Asia. Sorry for sounding short and frustrated. It’s just a little frustrating and I know you can’t help that so I’m sorry, says Asia. Did I frustrate you because it seems like an obvious thing to ask about? I say. It’s just the affirmation you asked for is something I affirm every other day or something I’ve said before and it’s just difficult to understand why you might think that I would say something and then do a complete 180, says Asia. That make sense what you’re saying and your perspective, I say. When I’m feeling low, it’s helpful l hear how much you care about me and the significance of our friendship, I say. Do you know the answer to the questions when you ask if I agree? says Asia. I think so. Sometimes I feel anxious about the answer because my brain is wonky but I do try to say things I think you’d agree with. Can you turn the questions you are sure about into affirmations and only ask me if you feel unsure about it? says Asia. I will try, I say. I’m trying to figure out when I’m down how I can seek out and support and comfort but I don’t want to do things that frustrate you, I say. This school year is already more demanding than last year, says Asia. I’m here for you and I’ll help you figure it out. But if your affirmations need someone else to approve of them every time then it’s not a very sustainable coping mechanism. Like I said, if you are unsure about it and need someone to assure you, go right ahead, says Asia. I’m trying to get better though, I say. I know, says Asia. You've been doing really good. You’ve come a long way. I’m just saying we might need to work on other support, says Asia.
I measure an emergent experiment. Sometimes I measure altogether too much, and I attempt to have my relationships conform to easy labels or categorizations. Kari once told me (I’m sure I recorded this before): You spend a lot of time analyzing your friendships instead of actually being in them… I would like to spend less time measuring my relationship with Asia and instead experience it more. I enjoy the experience of Asia gathering up apple snails and our friendship stoking invasive species fires. Our creativity invades and surprises and experiments.
I measure an emergent experiment and an emergence experience. I experience Christina's absence and her absence as an invasive species. Her absence disrupts and strikes doubts in my mind: if the Kindred ended, then what can persevere? (Perhaps as Robert Frost wrote: so dawn goes down to day nothing gold can stay). Kindred ending invades my relationship with Asia and I doubt it without cause and paranoia pursues me. Paranoia abducts me Christina's tusks transformed into UFOs. I feel thankful for Asia, who displays much patience and her action actions always an unconditional care for me despite my doubt and paranoia.
I measure an emergent experiment I measure an experimental meander and I repeat meandering myth-making I make myth repetition actions and pulse activities (If I was an artist and I was in the studio, then whatever I was doing in the studio must be art. At this point, art became more of an activity and less of a product.) I measure myth more active volcanoes: magmatic myth signals radioactive galaxies I prophesy pulse activities not as a product but as a process I prophesy a process of grieving and wounding and a process of myth-making and creating despite the grieving and wounding
I measure an emergent experiment: I measure a continually emergent mourning and mourning repeats volcanic activity I measure and repeat measurement I measure and repeat measured activity ancillary activity auxiliary Activity experiments ant colony activity termite colony Activity measures or experiments, and activity experiments ant measurements I measure an active ant colony collides archive and archive repeats
I measure archive. I examine archive and its measurements, and like the House of Leaves, its interior seems to exceed its exterior. I measure the interior experiment and compare it to the exterior experiment, and I hesitate to experiment. I hesitate to repeat but the archive opens Christina memories network Kiss Kindred. I measure the archive and it flurries in the activity of Kindred myth. Archives scurry or worry Christina corridors and passages (I measure the passages and its container shadows suggest the multitude of experimental possibilities)
I measure an emergent experiment and the passage as passacaglia of the Passion and passions, the subtle play of shift language sediment, and I sift this passionate soil language archaeology (I measure the archaeological language as experimental languages). The archive of the Passion pursues pattern mad hatter minotaur. Minotaur resides in attic and arctic, a monstrous bilocation. The passages and the passacaglia of the Passion and passions punch measurement. Passion punches measurements and I repeat experiments. An experiment emerges from the passages and passions of language and experiment punches hollow earth palm tree garden passages repeat passages, a passion of the pelican Christ
I measure an emergent experiment meadow meander I obsess meander measurements seize holy spirit and my glossolalia glitters a heap of language My human body hazards axe outward a heap of language and I lengthen language through the threaded sapphire-light corridors
I Remember As Activity
The changing information which we experience as would is an unfolding narrative. It tells the death of a woman. This woman, who died long ago, was one of the primordial twins. She as one half of the divine syzygy. The purpose of the narrative is the recollection of her and her death. The Mind does not wish to forget her… All the information processed by the Brain – experienced by us as the arranging and rearranging by physical objects – is an attempt at this preservation of her; stones and rocks and sticks and amoebae are traces of her…
I only feel capable of grieving the end of the Kindred and it feels absurd to try and write about it. I feel incapable… How to write or even explain the loss of the Kindred…
I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what this is yet – it might be nothing. Fragments. Further fragments and feather fragments: fragment, for archiving. Fragments for archive and fragments for archiving – I don’t know what this is yet. Archive fragments avalanche of aardvarks. I don’t know what this is: absurd fragment, quark flavours. I don’t know: this is it. It insists insect triangles or tautological termite thunder. What this is: fragment, grieving in fragments, and fragments molt fragments metamorphosis. I mimic insect metamorphosis motherfucker transmigration of souls. I mimic mothligth fragments or fragment miniature blue. I beam a blue burst braid: braided firework fragments. Blue braids firework fragments machine fractals…
(Confronted with “what to do” in his studio soon after graduating, Nauman had the simple but profound realization that “if I was an artist and I was in the studio must be art. At this point art because more of an activity and less of a product.”)
I actively grieve and I make my grief my activity: even if from now on, grief continues to gore the Book again and again as wild gods, I will matador the activity and prophecy. If I prophesy grief, then I prophesy grief. Grief erupts abrupt and absurd and I prophesy its discontinued molar tooth magma.
I don’t know what this is yet. I don’t know what this is yet – nothing and nothing. A clean and well-lighted place but nothing and nothing. This nothing but I prophesy nothing. I prophesy fragments: fragments of grief, fragments of god, fragments of Kindred: I prophesy to learn to accept my fragments, my fragmentation, and my fractals. I prophesy in partials: partial somethings partial nothing, partial everything. I don’t know what this: this is it. I rewatch parts (partials) of the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and when Clementine says, remember me, I remember Christina and Kindred. Remember me – try your best. I will try my best and I will remember Christina and Kindred. I don’t know what what this is: Christina and Kindred. More than Christina and Kindred: my other friends. I storytell Asia Rhizome and Krystal and Taryn, and although my grief over the end of the Kindred overwhelms me, my other relationships break through. Asia breaks through rogue waves crashing against the alchemical lighthouse.
It tells about the death of a woman. I don’t know what this is yet but it tells about the death of a woman. It speaks an end of the Kindred. It tells of fragments grieving in fragments, a fractal repetition that moves molt fragments with metamorphosis. I mimic mothlight fragments of fragment miniature bright blue, and blue bursts bridal chamber braids. Blue bursts bridal chamber braids firework black bear. Black braids ben hinnom machine hockets / hocket harsh noise noonwise mosaic. Mimed mosaic machined mosaic fragments assembled otherwise (otherwise my ostinato transforms grief into complete insect metamorphosis). Well and mosaic miss too molts miniatures blue metamorphosis: I change in the messy fragments of grief.
It tells about the death of a woman (If I was an artist and I was in the studio, then whatever I was doing in the studio must be art. At this point, art became more of an activity and less of a product)
I remember as activity and I storytell as activity I activity remember activity ancillary activity auxillary I experiment in the activity of remembering and I remember active art colony activity termite colony / my mercury clumps into colonies and active ring of volcanoes Colony coalesce harmony halogen aquarium activity: an active Taryn topiary (at active Taryn topiary quips topaz heterogeneous hedge clippers)
I repeat remembering / the Book and monolith memorywork The Book memorywork monolith: body stone as active archive
I repeat remembering and I experiment memory I measure memory an emergent experiment meander I meander memory and I obsess I obsess memory I obsess an experimental memory and a repeated memory hazard heap of language (my memory hosts heap of language longer meander)
I struggle with the Book and how to find motivation to work through and to the Book, prophesying and grieving. I instead decide to copy and edit some thoughts past ben wrote almost fourth months ago:
I miss Christina. I miss Christina and it has been a month now since I have heard from her. I do not know what happened to her (I imagine a cartoon old west wanted poster: WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE Christina Marie). I do not know if she’s dead or alive, and that UNKNOWN makes any kind of normal (if there is such a thing) grieving process impossible – do I grieve this absence? How do I grieve this absence? It is different grieving this unknown absence than Christina in a coma or Christina in the grave? I do not know the answer to these questions. I attempt to continue some sort of semblance of a daily routine: I continue to edit my writing daily and post it daily on my blog, I continue to research and write new material daily, and I have attempted a semi-regular exercise practice and diet into order to lose some weight. I try to live a certain kind of boredom – I enjoy the day-to-day similarity and it reduces my anxiety of the unknown. I admit I have little tolerance for disruptions and change in my routine but for the most part, the dull variation of the day helps me to the survive. Christina’s absence fucks me up and her absence disrupts my routine / I daily daily. All I can do is write to survive.
Accepting the end of the Kindred eases that anxiety of the unknown and it allows me to completely grieve, to accept loss forever as Jack Kerouac wrote It also erupts into full and passionate grief and feeling for this loss: this unmediated complete grief overwhelms me, and I’ve felt unable to write much of anything else despite a long queue and pile-up of conversations with Asia.
The day after his mother’s death, October 25, 1977. Roland Barthes began a “mourning diary”. He wrote it in ink, sometimes in pencil, on strips of paper (regular typing paper cut into quarters) of which he kept a constant supply on his desk.
I write on slips of paper and index cards: to mourn the imaginary then real end of the Kindred (a sustained death and a long death duration where the Kindred emerges from its coma cocoon and ascends to the kingdom of the skies)
I leave the fragments unfused and fragments file vertebral visions
I don’t know what this is yet: the purpose of the narrative is the recollection of her and her death.
It might be nothing but fragments to archive. Fragments mixed mosaic and assembled otherwise (otherwise an ostinato that stresses nothing insects)
Insects nocturne noun midnights midnight I arrange and rearrange Christina ghosts with grasshoppers: they hop a haunted Christina castle sometimes with towers and a drawbridge
My Grief Outwits Me
It tells about the death of a woman. This woman, who died long ago, was one of the primordial twins. She was one half of the divine syzygy.
Fuck text Fuck text fang rain runner runner rampage Fuck text take fang four teeth funnel human flesh This text cannot convey my grief: fuck text I invent new bird languages: I discover or resynthesize adamic languages (alchemical language cuts tent human language)
It tells about the death of a woman fuck this story Fuck text tent story traces tannin / language monstrosities Fuck text so I invent multidirectional language monstrosities (a monster language hidden beneath an ordinary text: Book in its entirety swings sulfur KING FELIX)
Text trek thrak thrash text tore more text Text tore more text towers Tear text towers tenfold fathom phantom fever physics I text frame farther / I feather Einstein on the Beach Einstein on the Beach bare repetition (I bare her name notated naval blockades) Text tear tile mile motile book bacteria and I receive the text texts torture garden and I garden my messed grieving gardens I garden text fuck pineapple grenade pulp (A meteor crashed on earth… No one knew the mystery of the mutant spores inside! THE DEADLY SPAWN) Fuck text language mutates secret slime languages (it is such a mystical place, the land of tears) I invent a torture garden languages mutant spores spore spread speed: I speed to spawn spore languages spur subterranean (Mutant spore bone spur miss asphalt language)
Benjamin, fuck text (a beautiful text or a cohesive text and let mess grieve as mess Let mess meander awful ugly teeth fang monstrous flesh Flesh fragment death of a woman an invented absurd grieving language
The Book prophesies THE JOY OF LANGUAGE The Book prophesies THE PLAY OF LANGUAGE The Book prophesies IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD The Book prophesy LOGOS SHE LIGHTS THE LIGHTS The Book prophesies KRYSXTRYN + ASIA RHIZOME DIVINE LANGUAGE
I experiment a nervous language / I experiment a grieving language I experiment a nervous messy language: nervous swerve nerve architectonic mutant neuron networks (My nervous neuron language latches deadly spawn) Nervous swerve language enervates architectonic neuron nets near neurons Nervous experiments architectures: messy techne pit pith plinth in the penal colony Near neurons nets deadly spawn psalm sprawl / near neurons nip sit net experiment robust mutations Robust mutations rear rhizome nervous meds networks I repeat myself grieving nervous desert (desert decides undecidable delamination from its immediate environs)
I nervous experimental languages and language charms car psalm choir charm canvas I nervous canvas language cranial carnage harness nervous I nervous canvas skull amulet and skull carnage (sect languages animate amulet onyx auroch oxen basin bath benjamin / benjamin bathes blue grief and blue period)
It tells the story of the death of a woman and her death chairs underground psalms / a charming canvas language language primes neuron nervous Her death chasms psalm prayer eye brain basin middle city Charm invents nervous forest / my flesh forests dead spawn My flesh forests nervous mutations and my forest flesh bursts bells brash can can dance cat in the brain Forest fringe fleets nervous farmland / murder in the red barn cat in the brain I frame nervous forest a certain place in the woods I light the fires I light the fires nervous forest woody word inventions
Fuck text and fuck texts: any prior existing texts that I frequently quote, sample, and steal from because they all prove inadequate for my grief, for the loss of the Kindred. My own language proves inadequate and I search deadly spawn and amulet charms as a way invent or rediscover anew an adequate language (I suspect such an adequate language will prove impossible but I must keep inventing and rearranging this mess, this grieving torture garden wild). Fuck texts but indulge in the mess and unprepared improvisations of my own grief: a spontaneous grief that requires a spontaneous mutated language and invented language. The Book prophesies the joy of language and the play of language, and even my grief plays and requires an absurd play and nonsensical play: for grief necessarily resides in the graveyard of playing nonsense and playing absurdity. Fuck text and let it disintegrate into endless nonsense.
My grief outwits me and although I try to repeat the story of the death of a woman, the story splits my skull spore spiders Spiders trace speed and spread of mutated maps / her map orientations has a prehistory I experiment orientation ha a prehistory and she snares book hailstones Her prehistory hole hail hell hermeneutics (I split myself open and Christina in a series of spore networks crawls out She crawls machine rhizome and I orient my motion massive milk machines Machine medicines medicine medicine)
It tells about the death of a woman and I measure an emergent experiment window grief meander I obsess meander measurements: I measure Kindred distance nonexistence / seizures dehiscence She maps orientation has a prehistory and dehisced hermeneutics hatches a heap of language My heap of languages grieves inadequately I heap axe outward language laced by archaic human bodies Archaic humans hem and dehisce primordial ark (I secretly compose the Ark of the Covenant with Homo erectus bones)
My language lure listlessly inadequate Lamb language Language language languages Lost nothing No
Industrial bone smokes central nervous system salt slow cellulose tumors I sleep with language tumors laughing
I sleep immediate medium I sleep immediate disintegration drink desert Desert dense sleep I sleep immediate
All I write feels inadequate or inaccurate. It feels absurd or futile: what is this what am I I am not real – I do not really exist – I don’t really exit and I slowly disintegrate now Christina cannot sustain me. A tulpa – or dreamed in the circular ruins. Christina and I watched A Beautiful Mind with her church youth group and on the drive home, we joked I only existed in her mind, a ben imaginary friend, a Christina hallucination. I garden unreal without Christina and I exist does not exist through the looking glass. I awake in this dream, you see – I wake Christina suddenly Ben alone and I disappear – only desert remains. No Ben, no Christina, only extended dandelion Book of Sand.
Dandelion conveys expansion, an extended emptiness Dandelions disappear empty desert / desert appears instant coffee spontaneous Spontaneously Christina leaves a ben dandelion expanse: exterior empty and entire empty (Empty tire shop empty tunnel gasoline)
Desert dense door dandelion empty: desert stuffs absurd empty / outside slices inside same emptiness I open door dense desert and desert in its empty expanse repeats dense desert again and absurd languages (this law of seven exists everywhere and allwhen: in chymistry, in physics, the law of seven structures that composed musical scale, and in the completion of the stages in complete octaves insect metamorphosis)
The Book Chains Us Together
The changing information which we experience as world is an unfolding narrative. It tells about the death of a woman. This woman, who died long ago, was one of the primordial twins. She was one half of the divine syzygy. The purpose of the narrative is the recollection of her and her death. The Mind does not wish to forget her. Thus the ratiocination of the Brain consists of a permanent record of her existence, and, if read, will be understood this way. All the information processed by the Brain – experienced by us as the arranging and rearranging of physical objects – is an attempt at this preservation of her; stones and rocks and sticks and amoebae are traces of her. The record of her existence and passing is ordered onto the meanest level of reality by the suffering Mind which is now alone.
It tells about the death of a woman: it tells about the (metaphorical) death of Christina and the death of the Kindred. I am the Mind that does not wish to forget her. The Book consists of a permanent record of her (the Kindred’s existence) and I arrange and rearrange materials made languages and languages made materials around the canvas of the Book. I preserve her in book stone and book rocks and book sticks and book amoebae. (Where there are three, they are without God, and where there is but a single one, I say that I am with him. Lift up the stone and you will find me there. Split the piece of wood and I am there.)
I grieve as an irrational mind, a god gap split horn gore god gap I grieve gap irrational grief (does any grief gift the rational?) My grief fires forever unfinished I light fires fugitive physics I light the fire freer: freer she lights the lights the bridegroom moves to her I bare the animal on my body and body books body bridegroom for bloody Yahweh I light the fire Sun Chariot body chew prayer Her spirit speaks the solar bridal car, its lowering heavens, and it traces the rising and getting through various stars
I grieve the guttural and gutter grief of the Irrational Mind scarred by grief. It tells about the death of a woman… (The fire we can no longer light, the prayer we can no longer know, nor do we know the place. All we can do is tell the story and that, too, proved sufficient.) I grieve and I go to the certain place in the woods, light the fire, and pray, and it is done Certain place in the woods weird language lost ghost wild word Place woods word wildstyle decalogue: places disintegrate legion logos drift wood holy spirit Drift double slit experiment places snow fire simplicity I hide fire among the worlds in my mouth I hide fire car crash smash snow in my mouths
I grieve at certain places and I still light the fires. I continue to light the fires. I continue the fires and the woods stoke spool words. Fires tell the stories. I grieve at certain places and my grief displaced the fire. I grieve twist the guts of the woods and the fires groan grief: they the the story of the death of a woman.
I tells the story of the death of a woman and I hide her fires among the worlds in my mouth
I hide her fire among the worlds in my mouth and my mouth burns continual Book bonefires (We have left our frustrated shores behind and embarked on your book You have not left the book since You could not have But sometimes the space between the lines is so large that you seem to thread on new ground The margins are so wide The book chains us together) I hide her fires in my mouth and the margins are so wide My mouth widens book chasm and I chew bottomless pit: pit apollyon and abaddon meteorite patterns My mouth hides the margins are so wide, and they tell of the death of a woman
Book tells about the death of a woman and this Book chains us together
Book shore shares beach blonde Book shore shares blonde beach bare breast Taryn Book share shed shore share Taryn beach antlers (she charges with her antlers and sparks fires the margins are so wide) Beach Taryn tears book pages with after avalanche / Book atlas maps manipulate hands build Book antlers Book bare baby blue were the color of her eyes / Book shares the bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight
Book shards snail shore slope bodies Book shards shed slope body body babel (snort short babel shots and snort short slot Book) Book hooks blood haste hexagrams: Book hexagrams grapple glamour photography with margins so wide Book photography further forest fires
I bathe in the margins of the book and the Book becomes my body. Book which widens margins maps body without organs itself a body without organs. I bathe in the margins in the Book and I battle in the margins of the Book. I battle my Book Body which grieves the death of a woman: it grieves the death of the Kindred. I leave the frustrated shores of the Book for the frustrated shores of her Book: I leave the frustrated shores of our Book for the frustrates shores of my Book, alone (this isn’t true: the Book belongs to Ben + Asia now, but no longer to the Kindred). Book babels in grieving fragments that catch spontaneous fires / car crash castle combustion. I bathe in the Book, a mind corrupted by irrational belief.
A Butcher Book bowsers blade shade blues / my Butcher Book slashes bridal chamber synchronicities, a bloody swimming slime (In this house madness is a way of life! Chop, chop, slice, slice, another man would be so nice! DON’T RING THE DOORBELL) Book Butcher hacks and slashes stand inside your love…
It tells about the death of a woman… The end – important to all things – but I never write end I write end END end to end I never consider end and I cannot conceive of an end to the Book (Inconceivable! You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means) I do not conceive an end to the Book but I conceive an end to the Kindred – this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a with a whimper I never consider end but end edges End edges burdock Book: edges human and human beginning (beginning burdock) I never write end to end but end to beginning: beginning to beginning Book burdocks Book burdocks desert monolith lithic flake industries
Vision and Mysticism 