Fanged nominals

MEETING OF INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCE OF TECHNOLOGICAL PSYCHIATRY by William Burroughs From Naked Lunch (1959) Doctor “Fingers” Schafer, the Lobotomy Kid, rises and turns on the Conferents the cold blue blast of his gaze: “Gentlemen, the human nervous system can be reduced to a compact and abbreviated spinal column. The brain, front, middle and rear must follow the adenoid, the wisdom tooth, the appendix – I give you my Master Work: The Complete All American Deanxietized Man.” Blast of trumpets: The man is carried in naked by two bearers who drop him on the platform with bestial, sneering brutality – The Man wriggles – His flesh turns to viscid, transparent jelly that drifts away in green mist, unveiling a monster black centipede. Waves of unknown stench fill the room, searing the lungs, grabbing the stomach. Schafer wrings his hands sobbing: “Clarence!! How can you do this to me?? Ingrates!! Every one of them ingrates!!” The Conferents start back muttering in dismay: “I’m afraid Schafer...

"Not by my own hand. Automatic writing by phantom limb. Not with my own voice." - The opening lines to A Private Understanding , by Protomartyr. Lyrics by Joe Casey. Note that the title of the song, "A Private Understanding", is a quote from the English translation of one of Heraclitus' fragments: “Although this Word [λόγος] is common, the many live as if they had a private understanding".

In dis rubriek vertaal ich 'n filesofische passaag die ich sjwan ving nao mien moojertaal, 't Limbörgs. Vandaag inkele heidense wäörd van de zögenömde "pre-Socraat" Heraclitös, ouwe wäörd die euvergewäjd zeen van eeuwe veurdat Ozze Leeven Jer gebore waor. De selectie is de miene. Ich ging bie michzelf op onderzeuk. 't Is alle luuj gegeve zichzelf te kènne en versjtändig te zeen. Hybris bewärt geblös te weure nog väöl mjer es 'ne oetsjloonde brand. De minsje wach, es zie sjterve, wat zie neet verwachte en aoch neet geluive. Natuur - zö zaet Heraclitös - plaeg zich verborge te houwe. Veur de god is alles sjwan, good en rechvaardig, mèr de minsje goon d'rvan oet dat 't eine onrechvaardig, 't andere rechvaardig is. De weeg op en neer is ein en dezelfde. Kränkte maak gezondheid prettig en good, hoonger verzaodiging, vermeuidheid oetröste. Zie höbbe d'r gein begrip van, wie 't aafzonderende mit zichzelf insjtömp: 'n ömmer terrukkjerrende härm...

  Zeal & Ardor - Götterdämmerung Wasch die Götzen von der Wand Brenne die Lügen weg Nimm von Göttern, was sie wollen Und was zu Recht dir gebührt, schrei: Deus! Magnus! Niger! Quoniam! Deus! Magnus! Niger! Quoniam! The writing's on the wall and there'll be hell to pay The gods you knew before are dying anyway (they'll never find us) They took our night away (they'll never find us) They took our night away (they'll never find us) They took our night away (they'll never find us) Götterdämmerung! Nimm die Säure in die Hand Ätze die Lügen weg Töte Götter, gib als Gaben nur  Was dir nicht mehr bekommt Deus! (Deus) Magnus! (Magnus) Niger! (Niger) Quoniam! Deus! (Deus) Magnus! (Magnus) Niger! (Niger) Quoniam! The symbols on the floor will take the pain away The gods you knew before are dying anyway (they'll never find us) They took our night away (they'll never find us) They took our night away (they'll never find us) They took our night away (they'...

Postscript on the Societies of Control by Gilles Deleuze 1. Historical Foucault located the disciplinary societies in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; they reach their height at the outset of the twentieth. They initiate the organization of vast spaces of enclosure. The individual never ceases passing from one closed environment to another, each having its own laws: first, the family; then the school (“you are no longer in your family”); then the barracks (“you are no longer at school”); then the factory; from time to time the hospital; possibly the prison, the pre-eminent instance of the enclosed environment. It’s the prison that serves as the analogical model: at the sight of some laborers, the heroine of Rossellini’s Europa ’51 could exclaim, “I thought I was seeing convicts.” Foucault has brilliantly analyzed the ideal project of these environments of enclosure, particularly visible within the factory: to concentrate; to distribute in space; to order in time; to compose a p...

 Sufjan Stevens - The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out to Get Us! Thinking outrageously I write in cursive I hide in my bed with the lights on the floor Wearing three layers of coats and leg warmers I see my own breath on the face of the door Oh I am not quite sleeping Oh I am fast in bed There on the wall in the bedroom creeping I see a wasp with her wings outstretched North of Savanna we swim in the Palisades I come out wearing my brothers red hat There on his shoulder my best friend is bit seven times He runs washing his face in his hands Oh how I meant to tease him Oh how I meant no harm Touching his back with my hand I kiss him I see the wasp on the length of my arm Oh great sights upon this state, halleluja! Wonders bright, and rivers, lake, halleluja! Trail of tears and Horseshoe Lake, halleluja! Trusting things beyond mistake, halleluja! (We were in love! We were in love! Palisades, Palisades I can wait, I can wait) (We were in love! We were in love! Palisades, Palisa...

A Quick-and-Dirty Introduction to Accelerationism by Nick Land  Anyone trying to work out what they think about accelerationism better do so quickly. That’s the nature of the thing. It was already caught up with trends that seemed too fast to track when it began to become selfaware, decades ago. It has picked up a lot of speed since then.  Accelerationism is old enough to have arrived in waves, which is to say insistently, or recurrently, and each time the challenge is more urgent. Among its predictions is the expectation that you’ll be too slow to deal with it coherently. Yet if you fumble the question it poses – because rushed – you lose, perhaps very badly. It’s hard. (For our purposes here “you” are standing in as a bearer of “the opinions of mankind”.)  Time-pressure, by its very nature, is difficult to think about. Typically, while the opportunity for deliberation is not necessarily presumed, it is at least – with overwhelming likelihood – mistaken for an historical...

 "Language is an artificial system which has nothing to do with reality. Reality is a combination of perceptions, emotions, feelings, distractions, dreams and surprises; that is reality. Language on the other hand is a rigid system with different rules we must obey. We use nouns to call things by names we have invented. An example of this would be an apple. We call that fruit an "apple", but we can only perceive its colour, taste, shape, texture, weight in your hand. But we don't really know if there is something called an "apple."" - Jorge Luis Borges in a televised interview

  Joanna Newsom - Sawdust & Diamonds From the top of the flight Of the wide, white stairs Through the rest of my life Do you wait for me there? There's a bell in my ears There's the wide, white roar Drop a bell down the stairs Hear it fall forevermore Hear it fall, forevermore Drop a bell off of the dock Blot it out in the sea Drowning mute as a rock; And sounding mutiny There's a light in the wings Hits the system of strings From the side, where they swing — See the wires, the wires, the wires And the articulation in our elbows and knees Makes us buckle; And we couple in endless increase As the audience admires And the little white dove Made with love, made with love; Made with glue, and a glove, and some pliers Swings a low sickle arc, from its perch in the dark: Settle down, settle down, my desire And the moment I slept I was swept up in a terrible tremor Though no longer bereft How I shook! And I couldn't remember And then the furthermost shake drove a murtherin...

The Ongoing Soft Revolution  from Vol. 30, No. 2, Winter 2004 of Critical Inquiry By Slavoj Zizek In his admirable "The Pedagogy of Philosophy," Jean-Jacques Lecercle described the scene of a yuppie on the Paris underground reading Deleuze and Guattari's What Is Philosophy? The incongruity of the scene induces a smile–after all, this is a book explicitly written against yuppies… Your smile turns into a grin as you imagine that this enlightenment-seeking yuppie bought the book because of its title… Already you see the puzzled look on the yuppie's face, as he reads page after page of vintage Deleuze. What, however, if there is no puzzled look, but enthusiasm, when the yuppie reads about impersonal imitation of affects, about the communication of affective intensities beneath the level of meaning ("Yes, this is how I design my publicities!"), or when he reads about exploding the limits of self-contained subjectivity and directly coupling man to a machine (...

In dis rubriek vertaal ich 'n filesofische passaag die ich sjwan ving nao mien moojertaal, 't Limbörgs. Vandaag 'n sjerp citaat van Erik Hoogcarspel euver 't illusieächtige karakter van 't internet. "Es boeddis kinse 't internet messjiens es oefening gebruuke. 't Is in feite 'n karrekatuur van samsara. De begjerte, de aafgöns, de giftigheid, de illusie en de laegte zeen d'r nog gemäkkelikker te begriepe. Es se 't sjerm van d'ne tillefoon kins ljerre zeen es 'n soort ingewikkelde lamp wa niks gebäört, kinse messjiens aoch begriepe dat de wèrkelikheid wao in se leefs 'n soort opeheid is wa gaaroets niks gebäört. Es se observeers wie d'n verontwaardiging of d'n begjerte ontsjteit doordat d'n verbeelding en de leegsjtraole van dizze ingewikkelde lamp mèt elkaar samewerke, kinse messjiens aoch observere wie d'n lichaam en de versjiensele same de rösteloosheid van d'n geis tewaeg bringe." Veur 't originele ...

 “It's a strange business, speaking for yourself , in your own name, because it doesn't at all come with seeing yourself as an ego or a person or a subject. Individuals find a real name for themselves, rather, only through the harshest exercise in depersonalization, by opening themselves up to the multiplicities everywhere within them, to the intensities running through them.” - Gilles Deleuze, from Letter to a Harsh Critic (1972)

  Slint - Good Morning, Captain "Let me in, " the voice cried softly From outside the wooden door Scattered remnants of the ship could be seen in the distance Blood stained the icy wall of the shore "I'm the only one left, the storm took them all" He managed as he tried to stand The tears ran down his face "Please, it's cold" When he woke, there was no trace of the ship Only the dawn was left behind by the storm He felt the creaking of the stairs beneath him That rose from the sea to the door There was a sound at the window then The captain started, his breath was still Slowly, he turned From behind the edge of the windowsill There appeared the delicate hand of a child His face was flush and timid He stared at the captain through frightened eyes The captain reached for something to hold on to "Help me, " he whispered, as he rose slowly to his feet The boy's face went pale He recognized the sound Silently, he pulled down the shade agai...

In dis rubriek vertaal ich 'n filesofische passaag dae ich sjwan ving nao mien moojertaal, 't Limbörgs. Vandaag ein van Nietzsche's meis iconische sjriefsels, "Wie die "wahre Welt" endlich zur Fabel wurde", euver 't eind van de metafysica. Wie de "warre wereld" eindelik 'n fabel is gewoore. door Friedrich Nietzsche, oet Götzen-Dämmerung, oder Wie man mit dem Hammer philosophiert 1. De warre wereld, beriekbaar veur de wieze, de vrome, de deugdelikke, - heer leef in dae wereld, heer is dae wereld. (De ajdste väörrem van 't idee, redelik sjlöm, mäkkelik, euvertuigend. 'ne Ömkjerring van de zin, "ich, Plato, bin de warheit") 2. De warre wereld, onbereikbaar veur noe, mèr belaof aan de wieze, de vrome, de deugdelikke (veur de zönner, dae boete deit) (Veurtgang van 't idee, ze wört subtieler, verraojerlikker, onbegriepelikker - ze wört vroumisj, ze wört Christelik…) 3. De warre wereld, onberiekbaar, onbewiesbaar, onbelao...

 “There is nothing more mysterious than a TV set left on in an empty room. It is even stranger than a man talking to himself or a woman standing dreaming at her stove. It is as if another planet is communicating with you. Suddenly the TV reveals itself for what it really is; a video of another world, ultimately addressed to no one at all, delivering its own message.”  - Jean Baudrillard, from America (1986) Compare Plato's Socrates remarks on writing in the Phaedo; "I cannot help feeling, Phaedrus, that writing is unfortunately like painting; for the creations of the painter have the attitude of life, and yet if you ask them a question they preserve a solemn silence. And the same may be said of speeches. You would imagine that they had intelligence, but if you want to know anything and put a question to one of them, the speaker always gives one unvarying answer. And when they have been once written down they are tumbled about anywhere among those who may or may not understand ...

Unwound - Off This Century The future was invented Back when you thought you were human Now it's only getting better Every day that we forget Everything is a commercial, we advertise our memories We leave our shit on silver platters And then we buy whatever's left Empty life where you can be fine It's every bastard for himself The last century hasn't ended yet Bring us the head of the king! The last century hasn't ended yet It's every bastard for himself The last century hasn't ended yet Bring us the head of the king! The last century hasn't ended yet The future was invented, and you might be next Life is like Monopoly You're not old, you're obsolete And you thought the last ten years was bad From Leaves Turn Inside You (2001)