I had no idea what he was talking about, really. Reverberations pass away easily, behind the ears, at pressure points, when cooking. Roles are performed in adequate fashion, resulting in countering feelings of inadequacy, words flow, nothing is communicated. The treatise is about performance, perhaps. Insinuation of a guise, this is not real, whichever how you really feel. No, really. Keeping it real.
Had no idea what i was talking about really. Sometimes the emotions would arise, and one would find oneself unable to act appropriately, a subjective propriety, a nicety. Trying not to look too hard at his pimples. The palimpsest of his pimples, because even thirty-somethings get them, oh yes, renewal, we can feel like teenagers again and again and over again.
Your postmaturity, maybe. Treatises that we haven’t written yet, half-thoughts, names dropped, another drifting off on the bus again. No, there. When the girl with the ponytail steps on my foot in the bus, I notice her, her captivated audience of fellow passengers, a spectacle in action. She is playing paper-rock-scissors with a boy shorter than her, perhaps that is what it makes it more obvious that he is cheating the game, as his eyes steal glances upwards on every count, towards her poised hand, ready to draw. If he is quick he can change his draw at the last moment, just after he’s seen her paper or rock or scissor coming down like an absurd call of judgement. His is fickle and cunning at the same time. Paper wraps around rock. But each time the breath before the draw is prolonged just a bit longer; she knows his game. He knows she knows his game. And the game shifts a little bit, bus ride bumpy, to a different battle of suspense: who will cheat on the other first. the classic grid of one to another strategy, don’t call it war, it’s just the way things are. remember that lecture that we went to where you didn’t understand? Punnett for non-pundits, I’m on the bus and I could observe this moment for hours. fault or fancy? their fists are suspended in mid-air, holding on a bit longer than forever. this is a treatise on the university of disaster.
Posted by 丫 | more »chainletter dinner
We prepared some of your recipes…
Maria Kley:
何京蕴 Anouchka van Driel & Jasmina van Driel:
Please click “more” below to see the full recipes.
Posted by secretary | more »re: mmmmm
——– Original Message ——–
Subject: Re: mmmmm
Date: Fri, 5 Feb 2010 00:39:23 +0100
From: Lommée Thomas <http://intrastructures.net/>
To: ho @ iwishicoulddescribeittoyoubetter.net
Shlaraffenland is German for … boogie-wonderland!
It’s that place where you can stay in bed all day long and watch DVDs, where lemon cheese cakes are packed in semi-translucent paper, where people drive bikes with big baskets full of kids, where the streets smell like fresh croissants between 7 and 9 am, where people just say what they always wanted to say, where coffee comes with a little chocolate, where people still dress up for parties, where old ladies talk with a lot of gestures, where smoking is still accepted, where you can eat from the walls (but only on special occasions), where newspapers are crispy and heroic, where WiFi is gone (but then not maybe … donno), where people built boats on their roofs and pigeons bring messages, where the moments you’ve been waiting for all your life really happen … at least most of them.
Just google it, you might find it ..
Posted by 丫 | more »wasted time, excessive time, suspended time, comrades
“But when we begin to question our projects, to doubt or reformulate them, the present, the contemporary, becomes important, even central for us. This is because the contemporary is actually constituted by doubt, hesitation, uncertainty, indecision—by the need for prolonged reflection, for a delay. We want to postpone our decisions and actions in order to have more time for analysis, reflection, and consideration. And that is precisely what the contemporary is—a prolonged, even potentially infinite period of delay. Søren Kierkegaard famously asked what it would mean to be a contemporary of Christ, to which his answer was: It would mean to hesitate in accepting Christ as Savior. The acceptance of Christianity necessarily leaves Christ in the past. In fact, Descartes already defined the present as a time of doubt—of doubt that is expected to eventually open a future full of clear and distinct, evident thoughts.”
–boris groys, comrades of time
Posted by f | reply »mrs. jeanne dielman, objecthood, health and routine sadness
leaning towards, leaning on, attachments.
靠！to be close to.
Posted by 丫 | reply »will the summer make good for all of our sins
gifting
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