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Text as text?  What would such a ‘text’ be? Whence this purity of ‘text’? How does one establish the allegedly constitutive ‘immanence’ of such purity? A purity serving as ‘ground’, but ground for what, itself? As foundation of the granular fragmentation of a self-involution?

What is it that was written?
The non-site is simply the (non-)position from which critique is written, before the measurements and constructions of situation arise. The residue beyond systematic localisation.
If and when, awareness of systematic localisation, awareness of system as specific locale results; however domesticated, whether as epistemological, system of knowledge; ontological, system of being; or whatever else; if that leads to seemingly archaic articulations of ‘non-duality’ reminiscent of religious anachronism or anachronicity; are not such urban agglomerations encrusting the absolute, precisely the archaeological sediments (’said I meants’/mentations) and textual traces, of innumerable histories and chronologies, all declaring the timeless city of God, perhaps?
Whether or not sufficiency of solution is found to obtain or not, is simply contingent on the nature of reception and criteria of satisfaction. Surely, it’s for each ‘mouth’, if that’s your conception of others, to arrive at their own determinations of efficacy or efficiency?
There is no question of ‘superiority’, because such an evaluation would only entail yet another measurement and construction.

Who is to say what constitutes nature or the natural, a bunch of shifting historical determinations, interpretations, .docs and doxas? There is always the possibility of listening without subscribing to closures of exclusive belief.
There comes a point when it is no longer worthwhile to sanction the horrors of history, the dogmas and dramas of its positivist wargame, played out according to it’s terms, ‘selves’, and positions, those ‘ends’ no longer apply.
One plays differently, without limit, without end. There are other possibilities to attend.

AL DI MEOLA Chasin`The Voodoo

1 Comment


    Multiplied fables
    pry eyewise the labels
    split upon the ribbing
    of the mourn;

    rejection’s letterhead
    dances over the unlucky stories,
    scorns the heresies defanged;

    initials, lumbering,
    trash the tonal overlord
    from doxaspam
    where a timeless pity of sod
    lands a flowerpunch
    on the cold interfacing,
    cranks eye’s solemn mania
    into motive fan
    with tender blust.

    Such mind detox!
    what with the moving
    in circuitous mentations,
    it’s no shock
    the non-site covets its roar!—

    crawls back into the criterion-sieve
    with only a whisper of its
    inborn criticality;

    dramas play horrors in phones
    history’s voices
    receivers’ contingency
    models of free puddy crammed
    into the Adjacent
    where what deincriminates
    attends l’éclosion:

    reason’s need of nerve and tarred hands.

    Sparkles—what was written being
    ground granular:
    bloom of
    the gnawed-upon behavior of
    all this.

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