Radio DelEuZe: yepyepyahyaya

14.8.09

yepyepyahyaya

As to the pure mind all things are pure, so to the poetic mind all things are poetical.Long fellow. thus the poetic unconscious factory the unconscrious poetric of everdaylife. it is perfectly today that you can be a poet without ever having written a line of verse as for me .I am a painter. Indeed.

Rilke was a pianter as well as Well a wishing well. me I was the performance poet _ not not a spoken word one - that being another categrowee genre alL tWo GeTher. I have a theOree bout that. did poetry with musicans galore and actresses and all. others. here and there. over canada. twice in paris. france. onece in london, even almost did one in grandpapa land dublin ireland but kissing the wee blarney stone of poesies instead of its grape of grasping balls. bollocks.It is a tremendous act of violence to begin anything. I am not able to begin. I simply skip what should be the beginning." yessum starts in the middle. melee. middle Ray MedIas. Res. Des. Res of LEgion word. So. then. starpt strop. scrogged by play and pen. and phoneme drag. bullett. try that.

"La narration, c'est une araignée."

------------------------------in fact, once there's marriage, there's no more desire, no more sexuality. In all my twenty-five years of work in the field I've never seen a heterosexual married couple that functioned along the lines of desire. Never. They don't exist :Uncle Guattari in 92 talking about DeSire.

The Sire. Oh Sire thy desIre! Smile thou art'on candid desire.For me desire is always 'outside;' it always belongs to a minority. See this is why the troubadour tradition and chilvaric tradition of love existed, so Desire could happen without being completely wiped out by the machine of marriage. Let not the true marriage of minds impede. writing machines are essentially tied to the institutions of State power. You begin a novel I am, but you do not know how it is going to finish maybe it wont be called a novel my true works were fictions which dont make them less honey my lover. beloved one. mouth of your begining each word hung.

I n the midst of this state of
affairs , a shaft of meaning must be discovered that cuts through my impatience for the other to adopt my point of view, andthrough the lack of good will in the attempt to bend the other to my desires. Not only must I accept this adversity, I must love it for its own sake: I must seek it out, communicate with it with her night of bears the bowls of her finger her semi paralyzed body lisping into my own , delve into it, increase it, :it willget me out of my narcissis m my bureacratic blindess and restore for me a sense of finitude of my own death blessing birthing your eyes your hand your birth to bath of heart to sweet your voice O hoist me to your adverse Such Sweet Adversity

Sweet Sober Adversity

ifthese orthographies are errors they are yours
those of errors of love

__________AnD What I most detested was Hegelianism and dialectics.

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__________AnD

What I most detested was Hegelianism and dialectics.

And : The question of speed is important and also very complex. It doesn't mean the first in the race: you can be late through speed. Speed is to be caught in a becoming_ which is not a development or an evolution. One must be like a taxi, queue(ligne d'attente), line of flight, traffic jam, bottleneck, green and red lights, slightly paranoid,brushes with the police. To be an abstract and broken line, a zigzag which glides 'between'. The grass and speed. What you misnamed style just now_ charm or style_ is speed.

And :One only discovers worlds through a long, broken flight.

_AnD______as_______for___

As for the method of deconstruction of texts I see clearly what it is, I admire it a lot, but it has nothing to do with my own method. I do not present myself as a commentator on texts.

For me, a text is merely a small cog in an extra-textual practice. It is not a question of commenting on the text by a method of deconstruction, or by a method of textual practice, or by other methods; it is a question of what use it has in an extra-textual practice that prolongs the text ..

Professor D Challanger speaking

in Clinical Critical terms as the hat was in the wind

How else?

How else can one write of those things which one doesn't know, or knows badly? It is precisely here that we imagine having something to say. We write only at the frontiers of our knowledge, at the border which separates our knowledge from our ignorance and transforms the one to the other.
Only in this manner are we resolved to write. To satisfy ignorance is to put off writing until tomorrow -or rather, to make it impossible. Perhaps writing was a relation to silence altogether more threatening that that, which is supposed to entertain with death.
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Difference and Repetition.