What part of NO don’t you understand?

The Old Dark House, 1932, 2012

????????? did not believe ????????? actually ????????? in the manner ????????? described. The people who knew? Absolute bores. Book of shadows. And their morticians, and their assistants, and their perpetual faux-cool pauses and faux-in-control pauses.

????????? compared the Judge’s Room to a shame. She compared the ????????? (20009-Present) to a shame and the method of ????????? to the Rocks, the Rockaways, the Wandering Rocks, mussels on rocks, Kierkegaard, and the darkest pages of Flaubert’s correspondence. She amassed every moment, every impression, every absence, created a sort of history, and investigated this history, isolated (identified) the positions of dominance, and wrote a report where it was revealed that ????????? ‘s fabricated sensations, lapses of memory, inventions, and the words she never pronounced had been stored, amalgamated, and disgorged as smirks, hums, spells (hummed), laconic judgements, distastes (that would, in return, cause distaste), pause times, vexations, contumelies, and the cold calculation, perhaps repressed, of the uncertain advantages of “truth,” the distant perils such “truth” might prevent, the likelihood such “truth” would be misconstrued, mocked, inverted, debarred from acceptance, in order to, as a disorganization without enemies, a decentralized orchestration of moments, make this very last enemy renounce.

[Insert extremely clear diagram here.]

Crushed with violence was the one treated like an enemy, annihilated was truth. A renouncement represented by a letter in its actualization as another letter, for instance from a W to an M, a Z to a P, as in when and women and zilch and pestiferous, a larva, blue lava, endlessly pupating and discharging, nothing else than a repetition, converted to the cause of her truth and the fact of her darkness, obdurate and destructive.

In a letter to ?????????, published in Ecrits Posthumes, a book auto-da-féed in 2009, ????????? wrote, shouting her rage: The “power” that ??????????? (plural) can get from ???????, I have never known a more powerless sorority of ????????????? (plural). ??????? is lonely and sad, pale. I have challenged her and she sent ????????? to ?????? me but I didn’t even ???????????.

?

Imp
May 7, 2010 9:52pm
today we walked from 27th st to soho! it was so nice. this is the best weather, the best temperature… talked about hegel and the spurious infinite, talked about creativity and why it is drying up, and the convo veered off onto paranoia, schizophrenia and deleuze, i didn’t read the anti-oedipe so i was just listening… talked about goethe, itten and wittgenstein and color theories, picasso. talked about noise and aloha said there was that guy w/ a jackhammer outside her place going tatatata for over an hour yesterday afternoon and she was about to lose her mind. talked about the tapestry of noises, the omnipresence of the noises, our tolerance to noises, and truisms about noises, that we understand what calm is when we’re in the middle of the desert, in the middle of maine, in palm springs… smoked cigs. when we crossed greenwich village aloha got kind of blue, we walked by a place where she used to go with her ex. she’s not the kind of girl who mulls over the pros and cons for hours, procrastinates, holds things back, she just does things if her instinct kicks so, so she texted her ex, something like, hi! do you still have my mailbox key by any chance? xoxo a, and sibyl replied: oh crap! you’re totally right. i can drop it off. i don’t think i’m coming to manhattan this weekend but maybe next week? aloha read and said, what?! not even one x! she replied: i really don’t know why i still have feelings for you. and sibyl replied: this is why i get stressed when we start texting, it’s impossible to have a normal communication. have a good weekend. aloha turn her phone off and said, every time i try to open a door, she builds one more door — (hegel:) especially in the form of the quantitative progress to infinity which continually surmounts the limit it is powerless to remove. “i know, and such small portions.” i said, yeah. then we saw a weird car and talked about the times square bomber and aloha said she wanted to die. “it can go down to zero,” she said.

Trash past death, 2009