Surface. Signal. Structure.
"What is that noise?" The wind under the door."What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?" Nothing again nothing. "Do"You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember"Nothing?" T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land https://videopress.com/v/OWtNSjqB?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true
"The corpse you planted last year in your garden, Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year? Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?" T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land https://videopress.com/v/XfU6G5IJ?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true
"I like to think (it has to be!) of a cybernetic ecology where we are free of our labors and joined back to nature, returned to our mammal brothers and sisters, and all watched over by machines of loving grace." Richard Brautigan, All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace https://videopress.com/v/so8RKGTc?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&preloadContent=metadata
"The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me." Wittgenstein's Mistress, David Markson https://videopress.com/v/WfJ60cAo?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&preloadContent=metadata
"The Empire is the institution, the codification, of derangement; it is insane and imposes its insanity on us by violence, since its nature is a violent one. To fight the Empire is to be infected by its derangement. This is a paradox: whoever defeats a segment of the Empire becomes the Empire; it proliferates like… Continue reading Interference III // The U.N.K.L.E. T.O.M. Project
"Alas, the gates of life never swing open except upon death, never open except upon the palaces and gardens of death. And the universe appears to me like an immense, inexorable torture-garden. Blood everywhere and, where there is most life, horrible tormentors who dig your flesh, saw your bones, and retract your skin with sinister,… Continue reading All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace
“Everyone carries a room about inside him. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one’s ears and listens, say in the night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened… Continue reading 137 Steps
"Colorless green ideas sleep furiously." Noam Chomsky, Syntactic Structures
"It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those that have lost it." Somerset Vaughan, Of Human Bondage I THERE WAS A RED-BRICK HOUSE in Riverdale the neighbourhood kids relished visiting because there were greater freedoms to be found there than in any other household on either side of the railroad tracks… Continue reading The Crystal Furnace
The New Poetics 