There is a turbid hiss in memory, darker than you can hear. Lights seriated in blackness, stars or habitations. Cities dissipated, reformed, as if you are passing through some lost continent; as if we all are. But you expect the commitments to be assumed. There will be something for someone. A network of proprieties to be overwritten.
rest @http://enemyindustry.net/blog/?p=6470
synthetic zerØ 
The reference to Jacob Marley, ghost, as having “no bowels” alludes to I John, the “bowels of compassion”, and is the reason Dicken’s provides for Marley’s eternal damnation. Dicken was wron about salvation and my former neighbor Carol was wrong about the possibility of redemption — there is none. Live in the embodied moment. It has been a rough week kiddies in the City of Allen Ginsburg.
Must read the Zooepoetics thingy. Is each post a plateau? I hope so because all the 2 kwuul 4 skwuul assignments are hard to read on an iphone in the subway.
Ursula Heise talk Friday.