11.
Elected
primer
Tractors
plowing down my spine. Sticky
sticky oil
is still around. The Autobahnhas no speed limit. Get used to your environment. The body is used
for labor. Labor is for making bodies. Ointments and creams are for
the reap
of the crop.
Humiliated, the naked man looks up to the sky for guidance. The
clouds have eyes, like hills and the Moon. The Moon’s operation on
the tide is of surgical precision. Nuke
the Moon. Subcutaneous
explosion. Don’t say explosion. It’s ungraceful. Always be
graceful. Always be sorry. For who you are ! The condolences of
everyone at Pepsi Cola are with you and your family. TheAutobahnmakes me so happy I could die. Along it, one can travel freely,
finally. Endlessly hoping to travel faster than the speed limit. On
the Autobahn,
the speed limit is null. Update on Marjorie : no legacy. The
body is ground down to nothing. Used. One becomes used to the
environment. Teachers are used to their students. The State is used
to the citizens it administers. The road is used by the wheels of
cars. The wheels of cars are used by the road. Important lesson :
to use is to be used. The body conforms, eventually. Used
to the environment. Thread
faster. Thread a story of Putin. The Stasibecame
five or six, maybe seven. Five or six will have the ear of the
tyrant. Putin was a loser. Putin is the richest man in the world.
Putin owns the five or six whisperers. The whisperers own the oil.
Five or six whisperers control a hundred enforcers. Informers inform
the enforcers. There are more informers. Each enforcer has at least
five or six informers. The enforcer is a little tyrant. We have a
tyrant at home. The informers are all around. Pepsi is still around.
Degrees of separation, supposedly six. Three makes one tyrant speak
to a million informers. Everyone knows an informer. Get closer. Lead.
To lead is with the hand. The strong firm hand that leads you is
always getting closer. The good tyrant is always closer. A hundred
guys after each degree.A
hundred Devils trample me if old drunkards don’t outnumber old
doctors. Forgetting that drunkards of any kind outnumber doctors of
any kind. Statistically, there are more drunkards than doctors. This
is good for the doctors. Deleuze thought ill of doctors. Doctors have
no culture. Doctors don’t read Deleuze, or Spinoza. Doctors read
the body like a book. Cough a little. I’m going to order a blood
test, we’ll see how it comes back. It looks on the echography here
like there is a tumor, maybe. It could be benign or malign. It looks
like you have some internal bleeding here, maybe. Facts can be true
or false. Dogs get cancer. Dinosaurs get cancer. Marjorie’s father
got cancer. People have cases of cancer. We say it that way because
there might be more than one. God is tricky. He sometimes gives
several different cases of cancer to a single person, meaning :
that person is nothing in the world. God
is a top performer. Impenetrable.
Facts can be true or false, not both and certainly not neither.
Cancer can be malign or benign. Facts can be the case or not the
case. Marjorie’s father had a true case of malign cancer. He
became a giant wound because of it. It’s a fact, it’s true, it
was his case of cancer that killed him, malignantly. Malignantly
pointless is the cancer, which is a mutation of the cell. Cancer is a
statistic. Statistically speaking, everyone gets cancer.
Statistically speaking, the more cells, the more likely to get
cancer. Do the math. Surprisingly, whales get less cancer. Whales are
top performers, unlike Marjorie’s father, who got several cases of
cancer. Most whales barely get
cancer. Dinosaurs got cancer. There were no doctors then to tell us
how often. Malignantly
useless is the cancer. Malignantly useless are the people who are
nothing in the world. Remember : there are people who are
nothing in the world. There are people who are not a fan fan fan of
the Autobahn.
These
people are nothing in the world. There
are even people who do not fahren
fahren fahren auf der Autobahn,
but that is a whole other story.
These people are nothing in the world. Marjorie at least had a car.
The car was an object, like Marjorie. Marjorie was an object in the
world, in all respects similar to her car, which was not a Cadillac.
Fact. Marjorie’s
car is fucked. The hood folded, cabin buckled inwards, the steering
train pushed straight into the chassis, axles deformed and so on.
Poor Alex, subjected to the Ludovico. Ludovico is a method for
decomposing the object into its constituent parts. Alex was an object
in the world. Are subjects those who are free. People are born
determined. People are born objects. Slight chance of emancipation.
2%, say
some specialists.
Statistics stick. Life is statistics. People have a 2% chance of
emancipation. Emancipation means : to become a subject. People
are born objects, they have a 2% chance of becoming subjects.
Marjorie was born an object and never emancipated. To be an object
means : to be silent like beasts, to be spoken for, spoken
through, spoken by. Spoken by other objects, at times. Objects are
unlike beasts, in many ways. Beasts
are silent. In their eyes, no soul, no pain, no death. My death. I
carry it with me always. I cradle it every night as I fall asleep.
Beasts carry no death, no memory of death. We can remember our
deaths. Remember : you were dead before. Marjorie, remember :
you were dead once. Now, Marjorie returns, dead
once more.
To return is a meaning for revolution. People used to live in cycles,
before history was written. History means : the arrow of time
slices on towards the sky. The sky is the limit. Mars is above the
sky. There is no limit, like on the Autobahn.
For Musk, limits are very limiting. Musk doesn’t think the ends.
Think about the ends more. The
ends are obvious. Look atMinority Reportand then just…. Do that. Four times. Wait four times. The ends are
[Guttural screams] obvious.The
ends means : you will die, too. Carry your death with you.
Sisyphus succumbs to entropy, eventually. After
several minutes of silence, I feel better. I feel rejuvenated and
inspired to continue. When you first come to the brain, you have to
pass through the medulla oblongata. That’s where things like
breathing and heartbeat are controlled, it’s kind of like plumbing,
not very interesting. In 1967, Jim Henson, who created the Muppets,
was contacted by IBM to make a film about the virtues of word
processing technologies, emerging at the time. IBM
means : I’m Big Machine. They
explained how IBM would solve the problem called : Paperwork
Explosion. There never seems to be enough time or people to do the
paperwork. During the Holocaust, punch cards from IBM were used
extensively to store census data, ghetto statistics, concentration
camp figures. Punch card data is binary data. Hole, no hole. People
who are nothing in the world can be reduced to data. Hole, no hole.
People who are nothing in the world are written on cards. IBM cards.
IBM cards will solve the problem of paperwork by tranforming the
paper into bits. Eight bits make a byte. A million bytes make a
megabyte. 104 megabytes makes enough to store a few minutes of video
capturing the gruesome death of one nobody in the world named
Marjorie. Jim Henson created the Muppets. Jim Henson created Nobody.
Nobody is a character who walks inside his own head. He is played by
some rubber bands. Inside his head, Nobody walks by the medulla
oblongata, where many autonomic activities are regulated. These
include sneezing, breathing, heart rate regulating, puking, and so
on. Cats can puke. Frogs puke their own stomachs. Sheep and horses
can’t puke at all. Sheep
live in the present, eternally. There’s
not much to see in the medulla oblongata. The best part of the brain
is the cerebrum, of course, but it’s so big it’s easy to get lost
in it. Telencephalically speaking, the hippocampus is crucial :
it’s subcortical. We have two hippocampi. Rats and cognitive maps.
Rats in mazes get lost until they learn the way thanks to the
hippocampus. Have you ever walked into a room ? Surely.
And
forgotten instantly why ? Maybe. It’s
because of
the hippocampi.
Probably.
Cement is a practical solution for long-term storage. Oops.
The page you were looking for is gone. 404. File not found. The
internet was built for communication, initially.
The
internet
became a place for storage, automatically.
The hippocampus transfers short-term memories to long-term storage.
Sometimes, it drops some. Memories.
Sometimes, words are omitted. Sometimes, dots omit. Ellipises omit.
Four dots, at times. Some words are omitted.
Can’t read those. I miss you. I love you. I need you. You
are the apple of my eye. You are the eye of my storm. You make me a
good boy. I
am a good boy. You are a good boy. We are good boys. This is good.
The world is good. The sea is good. I want to be with you by the sea.
I want to upgrade with you. I want to ingest nutrients by your side.
I want to love you. I want to store you. I want to understand you. I
want to move my arms with you. I want to sway with you. I am a good
girl. You are a good girl. We are good girls. This is good. Death is
optional. I want to live with you. I want to die with you. I want to
be dead with you. I want to browse with you. I want to laugh with
you. I want you to laugh at me while you have intercourse with
another person. I want you to kiss me. I want you to throw feces at
me. Don’t get freaked out. I want to pay you. I love you. I want to
be with you for ever. I want to put you in a box. Don’t worry. I
want to become a giant wound with you. Don’t
get freaked out. The box will go underground. I
want to drive you. I want you to drive my car. I want you to I want
to make bits with you I want to have bytes with you I want to eat you
I want to decay with you I watnt to eat cheese with you I wnt to have
a kid with you kid I want to fly way with you and turn into packet of
datas with you and you you you can fly away and be spread out on the
lawn with you and do
[omitted]
cheese
with
you. The
internet decays.Contrarily to popular belief, you are not immortal once you are
uploaded. In fact, you might say you have been instantly forgotten.
We write things down so we can forget them. We become images, we
become punch cards, we become bits, holes and no holes, bytes, we are
uploaded, transferred, faxed, attached to emails. Control
is through the holes. The IBM machine makes you into holes. I
want to byte with you. Don’t
worry : the document is off the cloud. No one can tell me not to
write : crazy, or : emails. No one can say to
me :
Suggestion : say courrielsinstead of emails. Courrielssupposedly
means emails, in French. France will never die. As long as we
preserve the bloodline against the onslaught of migrants. Eventually,
we’ll all be slightly brown, is the logic.
France will be desolate, its cities burned with fire. Naturally
follows.
The fields stripped by foreigners right before us, laid to
waste
as when overthrown by strangers. Eventually, we will all be a
middling color. Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as
white as snow. Says the Lord to the people of Jerusalem. The
Lord is God. It’s another name for it. The Lord is a great father.
Fathers return, statistically. The Lord returns, hopefully. So far,
he’s only come once. That was Jesus. He’ll come back again. Jesus
will return. The
clouds have eyes, like the hills. Don’t be scared. The
bodies of whales fall to the bottom of the sea. TheOsedaxeat
lipids. Bone-eating worms eat the bones.
Eventually, fathers return. Hopefully, the Father will return.
Capitalized. The
Lord. God. Other names for it. Marjorie didn’t believe in God.
Pascallicaly speaking, she made the worst possible move. Fine. Death
is nothing exceptional. IBM cards prevent the paperwork explosion.
Marjorie’s father will not return, exceptionally. The
exception confirms the rule, statistically. Factually
speaking, we can say such things as : 98% of fathers return. The
world breaks down into facts that are the case and facts that aren’t.
Echolalia happens automatically. Resistance to an automatic motion
often produces its very own motion. Act like a
mask, dad. The sun seems to be the size of a human foot. Why
does Penelope weave ? To wait longer. To
escape capture. Can’t catch me. Says she. Unweaving secretly. One
may wonder what this unweaving makes. Can the act not be caught by
her suitors ? Unweaving weaves history differently. History is
woven, prophylactically, by those who want to urge on the future. The
field is open. The horizon is open. Children see the world in the
open. As do the beasts. As do the dying. As do the lovers. I
love you. You love you. We love you. This is love. History
is woven by people who love to hate lovers. Penelope has love, misses
the lover.
Thankfully, merciful Penelopes unweave unwaveringly. History
is unwoven by those who want to wait. To weave and unweave, doesn’t
mean to return, necessarily. It often does. I
will return.
But think of what kind of tapestry is made by unweaving endlessly.
Follow the thread. The man who sets himself the task of singling out
the thread of order from the tapestry of chaos will, by the decision
alone have taken charge of the world. Pastoral philosophers,
philosophizing endlessly, how best to lead the sheep to water. Sheep
are alive, just barely.
Martin and Hannah, impossible love story.
I
love you. I love you too, but you are a Jew. Very
different conceptions for the direction of history. Woven,
unwoven, rarely returned.
Not statistically. To weave and unweave means : the new weave
occurs upon a previously unwoven area. The next unweaving concerns
itself with a different area. One can’t unweave a whole tapestry
over night. Certainly not Penelope. One
can’t weave a whole tapestry over day. Penelope,
hopefully, weaves faster than she unweaves. Zeno isn’t too far from
here. If one weaves faster than one unweaves, reasonably one can
expect to one day finish the tapestry. Zeno
waves hello. Eventually.
Sisyphus
succumbs to entropy, eventually. Despite
this, Penelope’s tapestry is never finished. Interrupted,
endlessly, then, eventually, definitively, by one disloyal maid by
the holy name of Melantho. Melantho was seduced by Poseidon in the
shape of a dolphin. Dolphins are mammals too, you know. They breathe
the air in the atmosphere, don’t worry about it. Might have been a
different Melantho. Metamorphosed
Melantho. A story about matter changed to different forms. What
matters is the manner. There are many manners to arrange the matter.
Only one matter. The manner is a matter of choice. By degrees, gene
by gene, manners evolve, degenerate. The
sun boils the sea, making the clouds. Clouds matter. There are eyes
in the clouds. Whales are mammals, and when they die, they feed the
Polychaete Osedax,
among others, making communities about their bodies, returned to the
sea floor. Provided there had been no Melantho, would Penelope have
completed the tapestry ? It was a different Melantho who was
coerced by the transformed god of sea. TaylorSwift will become president. Whales
and dolphins live in the sea, usually. Not always. Unweaving and
weaving. Can’t catch me. Says Penelope. Weaving faster than she can
unweave. Impossible.
To undo must be quicker. And yet. Else there had been no tapestry, at
all. Indeed, on the first day of weaving, had she unwoven more than
had ben woven in the day, there simply would be no tapestry remaining
in the morning. Remains the last possiblity, Penelope deliberately
unweaving less than she wove previously. Possible. Begging
the question : when can Penelope sleep ? Weaving,
unweaving, unwaveringly. Ah.
You’re reading this guy. He turned left. Talking ill about the CEO.
Ah, he was there last month. History is woven by those who don’t
believe the summer will end. Concentrate.
There can be no single-use words. Certain statistics may compel me
later. Suns boils seas, making clouds. Kids
eat seats in cars. Sharks eat kids. History
is unwoven by those who want to take their time enjoying the spring.
History is unwoven by subpar performers. Cement sets : it’s a
great solution for long-time storage. Nobody is a kind of a Muppet.
But not exactly. You are not nobody. You are somebody. Marjorie was
somebody. Marjorie was nothing in the world. A body is not like a
thing. Penelope
was a top performer and a subpar performers. We feel we have reached
the ends of some of our means.
History is woven by those who think about the means. History is
unwoven by those who think about the ends. More precisely. History is
unwoven by those who don’t want it to end. There will be an end to
history. There will be, I say. Eventually. Marjorie won’t be there
to see. Francis won’t be there to see, ironically. Overreaching,
Francis. Over reacting. Over
the top analysis, Francis.
There will be a last somebody in the world. That will be the top
performer. Top
performers are the last men. We are submitted to business logic.
Competition cleanses.