pseudonymbly and nomdepluminously aliassisted explosive spirals

Η αυτοκρατορία του Πισθέταιρος

Gandalf: "This giovanaccio draws with pizzazz,"
Synaculo (student): "I am the magnolia pirate, the
alexander polynomial." Gandalf: "but fails to
distinguish reef from granny." Synaculo (student): "I'll
never keep up with the Joneses." Gandalf: "But you've
certainly Conway Twittered your account into a darling
likeness of the gesture of a Tn3 resolvase upon a looping
of Major El(e)ven!" Synaculo (student): "I am the pirate
Giovanaccio!"

~"and guanche-eyed ysterdays shrill-gorged as a lark.."
~"ocean-tethys cannot be heard so far" "genet-before" "them"
"as I stood here above methought, his eyes~
were not two full moons, but a thousand noses
horned in whelks and wavelets like the enridged sea.."
"chaow," they said. It was some f(r)iend.
There was Ginnunga and his bride Gap up in the tree,
Nggdraelyrr, and all for sasa, the mouse.

cue: fib of giovanacci's rabbit, revolvo.
diotic contructor. 2-3-du (sk)

Here I is. Erazzmuss. Zoonomian.

Turdetani!

Turdetani! As fleece to waggling buoys!
Cover this bobbing sea skeleton with a mannered buulll!

Turdetain! Methinks the ground is even!
poor Tom...

Turdetainti! five f(r)iends have been in poor Tom at once!

Turdetani! pi-xaw!

Turdetani! To change Polis!
I've dropped my keys, or were they notes?
Here under the lanter of my pip...

I toured Detente with Lear in '57, upon the old Gloucester in Mim's canopee,
a harlot, the ugliest passage in all of V, that gemstone locked up inisdee,
its mechanical third hye.... Turdetani!

I am Gandalf and Radeghast made Sir Galaghast, and in Madagascar domy jackalnarrters goe.
stirr the tani. NAOMI!

I've tasted wheat-pickle in Morse, and laid out for vivisection whole ideologies, smeared my elongated length among them. I am the GOLD MACHINE of TURDETHANIA.
(firtels)

Mushin musin' and wuzin'. Moonin' and woonin'.
All three negations are expressions of Hemp-Tea-Ness.
Typhongata! Turdetani! The Perfected one!
MONEY!

The Great Black Sun Inn / Boulevard Jourdan / Belonging to a Wizard /
anguiped / Khirbet Tannur / The tangles of Chronos /
Apollo, both a serpent and a liar.
Tour d'tangent!

Well I'lll be a filbert busting...
(14 July 1686)
Extant is a letter by Leaf Nets
upon this Pastille day.

I do not think your turd may grow any longer, but
since I found out that in Arabic she's called QMR
I admire the moon more than ever.
Oh the subtle hoop thick paste of eternity!

this is the thumb
sticks to the gums
this is the goldfinger
it pulls the trigger
this is the long finger
scratches the wall safe
this is the nose finger
rubs out the gold finger
and this is the itzy
bitzy JIMMY TURDETANI!
frankenstein is dancing with the test-tube
lady.

thus oblivious of this inhibition that's thinning out our capacity to talk, is born imagination - as a chain of many, of so unaccountably many link;
Ruggles expecting lilacs.
Now I make love alone to the cold stone flag which covers the knife.
Here is an image of the critic.
A mummified potter still clutching the slate upon which a map of the cracks of the conflagration
had been drawn, the cracks in the wall of his prison.
REMOONERATIONS! TURDETANI!

I am not Spartacus.

Tell me
In what country
Is Flora the beautiful Roman
Archipiada or Thai?
Whenceforth
is Turdethanaiad
Romanskiana?

Hysteresis and Memory, a corollary to nature's abhorrence of a gradient.
"I know what you are doing in there, Granpapa!"
Quit putting fungal spores into CHAINSAWS!

 It Happened on 23rd Street

Noriko's Dachsund Vision

But Noriko,
how do you know a singing green
dachsund stretches roundabout the entire
earth with immature horns feathered
in the cries of gamelan lilypads,
those crystal sequins once
tears of wine?

Did you hear the one about
the everlasting protein dream, its succubust
lightning night fire rigged bright, the purple petalled ladders
twisting through cascading liquid windows, clear gelatinous
fangs in disturbed rows, the serrated dawn
maw mooning herald, and for each nostril a golden
frog, so kind, like a softly knotting flute through which
perfume moves, how we clouds hide the peccaries
among the shoreline ferns, our pupils
grunting, satisfied, the pillars of our jealousy
are lousy with humping bats
their faces wild with
eternal glamour,
ali putanyaha..

sadaram.. sky creeeem.
from this high oval portal
pour garlands of butterfly books,
for its voice set to quiver these exposed
and jellied bones, chili garden, silisera,
oh god yeah, chili sheila, my feet are bare,
my bubba are healy, money blood feelin'
bad, my doctor, be a friend...
We're glowing like stupid
in the Parkland Hotel, I lost
my arms last winter
to robotic potatos.

in every room of the house
there is a hole for the body part to enter,
to leaf, the vine in which the sound
subscribes, sebsi tart with young friend, patala,
it's all o soap in notes,
mine cleetu burning,
ning sasha, my wind Ramashay,
you wanna tell ur I do, beng men judu,
o sarafi fool, been naked 3,
these old lamb bowls,
in my caterpillar sleeves,
the leaf jaws rattle lamour, rum chains
allergic to cletes. Is batshit crazy the answer
to cognitive health? Watch me split the world in
half with Tesla Kabanya rotors: My way
wave restore undurgin cherry core,
mach von cigaretten hoben.

sasa win lil, that's ebay,
valhala crater resort folk,
my papa meow,
how do I make golden cows now
if my bird hand weeds are cows sighing,
o young, o young friend 2, will I ooyong,
better store a polo door in my butter cuffed dung,
this dachsund saturn sun is runging me done so fun,
I'll dry my gobbled buns so young them
BAM neuro mapping pasta corn snakes,
dalai llama color manga salons... this beef dirge
splitting atom cattle idols to
etym angling low wyrm uses.

Oooh Bai Buy Bye, Muti Muki, I'm a foundary my Muki..

I'm hooked to my foodclothes for a looong tiiime. It's a lunatic coherent
light source. Slack national accelerator laboratory extrudes emerald donkey
dachsund keyframes into sake', my Muki is a beehive building, chunky gemstone
salsa, play it with a metal chameleon tongue, now the monkey's skin is the monkey's
brain, i'm dancing in jail, my own booty, but jail is a fluorescent protein for sordid
boo yang prism ala rolex vida, oh my sonar is entirely normal, a gemstone 13
motorboat animal, hears that damn muki, i sail a jonki quill, the sand go boom in
luna by doubt ha, come and fear me, mickey nickey prune belt harpoon...

the animal is wood in my ass-heart wookie's dumu growing flute dachsund's uppity
prang rover. I've been so uppity everywhere. I am a soon, a bean dulu hand.
I don't want to see anymore semen, that's a fact, or a horseman formed
of packrats. The real whey is not difficil. It only abhorse
chance, and attouchement. now my floppy bladder club is
a rusty iron chin. Earth is VIP art, and rustic
cabin sin. Even broken off shoe
cookies realize the universality
of MALLEUS.

and for all that, I am your special Turdetani...

an old london diarist

Jester's Orality

Wen blank tides the hursh
shu-hursh should starve hush
embed through chain
the curving I
the straight poop
wen wot talk klap wot clam
camera of green wigged cities
stoarge low portile
low porch
long porch
long aching porch around the perimeter of the
lac
sane its tennis net
jesus its brides for for
hunds
glands

ark wet apostle epistle
hark though art the letter
and the word
the menain
and the ain ain
nang

bunging ank hung blutter flume
wil fice to dire' dlur
ruled guts abide the thung dull pulet
brigh whide vallee let us
in trellis after trellis of altar shocked hops
give this distant mime of sphere hello

see the video sphere in the meadow
which is a window and a mirror
gaze into my crystal ball

imagine on every pixel of surface both display and camera
so that the mapping and the viewing are one

as in menain
where skokyu straight the bent
molecule
empty wonder being should rule u

________________
_________________
_______________
far away
camoing to ward it s arc petal howvarth
greyhound dark its city of accordian sarcohpahgui

winter pencil homena

hyena omen ripping dlur
thong colg ethi

mainting hot iron plate inscription now
5 joint pipe line
your dark rope pope is in the barrel
all of this
wine hormen and dong
all gold eatapi
your roc apocoalips

see economy pi
see ottoman tupil tracy omen

 

her bedside portrait
in underwares

now they play in the compicated coils
of its thermo conducive

vevitermsive occlutinationitive

Gesturalities

"Maybe writing is never anything else but translation — ultimately, a translation which cannot be identified."  -Harry Mathews

Typically in life drawings, and especially in a classroom situation, there is a given period for gesture drawings, usually 30 seconds per pose for the model. This isn't just an empty ritual or formality. It gives both the artist, and the model, time to 'warm up', or to get comfortable in a number of ways. It also allows a certain number of preliminary calibrations to occur, because, above everything, and far above feeling, is a fluid and supple calibration, an inhabitation of translation. But there are other considerations as well, the trying out of new styles, short attempts in reordering approaches, testing out what deliriums seem most articulate to the moment. 'Making it new.'

Calling the act of writing, painting, is fundamental. One need only enter into a casual study of Chinese classical calligraphy to see how utterly dependent the formalist construction of the art is upon the vicissitudes of a set of standardized instruments. In Roman calligraphy, the same is true, but the loose, expressive, subjectivities of the brush, their emotive qualities, have been traded for something more codified, though both forms of calligraphy carry dogmas of an opposition to this in some degree, ie there are places and ways of being expressive in Eastern calligraphy which are accept, and those which are not, and the same is true of Western calligraphy. One can follow the rules, but to give a piece life, there must be some hint of organicism and free play, a twinge of freedom. This looseness within bounds, as well as pertaining to certain elements of style within traditional notions of calligraphy, can readily be applied to notions of genre, notions of speach, grammar, content, form, and even philosophical concerns. Considered in this way, a universal transpositional aesthetic discursivity can be imagined, and to find examples of this process, one need only open, say, the pages of the latest ARTFORUM to Brian Dillon's article on Helen Martin's _Peanuts, 2012_ :

In Marten’s Linus-world, all are equally interesting, all equally digestible. This absurd metamorphosis need not halt at the level of the things themselves—it happens equally to images, ideas, and art. The equivalence Marten canvases is an aspect of contemporary life: All things may be sublimed into immaterial data, then exchanged with everything else, a Richter painting for a pizza. You could posit Marten’s alimentary impulse as an effort to find some physical purchase on the world again in an era of digital evanescence, though that seems a little too tempting: Quite aside from her recourse elsewhere to video and animation, solid things in her work seem just as likely to wink out of their proximate being and reappear as cartoons of themselves. What else is Peanuts, or what might it become? On its spindly legs at the start of the Chisenhale exhibition, it looked like the support for an explanatory museum text. Or then again, a highly schematic landscape: Mediterranean, dust-hued, with a castellated ruin meeting sky or sea at the left. It’s also a wide but drastically foreshortened console or lectern or desk. It’s an especially sparse buffet lunch, or a kitchen worktop, with ingredients neatly picked out like the terms of an equation. “A meal is a plotted space of action,” says Marten, “a ritual, and so also a grammar.” That’s it: Peanuts is a sentence to be parsed or a pictographic conundrum asking to be solved. If Marten likes to play with her food till it morphs into alarming states of matter and meaning, it sometimes seems that the ultimate abjection (or perhaps refinement) of her mutant materials is a declension toward verbal abstraction. The title Peanuts denotes foodstuff, comic strip, animated version of same, but peanuts also means “next to nothing”: an insulting return on a transaction or investment. Language in and around Marten’s sculptures can be paltry or extravagant; her inventories of materials point to an absurd overreach on the part of the manufacturers and marketers of the stuff she deploys. (Consider again that list of what has gone into Peanuts: Sepili and Formica might be the names of neglected nymphs, and Valchromat is clearly an interplanetary despot.) But the work itself is also such a text: If sculpture is of necessity made of the stuff of the consumerist world, Peanuts is something like the list of ingredients on its discarded packaging.

For several weeks now, here on Jellybeanweirdo, I have been toying with 'Gesturalities'. When you upload an image into blogger, one of the options is to add a caption. Taking images out of the context of films and putting them into 'other' kinds of 'films' or sequentialities is one layer of the gesture. Translating or Untranslating, trance-luting, or trans-looting, etc.. And then there are the embedded associations. Many of these films were downloaded using services, many of which use 'captchas' which sounds like 'captious', and so, captious captions became a theme, or became one of the ways in which the activity could be translated. In Brian Dillon's article he mentions probably one of the most important themes I have been interested in, the idea of verbal abstraction. Not just in the sense of abstract language which can be found by picking up any Kant book, but of finding ways of questioning the divide between natural, concrete, and abstract language, ie, What kinds of extended narrativity are available in writing. Abstraction has a wonderfully dual sense, or senselessness to it. An abstraction is something 'drawn out'.. like a foetus from the nutrients in the mother's bloodstream.. I suppose the idea is to make slow, yet short, manually manipulated films, something close to the idea of the view-master, where the web or blog becomes the view-master, and the blog page becomes the little paper wheel.

Here is another blogger doing at least one post along similar linus.. Maybe I should abdocumencate to tubmlr?

=

Qualis artifex spereo tuga mojito.

dog way / no ney work

know eslopo / nystryru sepalski

In the prisoner's dance, the medusan ganglia must converse wholly with the possibilities of interaction. If shadow smoke head tendril intestine hover, prison puch such chansoneries.

The Drowning of Lucy Hamilton

GOLDEN FLEECE INHABITANTS:

cabac=1 / ref=5 / deblock=1:-1:-1 / analyse=0x3:0x113 / me=umh / subme=9 / psy=1 / psy_rd=1.00:0.15 / mixed_ref=1 / me_range=16 / chroma_me=1 / trellis=1 / 8x8dct=1 / cqm=0 / deadzone=21,11 / fast_pskip=1 / chroma_qp_offset=-3 / threads=6 / sliced_threads=0 / nr=0 / decimate=1 / interlaced=0 / constrained_intra=0 / bframes=3 / b_pyramid=2 / b_adapt=2 / b_bias=0 / direct=3 / wpredb=1 / wpredp=2 / keyint=250 / keyint_min=25 / scenecut=40 / intra_refresh=0 / rc_lookahead=50 / rc=2pass / mbtree=1 / bitrate=1868 / ratetol=1.0 / qcomp=0.60 / qpmin=10 / qpmax=51 / qpstep=4 / cplxblur=20.0 / qblur=0.5 / ip_ratio=1.40 / aq=1:1.00

THE ACHIEVER
Enneagram Type Three:
dark eye horns emblem
nose for seat
and eye horns for handle
ride the hover mask

Vellem nescire literas. Pink copulan, fleshy breast-like egg, red yolk, quotation radiation,

sang Nero: 'easy veins anus' (black brain - black boat)

grundula.

The History of Grillet's 'Blue Square':

Tune is?

the Roman third style, stylus atop head, crumbling hundcheon, barlrokey, net skirt, schyzygy, a luminous white old man's head to greet you, where it lives in a golden cage lined with blue satin.

spending candid moments with our vivid creations

By the 7th century BC, writing had become an instrument of publicity.

Time as a power of oblivion, oblivious, Simonides.

Now is the winter of our dis' content:

All nations under Caliban.

Nabi Lacky to Spring Break.

Bénard and Rayleigh Systems