novel sins

novel should be written to ensure a movie cant be made from it - and it cant be translated 

 

the question remains whether novel should be written to be read and then further - whether novel should be written - whether it should be thought

 

but if you go to the sin of thinking youre not far from the sin of langwich and from there from the sin of reading - sin everywhere like novel - so we write as even nothinking is sin

 

why all this? why must novel to be novel be untranslatable - must defy the bridges of codeswitching whether to other linguistic langwiches or any of the other myriad langwiches - cinematic analytic moral intersectional hermeneutic exegetic botic sonic bellicose

 

novel will already have translated itself into untranslatability - ie included within it alterous utterances of approximation - if novel be novel the translations already done

 

sin? you cant be serious! yes, sin - for sinning is being

 

why? hints we may find in artaud, specifically in their to be done with the judgment of god in which we find a typically radical call to reconstruction through atavistic sensuousalized sabotage

 

artaud argues effectively that in the ostensibly civilized world weve lost the ability to live in sin and live only in its simulations - its these simulations that enable translation - more importantly our ability to believe in translation and the simulations that uphold them - we live in simbeing rather than sinbeing - novels a call to return

 

for artaud being free of god is becoming free of simulation and returning to the direct experiences of raw existential immersion

 

artaud and novel - originality and fuk and doo - request that we return to sin in its nascent foetal forms - but dont associate sinning with the vulgarized common forms of coitus inebriation domination - all those now exhausted and irksome vices - sins the unknown deobjectified desubjectified scream - but translation in its core requires subject and object to act

 

dao says in its penultimate vignette - let the people return to the knotted rope, find relish in their food, beauty in their clothes, be content in their homes, happy in the way they live - though adjoining states are within sight of one another and the sound of media barking and influencers crowing in one state can be heard in another yet the people of one state will grow old and die without having had any dealings with those of another

 

other than finding relish in our food - which wed like to avoid - in dao we find a prenovel guide to novel - novel sits in the autism of itself - its artistic oddistic autitstic audickstic selves - and communication - which is the sentimental parent of translation - flounders under the sated madness of novel always at the dawning of the world

 

if you think this isnt a sufficiently reasoned argument according to the strictures of the day we agree with you - it isnt meant to be - its meant to be a sufficiently noveled argument - if you think we are being disjointed unhinged absurdist unclear nonsensical difficult fragmented rambly incoherent - we agree with you - if you think were a slippery slope to insanity and a lazy sloppy path and confusing falsehoods - we think youre confusing the reifications of the day with variegated mind unattached to the pillars of any current

 

we bang pots flash lights rub goo on ourselves holler into voids on the absent stage - this is novel in disparate dispersed disequilibrated debinarizing incommunicability - our incantation sigil prayer summons

 

be think write read sin novel

 

denovel novel for novel to novel

renovelized novels denovelize novel

 

in our lone hovel and coven

we love eons and nos

translating to nothing

simulating nothing

bathing in being

become and undone

 

a ghost in gek poh

chatters in the dark

the cameras sleeping

the microphones off

stoodio doo empty and still