Showing posts with label bammo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bammo. Show all posts

Saturday, 11 July 2026

fukky messy doo


hows the queen

 

crazy 

 

id like to today explore the notion of novel as teleological and taxonomic avoidance

 

i set the agenda doo

 

avoidance in its routine meaning but also as a contranym in the senses of without void and indefinite void - ie novel doesnt go anywhere and in not going anywhere doesnt settle categories blending void and representation through the ambivalence and play of pun

 

we were going to talk about cronuts

 

id also like to shift the spelling from taxonomic to taxanomic to pun on taxonomy and anomie - ie to order in any manner other than playfully and briefly is to estrange oneself from the animated mud of existence

 

but happy to compromise on cruffins zonuts crullants or doughssants

 

im finding you overdetermined today fuk

 

as a conjunction between pastry and bread the viennoiserie rarely permits ambivalence

 

a causerie rarely permits flocculence

 

feculence flatulence crapulence

 

your crappants are loads of work but novels never work - the modcræftigs passing through on their roundabout from void to void do the work and novelists simply provide fingers of transmission - the greatest work is the energy expended to move my digits

 

i was talking with someone over zossants at sparyuks yesterday about whether the gaps fully closed between vegan and dairy wienoiseries

 

this setting oneselves aside we call roman vrai which has nothing to do with realism as a genre which is dated embarrassing and frankly unrealistic - or reality as in reality tv or check or principle but with everything including all forms of reality its subversions negations minds lives antilives

 

o look what a suprise!! we have a special guest - welcome messy ribaldo

 

thanks fukky

 

so doos a crossword puzzle without the crossword and thats what most miss

 

youve just come from foofoo messy - what a spectacular spectacle

 

true fukky - politics money and balls all in one arena - hard to go wrong

 

novel never emerges from idea though ideas emerge from novel - novel emerges from vision smells shapes pains sounds tastes violations ruptures - novel emerges from body and constructs a body then ideas can grow in the garden of body a novel - this is in part why novels always bawdy for bodys bawdy - novels a bawdy body bard - others argue for integration healing order war freedom - we dont argue for novel - novel just is

 

to what extent do you think foofoos messy just bread and circuses and how much does it actually feed the profound spiritual needs of the people

 

i think when we talk about the people fukky its important to realize these two objectives arent necessarily distinguishable

 

the writer as we experience it is possessed by questions and methods arising from the questions arising from langwich - these questions are infinite bottomless recursive unanswerable - we process the questions in and through novel

 

a similar concept of course messy exists in chinese political philosophy - 愚民政策 - and while this included historically restricting literacy we now know literacy makes no difference as for the people literacys just another pretext for bread and circuses

 

fukky even for those of us performing god functions for the people and thus frequently imagined in some way to be beyond this binding - what isnt often realized is how these objectives are actually less distinguishable for us gods than the hoi polloi who thankfully and through their sacrifice keep us comfortably ensconced on daises in palaces under unfathomable protections

 

in literacy everyone writes and some write very well within this writing - but even most of this very well has a focus a specialty even in haute literature - this kind of writer pushes langwich as they say to its edges but in the framework eg of telling a story exploring themes deconstructing constructing protesting describing society even if in experimental surrealistic etc ways and through this often becoming a specialist in their particular framework of avant langwich 

 

but why daisies messy

 

fukky what are you talking about

 

yet what interests us most is to the extent possible undressing the framework avoiding specialization staying in questions of what is langwich what is it capable of - not wiring it primarily to anything but itself - patching langwich into langwich - all the protagonists of novel are langwich and certainly nothing whonym - langwich for the sake of langwich - langwich not for any sake

 

so youre saying messy neither the people nor the gods have essentially and effectively any profound spiritual needs other than stuffing their senses continuously with vulgar theatre

 

i wouldnt go so far fukky as to call it vulgar - theres a host of literature saying the most profound spirituality arises from the simple things - eating foie gras fucking a fan bribing a referee - these are the real grounded activities that bind us together

 

im a gnostic without assigning good and evil to matter or spirit - i participate in consciousness through meat and novel is this participation and my engagement - if novel doesnt risk it isnt novel - and how does one risk in novel today - thats a question novel needs to be continually asking - and integrating that question - without answers - into itself - the focus on pure welldefined and easily discernible objects like triangles or mores - social notions like friendship or love - at the cost of ignoring these participatory processes of seemingly messier and less tractable structures

 

whos that talking about me

 

let me ask you directly messy - are the people ignorant

 

again fukky when we look more closely at these issues we see the etymology of ignorant is - not knowing - and when you follow the lineage of unknowing you reach the central principles of mysticism - perhaps the highest form of consciousness known to our species - and so the ignorance of the proles meets the unknowing of the sages and - bammo - all is one

 

novel wants to be found in ways novel doesnt recognize itself - as if novel were being written by that which has never encountered novel - in a manner akin to shadows of forgotten ancestors about which it has been said - as if the director hadnt pilfered a thing from other filmakers but had simply discovered the camera and how best to use it by himself - so langwich and story must be made new unrecognizable as if before the bitten apple as if before the corruption of love

 

but messy if we relativize or conflate a whirled up scrimmage and the most exacting forms of meditation what are we left with

 

thats exactly it fukky 

 

were dealing here not with an infant art form - eg cinema - but one many millennia old - literature - and the techniques of forgetting and renewal must go far beyond academic cleverness experiment innovation - far beyond and down into the meat of the impossibility of identity - not mind focused active honed but falling apart - the currents then a problem - even the past now has to bow to the current current - novel isnt the current though - novel upgrades representations of the mystic process - draws from the well of all currents to resituate both cataphatics and apophatics - the union of which we could call catapophatics - in images of our meaty walking

 

messy thanks so much for joining us today - we know how busy you are with balls and ballings

 

não há problema fukky - o que achas de apanharmos o elevador juntos

 

and doos there alone in the dim stoodio

mumbling to themself of visions of shapes of obscurity

 

a wyrds just a word

and words are weird wending bows

their minds akimbo