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Tuesday, April 25, 2006

There was a sentence that appeared late-night in sleep as summation. I am at a loss again. I can only recuperate the imaginary precisely because, between NUL and YOU, only fantasms appear. They are salvage until the moment of death. The sentence had to do with death, with the imminent moments before death, with the salvage of reconstructive-memory. I leave more traces than most. I can remember the light in Keith and Rosmarie Waldrop's house as if it were presenting itself, for the first time, as if Beth's drawing was still pinned to the door, as if the proof press was still there, the antique fonts later lost in a Pennsylvania flood. It was this that impelled me. I don't believe in freedom. I don't know what it is. Below, "I create the impossible." No one does. I am impossible: What does that mean among the possibility of the world?


It begins and ends with /dev/nul. It is the impossible, inconceivable
set, NULL = {x}(x not = x). What is not equal to itself? in do.mp4 a
gender = wipe = smear/residue. Crash-land windshield, nothing doing. What
can be done with annihilation?

It began and ended with /dev/nul. What was done with annihilation?

It begins and ends with /dev/you . It is the possible, conceivable set,
YOU = {x}(x = x). What is equal to itself? In storymoan.mp4 a gender =
double = splay/fall. Get-up mirror, everything going on. What can be done
with creation?

It began and ended with 'dev/you. What was done with creation? GET UP!

You're an intensive movement. You're wayward. You veer from 0 to 1. You
know there's nothing else, not here, not there, not in any other universe.
You don't care. You turn on with electric. You walk */electric avenue/*.
In every building you take shelter. In every building you're doomed,
naked, gendered, annihilated. Nothing is an accident.

This - my work - sustains me. My work is a moment stretched to the NUL.
YOU stretch my work. I write this under the influence of absinthe. I write
this in the vestibule. I write this upon the empyrean. Sublime, I write
the Sublime. Impoverished, I create the impossible.

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