Sunday, February 7, 2010

Map of the Wittgenstein House

This is for Stephen Cope, who, when I told him I was mapping out The Wittgenstein House using Barthes (as in the insipid Roland) cutups for this essay, said: "You mean that pleasure guy?"  Loved it.

from Prefab Eulogies Vol II (translations & architectural models)

  Suicide as chess move (trebuchet).  

The trebuchet is a mutual zugzwang.  Whichever player is on the move will lose.



Dearest David,


Philosophers Writers often behave like little children who scribble some marks on a piece of paper at random and then ask the grown-up "What's that?" 

--Anonymous (mobile)

He goes to bed thinking of houses.  Every time a plane rumbles overhead he covers his face.  A-e-r-o-p-l-a-n-e-s.  If you spell it out, war is fun.


  1. Lecture: the lecture the outline of story, does not wound.  Were it written a long time ago, it would not wound, though then it did have the capacity.  But it was, and always will be, safe.  Only now it’s meaninglessly safe.  Which is to say unsafe but not wounding.
  2. In der Kunst ist es schwer estwas zu sagen, was so gut ist wie: nichts zu sagen.  (In art it is hard to say anything as good as: saying nothing)
  3. Necrophilia: comes from Ranciere thru Lyotard-- "In trying to posses it, one kills off that which one loves.  This is a form of necrophilia."    

Zbigniew Herbert’s Minotaur at the Indoor Pool, 2.0


Dear Seeming,


Like like, bone comparisons


In Krakow

In Detroit

In Warsaw

In Oak Park


He didn’t understand a thing

Do you dangle your feet

Only man with large nipples


Because you cannot swim

Because of NASDAQ undertow


Because earth may overtilt and

The unexpected

Is an ecological

Disaster, full wetness


Without witness your


Alliteration the



You wish to unlearn in a place.


And other things.

Like, your lovehandles


Like, do they inspire your

Almost certain

alertness to infomercials

Or like, your big vehicle in the lot


Is it tonight subprime for us.


Sub merged the financial times and

the new york times


A USA today,

Mother was a sleeper in a bed through a small


Square window

And the tubes made her chest go


Up and down, spectral rhythm

Said a man


Who looked

Nothing like you.


Like, are you listening to these vessels

Expand, contract


Do you speak vessel, do you



Fiberoptic snapping

in a lighted pool,

Your footspots are


Drying riverbeds for newborn bacteria


You create things,

Walking away like that.


Deduce me, I deduce you.


Our future luncheons are inextricably tied

Our plastic floats in the same little oceans

Our likes woke Descartes briefly

From his motor bed


He heard your keycard.  Coming or

Going was the question,


Induction dreams of two black swans


To make more

Black swans.


Meantime, Linear Tablet A

Was deciphered.


Into which countless dreams were carved

Your name nor mine was there.


But I can taste latex days after,

My other place just up the highway


And Theseus.


Were he to swim up this river,

Like, I am sure


Were you still with me.  We would

Laugh like idiots.

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