uncomposed: pixelation, clouds, blinking, the background and the foreground of a painting by "big george" and/or titian: red fabric with golden trim in a checkered pattern, a tree stump, a complex of thatched buildings in the distance (a stables? an inn? the gateway of a village?) all of these structures being tucked under a looming structure of half-ruined masonry, columns and arches with grass growing at the tops of them (a roman auditorium?) and the woman is a substitution and the sky and the pixels and the sounds have all been added; and i wonder about the original woman sleeping in a gallery in dresden when the lights go-out, and i wonder if titian meant to transform her into big-george's tombstone, perhaps by adding that tree stump, and i think about the old peasant tradition of simply burying folks in the orchard where the ground will not be tilled, dreaming of adam and of christ cursing the tree that would not bear fruit, and i wonder about those buildings and the pixelation and what sky specifically (does it matter if it were an american sky, or australian, or south american or european, or if it had been filmed through the window of a jet-liner?) and i think about the woman blinking with her breasts bobbing and her wooden fingers waving, and most of what i feel is sadness. i see an etruscan lady leaning on top of a tomb, with a slightly vacant smile; i see the isabella stewart gardner museum with its terrible lighting and its founder being carried around in ten feet of gauze in an antique litter; i see a post-card of sleeping beauty, as a musical on ice, and i see a time square peep show, also as a post-card and as a musical; i see the sky, i see myself blinking, i see clouds like pixels and paintings like peep shows and theories and and criticism and attributions and substitutions and traces of roads and tree-stumps and human beings.


machina: shadows of hands, the shadows of her neck; the sudden directness of her gaze, which then turns away, either accepting our presence or dismissing our significance; which reminds me of the invention of morel, and of the fugitive. but we now inhabit the epoch of funes the memorious, which will culminate in an apocalypsis of the lungs (and all this time when we should have been shouting, or chanting sutras, or at least humming to ourselves like a mother trying to put its child to sleep)


love is all: sex at the surface, dissolving our purpose (here we are, in this "age of the machine", still trying to teach ourselves and each other how to be human) and the bit-mapped courtesans and the murderous king of kings in 1001 nights; obelisk and the veil of stars, real and apparent brightness, tremendous distances that are gradually revealed by systematic observation, powers of magnification, transits of venus, etc. flesh of my own flesh rendered unto euclid and osiris and reddit. there is a statue of an aging, roman prostitute, who is carrying a basket of fish, on her way to celebrate her patron god, dionysius. she is going to meet her god– the woman in amsterdam who sits inside a red-lamp window, looking tired in the morning and sipping her tea, is sometimes going to go to meet her god– perhaps in a dream or a metaphor or in some dodge at tradition, or perhaps in the fullness of time, beyond what we now understand to be true about ourselves. 1001 binary, number nine dream.


opsieme: how are particular and distinct opsiemes /graphemes / phonemes combined in the brain's lateralized structure to produce qualities of experience "–at the level of language"?; if we can have the visual equivalent of a sound and a word, can visual experience also have a "connective grammar"?; will the movement of the eye shift to a predetermined pattern on a given set of opsiemes, once it has "recognized" a "known object" corresponding (more or less) to a known word?; pursuing the theory that schizophrenia is a mis-function of language in which the lateralized structures of the brain are moving out of sync, would the visual patterns and experience of a schizophrenic subject display a similar and related manner of "out-of-sync-ness"?