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keith said that mick is small (nothing, 6)

Today, I want something interesting, better: some intelligent sentence, but I can not, any what I think today - and since yesterday, actually - is at the appendix - a small, "he said - yes, just what I think is his little appendix, not appendix as it is his and it particularly special with its small size that belongs to him in particular and certainly not one who says he is small - it has a small appendage he says - let's say I do not represent me mentally appendix as small as it may be that it belongs in the flesh if not bone, no, that's not it, I think a little Platonic, to the smallness of appendicitis as such, the essence of small appendage and thus the idea that there is a measure of the appendix, if not an appendage means, say maybe meter-appendix, I do not mean yardstick, it would moved, that's not it, but a way of métrétique in an appendix, an art of discerning the proper measurement of the appendix and say it is small, it is not, and that amount is probably a case report, but between what and what? I do not know, that's all what I think, not in his appendix to him, but the idea that, ultimately, it comes down to this appendix - not his own as he is his own, but in general the appendix, the appendix of appendicitis as it is the male - and, finally, those who do not have to wonder what good about that? I do not know or they have an idea, but I do not know, that's all what I think and he would one day may return it to the field of privacy and not to speak so openly, but I say it like that, I do not know, I hoped to say something interesting, better: some intelligent sentence, but I can not, but I'm not alone, but that does not reassure me , it worries me, but it's not serious, is not it?

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ludwig

it is there it's almost not worth saying as if he was going out of the screen field visual backward because it means he is ever released he never left his eyes slyly screen is almost an irony Iroquois a bit like saying I'm the aristocracy of a kind that you do not even think of and behind th wall is dirty it is hardly distinguishable and the wall is a symbol of emptiness that by which it empties it where it is empty and I see Ludwig Wittgenstein as a ruffled the protopunk england a few years before the Sex Pistols him he still lacks the costume tie it still says it certainly has things to say that he can build it certainly does not believe that either never future whatever he wants even when the change by anticipating anticipating still lack the tie may afford him the aristocrat he can build a house of cards out of hand just send them elsewhere maps then nothing more than cards scattered denied as lord of the castle philosophy hates the castles he leaves it is elsewhere well before the Sex Pistols' toilet "according to the wall so as to make it all unreal to the philosopher right toilet cleanliness question I guess everything I guess this photograph in his eyes is the century which summarizes the fact will never end it never did know the consequences he is content to draw in the area of photographic image that my eyes are struggling to believe I guess Ludwig Wittgenstein and I think his whole life he never ceased see themselves as wearing a flannel trousers he always writes "lw" I also think that for a protopunk he all of a dandy philosopher this is all I think: it should lw imagine or "lw" as they wish as a dandy (philosophical) which have arisen throughout life problems with his conscience does a dandy philosophical hardly succeed to distinguish his moral problems of philosophical problems

everything he thought so if this is all I think it is, then we can destroy the philosophical problems as they destroyed a house of cards but it does not that we stop to ask them to build it takes patience to build a house of cards a great control of his actions is a search for a balanced position that is beyond the instability c ' is the annoyance that is sufficient to destroy a wave of his hand in a nonchalant lightness equal to the fragility of Building the gesture of someone flying over the problem and the castle

nothing more destructive a caress caress destructive enough to bring a philosophical problem with nothing but he does not cease to exist for as long as it destroys the very it is a problem is a little air pending a hug waiting for the end of this dandy

I look every day leaning against the wall where you can still read "raw" it means "raw" raw "but I do not know what you mean there at that time I only see" lw "straight as an" i " I think a photograph of Thomas Bernhard, in which he looks far more serpentine I think they look alike, however, there exists between them a community spirit that I seek among the photographs despite all that separates them is to tell the story of our time they are similar insofar as they differ

of what surrounds this dandy I watch every day as one of the family I mean like someone a blended family but we never see but it is part of the family against his family despite itself this dandy I look every day he looks like a saint simply as an icon of a saint of a holy unbearable unbearable impossible philosophical thought of interfering in others to rid the force of his own thought to reproduce on its own way of thinking to reproduce

This destruction makes this thought to herself that makes thought itself to the lightness of a caress that turns the mind toward its origin to this problem that gives it life caress caress the problem until the problem the problem is no longer the problem until no more can it be held holiest impossible "lw" with his desire to guide the whole research of this soothing caress liberating saving too short before it does the itch to come back whenever he feels free to believe that the freedom that comes itch it must use the same company all this totally different strokes for this: the act par excellence of the philosopher is a caress

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nothing, 5

I was not. I watched them. I heard them. There was some thing about me is a kind of atmosphere climate. I there without participating. I've never had the desire. I was there. Next on the sidewalk. I was speaking of a bitch, really. This is probably it. To see them, them, me, who do not like it, I smiled, not a moment of irony, just a vague feeling, like the idea that, yes, there are still individuals who believe in something. On my way, I enjoyed their walk. I do not believe in anything. I'm too lazy. I am less than a dilettante. Be a dilettante takes some practice. I am less than a dandy. Being a dandy requires the shaves at least once a day. I'm just a whore. There on the sidewalk. I look. But I do solicits person. I look. I am not a whore, so. I am a voyeur. I see them happy. Concerned. Incurred. Determined. I have exhausted all my irony for centuries to come. Then I watch them. A little smug. A little simpleton. I do not know what to do. Besides photographing. Aside from saving. One day I'll start with a disc recording on this day at this point it to these people. It will be October 20th two thousand and ten on the Boulevard du Montparnasse in eighteen hours twenty one demonstration against pension reform. And even if it ends as always with urine against the walls of buildings - in this case: my building even though I live on the other side of the court - and broken bottles against the floor - and even if the climate is not exactly the climate of the mid insurgency - saying that I too have lived in my way. A little distant, a little concerned, attentive anyway.

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How to become the vanguard by Guy Debord (notes on the hundred and first few pages of Works, Paris, Gallimard, 2006)



1. dream and drink a lot
2. find an idol and then sacrificed (Isidore Isou)
3. create a small group of young people determined to make a revolution in writing (International Lettrist)
4. making films that nobody sees and hold them masterpieces (Howls for Sade, The anticoncept Wolman)
5. disseminate their ideas in journals run ultra confidential
6. create a scandal around a world famous personalities (Charlie Chaplin in Paris)
7. expressed mainly by slogan ("Never work", eg.)
8. play Rising: disproportionate voluntarily what we do (the writing on the wall of the Rue de Seine "Never work", eg.)
9. shock the moral (girls under 15 years)

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nothing, 4

life is a detail not seen too near blur Net not just something that detail you have there in front you can not look away your life is this detail rather than in detail what this one detail that does not mean it's unbearable sometimes not so beautiful 's This detail is simply that you look and what detail you can only watch

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life of Marcel Proust - a autobiography finish.

not write a poem but a series of

phrases one might say

to write a series of phrases that will
though not in verse but a discontinuous


person imitates
especially not believe either one is original


reveal nothing at all
continue to be wary of any
to start with ourselves

impressions

descriptions of what is around you

night lights
congestion in the bus that crosses the river
fatigue under my beard
she will not because of me
neither fatigue nor beard
silence still
despite the absurd speech in low voices in telephones
I do still want to murder


envy of Apocalypse
envy of radical evil
unsuccessful but released
something other than themselves
something other than me
always want to fuck difference

want flexibility
desire for appeasement
finally released but not chosen by me
forms of joy

not stop the joy
better let her take the top
c ' is thus that life must end

to end the book
look elsewhere in the book which would be even
traces
book


clouds umbrellas on the evening star
face the extreme point the evening star
I left for love
not a city but a girl here is
paris
here is not the conversion of life
here is the same desire to live that is not
ie write
ie the opposite

parades stars
long chains of shame
affected display of vulgarity
that are thrown on the face of misery
writing is foremost a political
to escape after they are put
feet of Saint germain

remember though love turning a blind eye by not closing

not see anyway
I am more than
marcel
perhaps any
but it is not an end

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nothing, 3

often seem to have listened so hard that if you put them end to end it would take years to listen to new ones in the background those not aware that they refuse to listen if you had a choice as we listen to those that would regret having known in advance so as not to suffer they instead are never tire of hearing again and again and stopped only because the attitude of the stream is still unhealthy and also the idea obviously you're never alone in this case that we are many and these discs butt form a sound version of our lives, not their soundtrack more than that a version that sounds that is to say such time as another thunderous noisy to some other room and how that music is played primarily instrumental leaves room for his own voice it is not necessarily high but it is present it talks about the music speaks for it music in the midst of hours of music in making it clear that our lives are in the midst of hours of music, stating again that our lives are not exactly in the middle they are somewhere in these hours of music including when there is no music when we stopped the music because we can not go on because the head is hit by these hours of music all hours of music are a way in the middle of my life more than that in the midst of all the lives you can imagine the moments I lived I would have loved those live ones I shared the ones I'd forgotten if only I could forget about the ones I know only too well that I love so now my head is struck by all those hours of music and this is not an author who writes but his skull that speaks his skull that makes sounds that echo the sounds when they are no longer audible my head is struck and resonant that I wrote is I broke even in the midst of these sounds

Photo: © Nathalie Siek ( http:/ / www.flickr.com/photos/tinemfou/ )