The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

August 16, 2010


Non-Manifesto


Be it enacted here [by whom? for what? under what authority? what diegetic
form constructing the appearance of truth? enacted where? < inscription is
always already virtual; inscription is the _only_ virtual >] that the
concept of the manifesto is already - has always been - outdated, useless,
nonsensical - through its very presence, the harbinger of an untoward
tendency towards an Absolute that is Father-in-arms with inerrancy - the
result and residue of a backlash in association - entwined with - religion
and Enlightenment < simultaneously deconstructing the appetition of both
> as if wounds were there for a _fundamental suturing_ -

Manifesto = structure = guidelines = bracketed territory = symbolic =
purity = cleansed = asservation = truth tables = null incision between x
and ~x = coagulation-fantasm as singularity = death = writing degree 1 =
deadwood = protocol statements = Nicod's formulation of the propositional
calculus = homesteading within the Sheffer stroke and its dual = Web 0.0.

Where there's emission /\ spray /\ spew /\ spawn /\ slough /\ swamp /\
stutter | shudder | sputter | spatter | spitter | spotter | splatter |
splitter | clatter | clutter | scatter ... What is uncountable (is)
unaccountable, unaccounted-for = > denying the dead territorialization of
the manifesto. I don't want to know you and your manifestos.

I don't want to know your interspersions of logical numbering, as if
Wittgenstein's TLP were something other than the scattered remnants of
classicism and I don't want your candles' burning the last prop as if
mysticism somehow were the fabric of space and time. I don't want your
pseudo-math as if mathesis justifies anything you have to say. I don't
want your neologisms as if the world weren't on fire, as if greed and
competition were in the guise of truth beneath the true-real sign of
superstructure. I don't want your dead nineteenth-century manifestos,
enormous philosophical structures based on concepts crash-landing in the
midst of local wars, neo-colonialisms, monstrous religious visions of
futures and gods. I don't want your concepts. I don't want your
manifesto.

Things fall apart. There's no good time to die. No one dies before her
time. No one dies before his time. No one lives on borrowed time. Every
death annihilates a world. Every killing is an apocalypse. Every culture
is abjection. Every abjection is a slaughter. Every slaughter is a life.
Every life is culture. There is no organism without culture. There is no
organism without inscription. Inscription sloughs into abjection. Organism
collapses into annihilation. Manifesto is an ugly carapace. Manifesto
kills the thing it loves. I want to live forever. I want non-acts of
loving kind. I don't want your inscription-abjection. Nothing there is I
want. I want for nothing. I don't want your manifesto.

New Blown Reconstructed Self-Generated Avatar at Humlab

avatar locked into a movement- and spew-generating object as well as
several others among hir

I see those same figures but the organization's different, Julu said,
they're attached to you and the wind, you're blown up, blown about,
there's no you there, nothing, the rim of the bowl of the world's dark
matter has you in its grasp, everything's prey, the universe preys on
itself - dark, it has no knowledge, no fore-knowledge, no learning of this
and many other things - you're swooped upon, always in the talons of the
world, this world which you hope is one of many - as if you're spread
among 'em, Julu said, you're not, you're not, you're not, you just do the
best you can -

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