(non-space)

RESOLUTIONS, CONT'D:


Use Gambian pouched rats to detect tuberculosis through their sense of smell
Muse-sickness for Airports
Fermentation Evangelicals
Full catastrophe banking 2011
Releasing my publication through 1984 Press next week
Formalize Indefinite Detention
Baby whale bacon






went to the moma*, ybca**, ocean beach, and st. ignatius church yesterday, alone. ran through the streets for no reason and didn't feel so displaced and hateful for once. walked towards the ocean; last vestiges of sunlight ricocheted off of transient chrome and endless water. went to the lookout point by the camera obscura and saw that several fire trucks and squad cars had gathered on the slope to rescue a climber who had fallen from the cliff-face. i don't even know if he or she lived; i didn't ask any of the fifty gathered there. nothing is more sickening to me, in this age when all we do is write and talk and think about ourselves, to consider another life only when there's a possibility that it has ended.

*other shit to stare at: fantastic Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibit 

**Yoshua Okon installations: 

Hausmeister, 2008

"This single-channel seamless video-installation loop is a poetic retelling of a fable, whereby the animal is not humanized, but rather, where the human is animalized. In this video, the Hausemeister is Lizard guarding lair, he is Mouse peeking through hole, he is no longer quite 'he.' This shift in the nature of the video’s subject becomes a dislocation of the spectators as well: as “we” are being looked at, attacked, or at the very least addressed by this animal, our comfort zone is invaded by this creature who hisses and growls—or perhaps it is we, and our gaze (objectified by the camera) that is invading the Hausemeister’s territory, its home? What is our relationship to other creatures in the world? How have we (dis)placed ourselves as animals in the world, our home? And, ultimately, what is home—where does it begin or end? The question of territory and protection (of homeland security) is allegorized in this humorous if disturbing piece."

the rest, cont'd:

Go Find Yourself Naive Woman Friends

Go find yourself naive women friends
Who haven't checked miracles by number.
I know that Venus was produced by hand,
I'm a craftsman, I know the craft:
From the highest solemn muteness
Down to the thorough degradation of the soul:
Here's the whole divine staircase -- from:
My breath -- to: do not breathe!

--M. I. Tsvetaeva






A Thin Line

You are always alone
There is something like a bitter light
in the pupils of your eyes that have never shown tears
I like it

To your blind image
this world is a desolate hunting place
You are the winter hunter
who constantly chases down one heart

You do not believe in words
There is a deep longing for fear
in your footsteps that have murdered all the hearts
It fascinates me

On the thin line that you walk
the smell of blood is even on the top of the snow
No matter how far we separate
I can tell

You pull the trigger
I die inside a word

--Tamura Ryuichi