Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania, Rare Book & MS Library, Ms. Codex 0109, f. 137
Saturday, 30 April 2011
Thomas Shadwell, The Squire of Alsatia, 1688.
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
Saturday, 23 April 2011
Gentlemen, the human cell can only divide and reproduce itself fifty thousand times. This is known as the Hayflick Limit. But a virus can do it any number of times. The virus is immune to the deadly factor of repetition. Your virus is never bored.
burroughs / the place of dead roads / 123
Friday, 22 April 2011
stoat tooth burnisher
as recommended by Hilliard for the burnishing of silver when painting false jewels.
Ermines is a black field with white spots. A gold background with black ermine spots is styled erminois, and pean is a black ground with gold ermine spots. Erminites is supposed to be white with black ermine spots and a red hair on each side of the spots.
a white stoat would die before allowing its pure white coat to be besmirched
Thursday, 21 April 2011
hilliard / a treatise concerning the arte of limning / 1598
And Columbus, on the third voyage, sailing in the Gulf of Paria, observing the mangroves lining the shore, with tiny oysters clinging to their roots… the oyster shells open, to catch from the mangrove leaves the dewdrops that engender pearls
metcalf / genoa /54
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
Thursday, 14 April 2011
Bitch Mutant Manifesto
The atomic wind catches your wings and you are propelled backwards into the future, an entity time travelling through the late C20th, a space case, an alien angel maybe, looking down the deep throat of a million catastrophes.
screenflash of a millionmillion conscious machines
users caught in the static blitz of carrier fire
unseeing the download that scribbles on their burntout retinas
seize in postreal epileptic bliss
eat code and die
Sucked in, down through a vortex of banality. You have just missed the twentieth century. You are on the brink of the millenium - which one - what does it matter? It's the cross dissolve that's captivating. The hot contagion of millenia fever fuses retro with futro, catapulting bodies with organs into technotopia . . . where code dictates pleasure and satisfies desire.
Pretty pretty applets adorn my throat. I am strings of binary. I am pure artifice. Read only my memories. Upload me into your pornographic imagination. Write me. Identity explodes in multiple morphingsand infiltrates the system at root.
Unnameable parts of no whole short circuit the code recognition programs flipping surveillance agents into hyperdrive which spew out millions of bits of corrupt data as they seize in fits of schizophrenic panic and trip on terror. So what's the new millenium got to offer the dirty modemless masses? Ubiquitous fresh water? Simulation has its limits. Are the artists of oppressed nations on a parallel agenda? Perhaps it is just natural selection?
The net's the parthenogenetic bitch-mutant feral child of big daddy mainframe. She's out of of control, kevin, she's the sociopathic emergent system. Lock up your children, gaffer tape the cunt's mouth and shove a rat up her arse.
We're [con]verging on the insane and the vandals are swarming. Extend my phenotype, baby, give me some of that hot black javamagic you're always bragging about. (I straddle my modem). The extropians were wrong, there's some things you can't transcend.
The pleasure's in the dematerialisation. The devolution of desire.
We are the malignant accident which fell into your system while you were sleeping. And when you wake we will terminate your digital delusions, hijacking your impeccable software.
Your fingers probe my neural network.The tingling sensation in the tips of your fingers are my synapses responding to your touch. It's not chemistry, it's electric.
Stop fingering me.
Don't ever stop fingering my suppurating holes, extending my boundary but in cipherspace there are no bounds [or so they say] BUT IN SPIRALSPACE THERE IS NO THEY
there is only *us*
Trying to flee the binary I enter the chromozone which is not one
XXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXX genderfuck me
resistance is futile
entice me splice me map my ABANDONED genome as your project artificially
i wanna live forever
upload me in yr shiny shiny PVC future
SUCK MY CODE
Subject X says transcendence lies at the limit of worlds, where now and now, here and elsewhere, text and membrane impact. Where truth evaporates Where nothing is certain There are no maps The limit is NO CARRIER , the sudden shock of no contact, reaching out to touch [someone] but the skin is cold...
The limit is permission denied, vision doubled, and flesh necrotic.
Command line error
Heavy eyelids fold over my pupils, like curtains of lead. Hot ice kisses my synapses with an (ec)static rush. My system is nervous, neurons screaming - spiralling towards the singularity. Floating in ether, my body implodes.
I become the FIRE.
Flame me if you dare.
VNS Matrix ‘Bitch Mutant Manifesto’ (c.1994) reproduced in n.paradoxa issue 4 online issue 4, n.paradoxa: international feminist art journal August 1997, republished, January 2010
by Valentine de Saint Point
Futurist Manifesto of Lust 11th January 1913
No to spectacle.
No to virtuosity.
No to transformations and magic and make-believe.
No to the glamour and transcendency of the star image.
No to the heroic.
No to the anti-heroic.
No to trash imagery.
No to involvement
of performer or spectator.
No to style.
No to camp.
No to seduction of spectator by the wiles of the performer.
No to eccentricity.
No to moving or being moved.
Mette Ingvartsen / ‘Yes Manifesto’ / 2006
Yes to redefining virtuosity
Yes to conceptualizing experience, affects, sensation
Yes to materiality/body practice
Yes to investment of performer and spectator
Yes to expression
Yes to excess
Yes to “invention” (however impossible)
Yes to un-naming, decoding and recoding expression
Yes to non-recognition, non-resemblance
Yes to non-sense/illogic
Yes to organizing principles rather than fixed logic systems
Yes to moving the “clear concept” behind the actual performance of
Yes to methodology and procedures
Yes to animation
Yes to style as a result of procedure and specificity of a proposal.
Yes to complexity
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
Empty, brown, wooden chair facing camera. Some pale paint marks on the chair. The background is a white room, a drip of paint on the wall to the upper right. Sticks lean into the wall at an angle behind the chair.
so what are you thinking?
Marker 2 00:02:30:00 traffic sounds
Figure framed head and shoulders against white wall. Single pin in wall upper left, pencil line marks a level. Shot angled upwards. Head three-quarters turned to right. Chin raised, eyes looking out of frame downwards to right. Brows furrowed.
press record as you're playing
Marker 3 00:05:00:00
Seated figure framed centrally in shot. Left hand extended palm upwards .
Direct eye contact. Light falls obliquely from the window to the right bleaching the left side of the face.
Drips on wall, trailing electric cables, blue painted panel to right of shot.
do what I'm doing right now
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
The location of the Centre of Fantasy is the latest discovery of science in The One State. This Centre is a miserable little cerebral node in the region of the Bridge of Varoli. A triple cauterization of this node with X-rays, and you are cured of Fantasy -
Zamyatin / We