Charles Matton Boites // Chambre de William Burroughs, Tangier (2004)

https://denniscooperblog.com/charles-mattons-boites/

This is why…

Any purely quantative factor must, by its nature and function devaluate in time. Just like a joke. Marvellous. Nice. Cut off his head. And what are we to do with a screaming headless eagle throwing bloody gobs of panic through stock exchanges of the world? The terrible moment has arrived when no amount of money will buy anything. The economic machine grinds to a splintering halt.

burroughs/ the place of dead roads / 124

wesley's heart is warmed, brion and william dream together, augustine dreams of jerome

斯金納的房間

non stop nyan cat / Nyanyanyanyanyanyanya!

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

YOU'RE DESTROYING THE UNIVERSE!

Kim shoots a hole in the sky. Blackness pours out and darkens the earth. In the last rays of a painted sun, a Johnson holds up a barbed-wire fence for others to slip through. The fence has snagged the skyline … a great black rent. Screaming crowds point to the torn sky.

burroughs / the place of dead roads

Zeeuwse mossel'

Tout est oeufs. Le monde est oeufs. Le monde est né du grand jaune, le soleil. Notre mère, la lune, est écailleuse. En écailles d'œuf pilées, la lune. Poussières d'œufs, les étoiles. Tout, oeufs morts et perdus. En dépit des gardes, ce monde-soleil, cette lune, étoiles de trains entiers. Vides. D'oeufs vides.























The eggs are laid by radioactive reptiles that inhabit the coldest regions of the planet in an area of total darkness. The eggs glow with soft blue fire…

burroughs / the place of dead roads

drawing / rimbaud's hall

The floor of the hallway of Rimbaud's home in Charleville












…see your whole life spread out in a spatial panorama, a vast maze of rooms, streets, landscapes, not sequential but arranged in shifting associational patterns. Your attic room in St. Louis opens into a New York loft, from which you step into a Tangier street.

This place feels like a funeral, the locals sit at the bar in black, in silence. I order a beer and lay out the beermats in front of me in hexagons, looking blankly through the rain to the Zonnecenter: El Sol opposite, across the street with its black and white chequerboard crossing. The white zone is for loading and unloading only.

The past and the future make an encounter like black and white. The real and the virtual coalesce at the border like a wound healing over.

Two forlorn chandeliers moving gently in the wind to the tune of fly me to the moon.

hyperweather

"Ah, madame, I have often wondered what jewel I would offer you worthy of your incomparable beauty… and now, quite suddenly, I know."
He deftly extracts a tiny blue-ringed octopus from a cigarette-case tank and places it around her horrified neck. The octopus lights up and glows bright blue, a blue that spreads to her face as she weaves in her chair and topples face down in the Baked Alaska.

burroughs / western lands / 127

nonsuch / nonpareil

Nonsuch Palace c1560 Joris Hoefnagel

There you are in your beautiful villa, straight out of Disneyland, on a clear blue lake that drains away, while you sit, with a last derisive gurgle…


A dangerous road. Every pitfall, every error, every snare to which Everyman has been liable since the beginning, you are sure to meet on the road to the Western Lands…

Cordon sanitaire

Zones of Offensive Opacity

…Slips away from the apparatus, saturates it, blows it away. Is not limited to the possibilities authorized by the apparatus…

the Big Picture

Short Eyes, known as See, and the House Dick, known as Prick, are unofficial operatives of Special Operations. Prick is a burly ex-policeman with a cop's florid face and a cop's mean, angry eyes. They are rarely used against enemy agents, but rather against civilian targets: writers, artists, filmakers, intellectuals, inventors and researchers who are considered a danger to the Big Picture.

Big Picture involves escape from the planet by a chosen few… After that, an extermination program will be activated. needless to say, Big Picture is a highly sensitive project. Even to suspect the existence of Big Picture is unwholesome. As the poet says: 'After such knowledge, what forgiveness?"

burroughs / The Western Lands/ 51

…………

Wu Ming We are all February of 1917

We trail no wires

Our policy is SPACE.

Anything that favors or enhances space programs, space exploration, simulation of space conditions, exploration of inner space, expanding awareness, we will support. Anything going in the other direction we will extirpate. The espionage world now has a new frontier.

Burroughs / Western Lands / 25

shield

Armour was a cumbersome and impractical device, jousting was stupid and bestial, and romantic love was disgusting, rather like the cult of Southern womanhood…

black cat/ white cat

Smoker, a creature of the lightless depths, where life as we on the surface know it cannot exist, brought light and color with him as colors pour from tar

Margaras / the Tracker
He can hide in snow and sunlight on white walls and clouds and rocks, he moves down windy streets with blown newspapers and shreds of music and silver paper in the wind

burroughs/ western lands

vice

Others, completely naked despite the cold, had smooth reptilian skins, crystal disk eyes and long flexible tails tipped with points of translucent pink crystal

Captain Mission / Libertatia

 

 

 

 

 

 

Piratical transgressions, political transgressions

Locker Room

Realism = making the conditions of the present available.


……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Toby is reading The Time Machine by HG Wells.

I gave it a last tap, tried all the screws again, put one more drop of oil on the quartz rod, and sat myself in the saddle. I suppose a suicide who holds a pistol to his skull feels much the same wonder at what will come next as I felt then …
I seemed to reel; I felt a nightmare sensation of falling…
I am afraid I cannot convey the peculiar sensations of time travelling.
They are excessively unpleasant. There is a feeling exactly like that one has on a switchback - of a helpless headlong motion! I felt the same horrible anticipation, too, of an imminent smash. As I put on pace, night followed day like the flapping of a black wing…
The twinkling sensation of darkness and light was excessively painful to the eye… The sky took on a wonderful deepness of blue, a splendid luminous colour like that of early twilight; the jerking sun became a streak of fire, a brilliant arch, in space; the moon a fainter fluctuating band… Minute by minute the white snow flashed across the world, and vanished, and was followed by the bright, brief green of spring…

the iguana sister brought some books and put them down on the table

The Phenomenon of the Future

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.
Gibson / Neuromancer

Over the world as it ends in decrepitude is a pale sky that may perhaps dissipate with the clouds - streaks of used sunsets that bleed into the dormant waters of a river, submerged beneath rays and drops. The trees are bored, and beneath their whitened foliage [whitened by the dust of time, not by the dust of roads], rises the tent of the Revealer of Things Past…
Mallarme / Divagations / 11

The sky is thin as paper here.
Burroughs / Cities of the Red Night


The narrow staircase pushes me into the attic where the wall paper is loose. There are no images because the room is itself an image.
The yellow-orange cloth wrapping the skylight seems to hold a fallen sun; a softly illuminating sun of about one meter diameter, flat like a coin. I sweat and dream, washed up on a cold beach at midday.

A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.

Pynchon / Gravity's RAINBOW


‘The sea had receded and the ground was grey and brownish like the sky. Abstraction grey. Calmly, intensely, hopelessly, the ultimate abstraction took hold of me.’ It seems to me that the ‘abstraction grey’, which recalls Hegel’s ‘grey on grey’ of theory, is the place to begin not so much thinking the ‘future’ as thinking the present.

noys/ beradi 

"When philosophy paints its grey on grey, then has a shape of life grown old. By philosophy's grey on grey it cannot be rejuvenated but only understood. The owl of Minerva spreads its wings only with the falling of the dusk." Philosophy of Right ( (1821), translated by T. M. Knox, (1952)) p. 13 

1

The sky had lifted at least thirty feet.

I sat there, not moving. The shock must have cracked the

pavement, my right hand fumbled in the rubble. As I breathed,

the silence stilled the explosion of stars whose sparks still

crackled in my head. The white lines in the pavement showed

dimly in the darkness: my hand left the ground, felt up my left

arm, up to my shoulder, back down my ribs to my hips: noth-

ing, I was intact, I could go on.

I stood up. Falling flat on my face, sprawled out like a cross, I

remembered that I had forgotten to check over my legs as well.

ASTRAGAL /sarrazin