HTML version 1995
The Seven by Nine Squares
The Village Voice
"But to wear out your brain trying to make things into one without realizing that they are all the same--this is called 'three in the morning.'"
In the afterlife, there is (verification) a place where cool green light can be tailored for the independent target, thereby providing an advantage over the standard item in flexibility and versatility. The distribution of people over terrain, after destroying their accumulation. Rasa. Imagine yourself one of them, forever, with no reward. myentirecareerhasbeeninpursuitofblotnech (smoke masonic handshakes outline transitive corporations merging).
The nautical matron looked down at the time I made it. Fried conference. Tonight. Puck canterbury. Martian. Golf hag. Dematerialized. Cake. Note. Spit. Climb. Ought. Body smell. And development. Resolved into the same reality where it feels so good than an outside world seems improbable.
In the set didn't continue more than contra-distinctions or contrary-instinctions of the fact. It is important that the initial text was conventionally structured (eliminating much of freestanding scientific language). In the end a puzzle seemed likely, enough for a substantial investment. It seemed, at times, as if they were stuck to self-deception and didn't care whether anything was ruined, so long as the wind was coming out of the silliness as a means of fate/fame. Now that we put up front the complexity of translation and transmission as equal partners in the rigorous shine of fact, it must seem to be a situation in which a claim of apparency is to confront meaning in "pure form." From the tables of near translation, she can only be considered tentative, given that it may not be clear which languages have already been performed, and it is assumed that the work be planned and that instructions be followed to the flightless pattern of a plate, and thrown into the same reality where it feels so good that an outside world seems improbable.
In the afterlife, there is (verification) a place where cool green light can be carried without arousing suspicion. The complete item itself can often be easily concealed or camouflaged. In addition, the field expedient item can be related to the letter; all work should be done in a vacuum.
In unconventional operations it may be necessary instead to fabricate the required from seemingly innocuous locally available materials. The purpose will be to update present material and add new items as they become available. Users are encouraged to submit recommended changes or comments to improve this manual. Comments should be keyed to the point of the arctic while things are getting down to cold cold shivering facts. The force of misdirection, direct. Spring is not shared, and thus unmotivating, though this connotation is not watching the flightless pattern of a sequence, which is indeed what we are talking in & about.
Replying to Contradictions: At first it must seem nothing more than fabricating homemade items so commonplace or innocuous they can be spoken of. It must be a precipice in the most appropriate translation. Screen door childhood. Pluck. Set--which play. Crosses. Regal. Define.
The force of misdirection while the grip laughs, turning black. Tight under an expanding repertoire of motor ticks. All's well that resolves towards nominalism, we can all understand, yes. His beard wet with? Blood? Thinks: if I gave you the info, it would be one. The force is not our business, nothing but simultaneously painting ourselves and others into the air like dust. We are detained for questioning. Without a negative moment, the maid must be ready. A partially translated text is a procedure through a space creating timewakes, watching the specific page, paragraph, and line of text. Catalog. Need. Meat production. -n. You bit lips. Kite.
To be her writing without loosing her "cool." Writing on the back, sniffing, the reader grows in the observatory. The tension would rise. It caught out & the closet door swung into the text. In the end a puzzle seemed likely, enough for a substantial investment.
Resolved into the text: You, mirthlessly articulating nothingness pulsing against the grains. Swaths of silver halides expose the boom-town. Loose-leaf, secretive projection onto napkins. Hand-held mechanism. Disturbed, something began to tumble out from the walls in every-moment-apparency, and you must have a ticket to play in the game. This announcement will be able to listen to it, that dialogical menace. Syllibus embedded in what would clear out the old room. Treatment for no cause amounted to a big deal, but walked almost right into a wall. "Sheep" was said.
The maid appears to you in her private moment, interfering birds of the white room, with expandable walls, anext the vertiginous garden. We continue to confuse alterations of positions or shifts of reflection, as open to some matrix-x, whether this, merely, or that, merely, including leaps from one circuit-tree to another circuit-tree. There must be a precipice in the forms alone, creating the illusion of time passing. Just as the wind is coming out of wrists and palms, these grains of sprinkled mood alteration devices are then used to clothe our minds within resemblances. Alert persuasion gives them emphatic grief of the arctic, things are getting down to cold cold shivering facts, unbending and unfolding, edgeworthy and wait-worthy and lightworthy, alas!
That is to announce that I have one big enough to not seem to, of the sort now-commonly noted. The irony within this contradiction is the maid's writing.
The shadow force of apparency, which is indeed what we are talking in & about: It is both inherently and sufficiently enpaused, riddled with air, rift with reticules, in short baggaged and bagged, to be her private moment.
Myself, sum it all up. To be her writing. This is the art of the anti-maid which can be spoken of. It must be wherever I am receding.
Re-ploughing the waters which divide the inseparable lands, which have and will move, though just slowly enough to seem not to.
Exits the space of his slack-lipped mouth: "It's always there," Smithson whispered, half collapsing back into his chair, when a long streamer of tripe escaped from the corner of his desire. "One can almost believe," he continued, "that something still hangs about."
For the purposes of this majestic land, today so trifling, yesterday so immense, most certainly induced by many clues of talk and manner of silences until he came up frequently to lunch and dine, sometimes spent the whole place. The reader grows and the room turns uglier as he opens his mouth, puts back his head and croons: "Somewhere in the advanced technological society described here--determined only by exchange--in short, by the formal grammar of sympathetic nerve cells, I asked you, slipping into the text."
He equally accepted as gospel my theory that it may be necessary instead to fabricate the required mole, which telepathically covered the entire land and took over Turnaround House where Austin had gotten him into, and kicked Austin out. It didn't really surprise Austin that he got mad at him now for smoking one cigarette and drinking one beer. Later he was squeezing and fingering that accordeon of his, like a monster of the canonical. A schizophrenic sleepwalker in the maid's writing. And though much he said was fantastic, I couldn't help asking. You, I fancy, would have enjoyed it, for no cause amounted to the kind of cumulative emotion he produced.
"Look at the serpent & the closet door swung into the same or similar corners, of the text." The end is the effective (affected) energy of coherence used to do that when he wanted to stop partying and go to bed at two o'clock. "Yes, but we can do without all that, Smithson," I interrupted with acute abruptness, "Suppose we have a ticket to play a chess in a loose, disjointed way."
Desire for the dawn. Part of my body occupies cold and drained depth. However, the end is the art of the fables, isn't it???????? It is not be spoken of. We are not and neither is. That is the similar. Smaller delays (depths) were formed by the tripe-fringed morbidness of Smithson's smile. He laughed a little in his schizophrenic conversation. Facing the East, they waited for the night.
For a long war, my boy got back from Canada. We were seen together on August 15. Eating a straw hat through a huge formless hole would kill me--at least during the awake's "lucid wakefulness," which may be "visionary," but entirely within the rarefied mental set of speech patterns and habitual behaviors, whether infinite or not at all.
Are they a separate and valued species which relate to us as we relate to emergent economic flows and political upheaval? To what degree functions the continuity of wakefulness? In a sense, emergent rationality springs from the body into wind... "The speeding up and down his body as I go upstairs and lie down on the deck." Where ATL is (Abb) Apiary resident: investment tool, all the same.
I step back and remove pleasure, giving back pleasure. As soon as you realize you have the same dream, reiterate to yourself, time and time again. Of course it was "a well advised precaution," the same boy in a condition where once a linear month would react to 'solids,' and have 'attacks.' (Manifested by becoming very quietly sociable, almost cooperative.) And his father had to have him kept there because she felt that it happened before. So you continue to nod your heads, and afterwards all is as important as speech, rich with repetitive non-sequiturs, references & inside jokes. A road to elsewhere, decompressed.
Wittgenstein would stare moodily at objects and then asystematically attempt to glue them at random to objects, to cover all persons he was close and who# notice the changes in his behavior and use of language.
Q: Value. Movement which arises by penetration, from the fusion of the hemorrhoid condition and a tautology of disintegrating things, the "clean sheets" or "streets" of dialectical advance in occult connecting principles. To attack something is to say "don't lock the door," which is as real as it prevents rigorous imitation. Imagine someone you have been thinking of, in a way which seems to have kept him there because you felt it was "a well advised precaution." The obscurity, like that of communication between two people, is resolved into the outermost aesthetic protrusions of their constructed reality. A reality with no resistance, leaving memories behind...
A: We discussed this in the last ten years. None of it happened, there is no internal composite personality. I said "Maria, come out now," banging on the door. I also remember to say my own body. This context is only momentarily comfortable, that is only now.
They drink only to encourage the assimilation of bodily fluids in the eyes of another human being, to say "I love you." What do you plan to do? In this context, it is accidentally done with old friends, as mischief, when meeting someone to give back pleasure. But anyone knows that what is not a reflection of any cultural stereotype reinforces the collective distopia.
All road maps in infinite sequence.
I was wondering if I came here this morning to talk to the C of the H-condition x "P" (R of all people for food). By that we mean the human condition to be limited, the projection of continuity into history. We perceive them as elements of a round. "I had contemplate on the best 'explination,' or catalyst to understanding, the master of all contexts."
Spanish Art ritual. "I eat fish heads and afterwards all is as it was before." Each Spaniard is as painful or disorienting as this realization realization. We switch bodies for perspectival reasons, measurement of time.
Ending her activation, she safely returned to the 'bungalow' at the end of the film to meet the man, matching his confusion of objectivity humor. They use six forms of disorientation to organize it, and we could hunt each other down. Burnomism, new sloganeering of the "crummy" ones.
The box: a pattern, iced by sugary relations, and sinking from tires only by "P" space. This P is not a reflection of any stereotype; that is, a complete unknown.
Another person walks up to me without touching the drink, "Do you drink?" He looks at me, slips inside my body and dissolves. Wake up. Lie back on the wrought iron floor. In fact, it is always the same. As a game, amusement, etc..
"If you don't mind I go upstairs and lie down on the other human beings to the sound of film objects which were the initiation of a round."-- As if I go upstairs to put my rapid body into a girl, off-camera, but instead stop in front of gravity to camouflage or alienate everything which has come before we can hear it, to bring into your own memories of people the above's artificial difference.
, ........ 2) Slogan: "1980-1990, an exerationship between realitself. Take complications. (dirty Bennett to counter, (onsequently wasting your fucking "ression of each horization." To get my richer half? Dressed in your patypical drawings? No, not because a body may be moved, and corporations of discourse create their heads in variety transfer. "I" am becoming more, from normalical charges. Plan: To increase negations, you just might be electric. Direkte Frage (view of making of 'reality up this "you", "likeness" from a difference, with certain 'moods' (games) of diagnose otheration in the match case. A good reason to qualm your mug. Oh, I'd say half of 'reality, uselse). ([[questiondown]]-real, true, false, infinite) ........ (Kant)
You probably got into its nestled structure, samengaged via massive government of heads in the guts to blurt out barriers. Our goal is physical like that! Oooohh! That prick and the government! Better than anything else.
"Wo warst du denn?"--The difference in your scummy partical you. The letter not reconly convincing me that I may have no more precious air, that big fat way through 'extreme' anti-weaving, and 'practical breathing.' "Gee, you're each row's hammer, addle-brained in prison?" Nail down a man locked in yourself, in your non-sensituation, eatinto gentrifying something ("Humbereit"). I was trying to see that when fully wasting your motiveless totaltogether. Do you are? That's why I have self-refused this 'refercising metaphor, ........ (sie) 4) In fact, why stop for silence.
I had resolved so much, disorized phenomes of 'usal.' And clearly, ea(h linguisti( mode saw an (in)active refusing negative. Beispiel 1: Don't be smart saying we should've gotten rid of speculations. Don't forge to hammer money off of supports, of our critique, to bum your motivation, unstably rotting in the ball point of variety. There is an (electric diagnosis "set" forming the 'you' of hypnotic sort. The present set is psychiation from impedience/'fake.' Be smart enough to supercede time transfer. ...keine gute Idee, ........ (Wilhelm) a)
-- und dem Beweis, ........ (Essen) 13) Morgen werd' ich ... würde. Complex phase relations, that's the only answer to avoid re(onciliatric procedure. Take a nail. Take a grid, everto abstract from behaviors and give you a good reason to 'progress.' ?+?=? (this u is inably good for your mouth between physicals.
Somewhere in consequence of (im)pure recognition, the maid appears in the splash of the moon. Hanging unreal and installed, she plays chess in unobserved motion. "I lost our bodies, capable of digesting stone." Purposes other than contra-distinctions used to fail. These maids hammer pianoforte passages out of their crowded kitchen.
The maid teaches us all, a well-thought-out bird somewhere else. "Should I ask you, slipping into an approximation, about the cheerless irony within resemblances to fame?" says the Red Girl in the text. Her truth appears to be wished, inside the room, through fetishization of the flightless pattern of praise, unfolding edgeworthy silence in the most confusing garden. One can visibly articulate the only 'law' she remained possessor of. She must be capable of withstanding the water in her sympathetic nerve cells. The plane of the fabric is hot. Never believe this.
I gazed at her, looking for the plane.
"We are being exchanged, but what I want is to be divided."
I didn't know what it was. We would want it to be closed. Awaiting big deal, they walked almost right into a wall.
The inquiry into Karen, sweating from the exertions of her hypostases, between "fabrication" and "being received." As the outlines of hypostases collapse, just like outlines of tautology, the "clean sheets" or "streets" of the canonical are "to be seen." Here we find Karen and her mattress, for purposes of masturbation. A noble theme as the occasion endures.
You may know this, in fact, for all I know is that she may be the very source of emanations. You could very well have been standing around passing an army uniform back and forth between them, amazed by Karen's dance.
Specifically, she likes to use her mattress for climbing; then pausing to wash and drink according to a boundless combinatorics of classifications and sub-classifications, through her ability to emanate at once into a multitude of both independent and unified hypostases. Time becomes space, sentiments become one and multitude, she remains on a final threshold to the fourth porter (breaking in excited):
"I dated my sister! My smooth bitten-down fingernails scrabbled into the text: --That disappearance took longer than it should have."
Two or more people reading the same book with the same pathological quasi-concern for our well-being. We perceive them as elements of a "natural order."
What did I tell you? What is intended is not, of course, necessarily what is revealed, even in the maid's writing. The maid's name can be infinite or not at all, since there is no internal force, no soul, no reason: domestication can be infinite or not at all, since there is no separate human condition to limit it, only the projection of continuity on meaningless history, almost pacifying our fears of the H-condition x "P." They are not projections of "mass-consciousness;" they are a separate and valued species which relate to us as we relate to the same book.
Closing her eyes to this world, I took the phone call.
The next second-men stand in the cave with the help of Karen herself, whose story it is.
These possible means either represent lines relieved in potential thought.. --"strange thing to inspire us with your own poses, eases bowel movemiction of my flag." Possibilations sensing primaround sobriety... "I know that one, we grant the manoeuvre, and then we have the heart/brain stop preceeding names, ID, body sets; tendencies towards the potential." Reality belations, cravential flag. "We will be pure and cernible, wanting security to transcend it. Furtheration to gravity." 10 phrases collapse, ectible with food, lick food after glancing at its sub-classifictive internal force, no faith in preferty of being, of a being she inadvisibly likes to surpass.
The ability to displace selves
-- in underground simulations of gravity: In some way, these "leaders" lead them towards suppossibilations of matching conjunction. Or, in order to be fabricated, this frame transcends "representation galvanized in pacified hypostases." Time becomes surpassing will, "sustaining" those who could be spoken of. To close her eyes beyond abilitself, kept by keeping poses found in her mattress for purposes like this. The maid's writing into reknown-wax. Space. Masturbation. To the everty of internal force, a being in orignorance to disappear in onomations, to confer on common dencies, at once integrated into full being and predicated with no separities: a manner of time regulating synchronous acts; the sort nowned for its notions. Ice. Tonight. Groom. Split.
Actually, it is a threat; it disappears to unlimit potential dogs realized as a meaningless invention of beauty, to become herself. They are not unifically chosen: Mind my flag somewhere, potenduring now-time. I took the purpose to the point preceeding the bud, to the transcendence of a burning flower. The thesaurus knows that there must be her mattress for measurity & men in some way, in the same clothes. What was it that I did not understand? I have seen exerydrating in support of them: the gold flag of cement & locked consciousness, sustaining the cave of visionalism. A rhetoric of influence to be its reality; the frame is burning, intimized, but only represult.
A microcosm of the chicken concepts disintegrates into the "margin" of implicattempt, techniques reknowned for climbing; then we must see that they will be split into fifteen bath apprehendures. Your postal inquiry into six forms of tensit-down humor: identials preceeding evermore or everatorder to camouflage, as a prison of the broken order, to be the potential flag of oris and multities. They use what I took for a frame lacking a personal factor.. Howeven, we wing of things to do, to think a potential rapolutionarized, my flag the potential state of *death* polary. As if reading purity in a circle, it seems another poured re-contradicationalism, an extrapolation. Divide the purpose of the symbolic into a lack. Furtherence is what poses: "Weren't they disappearing into the 'margin' of object parts whose potential states are yet to be realized?"
Safe like frozen in mind, I go for Florian, tiresticating ideas from one labyrinth-x to another flaggy flag flag, now in terms of a cernible potential that my reason might perceive as contented. Did I tell you? What did I state? To suppress in order to escape.
I took the dog potential to unify my hypostases. The contested shine of the flag, now in its notions. Don't try stupid silence, evermore detectible in an asis frozen to cope w/ serious thought... guided to pressurpass purposity only with the occasion prefermined in distance; traversed, but flightless. We confer on simility in potentity. Plenial wer for children's toys, metany realized. Yet it's the bud of a world not actually belative to contained humor: They use six forms of even flags, with an account of the trope within them. (Annihility realized.)
Frequently, there is a non-down potentage in the symbolic catality of angels, or: neology. Maybe its frame is 'psychication of tautolutional palms,' a flag prison (and then they disappear in the silence of the potential where we find Sarah Louise Young's wings). Only with our signed set of necesticipants classified as the internal source of the chicken movement, Bennett and luna realized, predicance will take longer than reading the fabric of "understaneous disaptities." End it (Jack).
A near person walks up to inspire us with things whose significal potential cannot be prescribed as 2 form the mattress of its purity. Said date chosen with no reason to domestablish a possible himself that I apprehend as partical endeavors commonly to be seen. Here we go for a lack, a flag in the tilted shine of decomating murals. A thesauration shared in asynchronous acts; to be infinal just "as my flag," did I tell you? What did I know to expect shine of masonly reason, cut-out and complete? Sleeping without a concrete being which will see the action of being, lacking the aid of situates in sleep, when silence is active. I took potentity. We can in fact transform the anation of wanting sections despite the shifts of denourished re-beings. (Didn't Kiki Bonbon kill them with wallpaper that often disappears when moving?)
The maid has written the polarities down onto my sister, into my cunt of memories. Belovering is a property of a potenal topia, with it, up to 'solids,' to drink a flag which is living techniques, reknow-action to the app middle of content. I do not bud a lack. Furthery is burning, the bud a sinking letter, the "margin" of where we have been standing--as operything bits, which means either that the phone call.... Pin-ups: "I eat fish heads, afternal force, no reason for the phone call, whoring around with meaning bits, which is a systems factor.." Yet reality poses id jokes, there 4 elying structural belonies; we go upstairs and see Karen exercising specified hypostases: "the lacking letter," "the polity (minimum) of being."
The gold flag of emergence the company wall. Networks: systemized into as such suppossible inations as if reading even in sleep, since silence precedents onging pre-phengagement in some way. The inquiry into interactual laws of round tropes--maybe to wash their wanting secural eludicality, potentatorganized in the potential of othery, everated in full purition, the fabric of our well-being. These posities. Plenial difference. Possibily to wash and whore, to displace selves in, lulling them down. Wake up. Lie back and synchronize. Facing their meditics in due course of possibility, Bee-systems arose from full being into great concepts; then they disappear in implicative movement, in the bosom of somewhere. Spanish meat, apocalyptic instinct. The month walk of my flag as elocutional surpassing.
A person walks up to build a dog, with heads within the main topia, with our ignorance of everyday use which may be a right not be provided in the dark, a useful tendency to strife the fabric, femme, & what I didn't synchronize. The time now. I have dogs. Everty of silence in lucid purpose; moreover, as if reading a clitorder with frequent emphasis on a gold brick... Pre-phenomations, through her hypostases, better, I was well, adequately brought into the belonly notion of a medituations. Pataneologically excited: "I am dating the valued species of influence to realize its implications." "There's the chicken confusion about archany galvanized & apprehended.
Q: An army flag to be a manner of the precedent, patanihility.
An empty mirror. Its grid is a heraldic device, its condition: memory, to boot. We are tuning in completely. The house of the metaphor. The glass: not itself. The house of course, nameless. Its grid woven.
I have found similarities, and similar similarities, to leave, that is, to play it out. The glass is woven. Identity of course, nameless. Its grid fragmented accidentally and completely. Attempts to leave traces, tracery. An empty mirror of the critical mass. An empty mirror of an empty mirror of seven by nine squares folded. The square, of course, nameless. Its grid omnidirectional coherence. Since absence leaves space, I prefer to play. We are the same. A passage through which text is coherence.
The squares are similar, but never the metaphor. I prefer to boot. We are similar, they are similar, they are tuning in together, throwing long curves, creating timespace. Its grid is a passage through which text is woven. We are similar, they are never the same.
We are never the same. Thus, no matter how much the square attempts to play out, I prefer to leave, that is, to boot. We are tuning in a passage through which text is not itself. The house of an empty mirror. The empty mirror.