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ubu [Nov. 30th, 2012|04:22 am]

In Terms Of An Unfixed Shuffle
they grew up, they made tea, they typed on typewriters, they photographed their meals -once in a while would actually sit still, do nothing. they made lists of lists. and tore them up. the secretary paid the bills. the secretary was never seen. they woke in the morning quiet as mouses and drank their coffee. they woke in the afternoon stoned full of ideas that flowered in evenings that begat unusual results. they feared upheaval lest all come undone in an american scenario. theirs was a continent in miniature. it smelled of print. typography. art for the sake of art. declining officialties. they discovered new things sadly.

they relived the same years over and over unknowingly. the loop breaks at some point and becomes news. the american scenario.

lengths of dialogue unrolled, unraveled into text, became playthings for new bohemians to scatter further. nothing mattered as time continued and with it brought changes like blue filters. there were letters to write, letters to receive, automatically generated by the culture of culturism itself, a spontaneous thing. breasts were bared in formal pomp for it had to be done. the papers arrived. the numbers numbered.

the breathless vista was ignored, accepted as normal.

somewhere someone told a story and another a joke. a song was sung. money was made. some was spent. some was briefly saved. some forgotten in old stored clothes. nothing was explained. ever.

death came and went. that's all there was. the paintings, the photographs and all the miscellaneous papers were never moved. this was what kept the guns and knives away, the violence aside, the american scenario at bay. such crime was kept hidden, secret, detested by authorities. hate like cockroaches and rats and mold crept in and over. every 100 years a day of cleansing disintegrated all that and a random image was shone.

the new intelligence was a simple point that held all. when all is held, the point is as simple as a dot. it knew that and it knew it'd had been known by some that had come before. none of that mattered. neither does this. to some.

there were no candles, but matches aplenty.

please copy all this. print it out however you wish but paste it to the wall. we're home.

[User Picture]From: japanshin
2012-11-30 02:00 pm (UTC)


I feel like this is the life of art in terms of history.
Or the muse from the point of view of history.
The personification of something that's a process.
[User Picture]From: zuma
2012-11-30 05:28 pm (UTC)



it turns out that way, yeah.

perhaps a particular characterization of the muse or process. a particular perspective maybe. definitely that historical thing comes in though. that was wonderful for you to note. the post is titled ubu after http://www.ubu.com/ so there is most definitely that among other aspects.

the creative imperative in general of course holds more various and different than my own characterization contains or reflects. limitlessly, for sure. maybe it's against that backdrop that personification begins. taste, discernments... fuller & hawking & feynman, zinn & chomsky & on and on, i love 'em all even if i don't hold 'em on my own immediate desk.

hey, congratulations to you and Yossi! Jen, i must say (must, i tell you), you are absolutely one of the coolest people i know.

thank you for the spot-on reply...

[User Picture]From: zuma
2012-11-30 05:59 pm (UTC)

action (http://www.litkicks.com/ActionPoetryNovember2012#comment-19776)


somewhere in between brain centers it all becomes cinema
and the cloying seductions of preoccupations of form
finally gives up the ghost and shuffles off
as content saunters ondesk
and asks for it's script
and asks what is my motivation
like some method actor
and asks and asks and asks
why over and over like a two year old
threatening to topple the desk
and just hit the stage and just do improv
risking vacuity, boredom, waste
and failure to connect
in a miasma of meta

no myth, no boon
no story, no time
but to stop time like lyric poetry
and more
a virtual heart
on sleeve or not
as a place, as a headspace
or a home, a cave
or the source itself, grace

all to be threaded into this tiny ass window
where it's all different, like a late night quiet near-empty chatroom
with just enough others
of like minds
and kind

one hopes

[User Picture]From: zuma
2012-12-01 08:04 am (UTC)

Re: action (http://www.litkicks.com/ActionPoetryNovember2012#comment-19776)


...& there's the 960px version: http://zuma.vip.warped.com/headspace.htm

Edited at 2012-12-01 08:05 am (UTC)
[User Picture]From: zuma
2012-12-26 07:01 pm (UTC)

Re: action (http://www.litkicks.com/ActionPoetryNovember2012#comment-19776)


...the 960px version link is moot now -this *is* now the 960px version.
[User Picture]From: tdaschel
2012-12-01 01:54 pm (UTC)

Re: action (http://www.litkicks.com/ActionPoetryNovember2012#comment-19776)


[User Picture]From: tdaschel
2012-12-01 01:58 pm (UTC)


the work is what matters .. in spite of all sorts/manner of forces trying to drag it down/shut it up (oh, and it looks as though i'm going to be sued by the .. aggressive management of a minor Pop Groop ..)

[User Picture]From: zuma
2012-12-01 07:00 pm (UTC)



oh man, the mad vibes do exponentially increase as 12/21/12 approaches ever closer... or something. the cognitive dissonance epidemic -or *some* kind of epidemic of mass hysteria continues to build, it seems. but yeah. the waves of nitwittery snowball ever greater...

madness. it's beyond a lethal frenzied trend. the oceans and rivers, ground and sky, space, the airwaves, the courts, the web, the streets, homes... everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, but for some minds, some hands...

as i celebrate the headspace of ubu here, it's only fitting to reply to this with what related negativland links they proffer:

hang in there. keep your head down, or up, but do keep it. headspace is the last stand. or outpost.

Edited at 2012-12-01 08:30 pm (UTC)
[User Picture]From: tdaschel
2012-12-02 07:59 am (UTC)

Re: Bingo


so.much thanks !
[User Picture]From: zuma
2012-12-02 10:48 am (UTC)

The Man


(now awaiting moderation, but still... here anyway are the links so posted, amidst the poesy, even as odd as *that* was to do... one does what one what one must, yeah.)

https://twitter.com/ubuweb :led to:

Edited at 2012-12-07 04:37 am (UTC)
[User Picture]From: zuma
2012-12-07 04:34 am (UTC)

Signal To Noise


this made my day

i didn't expect a reply. i just left a note in his comment box on the contact page on ubu, which warns he gets a ton of mail as it is.


John, that's simply superb. Thank you for sending it along! I forwarded it to Shelly. I know she'll be really thrilled. Yours, Kenneth

On Dec 5, 2012, at 11:48 PM, XXXXXXXXXX wrote:

> >
> >
> >
> > FROM
> > john hart farwell
> >
> > http://zuma.vip.warped.com/stn.htm
> > -made without permission from screen captures of Silver Houses by Shelly Silver
> >
> > http://zuma.livejournal.com/147711.html
> > -posted in celebration of and inspired by ubu.com
> >
> > thank you, Kenneth
> > thank you so much
> >
> >
> > sent Wed, Dec 5 - 11:48pm pst
> > from
> > reply to


Edited at 2012-12-07 04:35 am (UTC)
[User Picture]From: zuma
2012-12-10 07:55 pm (UTC)

Another Unfixed Shuffle, Same Terms


[User Picture]From: zuma
2013-01-20 04:50 am (UTC)

re Roland Barthes