Thus the first company would charge, and would engage for awhile, fighting desperately.
The raft had long since stopped and only the waves of the current beat softly against it below.
The road is not swept for the ss my daughter, but for a minister.
Thank you, Colette, for your email - another Readymade sent to the Blogger by an unkown correspondent.
Monday 19 October 2009
Tuesday 13 October 2009
Tuesday 6 October 2009
Buil de Onplezierig
We don’t invent Buil de Onplezierig – we discover him and only invent the notions for describing him.
The yellow baboon, Buil de Onplezierig, speaks only about basic elements of experience. "Don't think but look!" What was will be or beaten and content. Joke; followed by a chthonic water beast. Shows of the life and in love, ready to wear, daily. “It is not natural to think”; Buil de Onplezierig is illogical, Buil de Onplezierig remains silent, Buil de Onplezierig expresses no thoughts. Telling Buil de Onplezierig something he does not understand is pointless, even if you add that he will not be able to understand it. Buil de Onplezierig imagines the world as a ceaseless riot of noise and illusion. Buil de Onplezierig walks alone apart from the other within him.
Buil de Onplezierig has no more reason to exist than the apparent death of his mentor is said to have happened. Everything is equally valuable or equally worthless. Buil de Onplezierig simply puts everything before us, he does not deduce anything. Everything is open and there is nothing to explain. The mind of Buil de Onplezierig half accepts, half rejects nothingness. Buil de Onplezierig knows only his self; he has no notion of anything or any person; the more precisely Buil de Onplezierig is known, the less precisely Buil de Onplezierig can be known. He keeps an outlandish old man docile with alcohol and chains. Buil de Onplezierig sees the universe as all spots and jumps, without unity and without continuity, without coherence, orderliness or any of the other properties of uniformity and constancy. There seem to be no clear boundaries, order or meaning to anything. A large part of Buil de Onplezierig’s life is spent just trying to work out the pattern behind everything.
Buil de Onplezierig is possible greatness. His behaviour is erratic, and our understanding of the probability of his actions is questionable. Our observations of Buil de Onplezierig have an effect on his behaviour. Observe Buil de Onplezierig and he observes us. When we observe Buil de Onplezierig he chooses what we observe. His existence proves the notion that simplicity equals truth is false. Buil de Onplezierig’s life is perfectly conventional, he is married, living in his own home and working. Buil de Onplezierig does not care who you slept with last night, what gender that person was, or if you are married to that person. Buil de Onplezierig believes in the triumphant progress of science which makes profound changes in humanity inevitable and is confident in the radiant splendour of his future. Buil de Onplezierig rebels against the tyranny of the words “harmony” and “good taste”; they are barbed wire, a crown of thorns.
Buil de Onplezierig, "abrupt of emotion", does not care to know how your week is going, what is going on in your life, and how, as your friend, he can serve you. It is said of Buil de Onplezierig that he has no idea of goodness, he is naturally wicked, he is vicious and he does not know virtue. Buil de Onplezierig eats human flesh, leads a debauched life and is always full of violence and intrigues.
Buil de Onplezierig hears the distant bark of the fox, the baying of the wolf, the snarl of the wildcat, the weird call of the owl, followed by the “Ha-ha-ha!”. Buil de Onplezierig, in the guise of the slave Money, stealthily stealing, without a passport, carries a monstrous gourd with holes cut in it representing eyes and mouth. Buil de Onplezierig has no honour to lose. The slave Money is a manic depressive, over exuberant on the highs and over gloomy on the lows. Buil de Onplezierig just sits around doing nothing and accumulating masses of objects. Buil de Onplezierig despises the slave Money and the hypocrisy of his life. Buil de Onplezierig recalls visions of an anarchic world in which instinctual drives were untrammelled by moderation. The question is obvious, who could have done this?
The slave Money, cold and dark, sits on Buil de Onplezierig’s shoulder. The slave Money is a willing slave. He needs no chains. He is fond of his slavery. He is proud of his slavery. The slave Money is impulsive. He counts 28 hills, each constructed of about 1,500 heads. When a thing is right, it is right – in place, time and purpose. Buil de Onplezierig is grossly swollen, an abyss of anarchy and disintegration.
The slave Money glares at Buil de Onplezierig like a wild beast. The slave Money does not use agriculture or laws other than each man to himself. Buil de Onplezierig buys nothing without the slave Money, lethal and infected. The more precisely Buil de Onplezierig is known, the less precisely Buil de Onplezierig can be known. Buil de Onplezierig plied the slave Money with wine and while he slept, pierced his eye with a burning stake. A horrible recollection sickened him, stones were thrown at him so as to kill him. He remembers a time of repression, a reining-in of deviant behaviour, dead livestock and the death of babies and children. Buil de Onplezierig builds a tower.
To the outside world Buil de Onplezierig is a very extraordinary man and inventive genius, a literary scholar and cultural theorist. He is well built, in proportion, and he is most gentle and considerate and of an extremely placid disposition which nothing appears to ruffle. And five shoes now end my thoughts.
The yellow baboon, Buil de Onplezierig, speaks only about basic elements of experience. "Don't think but look!" What was will be or beaten and content. Joke; followed by a chthonic water beast. Shows of the life and in love, ready to wear, daily. “It is not natural to think”; Buil de Onplezierig is illogical, Buil de Onplezierig remains silent, Buil de Onplezierig expresses no thoughts. Telling Buil de Onplezierig something he does not understand is pointless, even if you add that he will not be able to understand it. Buil de Onplezierig imagines the world as a ceaseless riot of noise and illusion. Buil de Onplezierig walks alone apart from the other within him.
Buil de Onplezierig has no more reason to exist than the apparent death of his mentor is said to have happened. Everything is equally valuable or equally worthless. Buil de Onplezierig simply puts everything before us, he does not deduce anything. Everything is open and there is nothing to explain. The mind of Buil de Onplezierig half accepts, half rejects nothingness. Buil de Onplezierig knows only his self; he has no notion of anything or any person; the more precisely Buil de Onplezierig is known, the less precisely Buil de Onplezierig can be known. He keeps an outlandish old man docile with alcohol and chains. Buil de Onplezierig sees the universe as all spots and jumps, without unity and without continuity, without coherence, orderliness or any of the other properties of uniformity and constancy. There seem to be no clear boundaries, order or meaning to anything. A large part of Buil de Onplezierig’s life is spent just trying to work out the pattern behind everything.
Buil de Onplezierig is possible greatness. His behaviour is erratic, and our understanding of the probability of his actions is questionable. Our observations of Buil de Onplezierig have an effect on his behaviour. Observe Buil de Onplezierig and he observes us. When we observe Buil de Onplezierig he chooses what we observe. His existence proves the notion that simplicity equals truth is false. Buil de Onplezierig’s life is perfectly conventional, he is married, living in his own home and working. Buil de Onplezierig does not care who you slept with last night, what gender that person was, or if you are married to that person. Buil de Onplezierig believes in the triumphant progress of science which makes profound changes in humanity inevitable and is confident in the radiant splendour of his future. Buil de Onplezierig rebels against the tyranny of the words “harmony” and “good taste”; they are barbed wire, a crown of thorns.
Buil de Onplezierig, "abrupt of emotion", does not care to know how your week is going, what is going on in your life, and how, as your friend, he can serve you. It is said of Buil de Onplezierig that he has no idea of goodness, he is naturally wicked, he is vicious and he does not know virtue. Buil de Onplezierig eats human flesh, leads a debauched life and is always full of violence and intrigues.
Buil de Onplezierig hears the distant bark of the fox, the baying of the wolf, the snarl of the wildcat, the weird call of the owl, followed by the “Ha-ha-ha!”. Buil de Onplezierig, in the guise of the slave Money, stealthily stealing, without a passport, carries a monstrous gourd with holes cut in it representing eyes and mouth. Buil de Onplezierig has no honour to lose. The slave Money is a manic depressive, over exuberant on the highs and over gloomy on the lows. Buil de Onplezierig just sits around doing nothing and accumulating masses of objects. Buil de Onplezierig despises the slave Money and the hypocrisy of his life. Buil de Onplezierig recalls visions of an anarchic world in which instinctual drives were untrammelled by moderation. The question is obvious, who could have done this?
The slave Money, cold and dark, sits on Buil de Onplezierig’s shoulder. The slave Money is a willing slave. He needs no chains. He is fond of his slavery. He is proud of his slavery. The slave Money is impulsive. He counts 28 hills, each constructed of about 1,500 heads. When a thing is right, it is right – in place, time and purpose. Buil de Onplezierig is grossly swollen, an abyss of anarchy and disintegration.
The slave Money glares at Buil de Onplezierig like a wild beast. The slave Money does not use agriculture or laws other than each man to himself. Buil de Onplezierig buys nothing without the slave Money, lethal and infected. The more precisely Buil de Onplezierig is known, the less precisely Buil de Onplezierig can be known. Buil de Onplezierig plied the slave Money with wine and while he slept, pierced his eye with a burning stake. A horrible recollection sickened him, stones were thrown at him so as to kill him. He remembers a time of repression, a reining-in of deviant behaviour, dead livestock and the death of babies and children. Buil de Onplezierig builds a tower.
To the outside world Buil de Onplezierig is a very extraordinary man and inventive genius, a literary scholar and cultural theorist. He is well built, in proportion, and he is most gentle and considerate and of an extremely placid disposition which nothing appears to ruffle. And five shoes now end my thoughts.
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