Friday, February 29, 2008

exi(s)t /exile empire _4

There is a curve in the highway. For as long as you drive you always find this curve ahead of you and you wonder if you will ever see a straight line. Then as you turn the curve again you feel the fear. That this is all there is. That not only will you not see a straight line but that there is nothing beyond this curve. And that it will not end. That it will not close. You hope and dream that at least it might one day become a circle and when the circle is complete you might rest. But this day has not arrived and you doubt that it will ever arrive. Is it because it is meant to be this way? Is it because you were created for this? How long will this last? How long will your eyes shed tears at the slowly dimming hope that the horizon will appear before you and in a straight line you might meet it and disappear into it’s arms.


exi(s)t /exile empire _3

I am tired at seeing things that can be seen only by me. I am tired at hearing laughter when I speak of these things. I want to show them to others so that they might become real and not just objects of beauty or pain lost in my mind. I want my mind to escape the darkness of mute captivity. I believe that if for one moment one person can see these objects that I might acquire meaning, that it will all make sense. Are these objects so important? I don’t know but I think they might at least be worth being used as garbage for a lonely man to light a fire and warm himself on a cold winter night. If only for this moment, they will have served their purpose.


exi(s)t /exile empire _2

the story I would most like to hear at this moment should have as it’s driving force only the desire to narrate, to pile stories upon stories, without trying to impose a philosophy of life upon you, simply allowing you to observe it’s own strength, like a tree, an entangling, as if of branches and leaves.


exi(s)t /exile empire

(blind man)
…speaking is always this: there is a thing that is there, a thing made of words, a solid material object, which cannot be changed, and through this thing we measure ourselves against something else that is not present, something else that belongs to the immaterial, invisible world, because it can only be thought, imagined, or because it once was and is no longer, past, lost, unattainable, in the land of the dead….
…...or that is not present because it does not yet exist, something desired, feared, possible or impossible. Speaking is going towards something that is about to be, and no one yet knows what it will be….
The story I would like to tell you now is a story in which you sense the story arriving like still vague thunder, the historical story along with the individual’s story, a story that gives the sense of living through an upheaval that still has no name, has not yet taken shape……


Monday, February 25, 2008


"You invited me. It' s not my custom to go where I am not wanted." In this response, the Mystery Man provides another pice of evidence the he occupies the position of the Superego. Just like the Mystery Man, the Superego is an intruder from an external place into an internal one.

Lynch uses sound or the lack of it, to make clear the bond between Fred and the Mystery Man. When the Mystery Man approaches Fred in order to speak with him, the background noise of the party dims to become almost inaudible, as if, in the midst of this crowded party, the Mystery Man and Fred are having a private-intraphysic-conversation.

the impossible David Lynch, Todd McGowan, Columbia university press

Sunday, February 24, 2008

an accident waiting to happen

while they' re having sex, peter repeatedly tells alice, "i want you, want you." after a few minutes, alice gets up, says to peter, "you' ll never have me," and walks into the nearby cabin. as she enters the cabin, peter transforms back to fred madison. at the moment when peter is about to "have" alice, he loses her: the fantasy dissolves, and he falls back into his identity before the fantasy. this transformation reveals, as zizek notes, "that the fantasmatic way out was a false exit, that in all imaginable/possible universes, failure is what awaits us.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

pattern recognition/the obvious states and the new frontiers

our past is your future

atrophy organization

but secretly we thirst for new ideas
but secretly we quench our thirst with the ideas of others

1. Pronunciation[uh-troh-fee-uh] Pathology. a wasting away of the body or of an organ or part, as from defective nutrition or nerve damage or lack of inspiration
2. degeneration, decline, or decrease, as from disuse or decreased nutrition of originality

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

new surface citizens

A century is a long time. Twenty years ago no one could have imagined the effects the internet would have - entire relationships flourish, friendships prosper on the e-mail screen, there's a vast new intimacy and accidental poetry (from the osprey-tracking site to tours round old nuclear silos and the extraordinary aerial trip down the California coastline and a thousand others), not to mention the weirdest porn. The entire human experience seems to unveil itself like the surface of a new planet.

Whether the internet or any other technological marvel can halt the slide into boredom and conformism I seriously doubt. I suspect that the human race will inevitably move like a sleepwalker towards that vast resource it has hesitated to tap - its own psychopathy. This adventure playground of the soul is waiting for us with its gates wide open, and admission is free.

In short, an elective psychopathy will come to our aid (as it has done many times in the past) - Nazi Germany, Stalinist Russia, all those willed nightmares that make up much of human history. The future will be a huge Darwinian struggle between competing psychopathies. Along with our passivity, we're entering a profoundly masochistic phase - everyone is a victim these days, of parents, doctors, pharmaceutical companies, even love itself. And how much we enjoy it. Our happiest moments are spent trying to think up new varieties of victimhood...

grid/geographia/golem inc.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

at hotel Montage at Marienbad/

can relations be edited?

answer: after eden/writing degree zero

French Author Robbe-Grillet Dies

He was best-known for his unorthodox narratives, but enjoyed success, with novels such as Les Gommes (The Erasers) and Le Voyeur still studied today.

deleted notes on a working script (reel to real/real to reel)

deleted notes on a working script/Emmanuel Goldstein’s The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism

Monday, February 18, 2008

deleted notes on a working script (from P.A) city_sect A

The Runners

The Runners are a sect of people who run through the streets as fast as they can, flailing their arms wildly about them, punching the air, screaming at the top of their lungs. Most of the time they travel in groups: six, ten, even twenty of them charging down the street together, never stopping for anything in their path, running and running until they drop from exhaustion. The point is to die as quickly as possible, to drive yourself so hard that your heart cannot stand it. The Runners say that no one would have the courage to do this on his own. By running together, each member of the group is swept along by the others, encouraged by the screams, whipped to a frenzy of self-punishing endurance. That is the irony. In order to kill yourself by running, you first have to train yourself to be a good runner. Otherwise, you would not have the strength to push yourself far enough. The Runners, however, go through arduous preparations to meet their fate, and if they happen to fall on their way to that fate, they know how to pick themselves up immediately and continue. It is a kind of religion. In order to join you must go through a series of difficult initiations: holding your breath under water, fasting, putting your hand in the flame of a candle, not speaking to anyone for seven days. Once you have been accepted, you must submit to the code of the group. This involves six to twelve months of communal living, a strict regimen of exercise and training, and a gradually reduced intake of food. By the time the member is ready to make his death run, he has simultaneously reached a point of ultimate strength and ultimate weakness. He can theoretically run forever, and at the same time his body has used up all its resources. This combination produces the desired result. You set out with your companions on the morning of the appointed day and run until you have escaped your body, running and screaming until you have flown out of yourself. Eventually, your soul wriggles free, your body drops to the ground, and you are dead. The Runners advertise that their method is ninety percent failure-proof----which means that almost no one ever has to make a second death run.

deleted notes on a working script (cortex)

The Substance: aria

Aria is contained in an eyedropper. Once taken any memory you’ve ever had is available to you all over again. Not a memory like you have experienced it before, but the actual event itself-completely renewed: playing in front of you as though you were experiencing it for the first time. One problem with aria is that the memories remembered are not all good. In fact, aria guarantees at least a portion of terrible memories. In fact there is a recent rash of deaths under the influence of aria. These deaths are called: Memory Deaths. The Memory Technicians (un-official researchers of aria) attribute these deaths to the possibility (probability) of the remembrance of “The Fall”, while using aria. It is a paradox, since aria was conceived as a way of escaping into memories and forgetting “The Fall”(this is not the official reason that aria was conceived, but this is why it is used on the streets). But the most important attribute of aria is not that the drug allows you to have a good or a bad memory, but something else: aria allows you to remember the future. The Memory Technicians have a theory that aria was conceived by the government right after “The Fall”. They believe that the government was fine-tuning some interrogation aid. They(the government)thought that aria would prompt certain kinds of memories, and then they thought that they could coerce certain kinds of testimonies with these memories. The government could torture certain foreign nationals, force confessions from these people. And the confessions would be freely signed, because the memories would be true: therefore capturing those responsible for “The Fall” and creating security.
But as with all substances, aria got pushed onto the streets. It is now widely used and has turned a large sector of the population into Memory Addicts. The major distributor of the substance is a cartel known only as The Anonymous.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

ooouuuuhhh sunshine

belgians are boring

Monday, February 11, 2008

at katerina's

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Friday, February 08, 2008

by nikolas kozakis
fantasy requires some distance if it is to remain pleasurable and stable.



at brx

with robert, ilias, nikolas, aero and ratke

Thursday, February 07, 2008

the rescue tower

the rescue agency (collision_less)

tourism is the great soporific. it's a huge confidence trick, and gives people the dangerous idea that there's something interesting in their lives. It's musical chairs in reverse. Every time the muzak stops people stand up and dance around the world, and more chairs are added to the circle, more marinas and Marriott hotels, so everyone thinks they are wining.
today's tourist goes nowhere. all the upgrades in existence lead to the same airports and resort hotels. the tourists smile at their tans and their shiny teeth and think they are happy. but the suntans hide who they really are-salary slaves, with heads full of american rubbish. travel is the last fantasy of the 20th century left us:
the delusion that going somewhere helps you reinvent yourself

Wednesday, February 06, 2008


Monday, February 04, 2008

Saturday, February 02, 2008

b station

more updates of the open typo workshop

more info soon from our spokesman

saturday morning

design walk friday, saturday, sunday

visit for more