Posts Tagged ‘Burroughs’

How to move, in two acts, a body stuck in an endless loop

January 12, 2019

How to move, in two acts, a body stuck in an endless loop

Act 1

Horrible days!
A repeating thought,
A void devoid.
[An attempt] Hands Up! Down! Up! Down!
[A failure and] Death is crawling, determined,
Towards the chest,
Grappling left hand – lower part,
Crawling up,
Left hand – upper part,
Crawling up,
Left hand – the joint of the arm and the chest,
Another day passed by, and it’s already hard to breath, for death is coming,
Hard to breath,
I wish it would have been bronchitis, even pneumonia,
But, deep inside,
The goal of the caterpillar of death is well known,
It’s to be [a paradox],
Deeply rooted inside the heart,
To consume it from within [this time it is not an effect],
To erode the atriums,
To poison the wells,
To secrete acid on the muscle’s tendons,
To settle inside, that’s what Death needs in order to feed itself, to become the killer butterfly.

[Burroughs] “Death needs Time”.
[If] Time is the killing machine,
[Then] “Time’s a healer”,
[Calling Function] “Memory Flush” [This is, by all means, a poetic function, in another time],
[Else] Time is necessarily one facet of the endless Energy that converts itself ad-infinitum

Death and Time are a couple, they’ve always been one, since Genesis,
Body and Soul,
A couple crawling from the left side,
On its way to destroy,
“Out of the Left the evil shall break forth”,
A repeating thought,
An obsessive thought.

Thoughts are not part of the soul.
They are controlled by a different algorithm, another program,
residing in the “Death” partition, a Parallel Processing of sort.
And the soul, too, is being governed by a different function,
in a separate partition,
But there’s a dependency.
The soul is cuddling up inside the heavy body,
dependent, captured,
the body being a nuisance, a disturbance, a torturer,
a jailer.
Wishing she could flee to the endless space,  and acquire a body which is:
New [with the smell of a new book],
Strong [like a Super-Hero],
Maybe this time it would be Apple,
So she could finally be [herself. Although she cannot fathom a reality where she’s in her pure form. But at least, let him be nice-looking, healthy, strong, with a sense of humor, and no bugs].

And she’s fishing a memory from the reservoir,
and in that memory she’s traveling to the Swiss’ Edelweiss flowers, sitting in the red train from Zuoz to Pontresina,
Stopping at La Punt-Chamues-ch,
At Sankt Moritz,
Getting down at Sankt Moritz, to see the luxury shops of Time, the small, rectangular pavement stones, the fierce rain, it’s always a fierce rain, people hurrying to the hotel, more people, another memory.
Memories – that’s all she got left – just memories [Data, Big Data], rumination of input which is also an output, Time doesn’t exist, there’s no change.

And in a rare moment of sobriety she’s trying to think,
again and again, again and again,
how to move a body, stuck in an infinite loop.

Clearly, there’s a bug in the algorithm.


Act 2

Who are you?
We’re just the messengers, don’t worry.
The message: you’re no longer wanted, Rosebud,
You have a bug.

None of the algorithms has a bug:
She’s the problem.
For years, she let me die in her lap,
While mashing her memories,
Stuck in no-time,
In an endless loop.
She can’t get a perspective,
being fed and secreting, fed and secreting the same materials.

I, too, have my wills and wishes,
Listed as follows:
One, to delete your data.
Two, to format your hard-drive, so you can restart anew, fresh, a pure soul,
Three, to embed your partition in mine,
so we would be undivided, not separated,
Four, I want you to create new information,
I want you to feed me with data,
Five, I want you to take care of the caterpillar, to destroy it,
It’s becoming really really dangerous,
I want you to apply an ointment to my wounds,
but in such a way that I will always see the wounds and will always feel the ointment,
thus knowing that you are here, with me, my ointment-er.
Do not use Time just to erase memories,
I want stability; I don’t want stability,
[Kurosawa] “To create is to remember”,
My bug, my loop, is that I’m trying, in vain, to understand what does it mean,
it sounds like a sentence which is so much yours,
a foreign algorithm.
It sounds like rumination,
a simulation of life,
not life in itself,
The future and the present, the Time, the Death,
And I want to live.
I’m beginning to realize that I’m the problem,
That I have a bug,
That you’re right,
But the caterpillar – I really do feel it, every movement, every maneuver,
It is here, with me,
It has already reached the heart.

Is that you? Are you the caterpillar?
Sending messengers, passing messages of contempt,
cooperating with Time, with Death.
Go away… run… go to Zuoz, to Engadin.
And I? I will go to the sea… yes, to the sea. I will create new memories of waves, of Blue, of sunlight heat, of sand, of athletes, healthy men and women, laughing, eating, drinking – memories of life.
And I will store these memories on my hard-drive, I too have a hard-drive,
you know,
you’re not the only one to have one,
I, too, flee to a memory or two,
clinging to the past, wrapping myself around it,
unifying with it,
disintegrating in a sea of molecules, the past, the sea, myself within, blue, skies, small body inside a big body, a Fetus in Utero, and then I smile to you, and inside your partition you are hammering, again and again, again and again…
your fists into the transparent wall,
that I ran away,
leaving you behind [letting you be!], without a body, without bugs,
and I’m already part of Time, of the sea, of Death.



The Illuminatus Trilogy: Notes For a Potential Reader

June 26, 2009

It’s been some days now, that I took the farewell from Stella Maris, Mavis, Lady “are you a turtle?” Velkor,  the midget, Hagbard Celine, Malaclypse and, the best of them all, Chips, and went on with my hempless routine. Departure wasn’t easy, for these people have made me really happy.

Never mind, their presence is everywhere:  the books I read, the movies I see, the Game, the media, mediums and the coincidences I’m part of – they are everywhere.

Destroy All Rational Thought

So what is The Illuminatus Trilogy?

Don’t believe a word from that book’s cover – it’s one big rubbish aimed to be “attractive” to some people, as this book is, in its essence, resistible to any categorization. It’s not a sci-fi book, and it’s not a “conspiracy” book, it’s simply an irrational book, which you will find clear and shiny as Lucily diamonds.

R.A.W and Shea rationally destroy all rational thought. Here are some notes on that remarkable process:


“It’s like a split-screen movie, but split a thousand ways, and with a thousand soundtracks.”

This is how the Book describes itself, and indeed, that’s what you are about to experience.

Think of it this way: a film viewed through a thousand-squares’ monitor, like an eye of a fly, each square presenting part of the film. As this is a book, not a film, the way to achieve this sub-framing of narratives is via the Cut-Up Technique – that which Brion Gysin invented and Burroughs adopted.

So there’s a story, but it was cut into endless pieces, and the book is the pasting of them all, not in a rational-linear order, but rather in chaotic one. It takes time to get used to it, to tame our attention to those jumps in Space.


“This tomorrowtodayyesterday time is beginning to get under my skin. It’s happening more and more often”

The Book’s Time’s a liquid, pouring in any direction. There’s no past, present, future in the sequencing of events; it’s the tomorrow-today-yesterday world.  So hold tight, for you are just about to begin a trip.


The world of a Book: space, time, people.

Forget what you know about Personalities & Characters. Here, anyone is anyone. There are always more personalities in what is supposed to be a single character, and often characters are seeing the world through the heads of other characters. You will find no salvation in trying to nail your cognition to a single personality – they are all constantly shifting around.

The I

Oh, the I, the Narrator, the one in charge. Who’s, indeed, the one in charge here?! I wish I knew that answer. The I is nothing but an Illusion. Most of the time, if there’s a multiple-parties’ conversation, the I is allocated to the one who speaks currently. So you tap into that conversation where everybody’s  I. Fuck it, get loose, you got nothing to lose.


There is a thick fog of hemp’ smoke to the ceiling of the Book. This book is meant to be INHALED!

Surprise, Surprise!

And yet, it all makes sense and the reading streams smoothly, and it is funny and intriguing!

I seriously think it’s a mystery. Those guys, Shea & Wilson, have deciphered something about the human brain, i.e. that it can see clearly through Chaos! The Book itself is constantly smoking good, quality dope, so its Characters can clear their mind and open their eyes;  same effect is achieved for the Reader (800 pages of top quality hemp) – you’re tripping all the way to the end, and the trip is lucid and crystal-clear.

The Story

Like any great work of art, the medium & the message, the structure & the narrative,  are synchronized. So, similarly to the free structure, space, time,  the I and the Characters of the book, so is the story telling us about people breaking space, time, the I, and anything else of an ordinary order.

What a wonderful world is this Book.

Robert Shea & Robert Anton WilsonRobert Shea & Robert Anton Wilson

Einstürzende Neubauten – Stella Maris