THE HYPERDREAMINGBALLAD
“I’m drawing an eternal dream” “Not even eternity can hold” “And when it lands will my eyes be open or closed?”
i can't remember why i was getting a tattoo of a Ferrari steering wheel right above my ass, it wasn't a tramp stamp, but i felt Everything going into my spine — i woke up in a clearing, fighting off 4 men trying to jump me, fighting for time because every day was getting shorter… shawty said u dont want Love u want a Love Experience i had to stop and Reflect — the high priestess said ‘no one cares about reality anymore’ and then burial dropped in the strip club — she asked him what his story was, she said her story was aussie, she asked him if he’d ever been down under, she said her name was whatever he wanted it to be — shawty it does not Matter this foreverdream
Cixous said we don’t know what Dreaming means. i don’t know if the scan was warped or if this is how every print looks but the words soon after the words above looked like looked like this:
like the first time watching 88:88, not knowing if the sound was broken if my sound was broken or not the moment ended later she said the empty world is filled with emptiness and later I’ve Lost THe Dream — another She said ‘dreams are nice but you can’t live in them’ — enframed in the He it ends: i’ve lost another one it doesn’t stop because before He wrote: always-notalways, each time having to in the end, too fast,
when i Spilled the ashes i called it Pompeii Pants but really i called it called P o m p e i i P a n t s — it's buried when it Ends they won’t have tools to dig through the somewheredata — like unfossilized masturbation — last night i dreamed i was stuck at a hotel trying to leave for the airport but i left my bags at this woman’s apartment and she’d gone to work and i had to catch the flight it was so urgent feelingfrozenfacefrozen like young jean pierre leaud on the black and white beach like i was stuck somewhere between being and becoming it feels like
CHAOTIC THOTS (or: Every playboy is a fallen angel)
in 2016 i worked at the mall and had a coworker who was addicted to xans he crashed into a mailbox once and blamed it on his diabetes and told me that palm angels would be big in a few years i never realized how Precious that was // i miss the trump era the same way i miss when lil pump dropped gucci gang the same way i miss when yung bans was the best rapper alive the same way i miss when future dropped mask off the same way i miss when Kodak pulled up to the breakfast club with the mask on the same way i miss [
when i hear lil durk i think of L’A Capone the wreckage of a knowledge destroyed and i remember Worst Memory1 … a destruction that continually returns Tay600 said he’s in the stars right where he belongs… echo-witness of a wound scarcely healed and I’ve been turnt since a young’n and I’m still a teen, like the essence of the heart of an unknown, unfindable, and obscure wound // it’s a reminder that there has to be a war to write trench poetry like Wittgenstein manning the watchtower
in 2019 i was withdrawing while rare rcb hexd and Top Speed changed Everynothing: prettyboydemon in some truey jeans // in the Underworld mixing demon blood w/ the lean // smokin a pack, is u geeked up? bitch i Might Be it's a link to Dying Last — where Zelly rasps ‘she look like gold // my cup look like blood // i pop a xan i forgot i took one’ spewing the memory of absence
Wintertime disappeared and i hear the echo: i don’t remember i don’t remember2
(i was completely haunted by the chateau it was a Place of inexhaustible images)
now Now i’m trying to Remember what year it is ænd which century
2012 // 2014 // 2021
[it] makes you forget time, makes you lose time, everything becomes so slow, but not in a forever type of way or a 4ever type of way but in an absence of time sort of way, time undefined, the K dividing every moment by 0, stretching it into paradox, before stretching the moment with another bump another line another night another day another feint another faint watching 2012 off the ketamine makes u realize the eruption of Yellowstone is happening in Ethiopia but the broadcast is turned off watching 2012 off the ketamine makes u realize it’s not a tidal wave but a slow creeping flood and you’re wading through It like the start of the human surge watching 2012 off the ketamine makes u remember 2012 was 10 years ago except that phrase has been emptied of emptiness watching 2012 off the ketamine makes u forget u got addicted to forgetting
i read the time that remains to try to Remember who i was am. Agamben said We Do Not Have T I M E. derrida said it is too early to consider étamine
and i keep seeing Las Meninas: in a forged memory of Madrid, in the pages of the things we’ve seen, in my stillscreen addicted to forgetting i remember forgetting the cliffs are still there, but something's different. He's lost it3. i brought it with me and pinned it up on the walls
Guattari wanted to go Hollywood but all that ever came of it was a screenplay and some letters. still: “an unmade screenplay can constitute a genre of writing in its own right, one that potentially offers a more active and collaborative role than does a novel”. like pasolini’s st. paul — tom cohen’s 2014 never even made it to a script, it’s a sketch of ideas buried on academia dot edu between lascaux and melancholia. everyime i openclose my eyes i feel like Justine watching the sky fall . like if Even If was wagner
still
Still (there's the bruegal in the beginning that takes me to 24 frames. listening to their whispers in the darkness. the final frame was a screen and when i walked out i was like "damn rip frfr" and wiped my tears but how to explicate what happened in those hours in that hallucination. sometimes you see some things in a certain way and it makes you cry and then you realize it'll be impossible to see them again in that same way
once u make something and give it to the world it belongs to the World
unless with everything apart like an unwritten script)
(i wish there were more) songs about Girls
she's a palace somebodys gotta love the Ratchets: when i went to cannes i was too Early i just went to mcdonald’s had an oreo mcflurry while walking past the yachtys it was a Beautiful day so much of the World in such a small Place sunshine kKissing me like // She looked too beautiful in the desert light all i could do was stare directly into the Sun
in Paradise we'll reveal our souls
PLEASE STOP WEARING FAKE VERSACE
PLEASE STOP MAKING FAKE VERSACE
PLEASE STOP COPPING FAKE VERSACE
PLEASE STOP ROCKING FAKE VERSACE
PLEASE STOP MAKING FAKE VERSACE
ALL MY SLIMES SAY SLATT
“We will write novels for a reader who has finally understood that he no longer has to read novels.” — Italo Calvino. The Uses of Literature.
“My students tell me XXXTentacion is not a rapper. They say he just does this thing in the house and puts it on the internet… My students understand something about the coming situation, this Nothing, as Agamben works the question of the Now through his reading of Paul, though I’m not equipped to understand — what is happening is partly machine. A rapper is part-machine, part-apparatus, he is not exactly nothing but a man.” — Simone White. METRO BOOMIN WANT SOME MORE NIGGA.
“Trap-beat-making is a methodology of surround so that we find ourselves in a club that we have not chosen to enter though we have paid. The club is everywhere and everyone is in it. It is put on the Internet. It flies through the air. A cursory scroll through the discography of the producer Lex Luger bears out the extraordinary historical speed at which the trap sound has developed and spread…” — Simone White. METRO BOOMIN WANT SOME MORE NIGGA.
“Language has incorporated in our own times, before even we know, the most recent elements, linguistic and semantic particles blown by the present winds.” – Helene Cixous
Here But I’m Gone… alwaysnotalways in This Club too long. Simone White read those words and less than a year later we watched xxxtentacion bleed to death on our phones with everyone2oneAlwaysForeverNow. when Gunna said “all my slimes say slatt: slatt slatt slatt slatt slatt” he was talking about a common language: only real slimes could Understand each Slatt meant when i hear ‘Keed talk to em’ i still get a little sad . i’m growing tired of this affectation, of seeing through these eyes . exactly 3 years after X was killed Kodak dropped ‘falling over’ : for real, for real, I almost died // for real, for real, i Almost died // for real, for real, i almost Died // for real, for real, my Soul tired
like frfr my Soul tired
she had yes in Her eyes like the End of Penelope
POSTSCRIPTLESS
(still searching for that fleeting Thing)
“The memory of a cultivated reader is comparable to a historical dictionary containing all of the uses of a term, from a term's first appearance up to the present day” – Agamben
A historical being (as is, by definition, language) monadically carries with in himself the entirety of his history (or as Benjamin would say, all of his pre- and posthistory). – Agamben
Worst Memory