relocated saliva glands

[mh-]

amidst a depressive spiral triggered by something i'd typically let roll off me and feeling very self-conscious about it. but i'm cleaning out my closet finally

ecayed: gemini://gemini.estradiol.cloud/~rumblestrips/fragments/ecayed.gmi

Obsessed with this cover of HTRK by Kali Malone and Stephen O'Malley. The original 50 seconds pushed to almost 6 minutes. Pushing, churning, rising, burning #thisismyjam
https://htrk.bandcamp.com/track/siren-song-kali-malone-and-stephen-omalley

there are things i feel like i need to fully commit to but don't feel like doing/can't imagine doing while being fully employed (e.g. reading reza negarestani's cyclonopedia)

Credit can be restored, restructured, rehabilitated, but debt forgiven is always unjust, always unforgiven. Restored credit is restored justice and restorative justice is always the renewed reign of credit, a reign of terror, a hail of obligations to be met, measured, meted, endured Justice is only possible where debt never obliges, never demands, never equals credit, payment, payback. Justice is possible only where it is never asked, in the refuge of bad debt, in the fugitive public of strangers not communities, of undercommons not neighbourhoods, among those who have been there all along from somewhere. To seek justice through restoration is to return debt to the balance sheet and the balance sheet never balances. It plunges toward risk, volatil-ity, uncertainty, more credit chasing more debt, more debt shackled to credit. To restore is not to conserve, again. There is no refuge in restoration. Conservation is always new. It comes from the place we stopped while we were on the run. It's made from the people who took us in. It's the space they say is wrong, the practice they say needs fixing, the homeless aneconomics of visiting.

Fugitive publics do not need to be restored. They need to be con-served, which is to say moved, hidden, restarted with the same joke, the same story, always elsewhere than where the long arm of the creditor seeks them, conserved from restoration, beyond justice, beyond law, in bad country, in bad debt. They are planned when they are least expected, planned when they don't follow the process, planned when they escape policy, evade governance, forget themselves, remember themselves, have no need of being forgiven. They are not wrong though they are not, finally communities; they are debtors at distance, bad debtors, forgotten but never forgiven. Give credit where credit is due, and render unto bad debtors only debt, only that mutuality that tells you what you can't do. You can't pay me back, give me credit, get free of me, and I can't let you go when you're gone. If you want to do something, forget this debt, and remember it later.

« To restore is not to conserve, again. There is no refuge in restoration. Conservation is always new. It comes from the place we stopped while we were on the run. »

stefano harney and fred moten, _the undercommons: fugitive planning and black study_ (new york: minor compositions, 2013)

an (un)idle afternoon tracked by the k&d sessions™️

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVLwjJ5gHmc

SuperSonic - SuperCollider's Synthesis Engine in the Browser SuperCollider's powerful scsynth audio synthesis engine running in the browser as an AudioWorklet. Zero installation.

> SuperCollider's powerful audio synthesis engine scsynth running in the browser as an AudioWorklet.

https://sonic-pi.net/supersonic/demo.html

out of gas and out of time

created my fingertips tracing / i don’t remember the language / translate them / look gather testify verify preserve there / either i could look for the kinds of stories but these murky waters become documentation or time travel / yet to the now and look the moment of intention: the stories

even autocorrect dared not try a resolution / everything / time just your confidence is returning / i open up the chat app this codex into a list of obtuse sexts / sweat in / blow those particles away with the codex and then again inside / devotion / repetition /marking records / it hangs

context with sources / my dust on my trousers / these traces as if few times a day to be sure whether it’s from the "it" touched / i search my thumb / in my lips / on my someone / describing a little banality i turn the postcard over

as the one / a stray crimson / i have a new pencil / me / they mark my travels and the bottoms of your feet / morsels from
one / another alongside me / or…someone else / someone specific / turns of phrase
which held shape / by running our fingers between actors by some accounts

tbh i never really understood rocky horror

1) validity prevails, once again, despite the endless call to narrate
2) high desert scatters under your feet, large gusts erasing inbound footsteps
3) sixteen again: buckling parquet is cold comfort for when we hit the smooth parts

did some things to update my website because of some upcoming announcements 😶‍🌫️ imprecision.art

[chronic illness]

pain 6, fatigue 4. getting worse. i wish i had the cognitive capacity to read something or work on writing right now. i can't seem to get comfortable, even on multiple anti-inflammatory drugs. my heart aches in predictable ways.

kathy acker interviews the spice girls:

« I tell them that I’ve never been good at balancing sexual love and work. ‘Of course you can. … I can still go out and . . . flirting is natural.’ I’m listening to Mel B, but all I can think, at the moment, is how beautiful she is. »

[chronic illness]

pain 5, fatigue 2-3. i can't think clearly. i slept okay, not great, not terribly. all of my joints are searing. a taste of melancholy and frustration is rolling around in my mouth and my bed feels lonely even though there is someone in the other room.

#sickfile

hoarse halves of wood-sorrel and pillowed pale lillies
twelve glossy petals scattering mad-reckless

we land on the same mora as i reach for the handle. now you are in the world again, i smirk, losing the postcard to the depths of the collection box.

my tender index finger traces the edge of the postcard and i breathe a spell into the fibers before i place a stamp on it. i walk out my front door, gently placing one foot after another, feeling the pauses between our overlapping syllables.

proletarios hartos de serio, "preguntas para el paro nacional del 2025 en ecuador" (= "questions for the 2025 national strike in ecuador"):

> ¿Hasta cuándo vamos a vivir con miedo a morirnos de hambre, a balazos o de depresión? ¿Hasta cuándo vamos a trabajar para pagar y pagar para vivir? […]

Holes are melancholic (Atkins, 2017). We mourn over them. They drown meaning, evoking feelings and emotions of dread in response to a loss of familiarity, fixity and stability. Holes arouse angsts that are associated with the Abgrund, the abyss or the fear of an impossible black void. Nevertheless, they are also things of curiosity, creativity, invention, hope and potentiality. A hole does not only induce anxiety, it can also offer intimacy and the comfort of protection: for instance, in the symbolism of a womb or a cave (in this issue Perlin et al., 2019; Hawkins, 2019). Holes are gendered, visceral, atmospheric and affective (Anderson, 2009). They are affective because they have an ability to provoke a vast series of bodily and instinctive reactions that can range from shock, fear and solitude to curiosity, wonder and promise. Holes, rich in diversity, are windows onto light and dark, play and drama, and a myriad of things in between.

When ground gives way, we might feel encouraged to interpret holes differently, not as ends, but as potentialities. Oliver Marchart (2007, p. 169) reminds us that “the political”, or the struggle for what he calls the “post-foundational”, only appears in those circumstances in which the myth of the ground gives way. Groundlessness... must not be mistaken for the simple absence of all grounds or for the simple opposite of ground in the singular. The abyss does not serve as a new ground — not even in the negative, as a bottomless or groundless 'black hole' — but as the very moment of the withdrawal and retreat of ground (Marchart, 2007, p. 77, original emphasis). This radical and disruptive potentiality to decline, or “impotentiality,” is where, as Agamben (1999, p. 182) famously argued, the “root of freedom is to be found”. To break open groundedness from the inside to the outside, helps facilitate the “emergence of new life forms and collective particles as an insider takeover, the rise of a new people” (Negarestani, 2008, p. 90).

marijn nieuwenhuis & aya nassar, "losing ground: a collection of hⓄles," _emotion, space and society_ 36 (2020)

> Holes arouse angsts that are associated with the _Abgrund_, the abyss or the fear of an impossible black void. Nevertheless, they are also […]

[Original post on tldr.nettime.org]

i have the mestre ensinador songs running through my head constantly

Perhaps all gestures open intervals. Perhaps all gestures are interval crossers as well as interval openers. Opening an interval, a greeting (a mode of gesture) establishes both proximity and distance, opening a space for response or crossing an interval with response, or both. Greeting, writes Avital Ronell, "establishes a relationality."" It is as if a gesture, moving air if nothing else, is not only the hand that articulates movement, but is composed of the spaces between and among us—the spaces through which it moves in or toward relation. Vectors of energy or vectors of possibility, gestures suspend possibility on their way to ricochet or reiteration. Calling out or hailing becomes not only a matter of extension across, movement into, or suspension of an interval, but (re)inaugurates duration and the open possibility of response. Extended out beyond

a body, a gesture is carried perhaps by air, perhaps by stone, perhaps by film, light, pixels, passed through algorithms, or perhaps by body-to-body transmission. A pho- tograph, for instance, might be said to suspend and simultaneously extend an action as a gesture, implicitly offering itself at the jump, to be picked up and played again by another (body or thing) in some reiterative combination of sameness and differ- ence-that is, in some response. A vocal call, too, carries a gesture in the grain of the voice, such as the one from police: "Hey, you there!" In Louis Althusser's famous "little theoretical theatre" of interpellation, the hail anticipates if not demands response.® For him, gesture establishes not only relation, but the whole gamut of ideology that ritu- als of hailing extend. Thus gesture bodies forth ideological precedent and casts it into the future by way of anticipated response, articulating a temporal and spatial interval that migrates body to body, even as that same interval is a potential site, dangerous as it may be, for alteration.

rebecca schneider, "that the past may yet have another future: gesture in the times of hands up," _theatre journal_ 70:3, 2018

since i'm new to tldr, i suppose that this is an #introduction - #introductions post.

here, you can call me spit. my pronouns are she/her. if you know me from elsewhere, you can call me as you know me from there. i'm not new to fedi but i decided to create a new account from scratch because […]