The Feast of Saint Marinx

“[T]he question of the pharmakon reappears in the digital stage of grammatisation—the first stage of which was the alphabetic writing of Plato’s epoch. Like every technique and every mnemotechnique, cultural and cognitive technologies are pharmaka: at once poisons and remedies.” (Bernard Stiegler) Communication has made itself felt as a matter of concern at numerous times and on multiple planes over the past few weeks. ☿℞ or not, at some point, it seems like the artifice of this act of artfully inscribing interior realities back and forth on these proverbial clay tablets has been lost by our culture. I’ve been thinking about … Continue reading “The Feast of Saint Marinx”

A Facebook Status about a Bridge Troll in Seattle

Someone threw a sandwich wrapper at me this morning as I crossed the great gulf that splits my city in two, breaking my reverie, to the cackle of his friends. They seemed surprised when I was stopped in my tracks, inquiring: “what the hell was that about?” Their laughter was replaced by silent smirks and a little dance by the trickster doing tragicomic tricks—at a time like this?—a strange two-step to a secret jig playing in his head. He tugged at his loins and approached me, staring me down with Dennis the Menace eyes too dark to read. All the … Continue reading “A Facebook Status about a Bridge Troll in Seattle”

Memorial Day Weekend

I found this pin two days ago; it’s see-through. Maybe it was yellow once but it’s not yellow now. I found that interesting: a memorial without a memory.  Yesterday, I went to church without realizing that I was in fatigues until I saw someone walk in wearing full officer’s regalia. So I put the pin on.  Memories of unknown soldiers in invisible wars. Bonus points for its refusal to stay in focus every time I tried to take a photo.

It’s More Than True, It Actually Happened

“it’s a couple of years I suspect you don’t have a physical existence anymore like us other humansfor what I know you might not existyou might be a projectionyou might have become an immaterial entityre-assessed only through narrationlike syria, or santa claus” Annalena to my “face” on September 25, 2012 September 25, 2012 was the 269th day of the year 2012 in the Gregorian calendar. There were 97 days remaining until the end of the year. The day of the week was Tuesday. Libra is the zodiac sign of a person born on this day. It has been 3162 days, today included. Or 8 years, 7 … Continue reading “It’s More Than True, It Actually Happened”

Keffiyeh Day, 2021

“To insist on the universal dimension of a Palestinian grammar of suffering is to resist the containment of the Palestinian question to a regional dispute…” (Zahi Zalloua) Today is #KeffiyehDay, and I’ve been thinking about that quote since I saw it on Twitter last week: “The Palestinian question touches all of us…to the extent that we are all compelled to imagine & invent the conditions for justice and equality in our contemporary global world.” Matt Flisfeder, who shared the quote, closed out his thread with this: “And, I would add that it is the same for the persistence of antisemitism and … Continue reading “Keffiyeh Day, 2021”

May Day, 2021

It’s fascinating how the Gates Foundation has positioned itself at the intersection of very different vectors of rage over the years—anti-maskers today, copy-leftists last night, anti-vaxxers at one point, counter-Modiites before that. Though not all protests are created equal, this breadth of contention does share one feature: unmasking the feudalistic trials of strength that the neoliberal fairytale tells us it keeps at bay, just outside the city limits. This is what the gatekeepers were supposed to protect us from, but, alas, more of us are beginning to recognize that their rule of experts was founded on myth—this rule is not … Continue reading “May Day, 2021”

“these ghosts, those ghosts, our ghosts”

The second volume of @thedepressedwaitress arrived in my mailbox alongside Easter blessings from the Servants of Mary, a religious order somewhere in Illinois; they’ve been sending me seasonal greetings ever since I asked for their prayers & relic fragments in a wild attempt at doing something, anything—come on, feel the Illinoise—in the totalizing face of medical certainty. I didn’t start reading this volume until today, the same day I learned about Donna Haraway’s shared Eucharistic devotion & spiritual kinship with Bruno Latour in an endnote to an essay about spiders and tentacles and corvids and lichen, the same day I took the … Continue reading ““these ghosts, those ghosts, our ghosts””

Work Hard. Have Fun. Make History.

Imagine with me a city with a major transnational logistics provider and several data-mining enterprises wielding astronomical levels of computing power amongst themselves, pooling resources to, I don’t know, maybe help with tracking vaccine doses per medical provider per neighborhood—avoiding false moral dilemmas around “cutting in line” when there are no lines to cut in a spiraling rhizome of geographically-zoned inoculation not that many degrees more advanced in logic and efficiency and care than Balto and his sled—rather than wasting their time trying to stop their employees from unionizing instead. No, but seriously though, imagine with me whole neighborhoods vaccinated … Continue reading “Work Hard. Have Fun. Make History.”

Shot A + Shot B

“The only way to understand storiessuch as that of the Annunciationis to repeat them, that is, to utter againa Word which producesinto the listener the same effect… I am hailing tonight, with the same gift,the same present of renewed presence. Tonight, I am your Gabriel!” (Bruno Latour) x Do you remember how, in Fight Club, one of the backstories we’re given for “Tyler Durden” is that of a movie theatre projectionist? How he would splice subliminal frames of lewd imagery into family films to mess with normies’ sense of reality, and how the film itself had frames of Tyler’s face … Continue reading “Shot A + Shot B”

Eyes to See

I’ve been reflecting on the days I feel moved to symbolically mark; these aren’t the same every year. I try to stay true to the heart of ritual and only speak to what’s speaking to me in the moment, though guilt is often a sneaky stowaway however I feel. Land Day came and went and I did not move past my inertia. The Gift of Tears by Revolutionary Army of the Infant Jesus But this morning, the plates have shifted and I remember that for all my wokeness, the first time I ever met and befriended transgender people was in … Continue reading “Eyes to See”