From Narrator Air
Part of a Draft Found Outside the Institute Detailing Some Various Interchangeable Case Suspects and Chance Reports on Symbolic Possibilities of Dissent in a(n) Country
Drowned in a drought-like fist. Fingers slid in through the hay and broke the golden shimmer. A relative swam in the bridled river behind the cows’ hum. His house came down in time to forget the grass slopes. The husk path along a gesture of mud where tiny red seeds are eyeing. Without attention to themselves their colour separated attentively for the children to miss, not pick. His son, cuffed by barn thorns across the knee found him breathing and not at the same time, a hint of crushed figs noosed around his departure, a pulse of roots across his forehead. Who could have done in the petal now that this wind was lying clueless on his lap?
A carnival of doubt. Where language precedes the river, he stood. Alphabets pricking quickly enough across his body for him to see: seeing the strand; like hair, plucked outward by wind, much quicker for the air to hold. The questions are not of where the dialect fits, where grammar abducted a sack of throats and let it sink to the bottom of the…the word.. in its absence is the correct gesture in this case = he is no longer a suspect, but a victim of returning the word too many times across innumerable stations and claiming the red, without inflection. A frame without sound falling in sound, an imitation of death, infinitely, badly reproduced and lost to its own breakers. How the word withstands its own….what is that? Across the across, in all its states of the body buried in word, and the countries without, and no countries here within as much as these movements of lands without words are inhaled in the varieties of these varieties as it was seen by the first throat and how its own sound heard itself and lived outside the words and was restored before emptying. There is no way to propose this this’s death or birth. Let us reflect on the language as if, not anymore, and the free is freed. Without inflection and curious syntax. A bird crossing our eye could be a plunge with our stretched cortices, now, according to our verdict, is this:
___________ is ___death. But _______ isn’t? _____. I ________ agree_______ or_______ in a casual ______ do __.
This experiment lapses HERE. The suspect has accepted the genealogy of centuries, and this is, as he is now certain, an age of ennui. When the softness is not at all a meaning covering either of its variables. Nothing can be said. Finally. It can. But you are welcome to try our blank host above to engage yourself in what your mind extends, and see if it produces anything. The rejection of its effect, is in fact, its acceptance. If you know what we mean. Go ahead. Upturn the space. You can post the perforated form above to the address mentioned on the top and bottom of the last draft. We will be keeping the suspect’s file for public usage and awareness of losing it without symbolism. We didn’t say anything, that’s what we mean, if at all.
Report hinting at its own imminent loss:
- Is the way to drink water still a subject reportable to this table? If it is, can there be confetti and ice-cream screaming over the charpoy in the village square?
- What aspects of terror are we handling
here? Are we saying that that shirt is not good? Are we
asking, is there a massive tilt of intelligence towards a
tide without administrative power? Are we saying that these
ways of looking at the drought is this way of understanding
our intelligence? A) Conceded. There is a huge tilt of what
we know as intelligence. Due to its relatively apocryphal
variations let us assume we know the significance of
tumescent buds landing possibly out of nowhere on burnt
mahogany. The furrows between the feathers. The bulb of oil
snaking the paths in our dreams. Let us also assume that
they are significant. What is required of the other
then? Which new agency will absolve the agency to
prove, in its myriad, incestuous ways?
e.g. the saying of the thing itself = financial urgencies without ideology. The ideology of economy itself is the thing at its need. They need money. Only. Only. The system itself has cleaned out the possibility of another competitive system opposed to this. The sub-text has to cause the overthrow. So money can be a single political institution, it is, with innumerable identifiable deities. But only money, only connect. Are we getting here? To the onlyness of the deal.
B) Some will say fuck this. Nothing is coming out of this. What the youth need to procure is a subtle nihilism, darkening themselves inside and conceptualizing silence? The no word leap of a life wrapped well and understood.
C) But is this at all related to us?
D) Dissent now lies and functions on the premise that it shouldn’t be identifiable?
Rest of the Suspects:
According to clause 1858 (z) the whole nation can be, in lieu of a better propaganda, be held and interrogated through subtle mania. Our work system is a way of that. What the clause doesn’t discuss are the aspects of language which negates itself. The country can be skinned off like fleece and flung above the ridge. Our project of seeing is infinite. In these crumbs of seeing, the suspects ask:
0 0 0 : is this identifiable as a symbol according to a typical measure? Among any random source/Individual?
Is the context of t and 5 and a bucket of eyelashes somehow derivable?
Is the house of murder no longer the house of the past but of evidence, only?
When children accidentally collide against each other can it be called what they want to call it? Or if they think this is how the fish responded to water swimming in itself? Or didn’t think at all and blurred into clouds?
How wordless are we willing to become?
Can the economic structure be siphoned into a language of tools and made into something which translates into the rhythm of a body inside a fruit?
[Ujjal D. Nihil lives and works in Calcutta, India. Some writing has appeared or is forthcoming in elimae, ABJECTIVE, A Cappella Zoo, and other places.]
Copyright © 2011
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