In the Murmurs of the Rotten Carcass Economy

It's true, there is the innocence of lite.
- Marguerite Duras (translated by Mark Polizzoti)

1.
I can't actually write the question there are t00 many things
that get in my way there are bodies sticking together in
broken ways there are bodies that make up sentences and
I'm going to have to delete the question I wrote but now I'm
ashamed of it because it refers to the relationship between .
concept in the fake world and Z thing in the real world and
I'm afraid of the bodies and how they are lining them up in
the compounds, atraid of the bodies that make sentences,
afraid of the bodies and how they are like sentences
that begin with conjunctions I love to begin sentences
with conjunctions I love it when they line the bodies up
underground in holes or in stadiums and they torm the bodies
into words and sentences there are marching bands and
ghosts and then there are bodies with the authority to remove
skin but please don't use the word "shed" it doesn't quite
"encapsulate the experience" that I am talking about think of
Paris and the lights over the Seine on Christmas Eve about the
muddy Mapoch0 river in Winter there is hardly any water in it
think of Sissy Spacek and Jack Lemmon and the midget who
says "hay otro" as he points to another body floating down
the river. End stop. Period. The authoritative bodies had ideas
about fingernails. Could they be used as commas? They hated
semi-colons. They didn't believe in adjectives. All of the
people I love are in love with the absence of adjectives.

2.
I am curious about aesthetics and revolution and whether
or not aesthetics can only exist in the absence of revolution
but it's disgusting to pose such questions while driving in a
heated Japanese car through the grit of a shit-snow night in a
crumbling city in the Midwestern United States of America or
on a bus tour of a city in the island to the south where on the
sidewalk children sit eating cardboard sandwiches drizzled
with soy sauce from plastic packets and a voice on the
loudspeaker says: "To your left you will see an X-type person.
We don't have many X-type people in our city. We consider
it good luck to see an X-type person" and it was just our
lucky day because there munching on a cardboard sandwich
drizzled with soy sauce was an X-type person announcing the
beginning of a movement away from one thing and towards
another thing it is impossible to know what these things are
but I am certain there is an aesthetics of crumbling buildings
and in the murmurs of the ROTTEN CARCASS ECONOMY
I hear something I will mention to you when the words have
taken over my mouth.

3.
Writing, says Duras, is the pace of the written word passing
through your body there is a little plastic packet of soy sauce
and a cardboard sandwich being eaten by a little person and
then there is a data chip I would like to insert into your skin,
dear reader, dear data-body, and I would like the data chip
to cause things to grow inside of you I am love with the little
flowers growing inside of you inside of you is the smallest
woman in the entire world inside of you is a disgusting feeling
a sensation like that when you touch the impossible spot the
one that no one ever touches if there weren't things like this,
writes Duras, writing would never take place and by things she
means anonymous dead bodies on the ground in anonymous
sleepy villages. I slept in a fancy hotel across the street from an
enormous hole where the skin and the hair of the fallen bodies
were drilled into by bulldozers. This thing called love.

4.
Soft and crumbly like a body the girl from Hiroshima keeps
screaming and when she passes through my body she passes
through my body.

5.
Data-body. My love. I would not be opposed to having my
pants ripped into shreds if I knew they could keep the fire
going a bit longer. I would not be opposed to having my
walls knocked down if the wood in the walls could keep the
fire going a bit longer. I would not be opposed to depositing
your cardboard sandwich into the flames if I thought it could
keep us warm for just another minute longer. Breath, glue,
word, brick, wood, nail, gum, something that is held together
evolves into a structure that cannot be contained by soldiers
or language or ideas think of a bowlful of pistachio gelato
at the top of the Spanish Steps think of a battle between a
figurative body and a literal body in which there is no chance
the literal body will ever win think of a little person as she
squats on the ground of a foreclosed property history is
asserting itself into her mouth and veins there is nothing we
can do about the fact that the ceiling will destroy her soft and
crumbly body.

6.
It's calm here now. The main horror is the idea, the word,
the body. There is this sentence and there is the ongoing
nightmare of a continuously deteriorating nation.

7.
In conclusion. There is the flood and the bodies it washes to
shore. There are the bags of money and the moment they are
hurled from the window. There are the banks and there are
the explosions. There are the buildings and the aesthetics of
the crumble. There are the cities and there are the machines
that no longer collect their feces. There are the rivers and
there are the dead birds that occupy them. There are the
beaches and the broken cities beneath them. There are the
animal cages and there are citizens who sit in them. There is
the poem and there is the very last word spoken by the body
that threw itself in front of a tank. There is the highway and
the man who sets himself aflame on the side of it. There is
the church and the bodies that frame it. There, in the space
after the period and between the first word of the sentence
of the new era. Here, in the space after the comma and the
first breath taken in the new era. Here, in the sheets of the
hospitalized refugees in the state on the other side of the river.
After the after the after the after the after. There are words
and there is nothing to say about them.