'''THESIS PROPOSAL FINAL OK'''
MY FLESH IS FADE I DEPLOY SYMBOLS WE’RE CUT-GAP RUPTURED AND BEYOND BEING WHEN-YOU-SAY I SPEAK I TALK (IF YR INTO WHATEVER AN ECSTAIC SENSATION COULD PRODUCE FAILURE AND THE BODY DEATH AND OTHER SUBJECTS AND INFINITE EMPTINESS IS AS STANDARD AS SACRIFICE IS TO WHAT)
Like wondering about attentiveness, how to attend to systems. The body, power. Violence as an ecstatic display of systems. Systemic sensation that could produce the failure of the body - death and other subjects - as a kind of sympathy.
Systems are ways that things work together. They are parts that form unified wholes, they are interacting bodies and they can be under the same force. Syn means together, so I mean attention to togetherness, being and the world. Violence could display this togetherness because it could tear things apart. It is ecstasy because it is exhaustive, because it drives out. Ecstasy and system share a root word, histanai, to cause to stand. Ecstasy was used by 17c. mystical writers for "a state of rapture that stupefied the body while the soul contemplated divine things." Violence is a way of alleviating the body. This could be sympathetic, feeling together, if we are discussing the feeling of the soul, or how we belong together.
Bent is twisted screwed or the mental condition of being deflected or turned. Altered from an originally straight or even condition. Disposition is a tendency of mind, an arrangement or an order. From the astrological usage “position of the planet as a determining influence.” So how to be disposed to unevenness. I wonder how these conditions are set up or actually how to sustain them in the context of The World. I’m listening to music on Youtube that my father used to play on vinyl in our living room. It’s really bad 90s music, but also classics from The Doors and The Beach Boys. I think Jim Morrison was his favorite musician. I felt like we were floating when my father used to play these songs. Turned up so loud I was afraid of the force coming from the speakers I would talk to him but he couldn’t hear me. Dicere is to tell digitus is finger dico is the root which means “I say I speak I talk.”
Who can you speak when I-say I want to fuck me-forever and if you stop I feel-like my whole body-leaks desire on the world I-wish I believed I could talk-speak but-I-don’t-know-how-to-feel need-I-only-feel loss when I-want to-need-gut up brain is skulls we wake up-drunk we’re fuzzy skulls who woke-up drunk.
RELATION TO PREVIOUS PRACTICE
I am currently working on a series of texts about work that I like. In order to write these texts I position myself in the pictures, behind the viewer. Here is one example:
I’m trying a little girl facing left she has short dirty blond hair that covers most of that side of her face. Must be her stomach protrudes slightly like the way kids’ stomachs tend to do, no fat only muscles that go slack and taught all at once. Her right hand sticks out slightly, fingers like a dick. It’s trippy at first. But then it’s just her hand flesh is pale white-ish except for her legs which got some sun shoulders straight and back no sign of breasts but that stomach sure does stick out behind her two big balloons – one orange, one white, like wobbly inflatable cocks and I guess that’s the point the unconscious the backside what only we can see I don’t feel like a voyeur but I keep seeing her little fingers they really form this dick shaped phantasm fuck that the chairs are orange they’re old she’s young but someone’s been sitting she’s only about a foot and a half taller than the chairs’ tops and this orange balloon hovers behind the chair it’s smaller than the white one a scuff of old paint peeks through the new stuff right along the baseboard so much for white when color washes off.
I want to be multiple in my intentions. I can imagine that this feels possible when you work with other people. I work alone, and I struggle to know who I am when I am writing. I think about writing that I want to receive from others and often I reply to this. So in the context of this proposal we'll call these texts that I reply to 'fictional,' or they're more than that, because they 'do not exist.' But I'm sure that my desire produces them. This is a question for me almost always - how to articulate desire - it seems easier in the body/text/work, but in terms of writing a proposal I have trouble starting. I don't think about viewers when I make work but recently I have realized that this is what I will learn this year, because I am starting to understand that this is art. I want my art to scare me because of same kind of clarity with which my desire for a text message could scare me. Communication is scary when you want it. Like collaboration, like being alive.
‘SEE THE WORLD (SUCK A DICK)’ is about that, how to be productive and involved and engaged because you want to, but also because someone wants you to too. This is where boundaries might come in, I think.
RELATION TO A LARGER CONTEXT
Go fuck yourself
To cause to stand
Set forth as things (or persons) or the world. The world means the age of man, whereas the cosmos means the delicate arrangement of making order out of chaos. Chaotic man moves earth and dirt Moves history Regions (Bodies) And heavenly bodies are not the earth Are not in contact with what is. Immoveable mighty chains are cast Without beginning and without end Are passing far The self-same place (Abiding in what is). Habitually resistant habits wait, they fall behind We fall behind resistant parts are static states Ecstatic states When time is slower still.
A gather-practice. I will make a porn film in relation to a sculpture-installation text. This will be about how to get fucked up in an already fucked up world, like the example of sympathy I refereed to previously, rather than trying to heal the wounded you get wounded too. And then maybe it becomes harder to tell who was sick in the first place, or how you got it. So the idea of the proposal is honing in on sculptural/textual/filmic practice that actively develops boundaries that can blur distinctions between sickness and health, life and death, hot and not, being fucked up on power and being fucked up because you don't have any. So like maybe these positions are all sympathetic to each other but we cannot be sympathetic in our occupation of them. So we're gonna have to use our bodies. Kathy Acker writes that you tell stories only after you have fucked so much that you can't physically fuck anymore. That's the moment for representation.
This kind of productive ecstasy is something I want to know more about - how can I work with representation as a by product of a different (prior) process. I have been working on accumulative texts and sculptures for some time, and actively neglecting distinction, but I want to practice boundaries in order to make particular strands of thought and practice more (and less) explicit. Like where to make the wounds.
Deep fast fortify sinners before the law exceedingly the lord is law is a loaf eater is overfed and unconcerned. Let me tell-you. Crushed (like obliterated).
Very active or intense belonging to life is:
"What type of man are you looking for"
It’s foggy outside, you can see through the window behind the bed. Crystal lies on her back.
“I wish for a big dick”
She rubs the lamp.
Traces a line down her stomach in blue ink.
Steam rises from the tip of the lamp’s tiny spout, Crystal rubs. A giant boner emerges slowly from the cold metal opening. She sucks it, lets it pop from her mouth.
Moaning, “I wish to suck the dick of a hot strong man.”
She places her lips on the tip of the erect penis, it slips further out of the lamp.
In a puff of smoke a man appears. He’s strong, handsome and sexy.
“Are you my genie?” asks Crystal, curious and afraid, confronted suddenly with the possibility of her own power.
The man looks at her.
“Hey baby” he replies “you like my dick?”
Crystal nods, flabbergasted.
“Cat got your tongue?” As the manifestation of Crystal’s desire he takes his existence very seriously.
“I-I-I” Crystal stammers, “I’m just surprised is all, I didn’t think my wish would actually come true.”
“But I’m here aren’t I” responds the man.
“You are,” replies Crystal, her confidence slowly returning. “So what do you want to do now?”
“What I came here to do of course - get my dick sucked.”
Crystal, still on the bed, looks down on the man’s gorgeous erection. She moves to the floor and drops to her knees.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her bright blues eyes glistening in the moon light as she examines the man’s balls with the tips of her tiny fingers.
“Fuck yeah, suck it you little slut.”
Crystal takes the man’s penis into her mouth, slowly at first, until the cock is half way down her throat. The man breaths easily and places his hand in Crystal’s hair.
“That’s right baby, suck daddy’s big dick.”
When all my sensation are a sky, I'd reach for the world between your legs. Is co-existing, becoming darker can search up-skirt photos of Demi Moore or other sites (for selves).
Following the world could lead to bigger tits Because you can upgrade to plus size boobs if you want to.
You can see the world on Google maps But some countries don't have street view yet So it's harder to know what they look like.
But you can for sure watch a group of men jerk each other off, or fuck pumpkins, and that's all access you don't even need a subscription.
You told me you haven't done it already and I believe you because it's pretty awkward but I don't want to hurt your feelings, so I really don't know what to say. And I guess the weird thing is that that's why you want to do it again, 'cause I was nice.
Crystal pulls the cock into her mouth. The taste of pre-cum overwhelms her as she deep throats the man’s enormous hard-on.
“That’s right baby, just like that.”
The man pushes Crystal’s face into his pubes as her head bobs back and forth in front of him. Her saliva drips onto his balls as his dick swells between her lips.
“Bend over” he instructs. Crystal lets go of his cock and swivels around on the carpet floor. She raises her ass without thinking, her desire to be penetrated by his enormous member driving her to the point of insanity.
“Tell daddy what you want.”
“I want your big dick in my wet pussy.”
Crystal reaches her right hand between her legs and fingers herself. The man’s dick twitches at the sight of her gaping lips. Her lowers himself over her and pushes his cock into her.
“Mmmmmmm” Crystal moans as she receives her dream dick.
“Do you like that?” the man asks.
“Mmmmhmmmmm” she moans as her thrusts in and out of her.
The man starts fucking her like his life depends on it. Crystal can barely contain her orgasm but all of a sudden his deep penetration becomes too much.
“I’m sorry” she says, “I’m not sure if I can take it so hard. I love your cock but you’re pushing a bit too hard.”
The man doesn’t stop.
“Please” Crystal begs.
Finally he responds, still thrusting wildly, “I’m sorry little girl, but I have a wish as well.”
Crystal, distracted but this sudden confession, inquires.
“You see,” the man goes on, “in my genie world I made me a deal, if I fucked a little girl until she cried I would become a real man and I could remain in the world of real men.”
Crystal doesn’t know how to react, she feels sympathy for the genie but his monster dick is starting to tear the opening of her vagina, she looks back and sees blood oozing out of the crack between his dick and her pussy.
“Mr.” she begins, “I want all of you I really do, and I want you to be a real man it’s just that you’re hurting me.”
Hearing this the man begins to weep, so conflicted between the pleas of this beautiful girl and his own desire to become real.
“Baby,” he pleads, “I need you to take my dick into your pussy, just a few more thrusts and I will cum and then I can stay with you forever. I’ll let you suck my dick every night and every morning if you just let me keep fucking you. I promise I am so close…ughhhhhh… here is comes, please.”
Before Crystal can even respond a hot wad of jizz shoots into her ravaged pussy. She watches as the cum mixes with the blood and her own wetness. A think red substance slowly coats her soft mound and before she knows it the man’s dick has gone limp, he softly removes his penis from her vagina and lowers her to the bed, face down.
Kathy Acker - Blood and Guts in High School, Giorgio Agamben - Means Without Ends; Infancy and History, Georges Bataille - Visions of Excess, Laura Riding Jackson - Anarchism is Not Enough, Tiqqun - Sonogram of a Potential