0000013

             Y O U R N A M EI N L IGHT S

“Are you a dilettante, or a pedant?”

       "Well!

       Seein’s I don’t very well fuck little boys,

           I’m to suppose I’m a dilitant!”

   The accent coach sighed.    It's a job.   They all are.

0000012

“There is some Man, bellowing, in the distance.”

“Has he got a gun?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then who cares? What’s he going to do? Improve us?”

“What if he needs help?”

“Don’t we all?”

“What if it’s an emergency?”

“Are you feeling particularly emergent?”

The only pause.

         “Have you even the energy?”

0000011

singled doubles   kingqueans

living fuckless   common-rooved

punchinello     cosmicjoke

     lydian      lunch

       putrid,        headless

i n t e r   r e g n um

versicule, victual —

prints des sots s s s s sotsssssssSotsasS . . . . . . (etc.) (as if to suggest a fizz)

at risk of influence!

misdeed easement

urlitonnade, urlitonnage,

it’s a mix-tape, it’s a disease,

it’s everywhere

it’s NOW now now now

NOW now now now

NOW NOW NOW now now

laser-zapatazo contra G***** *. **$*

la-ba-no-ta-ted! beat down!

kicked to death by a screeching figure in a leotard

                   & capezios

       it’s the rehearsal —

     you’re the one that did it,

   who did it

 that did it

   whodini, houdini

     oh, henry

       and the moan goans oan

mundus Ꝩult decipi ❍❍◐◓◑◒❍❍

0000010

Chapter Six of a Non-Existent Book

(In the Manner of a Film Set)

     🅇

Screen-hunched and powerless in a late California backyard.

Table slats long and horizontal.

Autumn rustle in dry leaves.

Kindling as yet leashed.

Energy, energy.

The buzz of materiality:

   Feels (is—is?) as though the sirens haven’t stopped for years —

   Maybe (may-be) they haven’t.

What’s the knowability of anything? (Maaaaaaaan.) The distance between feeling and being?

ALL-being, that is.

Which texture’s truly the feel of the real, brahman beyond autodemiurgent individuated worldbuildings?

Your well-tan is schwang and sweetheart it is schmerzing like hell’s own wine.

There are always new intrusions to accept — “accept” — to be made to accept.

   Helicopters and sirens.

A priori leechgeist intrusions, in-born, conditioning you to humiliation in advance of new and lower violation.

   Fraudulent selflessness, retinal vicary.

In the distance some new unlovability is being built — to the highest quality, surely —

that distance which has a way of closing itself: mechanized hammertappings at gabber BPM,

vague ape SHOUTINGS shout-saying A L L there is really to say (“YOU,” “HERE,” I’m supposing — but! —

it is merely a supposition or perhaps a suppository, probably some “DON’T,” wish I could offer a “DON’T,” so many ways,

so many ways); and then! — and the astute reader sucks at their necklace or beard: “Ah, yes —

the disruptive and ineptly deployed punctuation is a device

  mirroring these devices of destructive creation — or is it creative destruction? — Ah yes,” and

     & and and That! is about where it is that the Interior Listener of that astute reader, which may well

       be you or you or you (it isn’t me — unless you are me. Are you me?) or you or you or you —

     the Interior Listener has simply given up gimp, the eyes have glazed, there is a submission to

   intellectualizing that offers neither simple nor exotic pleasure, an empty cup-bearer traipsing clumsy,

a high performance show-business bookshelf, personality soaring higher, higher, higher.

         How are you to locate yourself in any of it?

0000009

     go ahead      x out

       ‘“spellbinding” — the new york times’

   an avatar realized by

     herbert, read

       glyph conscious

   coprophasia    suff’r’rs’    end

     peevish      dynamo      dervish

 clacking  keys  again

       trichome sprinkle in    unsteady hand

   (deep muddy construction audio)

       mind       suck

   back   ground    drill   bore

     chirrup of a  backed - up  truck

           bouncing

       somewhere,      somewhere

         somewhere    someone’s

   probably          not getting run over

         ran over

     cupholder      slipcover

birdsong in    periodic accent

 fleshly  runover  aperture

         siren          dopple

   sirens    sirens s i r e n s d   o   p   p   l   e

       D# Dee-Sharp Whoo-Whoop

         spin around on the floor

       Whoop-Whoop

           put your hands behind your head

           put your hands behind your back

             get down on your knees &

W   h   o   o   p - W h o o p

   crane your neck &

     oops,

               oops

0000008

   do you remember          the first time

         you ever    killed yourself

           in a video game

0000007

the other day      i met a zookeeper

       she asked me if i’d like to see a bird show

             i asked if that was a

metaphor

   and made a joke about taking methamphetamine

         in a nearby apartment of our mutual imagining

0000006

     BLOWN        SPOTS

   theft   &   exposure

adding    up    tabs

One Hundred Fifteen In All & Sum, in Two Seventies & Without An Eighty-Eight

(sublingual           sublime)

   an analysis of aydee haitchdee in browsing

“I generally have four or five books open around the house—I live alone; I can do this—and they are not books on the same subject. They don’t relate to each other in any particular way, and the ideas they present bounce off one another. And I like this effect. I also listen to audio-books, and I’ll go out for my morning walk with tapes from two very different audio-books, and let those ideas bounce off each other, simmer, reproduce in some odd way, so that I come up with ideas that I might not have come up with if I had simply stuck to one book until I was done with it and then gone and picked up another.” — Octavia Butler

   window 1          (which is actually window two)

   not that it means          a thing to you

HTML editor

   old-style

     cat? bear?

         think it’s a cat

       w/ a paintbrush

     up in the corner

   helping me out

 overseeing—

christ

 took me forever to figure out how to have two

                     windows up

     pitiful       so eroded

   i coulda been somebody

           an avatar

           an avatar

           an avatar

         mel lyman maybe

     five cents on the dollar

 i got all zilli crocodile everything

x_x deadworldwideweb

 here

         "it’s a planet    of war and of games"

       this

     now

           Unicode Character “ ” (U+2001)

ALT      IMG      TXT

a    painterly photo

or        photo-like painting

a shallowfake

   two      long      black gloves

       over the elbows

     an exposed breast

         clavicles

   partially    removed  white dress    fades into white background

     woulda done tumblr numbers

   i don’t know what this is

it doesn’t appear to be from any    particular    time

     gives the feeling of drunkenness,    but:

         pastoral

a dean kissick article i haven’t read

and don’t know what it’s about

   bosch up top

 could be promising

“Hope is necessary in every condition.”

     boldtext

       Samuel Johnson

a private message

   about alcoholism

       that starts with “lol”

this    great book    i’ve been reading

     that i keep forgetting the author’s    name

   but he had a big moustache

       and i think    virginia woolf    hated him

a video      of some strange

     seemingly    unlicensed

   pro wrestling      game

         great muta

           no idea    what is going on here

   this one’s unlike me

Charles Lamb ‘Dream Children: A Reverie’

herewith reproduced,

     as it does not matter:

“Children love to listen to stories about their elders, when they were children; to stretch their imagination to the conception of a traditionary great-uncle or grandame, whom they never saw. It was in this spirit that my little ones crept about me the other evening to hear about their great-grandmother Field, who lived in a great house in Norfolk (a hundred times bigger than that in which they and papa lived) which had been the scene—so at least it was generally believed in that part of the country—of the tragic incidents which they had lately become familiar with from the ballad of the Children in the Wood. Certain it is that the whole story of the children and their cruel uncle was to be seen fairly carved out in wood upon the chimney-piece of the great hall, the whole story down to the Robin Redbreasts, till a foolish rich person pulled it down to set up a marble one of modern invention in its stead, with no story upon it. Here Alice put out one of her dear mother’s looks, too tender to be called upbraiding. Then I went on to say, how religious and how good their great-grandmother Field was, how beloved and respected by everybody, though she was not indeed the mistress of this great house, but had only the charge of it (and yet in some respects she might be said to be the mistress of it too) committed to her by the owner, who preferred living in a newer and more fashionable mansion which he had purchased somewhere in the adjoining county; but still she lived in it in a manner as if it had been her own, and—”

           oh nevermind.

Books by Saki      (sorted by popularity)

‘The Open Window’

“The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, an absence of mental excitement, and avoidance of anything in the nature of violent physical exercise,” announced Framton, who laboured under the tolerably widespread delusion that total strangers and chance acquaintances are hungry for the least detail of one’s ailments and infirmities, their cause and cure. “On the matter of diet they are not so much in agreement,” he continued.

Lord_of_Misrule

     Eunuch_flute

   Pulcinella

         Atellan_Farce

 Ritual_(Pinner_novel)

     pdf of  ‘Golden Bough’  i’ve tried to read    a dozen times

             Ingrid_Pitt

       Lambton_Worm

 Sol_Invictus

“The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, an absence of mental excitement, and avoidance of anything in the nature of violent physical exercise,” announced Framton, who laboured under the tolerably widespread delusion that total strangers and chance acquaintances are hungry for the least detail of one’s ailments and infirmities, their cause and cure."

   sometimes                TV is repeats

text of ‘mouche’ by      guy de maupassant

     herewith unfurnished

               lizard and palm tree?

this used to be      cinefamily

and now    some T-shirt people own it

i haven’t been yet

   to the new one

labtekwon      “unh hunh”

   “Slammers Cafe” menu (not like me)

 Firehouse Crew - World Jam Riddim

       a rarity

   Uhnnn Huhnnn

       from The Ghetto Dai Lai Lama (version 777) by Labtekwon

a googling:

   “cooking quail for dogs”

   cancer ramblings      i keep meaning to

the best website i have found        in a long time

     i’m sorry

                 i’m not giving this one up

       xenopigpen

   beckett          mirlitonnades

But what do those people mean who say: "I read such and such an author for the beauty of his style alone"? Personally, I do not clearly know what they mean (and I have never been able to get them to explain), unless they mean that they read for the beauty of sound alone. When you read a book there are only three things of which you may be conscious: (1) The significance of the words, which is inseparably bound up with the thought. (2) The look of the printed words on the page—I do not suppose that anybody reads any author for the visual [pg 53] beauty of the words on the page. (3) The sound of the words, either actually uttered or imagined by the brain to be uttered. Now it is indubitable that words differ in beauty of sound. To my mind one of the most beautiful words in the English language is "pavement." Enunciate it, study its sound, and see what you think. It is also indubitable that certain combinations of words have a more beautiful sound than certain other combinations.

           scugnizzo

 big    x boxes    where the alleged album artwork is   not

       what’s going on here

some drawing    of a creature    with a dick-nose

jerking its dick-nose off,

spurting

strange eyebrows

light musculature

underarm hair

   two    sets of breasts,

     a sort of half-vaginated    navel

   three    dicks    evenly   -   set

       each in fountain,

a ballsack of sorts is to the creature’s right

what    appears    “simply” to be a field of hair to its left

   pumps,    mid-heel (2.5” probably      if we are to assume

that    this creature is to    human-scale

     which may be problematic

       or preposterous)

 otherwise unclothed

   difficult to tell if jumping or squatting

         as there is no background

thing samantha sent me about ghislaine

       and the horse murders

had seen what MC Paul Barman is up to

   haven’t really gotten into it yet

         some garbage article from LA Weekly

       i was senselessly hate-reading nothing-trash

     from 2012

           least said is best

41 c’tued

41 c’tued

some guy’s thoughts about david lynch

‘Bluest Eye’ book-banning

46 c’tued

“marinism meaning”

Marinism

Giambattista_Marino      (this freaked me out for

   reasons    that will be      obvious

 if  you  keep  scrolling    (and scrolling)

     why had that name come to me?

       i was unfamiliar

   this was novel

 i embrace the apophenia      and live worshipfully for it

       god        appeared to me    as a healing rainbow  in  a  single  cloud

   just two days ago

     if i want god to’ve

         CENTER HEAD IS HERE

       do you understand?

finding out about “Jay McInerney”      (horse murders)

   imagine Becoming Rielle

 lord

lazily   and    pointlessly reminding myself of      some shit

about          Bret Easton Ellis

Tama Jamawitz double-bass kick drum FASTEST EVER compilation

“literary brat pack”

     JILL EISENSTADT

this is where it started with mel lyman

   this went a lot of ways

 golly imagine if mel’d met with arthur

           A_Movie

     Take_the_5:10_to_Dreamland

   This video    isn’t available      anymore

             (ominous)

           Cosmic_Ray_(film)

       Mark_Frechette

               Daria_Halprin

   Avatar_(newspaper)

 mel as well

   “avatar@” was my  first  e-mail address

      in the    oldenest    of days

     the local ISP days

   i think i was 12

that james cameron      fur-slither      VR      film

       wasn’t a glimmer in      no one’s eyes yet

think i’d gotten to the concept    from a Christopher Pike novel

   probably tugging off to some      new age vampire pulp

Mel Lyman, Avatar, Fort Hill Community video compilation

 found someone i thought seemed    interesting    in 62

     they live in LA now

         not gonna say who

             found their faculty website

   found a recording of them playing haunting music

       bass viol

     big wooden reverb

           i want to meet this person

david silver

boston public television

1960s

   yes

     David_Frost

two sour assholes  and  two brilliant  and  beautiful boys

GIS investigation of mel lyman      physiognomy and morphology

64 c’tued

         Fred_Barzyk

     69 c’tued ("yes please," tedious)

   washed out looking copy of ‘Lathe of Heaven’ 1980

           David_Loxton

         (lotta Davids)

   Between_Time_and_Timbuktu

Screening Room      with Ed Emschwiller

The Films Of Scott Bartlett Vol II: The Future Of Human Mythology

   (not sure about this one yet)

 Painters_Painting

alvyray@gmail.com

If for some reason this doesn't work, the address is

    alvyray  at  gmail dot com

To use this address, replace " at " with "@" and

replace " dot " with “.”

69 c’tued (“77” is a “double heaven numb#r,

   if you think about it,

     69 is over

       let’s  do  a        seven-and-seven)

by god it’s 69’c’tued again

   i’m really trying to find out about fred

 (talk to melahn re: “i’m too sexy” idea)

     not giving this one away

     79 c’tued (the unfriendly 69)

     same

     same

     same

     same      and      probably the one i’d least give up

     waterbort me bb

     same!

     same,

the complete publication history of grove press

         too bad about the union busting

             [skip a floor]

69 c’tued            (endless stamina)

Signals_Through_the_Flames

“The color of one's creed, neckties, eyes, thoughts, manners, speech, is sure to meet somewhere in time of space with a fatal objection from a mob that hates that particular tone. And the more brilliant, the more unusual the man, the nearer he is to the stake. Stranger always rhymes with danger. The meek prophet, the enchanter in his cave, the indignant artist, the nonconforming little schoolboy, all share in the same sacred danger. And this being so, let us bless them, let us bless the freak; for in the natural evolution of things, the ape would perhaps never have become man had not a freak appeared in the family.”

     window 2 (which is window one)

     not that you give a fuck on the run

some ugly thing      i don’t understand

   freddie deboer,

 catharsis agent

“Three-dimensional human beings can’t thrive in a one-dimensional space”          i don’t know what this is yet

2         x         2

a spirited commenter's comments and commentary (S.H.B.)

something about    Jia Tolentino

a tedious argument      (observed)

     Levator Smash - Neck Edition

   notification drip feed hell

 alternate instance x_x

5 c’tued

         sculpture of anubis in a tomb

       GIS “lykoi”

a pair of expensive espadrilles

they’re nice but honestly      not sure why this is up

i’m not a buyer

think i’d been looking at something else    this company    makes

of which i’d like to be a buyer

but am not

the juice:

red geometric pattern      over a white ground

   jute sole

 look great with white shorts

     & a gauzy marine blue pullover

   strolling laguna

       perhaps with an elderly benefactor

     these are the trials

   a looker

               looking

0000005

         it’s a planet    of war and of games

   take  either part  in a    lunatic’s way

     it      will      work well    —    for a while

       two, three rounds,

 turns,

     whatever the    churn —

   the old hands will think        you don’t know what you’re doing,

 that you’re the  mark,

   crazy,

     stupid, or rrRich —

          mysterion,    loss-ambivalent,

     gambling  in  glitch

 if

   you can deliver the deathblow in    one (1)

       queer grace  lunacy serve you

       hard-charging juramentado

       black widow    stick-up kid

   gimme the loot  or blood is shed

     shield me from law

       shield me from    harm

         call    off  the    dogs          call    off  the    dogs

0000004

     whack another dim try at scrib-scrying

   scrubglass blue devilist

 maudite mechanistic

       ice-eyed parasite

   bari sax on a patio tap-a-toe

     parasol squared off pitiful zapatos

 imperial brass

       zip-away mouth

        the body bagged

          the toe tagged

     and the tail skinked off

   to wander and wag

                   distraction on distraction

            what can you keep to keep from keeping?

         what, exactly?

too much eye contact,

or too little,

   maybe both,         oscillating

         struggling to extract meaning from a moving image

           again —

         two, three

           four

   competing projectionists

 laser light

       ginger & lime in a lesser light

       la   -   pel thrown aggressors’ might

           deep inhale of the Sphinx’s spite

slave-hewn world

             prior drag

       Aldous buzzbomb

 Albion slab —

             cleanse prescription drawers

     G O   A H E A D

         sack the Sackler store

     G O   A H E A D

         creep the cookie jar

     G O   A H E A D

         grand-ma can get      more   more   more

                 ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQSTUVWYZ

 purloined letters         fur-lined leathers

       kittiheat postage

     scratching post pleasures

and you think to yourself:

you’ve used that one before

think:

you’ve become pastiche,

are pastiche,

             crusted blotch on silken sheets

             splash of splotch on cotton batiste

     past-your-sell-by,

       fly-circled lapsed hellion

   criminal slump

                (become bastiche, are bastiche)

GIAMBATTISTA can you bring me

my espresso, please —

     yes, the tiny little one

   that i will spill everywhere

 displacing more volume than the cup,

   the little cup —

     what’s the word for it?

           Giambattista? GIAMBATTISTA?

         what do you call a little cup,

       when you are in Italy?

     a cupola? no, that’s Architecture

   or boobie-brassiere (dobleve) low-mind

 no-mind coupla hooter-honk—   GIAMBATTISTA      WHERE THE        

FUCK       IS      MY        E S P R   esso     ?

and then

the voice lowers, expansive:

     i’ll try to respect you

           &

         your time

       if        &       only

     you    promise    to do the same

0000003

a woman    appears    in the wood knots

neck        impossibly        long

cheeks  taut    flanking    narrow  flute  nose

shortly bobbed and      lushly lashed

     wise brows,      mouth drawn

         she possesses secret knowledge

   you can tell her voice    before she speaks

 if she should    speak

       controlled and measured

she would saunter

   palms down

     beads and jewels dangling

WE ARE BOTH    OUT OF TIME    IN OUR WAY

her decor would be      impeccable

   is impeccable

                   (surely we are not alone)

                   (temple in exclusion zone)

       what’s temporary often settles in

           (as the patriot acts on behalf of his kin)

her eyes are      wide open now

previously low-lidded

     the new mania is extravagant

   as would be expected

 as should be exceeded

       the dream conceit smolders

         aubergine mascara

     is this the foggy summoning of yesterday’s agave?

           the bust: answerless

   aubrey beardsley him-   er     ?   -       them,   selves

   may well have given age to this fence,

 the traces of beyond in background trails﹊﹎﹊﹎﹊﹎﹊﹎﹊﹎﹊﹎﹊﹎﹊﹎﹊﹎﹊﹎﹊﹎

going

she can only exist in the nighttime and yet it is day

she  can  only  exist  in  the  nighttime  and  yet  it  is  day

she can      only      exist in the    nighttime    and yet it is  day

she    can      only  exist    in      the  nighttime    and      yet  it    is      day

0000002

two years’ time, uglily gouged;

rejected from hell, void of heaven,

each day’s waking      unwanted delivery

from          some unremarkable suicide

0000001

the constant intrusion of helicopters hovering harassing

aircraft stared-after shoulders stiffening

bad body buzz afterburnt studded turquoise work

rotor rumble         [INITIATE QUAD]

looking in over your shoulder now     love

     an alert pierces:

GROUP OF 8 MEN FIGHTING AT 4451 DESGRACIA

o fuck — just up the way

       a survivor series match

             knockheed opportune

dare i tempt a run-in     ?

   is my music Q'd               ?

       Perseus Impetuous:

                pURRRRRRRVimp

         chop   ped      &        screwed

   in my divinity am I/I am

     the Scourge of Princes

       and its Inversion as easily,

     tat twam breezily,

         the parodic aristocrat parading town with a fond new beheading,

       singing to keep from sinking

shallow chests and narrow ways do keep pace raggedly

   shredded scenery embedded in fangs and filed dagg'rly

   haggard gasps for relevance Richards rude and dastardly

     wackaly,

 pricks who for kicks take their licks from the Tootsie Pop tits of a

         [BLOWN SCENE]

   deleted frame

     kiddigame hi-school

       gratuitous self-aware editing

                     corn subsidies

                        canned calamity

having come in peace    & pulled out soon,

slinging silver-eyed sullen    apples    of    the    moon

clanging prison-hall tapping    tuneless in the tomb,

augur of dogg'rel drencht in        daylit doome.

     O'Dubhain,