wrrrk

...my mother sings elegies for girls that yet live. and my daughter is well. i am here for you. and both of us. weaving a game into DNA into fabric. beside canvas. between ribbons. beneath ephemera. this old house is a firework (and it's all i have). scrubbing timelines. a body, a ghost. a flashlight, and a watcher. held hands with my keepers. threw it up. fazers.... > language as refraction; texture as refraction i sit in the hollowed-out corpse of a suburban townhouse, barely breathing. it's so quiet. and the snow flickers through the open ribcage. i am in its heart, my face against the carpet, my mouth ajar, leaking fluid. it holds my very own pool of spittle, glazing-over with frost. soon, the cold will seep into my mouth, through my throat, across my chest, and, one day, pass over everything. like i'm begging it to. like i'm kissing it, whispering it to. i chance it on every touch, every revolution. my body, relations, all-revolving doors. strange words like wind, weird hearts, beating against eardrums. i connect to my friends in quotidian rotations, sputtering expulsions, technocapitalist excesses. emergent glees, wishing wells. dandelions, blown-out, lying face-down in oil money. i walk with my sleeves out, steps guided by angels, and angel investors. i'm subsidized. i find a body after the orgy, spitting up words i won't recognize, eyes moaning with bygone memory. a watcher, a siren, a swansong. body horror. watching myself from the bed. comforter weighing down every inch of my fettered skin. wrapping me up in light, in particles, in words, in half-considered speeches. i am a girl born from an essay, printed on top of an essay, printed on top of a single, blinding, binding word, full of fire, full of promise. the revolution is undetonated energy in the mouth of a friend. we kiss and pass knives through our hands. like magic. let's read our kisses aloud. let's hold hands. let's eat. let's do something. let's be here. let's get up.... x _ x read this aloud to me. read it again. say my name. now, the other. *yes.* move in. come closer. read it again. come closer. read it again. read it again. i sit-in. communion circles. saltlines, filled with sparking-off, amphetamine-rattled thoughtforms. twisting in and out of lucidity. a big cybernetic patchwork. you can have *all this.* illegible, fractal, mutable. some girls made with broken arms, wrapped in waves, construction paper. girls, fade like american flags, drawn from memory. my brown fur, sitting awkward on the slope. this is all to elude meaning. rubricking. disidentify from flesh. can become rainbows. sharp of the tooth: disidentification from space, time as limitation, syntax as guardrail. flying stupid, off the floor. plywood, linoleum. immiscing stars and the skin. words and ideas. thoughtforms and parchment. the ritual-unwinding, the structured. all lost in soupy, vague impressions of bones. suggested, aromatized, hyperlinked. a big word, broken-open. i dream of these words, snug in the corpse of an internet. transing, lensing, firing, entangling, slicing. salivating. > is it fuzzy, and foggy, and difficult to articulate to others (sometimes)? but full of colour and weird sparking bits and fluid smoke, flashes of affect (?) and like finding any way to render that is so much like placing knives in the dark, at the start. and queer archiving is a stepwise function. a spiralling, repetitive mess. making parts out of this. soup. warm blankets. telescopes. dark places. up north. cold. spitfuls. put the rain in a controller. erode the signal. slow it down. fry it. fish on a pan. spices. oils. speech from its body. aerosolize it. frutiger acids. disidentifications. washing machines. (smoke signals.) "world-sustaining". archiving "with a spanner". archiving is a folder on my computer i poke at from time to time. archiving is a touch, a collage every morning. archiving is a girl with her memory. iris and jiao. and her picture. perfect. archival is a girl on her bedroom floor, covered in zines and parchment paper (or, you will not survive).

yea sth i picked up from a rare good game analysis on [ytb](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ha3AGv27Aro) is that u can rly see the sheer extent of barbarous exploitation scale up across kanto as u proceed along it (with scale comes the increasing signs of not just urbanization, but also pollutants [generated of the industry this movement necessarily presupposes], and even some of capital's more absurd excesses, eg the party on the ss anne), along with the immanent alignment of this industry's most capitalistic, technocratic, and anti-life factors spreading as far as u can go (e.g., the rocket takeover event in saffron, which makes giovanni's group and silph co. 'scientist' defectors virtually indistinguishable from one another). all finally culminating in the broken-up and decrepit pkm mansion on cinnabar , thus testifying to a real, emergent, and *machinic* effect of desire escaping its own creators will (to exploit, and to reduce the world and creation to a kind of naive, insensitive scientism), a desire which would eventually wish for the destruction of its very own conditions (mewtwo escaping both its hold and the limits supposedly set for it by the industrial and scientific apparatus that produced it). life confronts death. but it's not dour in the slightest! (even a 'white hand on your shoulder' is just a player's hand, hurrying along the strings of fate.) gen one (and two, and three, and five—this list is non-exhaustive—but generation one especially) really tries to *think* through this shit. 13 octobre 2026. sth my friend june/im_singing/windowlight talks abt a lot is the relation of plato's hatred of the sophists to the latter's acceptance of money, and overall plato's anxiety abt the 'deterritorializing' (my word, not hers) fx money would hav ovr institutions like the family, the home, the (city-)state, etc. and u rly see that in a way when u crawl thru the grotto fighting a mix of hopeless pokémaniacs, absurd 'macho' mountaineers , and also schoolchildren...? all variously taken far from home and *into* nature by the deterritorializing and autonomizing fx of money and power (*puissance*), in the form of their particular arrangement of pokémon (thereby their unique but comparable strength as such). u r paid money to win to buy healing items and pokéballs to win even more, yes, but even more so these things serve as expressive vehicles for a child's deterritorialization and exploration of a virtual world (and that's without even thinking of the player's). 14 octobre 2026. smt that rly struck me abt *jaune* is its sheer charm, this intangible sense of an overwhelming force and necessity behind every (overarching) decision, including its moments of silliness. the little ruptures like blue snapping at red on the first floor of pokémon tower, even littler details like this one pokémaniac in the grotto saying "chuis un artiste, pas un violent" ("i'm an artist, not a 'violent'" [forgive the exceedingly literal translation; i guess the nearest equivalent wld b 'fighter'??]). it's all weighty as poetry. even when they'r not 'saying' much. and even the 'dungeons' (as such) also feel so alive and like real points of pressure and problem-solving, especially once a player lets the pace of an older game into their system and they can start flowing alongside it more effectively (ie not trying to jam it into a judgment-apparatus that'd compare it with a modern slickened pacecrept rpg, or even with one that'd take the opposite approach, of encouraging a more encylopedia-dependent engagement with the game). *jaune* is especially good on the 'points of pressure and problem-solving part'; the pacing of trainer fights and the diversity of strategies u could come across, INCLUDING trapping tech and status spreading r so so strong at modeling and encouraging different ways of engaging with the syntax, to powerful ends. in any case, none of this scans like a toothless, or 'ambitionless' major-league product, including the decisions most liable to being read in worse faith like that (eg the version exclusive pokémon, the gift pokémon requiring multiple games to full sate the dex requirements of [kabuto, omanyte, hitmonchan/lee, eevee, etc.])—the unmitigated sense that all these moves r fundamentally exploratory, if inadvertently 'productive' in a capitalistic sense (mostly incidentally, it seems from the available record, at least [given the multiple available testaments to the higher ups' generosity even releasing red and green in the first place]). 14 octobre 2026.

IN A DREAM YOU SAW A WAY TO SURVIVE AND YOU WERE FULL OF JOY

everything reminds me of her (she is sitting behind me