Random
Kate/Katie David/Dave
Why shouldn’t a book repress with its pages?
Every body is very old.
What is literal about the word ‘penis’? What do you think of when you read the word ‘penis’? If you are man? If you are a woman? Every body. For years I found it hard to imagine that my male friends also had dicks. Masturbation isn’t simulation.
“Ejaculaton is a waste of valuable resources.” Does this statement attack the female? Does this statement attack the male? Does this statement attack? Does this statement?
Some people find it hard to believe when people aren’t willing to concede that sex is sex. That in not thinking this, it is by some avoidance, some superiority, some hiding. The necessity of defecating is much more quietly acquiesced. No one questions the morality of the operation of negotiating the shitter’s ass with the shitting hole, though sometimes just as much skin is placed. And a longer lingering of air. Some of my friends find it surprising I can’t smell come. My urine the last few weeks has smelled like food. Ratios of water. Cookbooks.
Male and female rats have been shown to find it more difficult to sleep when the smell of a previously housed male rat lingers in the cage.
Sad. Dead guys and alive guys on a brightly colored graph.
Suppose an object is not required to reckon sociologically with every object it contains. Suppose it contains. Suppose even the objects that are the most accessible to placing in dotted-line-connected camps.
Fucking camps! [“See how he meant that two ways at once?”]
“Did your urethra write that?” [I wish it had.] “Which kind?”
Certain books are culled, not called.
Reading is a self-indulgent act. Blinking is a self-indulgent act, too. When books aren’t self-indulgent they aren’t there.
The politics of sitting.
Today I learned that the phrase “telefono” means Repeated blows to the ears rupturing the tympanic membranes.
When the first consideration is of a switch outside the object, the considerer has not listened. “How do I fit into this?” “All of this is…”
“These are my concerns.” “This is how I can make a [ ] via consideration.” “This is this.”
“Same/same.”
A Dissection of ‘the High Five’ in the Works of These Works Written By Those Body Formats under Pressure
What Meats Are or Are Not Avoided In the Production of My Favorite Tacos
“My Art of Your Art” “Art is”
“My Vote for the next new president”
The plane of organization is constantly working away at the plane of consistency, always trying to plug the lines of flight, stop or interrupt the movements of deterritorialization, weigh them down, restratify them, reconstitute forms and subjects in a dimension of depth.
Googling ‘penis book’ results mostly in porn. ‘Vagina book’ is much more widely varied, but contains instructions, jokes, costumes, less porn.
Trees get grown. Water in the food. Why shouldn’t a
Why shouldn’t a shouldn’t a shushushuhhhhiuushhhshhshhh h hh shhij kkkk kk kk jiui ui uiuuui uiudiu iu aisdhhakljshdf kjhasljkdflkajsd;l kfa;osdhf;jha s;jbdvk absdknvb kans dnvba;kjshdfjhasldjhfajkshdlfjhdjhfdjhfjdhfjdhfjdhjfhdjhf a jahdjfhaj;sjhf; a;sjh ;asdl.
Tags: penis book, vagina book
I would like to know where to buy a book-shaped spice rack, please.
I would like to know where to buy a book-shaped spice rack, please.
NSFW apple.
NSFW apple.
It should, smartly.
And sags distinctly.
Everything is literal about the genitals. I think of the way it is used when I read the word ‘penis’. I can’t speak for women. I never found it difficult to imagine my male friends had dicks. They keep them handy. Tools
It attacks the idea of resources. Good.
Yes, some people do find it hard. I don’t think that I’m one of them. The asshole is a genital too. But not only for them. And it does also shit for everyone. The sometimes equivalent placing of skin is the unsecret link between sex and excretion, excess and waste. Ratios of water, cookbooks: still rations. You may not be able to smell it but the point is you can come. A thing you can do. And do and don’t. And maybe when you’re tired, can’t.
A thing on rats I read just today: “In John B. Calhoun’s early crowding experiments, rats were supplied with everything they needed—except space.” Your thought restated.
It is sad. The chart’s too small.
Perhaps no object is required to reckon sociologically with every object it contains. Perhaps any object. Perhaps they all possess a freedom we can only compare to the cruelty and sovereignty of the most indifferent reality. Perhaps objects need not reckon to produce their reckonings. Perhaps the reckonings are the orphans of objects.
“Nothing is seen over the altar but a large globe, upon which the heavenly bodies are painted, and another globe upon which there is a representation of the earth.” Campanella.
I wish it had too. Though in a word where a urethra could write, perhaps urine would be come a permanent ink. A marking of territory. The sameness of organs is the truth but has no bearing on their placement. And displacement. Even when those placements and displacements are the same.
And others are never even written.
Reading is a self-indulgent act. I agree. Being subject to meaning isn’t. Not exactly. I’m for self-indulgence that wants to communise its wealth. A self-to-self-to-self indulgence, on and on. Blinking is a kind of care for the self, as is reading. But care requires care also. Sometimes I do wish I could blink a book.
The politics of being sat on.
Ring, ring.
All objects have a tendency to exteriorise their switches. Their switches are exchanges that sit aside a track. I try so hard not to care about how I fit into anything, or how all of this is. I try to e be dead. But there is no transportation without translation.
Maybe criticality is artistic too. An idea those examples rule out from the start. Art has to be criticism plus. But can a critical consciousness feel? Maybe you and I are caught up in the same thing.
Naked/conflicted.
This made me laugh. ‘The High Five’. I suppose the body formats have hands.
What Words Are and Are Not Avoided In the Production of My Favorite Books
“My Art of Your Art” “Art is”. “My Vote for the next new president”. Probably the only part of this that vaguely offended me. My art of your art is not demolition: it’s respect. And to suggest that any ideation on what “art is” equals the egoistic self-insistence of “My Vote for the next new president” is a cheap shot. More than that, it isn’t even original. It is a old, old criticism of critics: ie. they have no proper commitments; they are only interested in being right in betting on the next best horse, which they’ve rigged to win the race. Finessing the perfection of their own position. Blah, blah. My vote for the next new president is not an elephant or donkey but a goat.
To call for the freeing up of lines of flight takes an organized thought that looks to do away with itself. The plane of consistency is not unconditioned. D+G say that. To put it another way, let me quote Dennis Cooper: “As you soon as you get power, disperse it.”
Penis book and vagina book. Variety is probably somewhat deceptive here as plurality of interests, richness of life, has always been a way to insulate women from porn. Still, like most instructions, jokes, the concepts for costumes, most porn today is made by men. To argue pleasure is foreclosed to women because of it is reactionary. But knowing better pleasure is possible is emancipatory.
Some trees do. Heat in the body. Why shouldn’t a hand have creases?
It should, smartly.
And sags distinctly.
Everything is literal about the genitals. I think of the way it is used when I read the word ‘penis’. I can’t speak for women. I never found it difficult to imagine my male friends had dicks. They keep them handy. Tools
It attacks the idea of resources. Good.
Yes, some people do find it hard. I don’t think that I’m one of them. The asshole is a genital too. But not only for them. And it does also shit for everyone. The sometimes equivalent placing of skin is the unsecret link between sex and excretion, excess and waste. Ratios of water, cookbooks: still rations. You may not be able to smell it but the point is you can come. A thing you can do. And do and don’t. And maybe when you’re tired, can’t.
A thing on rats I read just today: “In John B. Calhoun’s early crowding experiments, rats were supplied with everything they needed—except space.” Your thought restated.
It is sad. The chart’s too small.
Perhaps no object is required to reckon sociologically with every object it contains. Perhaps any object. Perhaps they all possess a freedom we can only compare to the cruelty and sovereignty of the most indifferent reality. Perhaps objects need not reckon to produce their reckonings. Perhaps the reckonings are the orphans of objects.
“Nothing is seen over the altar but a large globe, upon which the heavenly bodies are painted, and another globe upon which there is a representation of the earth.” Campanella.
I wish it had too. Though in a word where a urethra could write, perhaps urine would be come a permanent ink. A marking of territory. The sameness of organs is the truth but has no bearing on their placement. And displacement. Even when those placements and displacements are the same.
And others are never even written.
Reading is a self-indulgent act. I agree. Being subject to meaning isn’t. Not exactly. I’m for self-indulgence that wants to communise its wealth. A self-to-self-to-self indulgence, on and on. Blinking is a kind of care for the self, as is reading. But care requires care also. Sometimes I do wish I could blink a book.
The politics of being sat on.
Ring, ring.
All objects have a tendency to exteriorise their switches. Their switches are exchanges that sit aside a track. I try so hard not to care about how I fit into anything, or how all of this is. I try to e be dead. But there is no transportation without translation.
Maybe criticality is artistic too. An idea those examples rule out from the start. Art has to be criticism plus. But can a critical consciousness feel? Maybe you and I are caught up in the same thing.
Naked/conflicted.
This made me laugh. ‘The High Five’. I suppose the body formats have hands.
What Words Are and Are Not Avoided In the Production of My Favorite Books
“My Art of Your Art” “Art is”. “My Vote for the next new president”. Probably the only part of this that vaguely offended me. My art of your art is not demolition: it’s respect. And to suggest that any ideation on what “art is” equals the egoistic self-insistence of “My Vote for the next new president” is a cheap shot. More than that, it isn’t even original. It is a old, old criticism of critics: ie. they have no proper commitments; they are only interested in being right in betting on the next best horse, which they’ve rigged to win the race. Finessing the perfection of their own position. Blah, blah. My vote for the next new president is not an elephant or donkey but a goat.
To call for the freeing up of lines of flight takes an organized thought that looks to do away with itself. The plane of consistency is not unconditioned. D+G say that. To put it another way, let me quote Dennis Cooper: “As you soon as you get power, disperse it.”
Penis book and vagina book. Variety is probably somewhat deceptive here as plurality of interests, richness of life, has always been a way to insulate women from porn. Still, like most instructions, jokes, the concepts for costumes, most porn today is made by men. To argue pleasure is foreclosed to women because of it is reactionary. But knowing better pleasure is possible is emancipatory.
Some trees do. Heat in the body. Why shouldn’t a hand have creases?
and…
http://www.theawl.com/2010/01/booked-up-with-seth-colter-walls-an-incredibly-un-fun-misreading-of-david-foster-wallace-that-katie-roiphe-should-never-do-again
You know what. I’m really embarrassed. I saw the title of this post and thought this was, in part, a response to my long response to the thread the other day. I actually thought it was kind of surprising, to be addressed that way, in a new post, but I was like, um, ok. But of course David is David Foster Wallace. Not me. Duh. How arrogant. And how stupid of me not to get that. I feel not only lame but kind of sick. Grossed out at myself. Blah. I agree with you that the Rophie article is ridiculous. For reasons of my own, as laid out above, but that agreement is all I would have said had I realised. I absolutely especially agree with you on Wallace. Please excuse the point by point. And my self-absorption. I’d delete it if I could.
You know what. I’m really embarrassed. I saw the title of this post and thought this was, in part, a response to my long response to the thread the other day. I actually thought it was kind of surprising, to be addressed that way, in a new post, but I was like, um, ok. But of course David is David Foster Wallace. Not me. Duh. How arrogant. And how stupid of me not to get that. I feel not only lame but kind of sick. Grossed out at myself. Blah. I agree with you that the Rophie article is ridiculous. For reasons of my own, as laid out above, but that agreement is all I would have said had I realised. I absolutely especially agree with you on Wallace. Please excuse the point by point. And my self-absorption. I’d delete it if I could.
i really liked your reply, david. i’ve been thinking about it since i read. all points are to be point by pointed. it should not be deleted, but thanked. thank you. it’s an interesting collision, and therein even better.
i really liked your reply, david. i’ve been thinking about it since i read. all points are to be point by pointed. it should not be deleted, but thanked. thank you. it’s an interesting collision, and therein even better.
thanks for being nice about my wankerishness, blake. your comment made me feel like not a total goober. i’m still kind of ill at myself but then again i kind of should be. as always, your thoughts are pyrotechnics. and this post was itself a vagapple. tart and sweet.
thanks for being nice about my wankerishness, blake. your comment made me feel like not a total goober. i’m still kind of ill at myself but then again i kind of should be. as always, your thoughts are pyrotechnics. and this post was itself a vagapple. tart and sweet.
list 51 of 50?
list 51 of 50?
dang, he beat me to it. was totally gonna rail like that out.
but he did a great job
dang, he beat me to it. was totally gonna rail like that out.
but he did a great job
My friend Rio made a good point the other day; he said there is no such thing as a hermaphrodite because a urethra is attached to the clitoris. And that even if the clitoris was engorged to look like a penis it would still be clitoris and not a penis. I thought that was interesting.
It’s really funny how much you can get away with in the right context. Once when I was eleven, my step-dad, after I squealed at the word “masturbation” in a movie, looked at me coyly and said “masturbation is natural, everybody does it.” To many that would make him a perv. To others a cool liberator.
At a bar, some friends and I had a one hour conversation about fisting which in my mind is the new motherfucker. The consensus is trust and the subsequent relaxation involved with trusting, and of course lots of lube. Can you say I fisted your mother on tv? (Fisted and fisting have red lines under them. There are four red lines in this paragraph about fisting. Five.)
My pee makes three smells: asparagus, coffee and pee.
Are we there yet?
(What does it taste like when you go down on an eighty year-old lady?)
Depends.
My friend Rio made a good point the other day; he said there is no such thing as a hermaphrodite because a urethra is attached to the clitoris. And that even if the clitoris was engorged to look like a penis it would still be clitoris and not a penis. I thought that was interesting.
It’s really funny how much you can get away with in the right context. Once when I was eleven, my step-dad, after I squealed at the word “masturbation” in a movie, looked at me coyly and said “masturbation is natural, everybody does it.” To many that would make him a perv. To others a cool liberator.
At a bar, some friends and I had a one hour conversation about fisting which in my mind is the new motherfucker. The consensus is trust and the subsequent relaxation involved with trusting, and of course lots of lube. Can you say I fisted your mother on tv? (Fisted and fisting have red lines under them. There are four red lines in this paragraph about fisting. Five.)
My pee makes three smells: asparagus, coffee and pee.
Are we there yet?
(What does it taste like when you go down on an eighty year-old lady?)
Depends.
Or a urethra is not attached to the clitoris is what I meant to say…
I’m going to stare at the apple now and pretend it’s half oyster.
Or a urethra is not attached to the clitoris is what I meant to say…
I’m going to stare at the apple now and pretend it’s half oyster.
i’d say even if you think roiphe misread david foster wallace, she didn’t misread the trends in popular White Male American Authors then and now. she nailed those, and quibbling over whether it’s coolness or fear or whatever that these men have toward sex, that’s the job of the reader and it stirs up conversation and it’s positive, but that doesn’t make the article any less worthwhile. no, it’s not perfect. but it is not ridiculous, and it’s not helpful to be dismissive—it’s not helpful to the ongoing dialogue about males/females/sex/books and to White Male American Authors looking in the mirror or examining their brethren in a different lens. the mere act of putting male authors on a pink chart is sad? how so? the times book review and every other publication has graphics all the time. sometimes they even caricature the author’s actual image as opposed to just putting their name in a graphic. sure it’s reductive. sure it’s playful. but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s onto something, and that something is that “progress” in male self-image and portrayals of sex and sexuality and feelings in sex needs to be reexamined and complicated. she’s gotten the conversation going.
also, i gotta tell you, blake, why is it necessary, on a blog, to conjugate the blur of mind’s process-flow to the urine cloud of wonder-not? you know what i mean.sfje8(*((*(*JLLKMQ!
i’d say even if you think roiphe misread david foster wallace, she didn’t misread the trends in popular White Male American Authors then and now. she nailed those, and quibbling over whether it’s coolness or fear or whatever that these men have toward sex, that’s the job of the reader and it stirs up conversation and it’s positive, but that doesn’t make the article any less worthwhile. no, it’s not perfect. but it is not ridiculous, and it’s not helpful to be dismissive—it’s not helpful to the ongoing dialogue about males/females/sex/books and to White Male American Authors looking in the mirror or examining their brethren in a different lens. the mere act of putting male authors on a pink chart is sad? how so? the times book review and every other publication has graphics all the time. sometimes they even caricature the author’s actual image as opposed to just putting their name in a graphic. sure it’s reductive. sure it’s playful. but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s onto something, and that something is that “progress” in male self-image and portrayals of sex and sexuality and feelings in sex needs to be reexamined and complicated. she’s gotten the conversation going.
also, i gotta tell you, blake, why is it necessary, on a blog, to conjugate the blur of mind’s process-flow to the urine cloud of wonder-not? you know what i mean.sfje8(*((*(*JLLKMQ!
fantastic piece in that link. very very well done. also, blake, we don’t know each other, but i’m going to stop taking subtle and unsubtle digs at you. i’m sure i could learn something or other from you.
fantastic piece in that link. very very well done. also, blake, we don’t know each other, but i’m going to stop taking subtle and unsubtle digs at you. i’m sure i could learn something or other from you.
i have a vagina. i write about sex. david foster wallace sometimes makes me shake because he writes about bumping and grinding in ways i will never be able to write about bumping and grinding. the 2nd to last story in brief interviews with hideous men made me want to throw up. fuck katie roiphe. fuck her crusty ways and crusty men. sure, there are some young limp dicks around, but fucking read more.
thanks, blake butler. one of my favorite html posts. and seth colter walls did a good job of quieting down the roaring monster inside of me.
i have a vagina. i write about sex. david foster wallace sometimes makes me shake because he writes about bumping and grinding in ways i will never be able to write about bumping and grinding. the 2nd to last story in brief interviews with hideous men made me want to throw up. fuck katie roiphe. fuck her crusty ways and crusty men. sure, there are some young limp dicks around, but fucking read more.
thanks, blake butler. one of my favorite html posts. and seth colter walls did a good job of quieting down the roaring monster inside of me.
mmm, good question
mmm, good question
hadnt thought o dat, but i like it. could use to fill over one of the 50 i’ve been meaning to throw on out. oink barn!
yes. thank you lorian. in multiple ways.
hadnt thought o dat, but i like it. could use to fill over one of the 50 i’ve been meaning to throw on out. oink barn!
yes. thank you lorian. in multiple ways.
You guys have a lot of rewriting to do. It appears there is no G-spot. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8439000.stm
You guys have a lot of rewriting to do. It appears there is no G-spot. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8439000.stm
lies.
lies.