Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philologie
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Claire Fontaine
Vers une théorie du matérialisme magique
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Zoran Terzić
Die Verallgemeinerung des Menschen
Sandra Frimmel
Ich hasse die Avantgarde
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 5
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the tame
Ines Kleesattel
Kunst, junge Mädchen und die ästhetische Freiheit untenrum
Ines Kleesattel
Art, Girls, and Aesthetic Freedom Down Below
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Angelika Meier
Wer ich wirklich bin
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Nicole Bachmann
Questionnaire Nicole Bachmann
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Jurij Pavlovich Annenkov
A Diary of my Encounters
Diane Williams
Rums Bums auf der Treppe
Bruce Bégout
L’homme de Venise
Artur Zmijewski
Gespräch über ‚Glimpse‘
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Peter Ott
The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Trmasan Bruialesi
Lieber Paul 1
1. Tell the Earth, “I love you. I can’t live without you."
2. At first you may feel embarrassed...
Cumulus tuba ;
Cirrus cumulonimbogenitus ;
Wallcloud ;
Bannerwolke ;
Föhnfische ;
mother-of-pearl cloud ;
Altocumulus translucidus ;
Stratocumulus...
…rather alarms, to truth to arm her than enemies, and they have only this advantage to scape from being called ill things, that they are nothings…
Apfel oder Zitrone? Remembering, what do you hear? Wie sterben? Nord oder Süd? A question to which “yes” is always your answer?
Nicht im Dienste irgendeines Wissens oder Spekulierens will dieses fortlaufende Register Eintragungen über Vorstellbares ansammeln: Namen, Objekte, Phänomene, Singularitäten.
In der Folge von Georges Perecs Erinnerung 480: "Ich erinnere mich… (Fortsetzung folgt…)"
J.G. Ballard’s self-declared ‘Immodest Proposal’ for a global war-alliance to exact the destruction of America demonstrates the provocatory zeal of his last fiction plans, as well as their enduring prescience. As Ballard emphasises several times in the World Versus America notebooks, he is utterly serious in his concerns and visions.
Although the Ballard estate declined permission for any images of pages from the World Versus America archival notebooks to accompany this essay, any member of the general public interested to do so can readily visit the British Library and view the notebooks in their entirety in the freely-accessible manuscripts collection there.
Meine Sprache
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»Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, MAESTRO DI COLOR CHE SANNO. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.
Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs
marching. No, agallop: DELINE THE MARE.
Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since?
If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. BASTA! I will see
if I can see.
See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world
without end.«
James Joyce
Dire works on the bogus regime—not just of art—but endowed with wit, beauty and irresistible fetish character.