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FUSIONED - DIRECTED - WRITTEN AND CORRESPONDED BY: MENASSA 2001
DON'T KNOW HOW TO SPEAK BUT WE DO IT IN SEVERAL LANGUAGES
GRIS, IS A PRODUCT
INDIO GRIS Nº 78
to distances I travelled all over the world,
never knew the name of the celebrations of our town,
to the stories of the world, of its wars
could never think that the world would belong to us,
the road to love was not ours
him who loved to fly with the wings of time,
I am in the incalculable space of horror.
am, in the fifth moon of Saturn, the eye
thousand years of macerated fleshes gave me the vision.
and truth are, for me,
and passionate eye, I indicate new directions:
in an unquestionable oscillation
word in space,
was and I wasn't a solitaire. I belonged to no one, but I thought I
belonged to everybody. To John, to Peter, to the ones who didn't even have
a name for me. All handsome youths, full of energy, dead before their
time. I am, sometimes, that grandiose liberated energy. Nobody will be
able to deal with me, I am a million dead. I am the hymn that death claims
for itself, I am the black of blackness, I mean, the glows of blackness,
the emeralds of death.
you realise, darling, how time has gone by?
you realise how I want to sing and I scarcely sing?
on, darling, some time has already passed, the small willows have already
taken tears to the river. The small willows have already grown up, the
winds have grown up, the children, my writings, my laziness has grown up.
these years, my darling, death has grown, pain and myself have grown up, I
want to tell you, I am not prepared for so much pain. So, this time, we'll
start by the beginning. To start with, before anything, we'll modify our
way of living.
age in the next centuries
age, I imagine,
don't entirely understand her and I don't know either if I should.
Today- she said to me- perhaps it would suit me to talk about jealousy,
because afterwards… is the strangest thing. It is a feeling so real when I go
through it and so unreal when I talk about it that…well, this difference
frightens me, that's why, I prefer to silence myself, so much I prefer to
silence myself that, when jealousy are or were or will be too much, I wanted to
leave, I want to leave, I'll leave him. I'm very frightened because this might
be truth and madness at the same time, and
I might not talk about the matter, because it being truth and madness at the
same time causes repulse in me.
night I would have cut my tongue.
Last night… I stuttered-.
Yes, last night I held a conversation with my love, with the greatest of
my loves, and I don't mention him as my only love because I have you, doctor. I
tried to talk to him about my jealousy and do you know what he told me?
Don't tell me those foolish things of vulgar woman, of everyday
woman. I love you because other women taught me to love, so stop fucking
We'll continue the next time.
Orgasms and pains, that is what she proposes, when she proposes
everything: orgasms and pains.
I show her that everything is light blue, she responds that everybody will
She and I and the clear and gentile love stories, everything will
And the perfume of your body over mine?
Yes- she answers- and the bodies of other thousand women more over
your body, will also die.
Kiss me for the last time, infernal off-spring, rotten flesh
forever, lively shroud, you won't escape from my vaporous and at the same
time final tenebrous flesh
I'll become a poet- I respond proudly.
It won't be worth for you either, you'll die anyway.
I'll write a
hundred thousand pages, I will never die. My body may rot, my soul may
rot, even our love will fall rotten by passion, but I won't die.
small pimple behind my ear reminds me of other researchers who died full
of lice or pimples and, I must say it, another destiny awaits me. They
will let me make a living with my work or else, as the French woman told
me the other day, that in Paris they would make the statue of Eros with me
and would replenish me with silk and vices. All for free, said the French,
in charge of the French socialist government, what do you think?
are somewhat imbecile, they can't use what has already been done. The
world begins when they open their eyes. What jerks!
won't decline because sex doesn't fall.
if my writing continues forward, it will find a limit: sex doesn't fall.
about direct sexual satisfaction, we'll say that its lack is paid off by
phenomena that, because of its functional damage and its unpleasant
subjective character, we should consider as pathologic.
have to stop shouting and be clearer. Or else I have to stop shouting and
be darker. Or else, simply, I have to stop shouting. Anyway, no one will
understand anything till the next century.
the attempt of restoring an impossible movement, life, writing, is the
only possibility of rectifying.
was a time when one could talk about the internal forces. Now all the
force lies in money, that is to say, all energy is external to the
the blue encounter with hopelessness I shall have to know what is the
first thing I'll do knowing that the party is, in reality, a murder. That
is to say, a step forward implies fallen persons.
FROM THE EDITOR
in the end, Miss, a time where everything is destroyed can be, also, a
good moment for changing.
vain you roam the domains of science, nobody learns but that which is
permitted to learn. It is impossible to live in accordance with the
principle of pleasure.
is psychic is something so singularly unique that no comparison can define
if you want to, you can knock your head against the wall or pull out your
balls, no one will cry for you.
if I could write sacrilegious verses against myself, against my own
experience of being!
both of them, are women in love with themselves. They can destroy
everything if that love is not allowed to them. The first thing that
breaks, of course, is the man who has intervened in the encounter. I won't
do it again and this way I'll become a great man.
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