want an intelligence that’s tall and silver, oblique and black, purring
and amplifying its décor; a thin thing, a long thing, a hundred videos,
a boutique. Because we are both passive and independent, we need to
theorize. We are studying the synthesis of sincerity, the synthetics of
space, because they are irreducible and contingent. We are shirking the
anxiety of origin because we can. We want to really exercise fate with
extremely normal things such as our mind.
A city is a flat
massive thing already. We’re out at the end of a lane looking south
with normal eyes. Here is what we already know: the flesh is lovely and
we abhor the prudery of monuments. But a pavilion is good. We believe a
synthetic pavilion is really very good. Access would be no problem
since we really enjoy our minds. Everything is something. The popular
isn’t pre-existent. It’s not etiquette. We try to remember that we are
always becoming popular.
Spatial synthetics irreparably exceed their own structure. For
example: Looking west, looking west, looking east by northeast, looking
northwest, looking northeast, looking west, loading wool, looking west,
looking north, looking east, looking west, looking north, looking
northeast, looking northeast, looking west, looking west, looking west,
tracks are oldest, looking south, looking north, looking north, looking
east, looking west, looking west by southwest; thus, space. And not by
means other than the gestural. Pretty eyes. Winds.
Now the entire aim of our speculative cognition amplifies the
synthetic principle. Everything glimmers, delights, fades, goes. We
drift through the cognition with exceptional grace. Attached as we are
to the senses, we manifest the sheer porousness of boutiques. The
boutiques are categories. We have plenty of time. The problem is not
how to stop the flow of items and surfaces in order to stabilize space,
but how to articulate the politics of their passage. Every culture is
the terrible gush of its splendid outward forms.
Although some of us love its common and at times accidental
beauty, we’re truly exhausted by identity. Then we sink to the ground
and demand to be entertained. We want to design new love for you
because we are hungry for imprudent, sensational, immodest,
revolutionary public gorgeousness. We need dignity and texture and
fountains. What is the structure of freedom? It is entirely synthetic.
The most pleasing civic object would be erotic hope. What could
be more beautiful than to compile it with our minds, converting
complicity to synthesis? A synthetics of space improvises unthought
shape. Suppose we no longer call it identity. Spatial synthetics cease
to enumerate how we have failed. Enough dialectical stuttering. We
propose a theoretical device that amplifies the cognition of
thresholds. It would add to the body the vertiginously unthinkable.
That is, a pavilion.
published in Tarpaulin Sky
, originally uploaded by only because mushroom asked me to.