I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Andreas L. Hofbauer
Ersatzkaffeelesen
I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Donatien Grau
Une vie en philologie
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philology
Zoran Terzić
Die Verallgemeinerung des Menschen
Zoran Terzić
The Grand Generalization
Marlene Streeruwitz
Der Autor ist nicht die Autorin
A. L. Kennedy
Was ist ein Autor?
Kai van Eikels
Do in What's Doing, Democracy in!
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Jean-Luc Nancy
Après les avant-gardes
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Ines Kleesattel
Kunst, junge Mädchen und die ästhetische Freiheit untenrum
Axel Dielmann
Die Schneiderin
Michael Heitz, Hendrik Rohlf
Umas Gesicht – Thurmans Stimme
Jochen Thermann
Der Hilfskoch
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit: un corps à corps avec l’inconnu
Zoran Terzić
Transplants politiques
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 4
Joseph Morder
Une Trinite de la Memoire
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Stephen Barber
A War of Fragments: World Versus America
Ann Cotten
Dialoge
Bruce Bégout
L’homme de Venise
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Mário Gomes
The Poetics of Architecture
Michael Heitz
Another New God in Parts
Peter Ott
The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction
Dorothee Scheiffarth
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOUD NAMES
Une Trinité de mémoire
Je me souviens de quelques lieux, de quelques parfums d’enfance. En Amérique du Sud, en Equateur, à...
La soif
Quand j’étais enfant, près de la maison ou j’habitais, il y avait une voie ferrée. Avant de m'endormir, j’entendais...
I remember during the frozen Tokyo winter of 1997: I took long walks in the dead of night through the...
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
Nicht im Dienste irgendeines Wissens oder Spekulierens will dieses fortlaufende Register Eintragungen über Vorstellbares ansammeln: Namen, Objekte, Phänomene, Singularitäten.
Der Post, den ich hiermit teile, hat mich leicht verstört: »Barbara ist Facebook vor 6 Jahren beigetreten«!
Apfel oder Zitrone? Remembering, what do you hear? Wie sterben? Nord oder Süd? A question to which “yes” is always your answer?
I said “Would you like a rope? You know that haul you have is not secured properly.”
“No,” he said, “but I see you have string!”
“If this comes into motion—” I said, “you should use a rope.”
“Any poison ivy on that? ” he asked me, and I told him my rope had been in the barn peacefully for years.
He took a length of it to the bedside table. He had no concept for what wood could endure.
“Table must have broken when I lashed it onto the truck,” he said.
And, when he was moving the sewing machine, he let the cast iron wheels—bang, bang on the stair.
I had settled down to pack up the flamingo cookie jar, the cutlery, and the cookware, but stopped briefly, for how many times do you catch sudden sight of something heartfelt?
I saw our milk cows in their slow...
Meine Sprache
Deutsch
Aktuell ausgewählte Inhalte
Deutsch, Englisch, Französisch
»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.