I.V. Nuss
The Love in the Convex, in Absolute Roundness and the Sluttification of All Men West of the Bosporus
Emma Waltraud Howes
Questionnaire Emma Waltraud Howes
I.V. Nuss
Die Liebe im Konvexen, in der totalen Rundung und zur Slutifizierung aller Männer westlich des Bosporus
Barbara Vinken
Geistige Mütter
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philologie
Donatien Grau
A Life in Philology
Marlene Streeruwitz
Der Autor ist nicht die Autorin
Marlene Streeruwitz
L'auteur n'est pas l'auteure
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – oder: die ekstatische Agonie des Erscheinens
Kai van Eikels
Macht kaputt, was Demokratie kaputt macht
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tombeau pour Guy Debord
Sandra Frimmel
Ich hasse die Avantgarde
Michael Heitz
Wong Pings "Who’s the Daddy"
Lars von Trier in Conversation with Mehdi Belhaj Kacem & Raphaëlle Milone
Alexander García Düttmann
Kalte Distanz
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Axel Dielmann
Die Schneiderin
Jochen Thermann
The Assistant Chef
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit: un corps à corps avec l’inconnu
A.K. Kaiza
Eine kommentierte Geschichte Wakandas
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Stephen Barber
Krieg aus Fragmenten: World Versus America
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Manuel Franquelo
Manuel Franquelo im Gespräch
Dieter Mersch
Digital Criticism
Bruce Bégout
The Man from Venice
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
Über Realismus
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Ann Cotten
Dialoge
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Michael Heitz
Noch ein neuer Gott in Teilen
Discoteca Flaming Star
Ich erinnere mich… (Discoteca Flaming Star)
1. Ringo Starr
2. Mike D.
3. Roland TR 808
4. Jaki Liebezeit
5. Paul Lovens
6. Anthony Williams
Setlist:
1 Luminous Procuress
2 Zero
3 Brass Canon
4 Mexican Tea Party
5 Jaguar
6 New Earth
7...
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
In der Folge von Georges Perecs Erinnerung 480: "Ich erinnere mich… (Fortsetzung folgt…)"
Der Post, den ich hiermit teile, hat mich leicht verstört: »Barbara ist Facebook vor 6 Jahren beigetreten«!
…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…
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.