Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Surrogate Abolition
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
Marie Glassl, Sophie Lewis
Stellvertretende Abschaffung
Dan-el Padilla Peralta
Junk Philology. An Anti-Commentary
Simon Critchley
Learning to Eat Time with One’s Ears
Sina Dell’Anno
Punk / Philologie
Donatien Grau
Une vie en philologie
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Mengia Tschalaer
Queer Spaces
Claire Fontaine
Towards a Theory of Magic Materialism
Marlene Streeruwitz
L'auteur n'est pas l'auteure
Tom McCarthy
Toke My Asymptote – or, The Ecstatic Agony of Appearance
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Jean-Luc Nancy
Nach den Avantgarden
Jean-Luc Nancy
Après les avant-gardes
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem
Tomb for Guy Debord
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Michael Heitz
Wong Ping’s "Who’s the Daddy"
Hans Block, Moritz Riesewieck
What we don’t see
Christian Beetz, Hendrik Rohlf
Katalysatoren der Radikalisierung
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit. Hautnah am Körper des Unbekannten
Zoran Terzić
Transplants politiques
Michele Pedrazzi
The Next Bit: un corps à corps avec l’inconnu
A.K. Kaiza
An Annotated History of Wakanda
Zoran Terzić
Political Transplants
Maël Renouard
Fragmente eines unendlichen Gedächtnisses
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Dietmar Dath
Your Sprache Never Was
Marcus Quent
Elapsing Time and Belief in the World
Artur Zmijewski
Gespräch über ‚Glimpse‘
Eric Baudelaire
Abecedarium
Mário Gomes
Poetik der Architektur
Jelili Atiku, Damian Christinger
Venedig, Lagos und der Raum dazwischen
Alexander García Düttmann
Can There Be a Society Without Ceremony or the Critical Question of Theatre
Tyler Coburn
Quaddie
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 6
Peter Ott
The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction
Discoteca Flaming Star
Ich erinnere mich… (Discoteca Flaming Star)
What do I remember? My memories of my life have always been very limited. I only remember single fragments, good...
Ich erinnere mich an mein Exemplar von Alles kurz und klein, das weg ist, verschwunden! – wer erinnert sich, es...
Ich erinnere mich an gewellte goldene Kornfelder.
Ich erinnere mich an mich; in der Peripherie des Bildes.
Ich erinnere mich an die...
Gedanklich-sinnliche Küchenzettel, Aufzählungen und Auslesen…
Apfel oder Zitrone? Remembering, what do you hear? Wie sterben? Nord oder Süd? A question to which “yes” is always your answer?
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…
A for Anomie
The idea that terrorism and other forms of political violence are directly related to strains caused by strongly held grievances has been one of the most common explanations to date and can be traced to a diverse set of theoretical concepts including relative deprivation, social disorganization, breakdown, tension, and anomie. Merton (1938) identifies anomie as a cultural condition of frustration, in which values regarding goals and how to achieve them conflict with limitations on the means of achievement.
Gary LaFree and Laura Dugan, “Research on Terrorism and Countering Terrorism”, Crime and Justice, Vol. 38, No. 1, 2009.
B for Block or Blocked
If terrorism in each of its expressions can be considered an indicator of the existence of a political block (of an impossibility of reacting if one wishes to react differently), this influences its real ability to modify the situation. Terrorism has been historically more successful when it was not...
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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.