multilocal

05:30 pm: No monad no cry
Perfection has no restraint
Her lips black from sucking off Truth
She rages against incompletion
Gouges out the hearts of nebulae
Weeps with fury at their reformation

Failure sighs and lights a cigarette
Her fishnets round her ankles again
Her blueblack hair dye wearing thin
A broken-spined volume of unfinished poems
Her thoughts are strewn to the five corners

My love for her is a rusted razor
I stalk Perfection to kill time
The madman tells the fool but the fool won't listen
'This is God's shit. Take it, someday it'll be worth something'

10:42 am: I am moving from excess to groundlessness. Excess by implication suggests limits (something to exceed). Bataille. Terrific, all that talk of rupture and sacrifice, but you're left with ibruprofen and the dread concrecity of sweat on the pillow. Then should I add Varela to my interests? Get caught up in a lot of sad, pussyfooting 'satificiers', moulder in the void?

How good it is to drink coffee, smoke, feel the wisps of stale breeze through the window, and not do what you ought to do, string proper, peer-reviewable sentences together, or at least wrap presents for deserving heroines.

Does anyone want to help me kickstart my indolent arse?

10:02 pm: extraordinary thing...
...how we can be moved and excited by strangers. How feelings can be so mixed, anger and boredom spliced with tenderness, for example, regret with lust, honour (there's an old-fashioned word)with cruelty. How soon its all forgotten this farrago, oneself.

How sad and wonderful and false it all is...

11:07 am: The window's translucent but opaque as far as seeing out is concerned. All but for a small hole in the shape of a cartoon whale about an inch and a half across. By changing my position and looking through this whole I can see exactly what I want, regardless of my mood.

Is "mind" as people like Bateson and Capra argue really immanent in the universe? Yesterday, in a cafe, a girl with one of those fashionable military style jackets and a thin grey scarf she kept over her mouth whenever she wasnt smoking. She was reading too books simultaneously.

My own loyal and generous wife has been exceedingly generous this time. How do I repay. Snapping and retreating to my sanctum and the whale. Yet I think we would both describe ourselves as happier than usual...

Something stretches out & somewhere something else gives. Eddies and whirlpools, but now I must really get to work...

06:35 pm: The flag of accumulation unfurls. Hesitantly I spread myself.

Pronounce myself very satisfied with the paper I've done for Saturday and the collusion between my privacy and need for attention. Still I am sorry that I've lost the facility for switching more quickly from self-evidence to bathing in the congratulations of others.

I am utterly uninterested in Newtonian solutions. Which makes my internal and external consistency all the more enigmatic.

And then there's the last post, the Last Post being the trump of icy hearts?

Approach your fears, the razoredge of risk and satiety...

10:37 pm: Succubi and incubi enter
clasping goblets of pisswater. Is it the King? Every inch, he says, rearing up on his forefingers.

06:38 pm: Dissociative and fugue states
I'd like to know more, currently feel as if I am making it up as I go along.

All in all, the relation of sickness to health, or sense to nonsense for that matter, is -

OK, M. She probably feels I'm trailing away from her. Remorselessly. Yet I have tons and tons of remorse and know where my bread is buttered. Its...

About the smoking thing. Currently wish I was in Greenland or Estonia, where everyone smokes, or at least Fr. or Italy where they do it with grace and a clear conscience.

Its high noon for my heart and lungs. I invent nothing. I did complete an inkspatter painting (on 6" by 4" canvas). Best thing since Rorshach's sliced (or was it diced? brain). Time you thief etc?

I become increasingly intoxicated by this foolery. It steers me away from the idiot bureaucracy I have to negotiate in my (REAL) research. Yet I am slumped in pain, I

Doubtless it'll end like this. Or with a semi colon, a raised eyebrow, clears his throat but never speaks.

You may ignore me unless...

04:48 pm: Curiously...
The fellow from the gas hasn't come yet so I think the possibility of going to the talk about madness near the museum is fading. The light here is bonny and my olive-stained fingers dance across the keys. I am as free as a camel and as randy as a goblet.

Give it to them F.W.J. Schelling:

"Nothing great can be accomplished without a constant solicitation of madness"

Anyway I now intend to resume my pedestrian migraine-artist existence and sit back and wait for the unravelling...

09:27 pm: Have loosened up in the last few hours - its been great to get a couple of replies to my creative smoking survey (SEE BELOW< SEE BELOW)> My heart really warms to commielesgarconschick and that wonderful open italian job. I am such a spritely techophobeaphiliac for my age: I can only do three things at once.

I kiss myself.

You allow me to be poetic...

(Yet there are rules; I am reading the wonderful 1986 (think!) book by Stengers and Prirogine: Order Out of Chaos)
The "wife" is down the rail station working til midnight.

Our cat, von K, is by me: he's a widow.

I'm going to sign off now, my darlings (you are ALL my darlings, every one). Self congratulatory roll up stains fingertips...

06:06 pm: Rusting
So this is "the community"!? Chundering on to myself, approaching the possibly beautiful and the possibly unwise and embarrassingly forgetting whether they were interested in hypnotism, Nietzsche, Frencdh inhaling or all three.

OK, so I am expected to "communicate" something. To offer?! "I am a decadent, I am also its antithesis." Thar's not me of course its FWN in Ecce Homo.

"Know how to forget..." the passage continues. Be strong enough for everything to turn out the best.

I take you in my creaking wooden arms. You seem to smoking more than ever these days, I am dying, as slowly as usual.

Thirsty?

Yes I thirst for the unrealised future.

12:17 pm: Lets be playful...
...about the possibility that anyone viewing this site will start seeing a silhouette of my so-called "character" which is very different to that which looms in the hood and among those nearest and dearest.

A smoke-fetisher interested in Bataille, Foucault, Canguilhem, and Stengers? Surely not.

I am also turned on by the nape of certain persons' necks.

04:58 pm: Calling Cigarette-Smoking Creatives
Hi

I have a serious quasi-scientific interest in finding out more about the connections between moderate to heavy cigarette-smoking and creativity and invention. Viktor von Weizsacker, the German psychoanalyst coined the term "logophania" in suggesting that sometimes some form of "illness" or "personal psychological problem" may be "converted" into a creative or scientific advance. My hunch - based on anecdote and personal experience - is that there is a profound association between creatives' use of nicotine and their intellectual and artistic processes, and I would like to find out more about this.

I would be grateful if anyone aged 18-80 who is a regular smoker - but particularly anyone also involved in artistic or creative activity at an intense level - could respond briefly to the following questions.

AGE? (optional)
GENDER? (optional)
HOW LONG REG. SMOKER?
HOW MANY PER DAY (AVERAGE)?
BRAND(S)?
HOW IF AT ALL DOES YOUR CONSUMPTION RATE CHANGE WHEN INVOLVED IN A CREATIVE OR INTELLECTUAL PROJECT (PLEASE SAY A LITTLE ABOUT THE TYPE OF PROJECT AND THE RELATION WITH TOBACCO CONSUMPTION)?
IF YOU HAVE IN THE PAST QUIT OR REDUCED YOUR CONSUMPTION HOW IF AT ALL DID THIS IMPACT ON YOUR CREATIVE OR INTELLECTUAL WORK ?
WOULD YOU BE PREPARED TO BE CONTACTED AGAIN AND ANSWER SOME MORE DETAILED QUESTIONS ABOUT CIGARETTE SMOKING AND YOUR CREATIVE/INTELLECTUAL WORK?

Thanks all, and keep enjoying the smoke!