CLUSTER PRAXIS, 2000 TEXT IN ORDER OF OCCURRENCE:SECTION 1:

QUOTE #1 (Anonymous graffiti in Paris 68):
"Order in the streets makes for disorder in our minds"

QUOTE #2 (Michel de Certeau):
".....social despair restores imagination to power within solitary dreams" SECTION 2:

QUOTE #3 (J. Kristeva):
"For the speaking being life is a meaningful life
—life is even the apogee of meaning.
When meaning shatters, life no longer matters" SECTION 3:

MAIN MONOLOGUE (Knut Åsdam):
.Assimilated, into this corner of smart conduct
No corporate slave, no —no freespinning like a twelve-inch
cutting time into fissures,
—enunciative ones of here, where you would have expected me —or him.
Assimilated as before, I am speaking with the city.
No one knows yet, no one will know after this fact
—women’s time, simultaneity of body,
—hysterical time, just as you are perhaps making your
machinery work in your time over there.
You my friend, are as beautiful, —simultaneity did you say?
Six times over I think I have cast a spell
—you were there, I heard your funk-talk assimilating again.
This would have come here for us before—smooching into space
as some chick-talk, —but empty cup we shall know her as.
You were dressed like you have not come here before,
—mounting,
but I am not going to talk about this rift,
lost in-between the abyss and the striated.
To cast a spell on a city, —a sentence or an enunciation
written as fragments around the streets
—a secret pact with the city's unconscious.
Assimilated and stoned, the city reads me but it is spelled,
—or as someone else would say: As long as it lasts.
To do a reading on a city's subconscious,
to read its faith, —to read its psychic makeup,
remaining in loops subdivided by time.
—we were here once, dancing, welcome
—an arrogance turned back
Like graffiti turning a cycle onto your lines,
you've become aged, again —lost grace
—without pleasure, trifling
Six billion cells clustering for the idea of identity—
—still in love, no way to understand the distinction
between idea and cluster material;
You yourself as clustermachine lovermachine—objected self
self-cluster, body-cluster, speeding through my veins—speeding through your veins
—your cells speeding, your back handling
tons of pressure, —your hands extending to the next room
—from which you can touch, clipped, shot, —undone:
Like a trifler shunning himself—known and deleted,
like an insertion of love, —a cluster of skin.
Lust, I still want all kind of things;
plateau to roll on, spaces to be walked—experienced,
clustermachineI came here wanting you, not knowing that you had some weird shit in your dream-stream and some even denser stuff in your concept-machine!
—What is new with this is after all only the dialogue—you've seen the rest before:
The start was entropic, but with a flipside of flows, streams and me opening more than I can remember having done.
But this is transtopia—a stasis of euro, and a bit of an am-stasis too,