inhumanity, with image

jacques ranciere uses the word "inhumanity" to describe the event — and the inadequacy of the word to the sublimity of the event can be supplemented. but with what? — with the image. here is the image whose primary function is to say: it happened. digital media has destroyed this "having-been-there-ness," as roland barthes would put it, indexical guarantee of the image, but i promise you: it has been there. i think abjection, in the way kristeva describes it, as the ejection of reason and form, simple systematicity, from the present — as the mechanism which sustains the order of the system in the abjection of otherness to sustain the structure — my point is: abjection is the proper word to describe the sign plot. the sign is the abject which has been rejected from the system of desire in order to sustain the entire system, starbucks as a perfectly useful sign itself of the everyday banality of order. but take a look for yourself — its signature unsigned — but in delay, on this site — the beauty of the sign is precisely its abjection, it survives, as the outside to and simultaneously center of the structure. he must have been terrorized, instantly. you're welcome —

witty, disarming.

instructive.

plain.

in a barren wasteland, a direct address to another human.

clipped by nature.

the sign plot was well thought out, and it was well executed. it is a gift, both for me and for him. peter will enjoy these shots, and i will return to them later. the sign is charming, in its context, which is the proper place for the sign. the sign illuminates the context, and the scene can only wonder, aghast, but with amusement: how did i not already destroy this sign? the yoruba will like it — perhaps inspire ceasefire?

love andy

the worst part: i almost refused to take the shots, just to sustain the singularity of the abjection, to be in fidelity with ranciere's thesis. but, as he also maintains, in the midst of the ecstatic — which this most certainly is — the image can help frame the insufficiency of my keyboard strokes — of all of this, and the rest.

fyi, miss lincoln, nebraska — i don't drink and i'm not starting up again for you. i'll meet you at the motel 6 across from the ihop off state street — but don't expect me to pay for the room: my business account is on tender, bender, fender, & lender, llc.

again, are you hot? cock pic?