I wanted to write. But I could only copy my old stuff.
Copy. Paste. Copy. Paste.
(Toothpaste.)
Carolyn Allen has suggested a form of intertextuality as an erotics of citations, where micro-reading is central. From the view of a lesbian readership, Allen writes in Following Djuna. Women Lovers and the Erotics of Loss (1996) about ”intertextuality as an erotics of citation” (14). Here Allen places citation within the framework of a (queer) desire. In Following Djuna, Allen writes about the tradition and genealogy that she traces to Djuna Barnes Nightwood. It is a tradition of stories about “obsession about the loss of a lover” (2) and the “dark side” of lesbian desire (16). Allen uses the expression “erotics between women” (3) for the cases where lesbianism is not an identity, and she uses a method that (partly) consists of starting from the “'girl's girls' who may also have husbands” and “micro-read only the narratives within each text that engage affective exchanges between women as lovers” (17). Furthermore, Allen writes the reader into the lesbian literary tradition: “In performing it (erotics between women) readers project, identify, remember, imagine, fill in, and reshape ... they are ... both the subjects and objects of textual desire” (11).
What I do with this: finding reading as a sexual practice, finding fantasy, staying in a limited space-time, playing, playing with dark sides like I cannot stand the light as I enlightenment feeling sadness&badness as a joy-joy and erotics repeating citations, following, following.
(Toothpaste.)
Is there a feminism inside an artistic practice based in tiredness?
I’M SO TIRED.
“Following” Allen: I suggest:
Metabolising ideas, and emotions; metabolising with, metabolising against and self-metabolising
mmmmm as a
queer textual-sexual-practice
mmmmm
THIS IS ME:
re-named myself:
my name is Anna. my surname starts with N. putting these together makes “AnnaN” or “Annan” or “annan”, which is the Swedish word for “Other”, which gives it from my name, to my brain, that I have some kind of otherness, that I need to, need to, be with.
because my gender, historically speaking, never quite made it into full humanity, so my allegiance to that category is at best negotiable and never to be taken for granted
(Braidotti, Rosi. Transpositions: on Nomadic Ethics. Cambridge: Polity, 2006, p. 130.)
I read and read. When I read, I am no longer human. I don't have to be. Written language may be typically human, but it doesn't have to be neurotypical. I read and I become a tree. I read and I become a cat. My allies have never been humans. I like people better through their texts than through their presence. During the assessment, the doctor said that social issues are fundamental to an autism diagnosis. But I don't have a problem with social. I am social with my cats and my books, all the time. I don't need others.
the assessment refers to being diagnosed with autism. I do think the autistics will be the people who change the world, because we are already other-worldlings. myself, I monotropically text-flex with language, making me, becoming me, an other-wording.
ME:
i work with TEXT&TEXTILES.
the picture of me is a myriad of embroidery selfies.
the material for the embroideries come from my maternal grand mother ; she gave me all here stuff ; half-finished projects ; i ate them, took them in my mouth, continued, re-worked.
THE WORK OF COMPOST.
THE COMPOST AS COMPOSITION.
I’M SO SORRY.
REPEATING.
I’M SO SORRY.
I’M SO TIRED.
this text is a meditation on:
MY WHOLE (HOLE) PRACTICE. NOTHING CAN BE SEPARATED FROM THE REST.
(RESTING BITCH FACE)
IS THIS
Consumption, food, agricultural, and Anthropocene studies, practices, media, art and design works :
CLICK HERE :
pdf w excert from writing on and trans-lation of auto-auti-theory things... my diary secret never published etc.
(notes in swedish: PÄLS OCH SKAKNINGAR SKÄLVNINGAR… ATT JAG FÖRST LÄSTE DETTA SOM ATT DET VAR ETT EFTERORD EN ANALYS SKRIVEN AV CHRIS SJÄLV, OCH ATT REFERERA TILL SIG SJÄLV SKRIVA OM SIG OM SIG… NGT PERFORMANCE… BLA PÄLSEN…
Att läsa krauss är en arkeologi att läsa sig som arkeolog… inte psykolog!!!
Trans: FUR AND SHAKING TREMORS... THAT I FIRST READ THIS AS AN AFTERWORD TO AN ANALYSIS WRITTEN BY CHRIS HIMSELF, AND TO REFER TO HIMSELF WRITING ABOUT HIMSELF ABOUT HIMSELF... SOME PERFORMANCE... BLAH FUR...
Reading krauss is an archaeology to read yourself as an archaeologist... not a psychologist!!!!)
The archive of self is also a metabolic instance, coming back to stuff left earlier as a coming community, as a not-yet-thing-thinking in the future of the past.
I search my insta history just need to insert a lot of photos of art i once made, repeating repeating.
(media: i have deleted the pictures, i search them in my history, they are deleted as private files, but still alive on public display, i search through my history, finding them, screendumping, emailing them to myself, downloading, uploading, going through through through)
A NOTE:
THE ARCHIVE AS METABOLISTIC.
I am so tired. Thinking about metabolism (I am thinking, in the Night, I am thinking, on the verge of sleeping: I am thinking: is this my Method? I am thinking: Yes.) Chris Krauss comes to mind. I want to cite Mackenzie Wark’s afterword to Torpor (I am too tired, inserting a photo:
EMOTIONAL LEGACY.
TEXT.
TEXTILE.
ILE.
Internetzzzzzzzzzzz tells me :
Compost is organic material that can be added to soil to help plants grow12. It is made from food scraps and yard waste, which currently make up more than 30 percent of what we throw away and could be composted instead1. Making compost keeps these materials out of landfills where they take up space and release methane, a potent greenhouse gas1.
Learn more:
I WRITE:
COMPOST AS COMPOSITION.
I AM THRIVING IN THE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS.
MY TEXTUAL COMPOSITION AS FOOD SCRAPS & YARD WASTE
(a note on translation: the Danish word for “yard” is “have” which is soooo similar to the Swedish word “hav” or “havet” : which means: “(the) ocean/sea” : which means, in my Nordic context there is always a confusuion whether we are moving in the garden or the sea: I THINK IT’S MARVELOUS!)
QUESTION:
Who could under-stand the composition of a compost as an actual and valid composition of a text?
My friend writes to me from the psychward:
It tastes like COMPOST.
I feel like COMPOST.
I think she mean, the feeling of being waste.
I try to com-fort:
You know, on medication that heavy, your body is soo much poison. If you where a non-human animal, you know, your body could never become meat. You know, it’s a think when it comes to horses and horse meat, difficult to find good horse meat these day they say, because all horses are so taken-cared-offff through drugs etc etc, especially race horses....
Try to think of when the body has a value: as dead or alive...
Want to write something about MY WHOLE PRACTICE
As compost
As reuse, crafts
Building up from others (Other???)
Reusing texts, quoting oneself.
WRITE ABOUT RISK??