2OFOOTNOTES TO A BRIEF HISTORY OF OUR DISASTER’S BANAL PATH

⁽⁰⁾ The Path’s quite Banal History, which Destines us all Towards a Disaster

⁽¹⁾ And there it Is: Pissing all over my Speech

⁽²⁾ As If: She Felt this Message:--------àPeriod

⁽³⁾ I Figure Whether I am Aging and Whether could: “Could Not Be”

⁽⁴⁾ The Approach to Finding another Way of Saying this Becomes the Seeking of a Historical Record of fucking Repetitions

⁽⁵⁾ Which is no Joking-Matter

⁽⁶⁾ This is to Establish the Presence of the Lover who has yet to Discover its Other

⁽⁷⁾ There is a Sense here of just This: your Body, Disclosed, and then Erased, in Remiss

⁽⁸⁾ See: Never having Arrived, nor having Become, nor having Gone, is like being Previous to some Parallel Accident that Embodies neither Horror, a Disaster, or Applause, However: I am still Left, Simply, with this Overwhelming Desire to Prolong it all.

⁽⁹⁾ “…was the Cheer, and its Actual Fact…”

⁽¹⁰⁾ Once on the EL Train, He shares, to a Greater Extent, that Collective Itch of City living, that in another Life, He so sore (-ily) Deplored; it was this Reverse of Delight, in his Body, that Oddly, gave Him a Present Delight: this Gross use of His Body Seized in the Exercise, of “Pulling-Away” just to Pull the easily Avoidable, Closer within Him

⁽¹¹⁾ More than Anything Else: it is the Tension that Builds Inside, because One------------------à“Might Regret…”

⁽¹²⁾ In my own Way, I am my Greatest Scrutiny

⁽¹³⁾ And just As: Someone in Desire, doesn’t Necessarily Achieve (Possess) Desire, so too is the Absurdity of the Thought: “through Inexhaustible Measures of Will, You Will never, even in the Face of Pleasure, Achieve what it Means to finally Attain the Transformation of Desire (in)to Pleasure and thus, in a Sick-Little-Way, You will never Exit Desire, which Means, in a Traditional Sense: one will never actually, Arrive at Meaning

⁽¹⁴⁾ “For as long as my Bones last…” She Said.

⁽¹⁵⁾ However: “I Make no Pleasure in Complexity…” He Said

⁽¹⁶⁾ I Want to Say: “I like the Idea that I Shall Stop”

⁽¹⁷⁾ But let’s Say this: “Probably fucking Not…”

⁽¹⁸⁾ Regardless: My Body shall Expand and I do not Mean this City

⁽¹⁹⁾ And there is Something else, Entirely Enticing: the Contradiction of the Disaster itself: Suspending before our very Present, as if, it were never going to Occur, until it does, until it Manifest itself, like “A Little-Boy Curled-Up” and Slowly Opening, into a Vacuum of its own Concentrated Destruction, which in Turn, Unravels as a Shriek of Pleasure, as if: an Excessive Frenzy of a Display of Bottled-Up-Love, which Some, Might Comprehend, as Unbridled Rage

⁽²⁰⁾ “And Baby Girl: this is a Simple enough Operation, when your Forehead is Against the Wall”