One day

--One day she said to me as she was grabbing me by the
shoulder and insisting she was the son of M. Foucault and sexing me and
criming me and making me cosmic dexire and desire I read this on a wall in
a city not far long from here Where things and wires played:

She said I am Stone and ANN
-- THINK --

We do not want to sell you anything for you have already bought
into everything. In a search for identity in modernity you have misplaced
your existence preferring a social-commercial herd. Instead of
`perceiving' what is, you prefer to simply `see' what is not. The
interlocutors have ceased to be doors to other dimensions and openings to
a different sediment of meanings in language. Moreover, the interest in an
authentic life has been surpassed for the passive ease of the social
This is not being written as a self-righteous script. This passage
is meant as a reminder, to those who care, that true existence of the self
should be found `'within.' This 'within' ableit a 'within' that
communicates with others, should be an expression of the self.
The true oddity of another does not rest in a peculiar nose or
mismatched appearance. This social pinball has enslaved our mental
conceptualizations which 'invisibles' players. It is the medicine that
cures the ailment and not the pink capsule.
Is it really the name Tide, Crest, Hilfiger, and Polo that shape
your world? Did the name Titanic on the side of a boat create an excellent
internal structure?

************ Having seen that on the side of a wall somewhere with
a paper which held the words, she sexed me somemore. Somemore whore I was
to her words which swerved past the seventh anxiety of the self. I
reached for her cock, and said I am him Leonard of the dextrous wonder,
sondaughter of Michel F.OU.Cault proof of desire and laminations. ANd thus
was my name as
I was sold into slavery then at that time. Then. It was no. fun.


Clifford Duffy @COpyright 1999.
Fictions of Deleuze and Guattari.

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