I've been posting some minor content over here

https://www.instagram.com/charlie.sofo/

"This is why in the Arab tradition agent intellect has the form of an angel whose name is Qalam, Pen, and its place is an unfathomable potentiality. Bartleby, a scribe who does not simple cease writing but "prefers not to," is the extreme image of this angel that writes nothing but its potentiality to not-write"

From The Coming Community

"a practice of attentive care against the world that engenders the destruction of its vital subjects."

The internet is a red hot intimate form of communication. At the gym I hear people complimenting the class instructor because he doesn't have a phone or facebook account (though his wife does so the question remains, does she do this work on his behalf?).

Link: women were the first computers https://www.jstor.org/stable/25147356?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents

My uncle gave me some of his old leather jackets. They fit me perfectly. If you know me then you know I'm pretty small, which maybe runs in the family. I used to believe that I had purposely made myself small, that years of hard concentration and focus had produced the shape of my current form.

🎵He would see faces in movies, on T.V., in magazines, and in books...
He thought that some of these faces might be right for him...
And through the years, by keeping an ideal facial structure fixed in his mind...
Or somewhere in the back of his mind...
That he might, by force of will, cause his face to approach those of his ideal...
The change would be very subtle...It might take ten years or so...
Gradually his face would change its' shape...
A more hooked nose...wider, thinner lips...beady eyes...a larger forehead.
He imagined that this was an ability he shared with most other people...
They had also molded their faced according to some ideal...🎵


In the 90s there was this real surge in interest in Aliens, both in the mythological sense and their actuality—I'm thinking here of the SETI program that was (and continues to) scan the cosmos for 'intelligent' electromagnetic radiation. I thought it was funny how some of the intelligible signals we  found during this search were our own TV broadcasts from the 50s and 60s–– that had literally bounced back from some distant celestial body. It made me think of the universe as this cosmic hard-drive that is always moving and never forgetting. Or never moving and always forgetting.

I'm listening to the music that my crushes are listening to.

Have you ever wondered if sincerity is just a form? I've been hearing the very low hum of the World Cup emanating from different places and spaces this past month. I'm never sure where it's coming from and I haven't bothered to find out what it's all about. It sounds like a distant echo from another world

"Therefore, it was an engagement with that part of deconstruction, which looked at what is excluded when we construct systems. That part of deconstruction which said the best way to proceed is a very robust self-critique. And that part of deconstruction which said that you do not accuse what you are deconstructing. You enter it. Remember that critical intimacy? And you locate a moment where the text teaches you how to turn it around and use it. So this had become part of my way of moving. So clearly, there was a connection. But one thing I’ve never done is apply theory. Theorizing is a practice. It becomes internalized. You are changed in your thinking and that shows in your work. So that’s what happened."

There are traditional burial practices that entail burying treasures and valuables with the dead. The British, Dutch, French are known to have pillaged graves all over the world. Colonialism is this exercise in mass theft and enslavement, extraction of natural resources; a literal pillaging of the dead. Whatever isn't bolted down is stolen in broad daylight, what is buried can be blasted and excavated.

The Wealthy Are Hoarding $10 Billion of Bitcoin in Bunkers

In a Swiss military bunker there is 10 billion dollars of bitcoin stored on computers unconnected to the internet. It's weird to think about this sarcophagus or grave to wealth – no deities other than paranoid accumulation, not even a lifeline to another breathing entity. Just giga-bits of death.

I picked a flower this morning that was growing next to a fig tree. It's the beginning of winter. I wondered to myself, what is this. This afternoon I saw a film and spotted it in one of the scenes…I found out it's Lantana, a noxious weed. The flowers come in different colours, the ones I picked are red.

Recently my name and email found their way into spam networks. I’ve received emails from myself as spam. It's a shock to see my own reflection as an automated bot, a mass of self replicating content... but maybe it's good that my name has been fractured and exploded into many pieces (and purposes) instead of being associated with one thing (me).

When the fridge motor goes to sleep it shuts off with a small vibration which causes the bottles in the fridge to rattle gently.

Being a troll is unavoidable, consciously or unconsciously. Just making any old peep, any old sound is spamming up the feed.

every nerve is rubbed raw...

Recently is a word I say all the time. I think too. Seems also. 

Dabbling in Tarot, every card I seem to draw recently seems to be colossally bad.