Memorial to Vorteporius the Protector

Guortepir the Protector

Votecorigas the Protector





I N . V I C T I . XIV IX . J V L I V S .




Mon Feb 7 12:56:27 EST 2000 those were the travels. those gave me to you, took my l[mbs through the w[res, you would see my mouth emerge from your own. beyond the Sector, the ]nterval. my mouth speaks ]nterval th[s gap or fence, th[s d[v[s[on among us. debr[s aga[nst ]nterval: understand th[s and you understand our cond[t[on [n these d[ff[cult t[mes. the closer to noth[ng, the greater the no[se. my mouth tr[es to tell you th[s, my eyes try to see th[s; through you, my corrugated f[ngert[ps, my l[mbs th[n and shr[veled by the w[res. Mon Feb 7 13:02:37 EST 2000 0000203 22:08:00 /usr/b[n/rz -vv -b -E Mon Feb 7 13:02:58 EST 2000 Mon Feb 7 12:56:36 EST 2000 20000204 18:44:16 /usr/b[n/rz -vv -b -E

Mon Feb 7 12:56:36 EST 2000 17:13:08 /usr/b[n/sz -vv -b zzMon Feb 7 12:56:36 EST 2000 20000207 00:54:32 /usr/b[n/sz -vv -b zz Mon Feb 7 12:56:36 EST 2000 on th[s s[de of the ]nterval, debr[s; [t flusters aga[nst [nv[s[ble walls; [t cr[es out soundlessly. my mouth travels through your speaker, th[ck l[ps pressed aga[nst cloth. lymph-words sp[ll out, [ want to tell you about the ]nterval. [ am mov[ng through the Sector, always [n w[th- drawal. Mon Feb 7 12:59:41 EST 2000 return[ng shr[veled, corrugated f[ng- ert[ps, as [f too much water. you take me [n. outs[de there are flash[ng l[ghts; [ send my eyes to you, now they press glass. [ am your flat world, my body crawls aga[nst the screen; [ almost forget debr[s, [t's every- where, [ can't make out anyth[ng, [t's cutt[ng [nto me, [t's you, [t's you, [t's you, th[s Monday Feb 7 13:01:02 EST 2000 20000203 22:09:22 /usr/b[n/sz -vv -b zz Mon Feb 7 13:02:58 EST 2000 Mon Feb 7 13:02:58 EST 2000 controls, can't speak


you may talk with others and you may talk and talk, and they may hear you. they will lovingly listen to your talking, and they will talk with you. and your eyes may be bright and open and innocent, and their eyes will meet yours with longing and kindness. you may smile at them, knowing your smile goes deep into them, that they smile back with gratitude and love. you may turn towards them and with them you may face the new day, and the sun rising above the trees and the mountains, and the pure fog lifting into the pure air, and a delicate light bathing all, and the birds singing. you may sing with them, and laugh, your laughter bringing tears of joy, and you may share these tears of joy with your friends, laughing and smiling. you may hold the hands of your friends, and you may put your arms around them, and they will hold you, and they will hold you, until the hurt goes all away. your friends may hold you, until the hurt disappears, until your tears are gone, until your smile is so deep it will remain always and forever. you will be so happy, and your friends will be so happy. you will be so very happy, and your friends will be so very happy, and the sun will rise ever so slightly, and there will be a cool morning light, and the birds singing and wondrous clouds in the sky.


The Following from the diary texts:

Monday the 27th towards evening; my mother should be all right, the pet- scan came out negative, meaning the cancer is just in the lungs and ad- renal gland. Hopefully the surgery a week from now will take care of things; it's been a harrowing period. I'm still working on renegading texts from the misc. directory - writing them from notes, from pieces of things.

Tue Oct 5 23:12:43 EDT 1999 right now when I begin to write; I've been worried about my mother all day long, the operation was a success, there may be trouble with her lymph nodes and I'm upset, we won't have the results until Friday.

Tomorrow we find out the _condition_ of my mother, what the tests will show, the biopsies, etc., and I'm unable to sleep or think properly. On top of this, I pulled my neck out a few days ago, and can't keep my head upright - I'm more aware than ever of the _weight of the nub_ that char- acterizes the top of the body. So I've been using a heating pad, taking (at night late) tylenol, etc., trying to take of the problem - which doesn't seem to be working.

Sun Oct 10 00:09:15 EDT 1999 Just turning, the news from my family has suddenly reversed as well, my mother getting better, health on the way for real. And I'm confused in the face of my traditional pessimisms but glad I'm proved for wrong for once.

My family is getting healthier, but we've been dealing with very heavy other problems today, and on top of that I feel physically ill. I think it's one of my periodic body failures screaming at me to slow down...

now the 18th of this month of December and a dark night / flurries out in deed. Everything I do ends with ellipsis and regret.

Life is suffering existence, existence is life suffering, but without nir- vana or satori, there are desolate plains at the very end, and desolate planets. Here I can say it, she's dying, I can say it here, near the end of the diary, through my tears, it may be a few months more. There were phonecalls all over the place tonight. I can't think straight. I was going to write intelligently here, but I can't. I can't write intelligently about much of anything.

We had ups and downs for months and months now, at least since the end of August. It's been awful. Cancer spreads like violent animals hysteric and rabid, coursing wherever they can, inordinately stupid animals, brainless and without a thought. Cancer falls to the weakest failing organs. Cancer is attacked by equally violent and all-encompassing onslaught; the body is caught between therapies and dis/ease and there's no escape.

I feel jobless, unstable, caught with these miseries, too much to deal with at the moment. Things will straighten out; I expect myself to be alive a year from now, say. But it's a question of always crawling, crawling.

You're born into brilliance and wonder in the world with your mouth open for the breast and your eyes learning the amazing senses that can be made of flows and fluids, and you live through incredible hardenings and the naming of things and occurrences. You skip and throw balls and these things, THINGS make parabolas in the sky that your arm adjusts to. You can search out holes and the levels beneath things - tables, couches. You stare at the sun case you're not supposed to and you walk away unblinded.

I want always already to return to the beginning, start anew, without these regrets, somehow with an incredible / impossible knowledge, so that I will avoid pitfalls, hurting myself and others, mainly hurting myself, knowing the impossibility of that, everything hard like rocks and stones are hard, obdurate, transparent to the dark matter of the cosmos

For we are all blown skeins of ghosts looking at other ghosts here and elsewhere, desperate to hold onto the ontology of the proper name, those very few moments of exhileration we're privileged to hold onto in our lives. And in the meantime, we're hurting, hurting, hurling towards a common destination.

Tue Feb 29 23:50:48 EST 2000 And we shall close this down so very soon, and my mother, my mother -

Tue Feb 29 23:57:10 EST 2000 Just a few minutes to go on the residency and I'm typing away, most of what I'm feeling is in regard to this and my mother's illness, which has taken a terrible turn for the worse. I keep thinking, harping on that, wanting a nest like the starlings outside our window... It's a way, as I said, to keep the demons at bay, not the literal ones, but the feeling of such. I can't think straight; too much is going on...


all this traffic backwards and forwards /usr/bin/rz -vv -b -E

shuttling packets with similar names /usr/bin/sz -vv -b zz

you might never know what you'll find /usr/bin/sz -vv -b

en it's a grid or raster, its cultural production /usr/bin/sz -vv -b ww

you can hear the sound of the shuttle /usr/bin/rz -vv -b -E

operations are closely watched /usr/bin/sz -vv -b zz

control is all the way down to the singular bit /usr/bin/sz -vv -b zz

these things occur in place, following each other /usr/bin/sz -vv -b yy

they move cleanly, screaming network! network! /usr/bin/sz -vv -b ar

they move in absolute silence /usr/bin/sz -vv -b zz

perhaps the wires are slightly heated, charred /usr/bin/sz -vv -b yy

anything could be moving here, just anything /usr/bin/sz -vv -b zz

when i turn my neck i hear bones grating /usr/bin/sz -vv -b ba


home you may decide to visit your homeland, you may try and read the code. you may type nervously, there are beautiful clouds in the sky, pink-yellow, scudding into darkness upwelling. you know how little you understand, what you do and how you do it. you may decide to open your mouth, your mouth takes in all languages of the world, you may decide to close it, you may hear yourself, you may hear yourself speaking, how little you understand, chop($that=<stdin>>);=~ tr/aeiou/$alphabet($alpha)/;print "\nthis $that speeds endlessly through the body - \n";t "your $nnn[$nnnn] is the curr- ency of my drug - \n"; sleep(1);print "ah...\n";print "\nyour bones are my $nnn[$non1]? \n";chop($str=<stdin>>);($str eq "no") {print "\nshow me my body, show me my wetware...\n"; sleep(10); gotolse {print "\ni love your feelings, $that ...\n";}, you may find yourself loving nothing, you may write this as a note to yourself, you may think to yourself, there is little else in this world, there is nothing in these and other worlds, you may look at yourself with a microscope and an x-ray, you may examine your- self with an mrs and an eeg. and you may translate images, you may trans- late pages of writing, you may see your molecules with your own eyes in the comfort of your study. and you may sleep a long sleep, you may live in your bones, you may change into your drugs, you may swallow yourse lf, you may inject yourself,

and then you may find yourself, you may find yourself visiting your home-

land, you may live within the comfort zone, you may find yourself home.


I am the psychotherapist. Please, describe your problems.

Each time you are finished talking, type RET twice.

we are together in this place

i want to scratch and claw my face

i want to tear this skin from bone

i want to travel kill and roam

to want is fury and to take

to kill the want so peace to make

if peace is made my hands are clean

in this dead world men are obscene

health doctor is for you not me

my life won't end so peacefully

i want to scratch those violent eyes

that tend to catch me by surprise

i take my nails against my face

my eyes shall never have a place

there are no plans no homes no love

my eyes are gouged and blind above love

can't been seen so that my eyes

have seen the last of human skies

i cannot tell and cannot speak

i am the purest of the meek

i am the purest of the mind

i've left my sight and love behind

behind this world and any other

behind all humans and their bothers

i want to tear away the clothes and mask

that covers us, no easy task

i wanted to almost from birth

when i could see the filthy earth

i stormed myself and everyone

at first with rocks and then with guns

my life is gone, there's nothing left

of all my senses, sight's bereft

my friends were taken by surprise

i took my love, gave them my eyes

so many weapons, doctor, here,

i'm stopping here, be of no fear

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