In my writing I am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas, to use the phrase of Mr Alexander Trocchi, as a cosmonaut of inner space, and I see no point in exploring areas that have already been thoroughly surveyed—A Russian scientist has said: "We will travel not only in space but in time as well—" That is to travel in space is to travel in time—If writers are to travel in space time and explore areas opened by the space age, I think they must develop techniques quite as new and definite as the techniques of physical space travel—Certainly if writing is to have a future it must at least catch up with the past and learn to use techniques that have been used for some time past in painting, music and film—Mr Lawrence Durrell has led the way in developing a new form of writing with time and space shifts as we see events from different viewpoints and realize that so seen they are literally not the same events, and that the old concepts of time and reality are no longer valid—Brion Gysin, an American painter living in Paris, has used what he calls "the cut-up method" to place at the disposal of writers the collage used in painting for fifty years—Pages of text are cut and rearranged to form new combinations of word and image—In writing my last two novels, Nova Express and The Ticket That Exploded, I have used an extension of the cut-up method I call "the fold-in method"—A page of text—my own or someone else's—is folded down the middle and placed on another page—The composite text is then read across half one text and half the other—The fold-in method extends to writing the flashback used in films, enabling the writer to move backward and forward on his time track—For example I take page one and fold it into page one hundred—I insert the resulting composite as page ten—When the reader reads page ten he is flashing forward in time to page one hundred and back in time to page one—the deja vu phenomenon can so be produced to order—This method is of course used in music, where we are continually moved backward and forward on the time track by repetition and rearrangements of musical themes—
In using the fold-in method I edit, delete and rearrange as in any other method of composition—I have frequently had the experience of writing some pages of straight narrative text which were then folded in with other pages and found that the fold-ins were clearer and more comprehensible than the original texts— Perfectly clear narrative prose can be produced using the fold-in method—Best results are usually obtained by placing pages dealing with similar subjects in juxtaposition—
What does any writer do but choose, edit and rearrange material at his disposal?—The fold-in method gives the writer literally infinite extension of choice—Take for example a page of Rimbaud folded into a page of St John Perse—(two poets who have much in common)—From two pages an infinite number of combinations and images are possible—The method could also lead to a collaboration between writers on an unprecedented scale to produce works that were the composite effort of any number of writers living and dead—This happens in fact as soon as any writer starts using the fold-in method—I have made and used fold-ins from Shakespeare, Rimbaud, from newspapers, magazines, conversations and letters so that the novels I have written using this method are in fact composites of many writers—
I would like to emphasize that this is a technique and like any technique will, of course, be useful to some writers and not to others—In any case a matter for experimentation not argument— The conferring writers have been accused by the press of not paying sufficient attention to the question of human survival—In Nova Express (reference is to an exploding planet) and The Ticket That Exploded, I am primarily concerned with the question of survival—with nova conspiracies, nova criminals, and nova police—A new mythology is possible in the space age where we will again have heroes and villains with respect to intentions toward this planet--
Notes on These Pages
To show "the fold-in method" in operation I have taken the two texts I read at The Writers' Conference and folded them into newspaper articles on The Conference, The Conference Folder, typed out selections from various writers, some of whom were present and some of whom were not, to form a composite of many writers living and dead: Shakespeare, Samuel Beckett, T. S. Eliot, F. Scott Fitzgerald, William Golding, Alexander Trocchi, Norman Mailer, Colin Maclnnes, Hugh MacDiarmid.
Mr. Bradly-Mr. Martin, in my mythology, is a God that failed, a God of Conflict in two parts so created to keep a tired old show on the road, The God of Arbitrary Power and Restraint, Of Prison and Pressure, who needs subordinates, who needs what he calls "his human dogs" while treating them with the contempt a con man feels for his victims—But remember the con man needs the Mark—The Mark does not need the con man—Mr BradlyMr Martin needs his "dogs" his "errand boys" his "human animals"—He needs them because he is literally blind. They do not need him. In my mythological system he is overthrown in a revolution of his "dogs"—"Dogs that were his eyes shut off Mr Bradly-Mr Martin."
"The ticket that exploded posed little time so I'll say good night."
bath cubicle . . . lapping water over the concrete floor . .. pants slide . .. twisting thighs . . . penny arcades of an old dream . . . played the flute, shirt flapping down the cool path ... on the 30th of July a distant room left no address . .. sleep breath . . . pale dawn wallpaper . . . faded morning ... a place forgotten ... a young man is dust and shredded memories naked empty a dingdong bell.. . what in St Louis after September? . . . curtains . .. red light. . . blue eyes in the tarnished mirror pale fingers fading from ruined suburbs . .. fingers light and cold pulled up his pants . .. dark pipes call #23 ... you touched from frayed jacket masturbated under thin pants . . . cracked pavements . . . sharp fish smells and dead eyes in doorways . . . soccer scores . . . the rotting kingdom . . . ghost hands at the paneless cafe . ..
"Like good-by, Johnny. On the 30th of July death left no address."
outskirts of the city . . . bare legs hairs . .. lunar fingers light and cold . . . distant music under the slate roof . . . soccer scores .. . the street blew rain . . . dawn shadow . . .
"Like good-by, Johnny."
cold blue room . .. distant music on the wind . . . tarnished mirror in the bath cubicle young face lapping water . . . red light . .. felt his pants slide . . . twisting thighs . . . street dust on bare leg hairs . . . open shirt. .. city sounds under the slate roof . .. played the flute with fingers fading . .. the street blew rain . .. pale smell of dawn in the door . . . played the flute with fingers light and cold . . . dark pipes left no address . . . sleep breath under the slate roof . . . silence ebbing from rose wallpaper ... outskirts of the city masturbated under thin pants ten-year-old keeping watch . . . outside East St. Louis . . . cracked pavement. .. sharp scent of weeds . . . faded khaki pants . . . soccer scores .. . the driver shrugged . .. violence roared past the Cafe de France ... he dressed hastily shirt flapping . . .
"Like good-by, Johnny."
wind through the curtains .. . bare iron frame of a dusty bed ... in the tarnished mirror dead eyes of an old dream and the dreamer gone at dawn shirt. . . takes his way toward the sea breath of the trade winds on his face open shirt flapping.. . cool path from ruined suburbs . . . stale memories . . . excrement mixed with flowers ... fly full of dust pulled up his pants . . . birdcalls . . . lapping water ... a distant cool room ... leg hairs rub rose wallpaper . . . pale dawn shirt in the door . . . sharp smell of weeds .. . you touched frayed jacket. .. mufflers . . . small pistols . . . quick fires from bits of driftwood . .. fish smells and dead eyes in doorways ... a place forgotten . .. the ancient rotting kingdom . . . ghost hands at paneless windows . .. dust and shredded memories of war and death . . . petrified statues in a vast charred plain . . .
in a rubbish heap to the sky Metal chess determined gasoline fires and smoke in motionless air—Smudge two speeds—DSL walks "here" beside me on extension lead from hairless skull— Flesh-smeared recorder consumed by slow metal fires—Dog-proof room important for our "oxygen" lines—Group respective recorder layout--"Throw the gasoline on them" determined the life form we invaded: insect screams—I woke up with "marked for invasion" recording set to run for as long as phantom "cruelties" are playing back while waiting to pick up Eduardo's "corrupt" speed and volume variation Madrid—Tape recorder banks tumescent flesh—Our mikes planning speaker stood there in 1910 straw word—Either way is a bad move to The Biologic Stairway—-The whole thing tell you—No good—No bueno outright or partially— The next state walking in a rubbish heap to Form A—Form A directs sound channels heat—White flash mangled down to a form of music—Life Form A as follows was alien focus—Broken pipes refuse "oxygen"—Form A parasitic wind identity fading out— "Word falling—Photo falling" flesh-smeared counterorders—determined by last Electrician—Alien mucus cough language learned to keep all Board Room Reports waiting sound formations—Alien mucus tumescent code train on Madrid—Convert in "dirty pictures S"—simple repetition—Whole could be used as model for a bad move—Better than shouts: "No good—No bueno"--
excerpt from the book: THE THIRD MIND by William S. Burroughs and Brion Gysin
Speculating Freedom: Addiction, Control and Rescriptive Subjectivity in the Work of William S. Burroughs
Jose Rosales - ON THE END OF HISTORY & THE DEATH OF DESIRE (NOTES ON TIME AND NEGATIVITY IN BATAILLE’S ‘LETTRE Á X.’)
Jose Rosales - BERGSONIAN SCIENCE-FICTION: KODWO ESHUN, GILLES DELEUZE, & THINKING THE REALITY OF TIME
Obsolete Capitalism - THE STRONG OF THE FUTURE. NIETZSCHE’S ACCELERATIONIST FRAGMENT IN DELEUZE AND GUATTARI’S ANTI-OEDIPUS
Obsolete Capitalism - Acceleration, Revolution and Money in Deleuze and Guattari's Anti-OEdipus (Part 1)
Obsolete Capitalism - Acceleration, Revolution and Money in Deleuze and Guattari's Anti-OEdipus (Part 2)
Obsolete Capitalism: Acceleration, Revolution and Money in Deleuze and Guattari's Anti-OEdipus (Part 3)
Obsolete Capitalism - Acceleration, Revolution and Money in Deleuze and Guattari's Anti-OEdipus (Part 4)
Obsolete Capitalism: Acceleration, Revolution and Money in Deleuze and Guattari's Anti-OEdipus (Part 5)
Steven Craig Hickman - David Roden and the Posthuman Dilemma: Anti-Essentialism and the Question of Humanity
Steven Craig Hickman - The Carnival of Globalisation: Hyperstition, Surveillance, and the Empire of Reason
Steven Craig Hickman - Shaviro On The Neoliberal Strategy: Transgression and Accelerationist Aesthetics
Steven Craig Hickman - Hyperstition: Technorevisionism – Influencing, Modifying and Updating Reality
Terence Blake - CONCEPTS OUT OF THE SHADOWS: Notes on Deleuze and Guattari’s “What is Philosophy?” (2)
Terence Blake - GUATTARI’S LINES OF FLIGHT (2): transversal vs transferential approaches to the reading contract
Himanshu Damle - Games and Virtual Environments: Playing in the Dark. Could These be Havens for Criminal Networks?
Himanshu Damle - Hegelian Marxism of Lukács: Philosophy as Systematization of Ideology and Politics as Manipulation of Ideology.
Nick Land - The unconscious is not an aspirational unity but an operative swarm, a population of 'preindividual and prepersonal singularities'