vaggelas wrote

tek

Τηλεπικοινωνιακα αφοριζει η κοινωνια (μας) τις ωρες.

Τεκει υδρατμους η απωλεια και οπωσδηποτε μυριζει οπως οι ταξιανθιες της γλυσινας σε πληρη οργασμο.

Το iter επιτελους θα σωσει την κρεουργημενη φυση (μας) χα χα και παλι χα.

Τερματικα κονιορτοποιουν την ημιλιποθυμη ελπιδα της παρεας και φουσκωνουν απο περηφανεια τον τιμαριθμο. Πως μυριζει ενα λαμπερο emoticon και πως μυριζουν τα μαλλια της Μυρσινης; Εεε;

Το δευτερο βημα του index ειναι πιο αβεβαιο απ' το πρωτο.
Τυποις αναλλοιωτοι οι drogatek, αφου ο αυτοσχεδιαμος τους προυποθετει αποσαθρωση. Εχεις φαει ποτε φραουλες με μακαρονια;

Ο ι τσιγκ ελεγε οτι προυποθεση της οποιασδηποτε προοδου ειναι η καταστροφη. Τα κυματα θα πνιξουν την στερια και μετα παλι απ την αρχη. Εξοριστοι απ τις παιδικες τους ηλικιες, μεταναστες στιγμων,μια παρεα στην οποια τα βλεμματα συναντιουνται μονο διαθλαστικα. Μια παρεα οπου ο αυτοανακλαστικος στοχασμος ειναι η λεζαντα της. Τωρα θα μου πειτε οτι μερικες φορες ακομα και οι πλανητες ακραγγιζονται αλλα μπρος στα καλλη τι ειν'ο πονος;

Το 'σχεδον' τελειο ειναι παντοτε ομορφοτερο του τελειου. Τηλεοραση εντωμεταξυ ρυμουλκει την συμφορα απο κλουβι σε κλουβι, για να μην ξεχνιομαστε.

Τασκενδη, Ταλιν, Τεχερανη, Τοροντο, Τιμισοαρα, Τουζλα, και φυσικα Τριποταμα.

Τηλετρομος τηλεακονιζει τηλεαπωθητικα τις αληθειες.
Τηλεσκοπικος ηλιανθος τερματιζει εαρα ταξιδευοντας.
Τηλεοπτικος θα μπορουσε καλλιστα να ειναι το αντιθετο του οπτικος απλα μερικες φορες και η γλωσσα χασμουριεται. Η μετωπικη οραση προσυπογραφει το μνημοσυνο του αισθανομαι.
Η κυρια ευγενια τριβελιζει το μυαλο της για το αν το skip ειναι καλυτερο απ το ariel και οι drog_A_tek για το αν τελικα ζωγραφιζεται το δασος του αμαζονιου στο κεφαλι μιας καρφιτσας.

Η απαντηση στο τριανον 17-12.

Κοιταξε καταματα την τιγρη, χαιδεψε την και αυτη θα σου ψιθυρισει οτι το Τ ειναι το μονο γραμμα που ειναι παρα λιγο σταυρος, ειναι το μονο γραμμα που συνδυαζει αρμονικα τους δυο αξονες (ειρησθω εν παροδω η Ανταντ, ο μονος πραγματικα αξονας που υπηρξε ποτε, εχει παει διακοπες εδω και καιρο), και ειναι το μονο γραμμα που φωναζει (ακουστε το ) οτι πρεπει να σηκωθεις ψηλα για να ισορροπησεις.

Technologia (τεχνη)εντως τεχνοκαπηλευεται τον τρομο της τηλεκαθοδηγησης, τηλεμετρικα τηρωντας Το μελλον. Τρανζιστορ τρελαινει την τριανταφυλλια.

Η 17/12 ειναι μια νυχτα αφιερωμενη σε ολους αυτους που εχουν καταγματα πολλαπλα στο κοχλιακο τους νευρο. Οι drog_A_tek θα ειναι εκει μουντζουρωνοντας με τηλεηχητικες ακτινογραφιες την τηλεοραση που (παλι και παλι και παλι) ρυμουλκει την συμφορα απο κλουβι σε κλουβι.

Terminal documents/deleted diary

00:B
I had no money and I was looking for a job. I use to work all types of odd jobs ,but now I can’t. I do not have the energy. I was pretty desperate until I saw this guy from school that told me about a job that he once did when he was hard up for some cash: selling books door to door. Anyway I got dressed with my black suit and I had a pair of black socks. But the fucked up thing was that the socks were full of holes. I remembered this old guy from the shelter telling me his trick. So I picked up a black felt pen that I had. I stretched my socks up as much as I could and I started filling in the holes with the black ink. I stood in front of the mirror, pulled up my pants and looked at the socks-they looked ok. So I went down to the office and sat down next to these other guys that were waiting for a job. And I just kept waiting. I poured myself a coffee and picked up a magazine. I started reading. As I was reading I crossed my legs. Anyway I was still waiting. And I looked at this guy across from me. He was staring at me. I thought-another pissed off motherfucker who thinks I might get the job and he might not. Whatever. But he was really staring. And I looked at his eyes. And I looked at where he was looking. And he was looking at my legs. At my feet. I looked down. My socks had slipped down to my ankles and all you could see where black dots of ink. The ink that was filling in the holes in my socks. And my fucking feet looked like they had some rare disease.
I just left.
That was the last time .
Living from day to day is easier.
It's what they say.

Terminal documents/ deleted diary

00:A
Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence.
Every word is an incantation for some sort of precision that all(every one) are(is) striving for.
There was a beggar on the street today. He was sitting on the pavement. He had no cardboard sign that he was holding. He was not asking for something. He was motionless. His hands where fists. I stood and watched from some distance. When he moved he moved like this: he turned his hands with the palms facing the sky, he opened the palms of his hand as if giving an offering more than waiting for an offering to be given to him.
WITH THE PALMS FACING THE SKY
I approached him. I walked by him as all passers by do. As i reached him i looked down at his hands. In the palms of his hands i saw: with black marker he had written in his right palm YES and in his left palm NO.

To find a form that accommodates this mess, that is the task(is that the task?)

Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes.(yes and no)

To hell with reality! And which reality is it that is real?
Words
Words
Words
Words
People don't deserve the restraint we show by not going into delirium in front of them.
I see the man rising up from the pavement and using his two palms, his two words to slap me and them and us alll in the face.
Yes and no
Yes and no
hitting against flesh
To hell with them.
people
We've no use for people in this outfit they call reality or others call daily life. What we need is chimpanzees. Let me give you a word of advice: never say a word to us about being intelligent. Others will think for you, my friend. Don't forget it.

Make sense? No. I switch off. Slowly i switch off.

love me tender

Video card memory enables many windows to be rendered at once

Terminal Time/science_cycle: Zodiac

The Sign of the Polaroid
The Sign of the Computer
The Sign of the Clones
The Sign of the IUD
The Sign of the Radar Bowl
The Sign of the Stripper
The Sign of the Psychiatrist
The Sign of the Pycopath
The Sign of the Hypodermic
The Sign of the Vibrator
The Sign of the Cruise Missle
The sign of the Astronaut

Technology Kapital

The future has already arrived. It's just not evenly distributed yet.

Terminal Landscape

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead station.

Terminal Theory production

A scholar is just a library's way of making another library.


thinking machines are being deleted
objects are duplicating objects


time now: thinking machines are used as the middle-man til they are completely deleted from the process of object re-production

Terminal document/d

cityscape/language:the first bunker_language as erasure


1. And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech.
2. And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there.
3. And they said one to another, Go to, let us make brick, and burn them thoroughly. And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for mortar.
4. And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.
5. And he came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of men builded.
6. And the he said, Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.
7. Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech.
8. So he scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city.
9. Therefore is the name of it called Babel; because he did there confound the language of all the earth: and from thence did he scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth.

Terminal Documents_visual infections

Terminal document/c

It is terribly dangerous to let your thoughts wander when you are in any public place or within range of a telescreen. The smallest thing can give you away. A nervous tic, an unconscious look of anxiety, a habit of muttering to yourself—anything that carried with it the suggestion of abnormality, of having something to hide. In any case, to wear an improper expression on your face… is itself a punishable offense. There is even a word for it in Newspeak: facecrime





Your worst enemy is your nervous system. At any moment the tension inside you is liable to translate itself into some visible symptom.

Terminal document/b

The advanced societies of the future will not be governed by reason. They will be driven by irrationality, by competing systems of psychopathology.

Terminal document/a

All fixed, fast-frozen relations, with their train of ancient and venerable prejudices and opinions are swept away, all new formed ones become antiquated before they can ossify. All that is solid melts into air, and all that is holy is profaned...

Terminal Documents_#001

Tele_Terror

scene 122: CONTROL ROOM

A man places more reports on Controls desk.

CONTROL:

Continue pursuit, disregard previous
instructions, proceed.

CONTROL:

Mindlock impossible. Subjects
suffering...total chemical
imbalance. Mindlock completely
disrupted. Request destruction
clearance. Stand by.

The computer control terminal is activated.

CONTROL:
The subjects must be terminated

Thinking replaced by image machines

Anything becomes interesting if you look at it long enough.

Technique_#1

The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

TWO:once we knew the # one

The Central Memory...
...is thus named...
...because of the primordial role...
...that it plays...
...in the logic-organization of Alpha 60
But no one has lived in the past...
...and no one will live in the future
The present is the form of all life
This quality...
...cannot be changed by any means
Time is like a circle...
...which is endlessly described
The declining arc...
...is the past
The inclining arc is the future
Everything has been said...
...provided words do not change their meanings...
and meanings their words
Is it not obvious that someone...
...who customarily live...
in a state of suffering...
...requires a different sort of religion...
...from a person habitually living in a state of well-being?
Before us, nothing existed here
No one
We are totally alone here
We are unique, dreadfully unique
The meaning of words...
...and of expressions, is no longer grasped
An isolated word, or a detail of a design...
...can be understood
But the meaning of the whole escapes
Once we know the number one...
...we believe that we know the number two...
...because one plus one equals two
We forget that first...
...we must know the meaning of plus

The acts of men...
...carried over from past centuries...
...will gradually...
...destroy them logically
I, Alpha 60...
...am merely the logical means of this destruction

Temporary lrics/final music

like a sound buried by
the silence of things
you speak to ignore me(in order not to see me)

far beyond any forbidden zone
is a mirror for our sad reflections

this song of regret


this song denies me, chokes my voice

The Talking Transaction

Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

TAPE_de-coder

Smash the control images. Smash the control machine.

Travel: inner space

America is not so much a nightmare as a non-dream. The American non-dream is precisely a move to wipe the dream out of existence. The dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set up by the non-dreamers.

Trailer: the future now

I would sum up my fear about the future in one word: boring. And that's my one fear: that everything has happened; nothing exciting or new or interesting is ever going to happen again... the future is just going to be a vast, conforming suburb of the soul.

Transmission: designed to deliver death

What our children have to fear is not the cars on the highways of tomorrow but our own pleasure in calculating the most elegant parameters of their deaths.

Teach Me Tiger

Hi Tiger

Teach me tiger how to kiss you.. wah wah wah wah wah
Show me tiger how to kiss you.. wah wah wah wah wah
Take my lips, they belong to you..
But teach me first, teach me what to do..

Touch me tiger when I´m close to you wah wah wah wah wah
Help me tiger I don't know what to do wah wah wah wah wah
I know that you could love me to
But show me first, show me what to do
This is the first love, that I have ever known
What must I do to make you my very own.. ?

Teach me tiger how to tease you wah wah wah wah wah
Tiger, tiger I wanna squeeze you wah wah wah wah wah
All of my love I will give to you
But teach me TIGER.. or I´ll teach you

Tiger .. Tiger.. Tiger..

TRANSPARENT institutions

crimes of the future:

The Keloid Clinic
The Somafree Institute
Consec
The Spectacular Optical

ΤΟΤΑL (elements:in parenthesis)

Elements in a quantal world:
the terminal beach
the terminal bunker
the blocks.

THE LANDSCAPE IS CODED

ENTRY POINTS INTO THE FUTURE= LEVELS IN A SPINAL LANDSCAPE

some more index A

biomass at cine trianon

Quetempo broadcast: INDEX

INDEX is a series of optico/sonic situations

It is a free association of individuals/units/collaborators
and instantaneous devices that will
take place in a film theatre.

Biomass
drog_A-tek
The Erasers
Free piece of tape
Texturizer
(more to follow)

will produce for audience reception - non-linear,
real-time distorted optico/sonic narratives.

Each project is designed to be immediate and yet incomplete.
It is only completed once it has been listened to/looked at/experienced.

You are the receiver


Index 001
Biomass will transmit :“Market”
Sunday, Novenber 12th
Trianon film theatre
22.30