Emanuele Coccia
Le futur de la littérature
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 8
Johanna Went
I remember (Johanna Went)
Dennis Cooper, Donatien Grau, Richard Hell
"I’d rather live in a book"
Donatien Grau, James Spooner
Afropunk Philology
A. L. Kennedy
Was ist ein Autor?
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 7
Mengia Tschalaer
Queere Räume
Michael F. Zimmermann
Courbet als Assyrer
Zoran Terzić
Die Verallgemeinerung des Menschen
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
What is the Meaning of the Avant-garde’s Death?
Mehdi Belhaj Kacem, Philippe Sollers
Wofür steht der Tod der Avantgarden?
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Axel Dielmann
The Dressmaker
Sina Dell’Anno
Oratio Soluta
Johannes Binotto
Shrewing the tame
Alexander García Düttmann
Kalte Distanz
Maria Filomena Molder
The Alms of Time
Jean-Luc Nancy
Zah Zuh
Angelika Meier
Who I Really Am
Damian Christinger, Monica Ursina Jäger
Homeland Fictions
Elena Vogman
Dynamography, or Andrei Bely’s Rhythmic Gesture
Barbara Basting
Der Algorithmus und ich 3
Wolfgang Plöger
After This Comes That Before That Comes This
Maël Renouard
Fragmente eines unendlichen Gedächtnisses
Maël Renouard
The Twilight of Classification?
Diane Williams
Rums Bums auf der Treppe
Diane Williams
Bang Bang on the Stair
Igor Chubarov
Das Kollektivsubjekt oder die Masse als Subjekt
Rolf Bossart, Milo Rau
On Realism
Jean-Luc Nancy
Je me souviens (Jean-Luc Nancy)
Ute Holl
Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile
Blixa Bargeld
LISTMANIA: ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN
Peter Ott
The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction
What do I remember? My memories of my life have always been very limited. I only remember single fragments, good...
So wie geplant kommt es ja selten, meistens ergibt sich etwas halt so. Das ist weniger der Zustand der Welt...
Ich erinnere mich an mein Exemplar von Alles kurz und klein, das weg ist, verschwunden! – wer erinnert sich, es...
Lärmende Zeitkapseln, rare Bijous, unverzichtbares Sperrgut aller Epochen, Sprachen und Genres.
…rather alarms, to truth to arm her than enemies, and they have only this advantage to scape from being called ill things, that they are nothings…
Der Post, den ich hiermit teile, hat mich leicht verstört: »Barbara ist Facebook vor 6 Jahren beigetreten«!
Apfel oder Zitrone? Remembering, what do you hear? Wie sterben? Nord oder Süd? A question to which “yes” is always your answer?
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»Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, MAESTRO DI COLOR CHE SANNO. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.
Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs
marching. No, agallop: DELINE THE MARE.
Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since?
If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. BASTA! I will see
if I can see.
See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world
without end.«
James Joyce
Dire works on the bogus regime—not just of art—but endowed with wit, beauty and irresistible fetish character.