Unifying Haptics

Gestures and scripts, narrated physicality made into humour.


The humour is made of the physical; the character stops and looks.


The character stops and looks, accusing
or bewildered

as a piece of inert matter apparently mocks their existence.

The inert matter is willful
accidentally animate
suspiciously willful

and yet in every instance of scrutiny it
the thing
it appears as its appearance


an object
a thing
inert matter

which thwarts one’s gestures
and rewrites the desired narrative.

It is in narrative thwarted that we find humour arising.
It is in the humorous lubricate of frustration that narrative begins.

Unifying haptics, holding hands.




The retreat
the discovery; 
the mark making gesture; 
the abiding with powers which in another circumstance might destroy.


In this process a new aspect of knowledge. A communication of this knowledge is returned to the social realm. It is spoken of around the fire and one by one, following steps which have by now become safer, the group becomes a series of individuals as they witness – alone for a moment – a power at once familiar and yet new. To experience directly this fresh understanding.

In the shape of our novel, so in the shape of the cave, the shape of cognition and being. Both thought and thinking about thought begin to change. 

The process of differences serves an internalisation and reordering of gesture. A movement through language is a tool for processing the different. Once gestures become connected (stepping down into a cave, moving earth into image, putting a hand against a horse’s flanks) so do these movements become aspects of a new knowledge. We partake in the changing world.

The novelisation of our imagination is an evolutionary expression of being. Gestures and creatures are related and formed into marks, the marks form gestures which allow one to approach creatures. Differences are set in relation to one another. Each difference and each act of relatedness may then be rediscovered in a newly invented society. 

A society exists for as long as it carries a unifying haptics amongst each of its parts. Gestures and scripts link the body. A narrative conveys one safely up until the very point of meeting a power able to dissolve and utterly dismiss that narrative. Now there is new knowledge, change is encountered, a new dance amongst new mark making. Change is encountered and this is either a new story or the end of all stories.

The novelisation of our cave is an evolution of imagination.




The gesture solidified makes type.


The figure of type reduced to mark is an alphabet.

An alphabet traversing word is

a mouthed gesture.

A mouthed gesture tracking the breath

dissolving type as it returns to gesture.

Shaped to shape, a kiss;

can this belong to a sentence?

Our rowdy typology eludes 

punctuation and alphabet, solidifying

into an open basin of dream.


A cloak and a box for the hungers
the degree
and the shadow

of the disallowed
as means by which to define the body.

There is no single hunger

other than life. Or there is but a single hunger called life, endlessly nuanced

unto the raging obesity of the civil.

Original stuff, not yet differentiated stuff, this shapeless clay of being: Being in need. The mud born of deep sea vents, super-heated chemosynthesis, the discharge washed ashore as a tidal friction of the possible.

The body as medium by which to format the great hidden greeds. A clay mesh of combed and re-combed base information. 

This ongoing savour can be read and re-read

forming different aspects and different bodies 

and difference is the inheritable means of re-reading inheritance. 

We both take in and express the nuance, we twist and touch the marks, live in hunger, live in the manner of our reading.

Abreaction brings expression of the hidden to consciousness. A ragged shoreline of living and re-living; waves of relief and leaving, a saggy pool of thought in its own purgation. 

Walk along this beach. If the line is continued for long enough, then the expression may be integrated. Integrated lines are woven into bridges. 

Some lines dissolve. We hide our trail beneath splash marks, we float out to sea on an inflatable.These dissolved lines make for a monstrous immediacy; these are the sea-devils. The sickness of panic. 

These forms, not welcomed, refuse to form, and the unformed must be urgently repulsed. They are pushed back beneath the cloak. 

The sea is a cloak. 
The cloak must stored in a box. 
The box is built of shadows, sunk in the sea, buried in the earth. 
We wear the earth as our body.



We have but one memory
everyday this is stored or retrieved, stoned or recalled.

We have but one memory ever, recall of our long and single being.
This solitary complex recall, wholly present in-all-in-all and yet

the forgetting is beguiling.

If there is a solitary memory, complete and available, distributed over all the remembering connections; so there is a single opportunity to forget. The pressing need of the day-to-day-to-day seems to be one of disconnect.

We have but one memory and in our multiplicity chase it down so we many turn off connection after connection after connection.

yet every storing and every storage and every rupture and each dangling line

every memory made to narrative
plunges on for the wise.

The one memory is ancient and not ours. Sometimes we resent this, and our scissors and switches are pushed toward fury and fragment. This is to say; this little mess will be ours, and not that.

And yet the calculation
of a single memory
need not be so
complicated.


Lattice patterns consisting: 


Patterns sometimes becoming 

present as jewel, as laser, as a hot line rejuvenating one’s eye. 

One eye rejuvenated staring at the queue. It is line.
In line and patterning time, lattice patterns consisting:

Patterns persisting act as cages. Manifested and corralled, lattice and lace up, a conduit for the expression.

Lattice patterns contested; the frozen out queues wrapped around a mound of food.

The food is never old. 

Patterns of present jewels, one’s rejuvenated eye seeing the stepped line. We step out of the cage; we step into the house. The food is delicious

Energy traps this moving and this moving is an energy trap. Retaining the made in phases; each phase is the making of a lattice and its simultaneous unlocking. 


The phased works of the lattice are fields; fields are labour and obedience. The aligned lattice is a road, a rood for one’s back. 


The field and the road are a pattern marked around a trap and a simultaneous liberation.

Lattice patterns consist in the structure of a house. A matrix of some stability within which is one quality, outside of which is another quality. 


Neither obedience nor disobedience will gain entry to the feast. For those who obey as they come out of the field, for those who disobey as they return from the dead; the feast is always available. A pattern marking the trap and indicating a simultaneous liberation from the trap.

The owl is not caught.
The suburban edge, near the seashore, is turned into a funfair. Horses and mythical creatures are projected into the air.

There is a climb up to the owl’s perch, one balances on the pole in order to gain the heights.

For the owl to come to you it is necessary to present it with a garlanded cradle. If the owl steps into this it is re-captured.

It flies away.

Later the owl returns, you climb the pole, you hold forth a beautiful posy ring but still the bird will not allow itself to be caught.


Ownership is a drapery
and the deep is an act of the imagination
which cuts

a hole in the drapery.

I see through a hole the clouds. The enormous volume of these clouds, stretched height and length, give to the panorama an assurance of the land’s enormity.

John Constable, “A Cloud Study, Sunset,” ca. 1821.

And the volume of the land below, stretched and pushed, still conclude in the vastness of rock below. The visible land drapes across an invisible mantle.

The roots underneath and the clouds above and my time as a smeared volume running between. 
There is a mereness to the meeting. 
We can peek; these the meek scales, these the timings we cannot attain; these are journeys already made, the length which continues 

beyond and outside of the seen moment.

Our imagination is continually absconding from the tumult of dimensions, but vastness is the duty of imagining.

Here is the urban drapery.

Here is the studded surface of attentiveness.


The chemical and the electronic gather as the armed do muster in the feld and as castle formed the manor. The robes of the legendary are not long enough to cover our immodest awareness.

Often the shallows are as impenetrable as the deeps. 

Often the greatest depths will flit away without note, entirely insubstantial.

Often the surface of a building will stimulate one’s memory. Memory is another drapery.

The imaginable shallows are a drapery of heavy grief, sometimes lifted in order to flirt with the disowned and unseen depths.

Vastness is the calling, the horrified call. And response to the call devastates chronological time.

These devastation are moments of transition.

We are in transit.

We are devastated

therefore the drapery has been lifted ruffled cut

or otherwise

disturbed

other-wise is 
and will be therefore 
the irruption in moment. 

Non-time in time and no-place in this place. Therefore the irruption of moment in moment is this

and this is forever transformative.


That old saw, 
Eternity 
is that which hides.

This cut-out cup holds infinity, 
so therefore this container is infinitely larger than the infinite
although that which holds the infinite is not necessarily eternal.

It is a hollow cup which holds a deep draught,
the longer the drink the emptier the cup.

To quaff forever is to taste the eternal
vanishing.

Cup and liquid may be infinitely present and yet 
we thirst.

Where our foot falls, the step on ground rolling with the walk

then this step sounds
resonant below, going
into ground, rolling away 
to stop

in silence where the the pivot stalls.



This stillness spills returning silence.

Our walk grounds ashore the beach, 
foot falls from deep and far.

This to and fro of sand.
I am beached in the glisten of glass 
milling its depths.

My shadow blows its coolness across heaps,
the ground remains of my ancestral skeleton,

and the shadow of my shadow is hot.
A great heat melts dust 

to sudden flood.

A shape is formed,
something like a cup
in which the eternal hides.

Everything reflects.

Reflection is a division.

All light is divided all ways, in this manner is the spectra perceived.

Perception is an analysis of the reflection, a division further divided.

We daily partake of the infinite in this manner.

(( Neither is there a smallest part of what is small, but there is always a smaller (for it is impossible that what is should cease to be). Likewise there is always something larger than what is large. 

Anaxagoras ))

By reflection the world is infinitely and minutely and exquisitely constructed. 

The construction is light infinitely reflected, light reflected from light. 

Reflection is our manner of infinite perception. 

Our infinite perception is entangled with many qualities of the spectra.

Matter is the mannerism of reflective perception, a spectrum of qualities.

In the spectrum of qualities consciousness is reflected.

Consciousness knots together reflection. Light multiplied by light.

The eternal, that which holds the infinite, is subject neither to division nor multiplication and therefore it is beyond perception. 

The eternal is open to awareness via an infinite reflection. From what may such an incomprehensible force reflect? Its own light, which we the knotted reflection cannot perceive.

Primordial language generated as an awareness of incomprehension.

A sheer surface of mute return, this word as the first reflection.

Reflection, refraction, perception; first consciousness as a knot woven in an infinite drop. 

A light which balls around itself; in this curling motion the finite is invented. Therefore by perceiving the falling the falling does not go on forever.

The curl is the first shape of creation.

The curl instantiates infinite light, invents its finitude, and insinuates eternity.



A pluripotent cell 
holds in restraint certain possibilities. 

This a non-genetic adaptation which even so is added to generation after generation. (The stably heritable phenotype resulting from changes in a chromosome without alterations to the DNA sequence.)

That temporal adaptations can be passed in intergenerationally by means other than culture.

That culture itself may nonetheless be an expression of previous temporal adaptations,

Play and play amongst species cannot be dismissed as a means of moulding the response. The moulded response may inspire a change over time, and this inside time and biology may be passed on.

Play “pass it on”.

Altruism as play. 

When play is logistically difficult altruism may not be.
When altruism is generally not required playfulness most certainly will be.
When altruism is not required play can now become apparent.

Bacterium love to share.

Seeded information transcends species barrier. 

Altruism and play are instances when both social and species barrier may be blurred without the requirements of predation or consumption.

Pass it on.

Any one species may be found.

Any one species may be found as a moment.

Any arrested moment may be found as species yet species may be found to be community, an instance of trans-entity in cooperation. 

The shape of the cell is a multiplicity. 

The shaped community is a collection. 
Temporal adaptations are held in an a-temporal pattern.

Myths tell stories literally told in the blood, even as those blood stories can over time become become distorted by a miasma of fantasy.

Phantasms of bad blood.

The brutalism of biology as competing communities whence competition is stripped of its playful core.

If the telling of blood cannot participate in the playful community from which it came, the pluripotent cell as original ground, then there is a “must” inherited also. The “must” of it wallows in this strange fug of species domination and predation.

Illusion as an adaptation to timelessness within the strict grain of time, this humourless game.

A temporal adaptation called utility.
Use value denies that everything is given and this may be useful, for a moment.

What is it which changes a culture, what is which changes an inheritance? 

Collective unconscious may provide a flow of good order, running still even beneath fug, miasma, and illusion.

Individually and communally there is a response to the flowing order. A revelation which can be transmission, unlearnt learning.

Knowing is always recognition and this occurs before it is cultural elaboration. 
Deep memory is always prior to a rational or competitive testing.

Testing is not telling.

What you know you know as participation. 
It it is the telling of an original moment which is a-temporal and dynamic. Time without time within an instant.