Hangovers
September 23rd, 2007“You need an infinite stretch of time ahead of you to start to think, infinite energy to make the smallest decision. The world is getting denser. The immense number of useless projects is bewildering. Too many things have to be put in to balance up an uncertain scale. You can’t disappear anymore. You die in a state of total indecision.”
“The idea is to turn it back on itself, it is in this fashion that reality is demolished. In the opinonatedness of Ubu, our will, importance, faith, all the things that are carried to paroxysm where we perceive quite naturally that they are made up of breaths from our flatulence, from meat which we make the candles and ashes, from bone with which we make false ivory and false universes. It is not ridicule. It’s an inflation, the brusque passage into an empty space, which is the thought of no one, cause there is not pataphysical thought, there is only pataphysical acid which sours and embaums like milk, swollen like a drowning victim et deflragrer like a greenish-blue truffle of the brains of Palotin. Pataphysics: philosophy of the gaseous state. It can only be defined in a new undiscovered language because too obvious: tautology. Better: it can only define itself by its own term, thus: it doesn’t exist. It turns around and around and rehashes the same half-assed incongruence, smiling stupidly, from girolles and decayed dreams.”
