REALITY IS NOT A PROBLEM

A TRAVELOGUE

 

By Jordan Kirk

 

 

REALITY IS NOT A PROBLEM

I just want to know what reality is, is that too much to ask? It's so irritating that no one seems to have figured it out.

 

All of the problems they trained us in are postwar problems.

 

What is the internet? A cool way to meet girls. I don't need to meet any girls. So I don't need the internet. That's easy.

 

 

Over the course of the last few years I have received, in three different experimental settings, a series of dicta or sententiae: propositions and imperatives that seemed to me inarguable. These dicta arrived fully formed in my mind, and I recorded them in my notebooks. The notes from these sessions also contain copious records of my own native thoughts. In the two columns below I reproduce the dicta on the left and, because they may shed light on them, other excerpts from my notebooks on the right.

 

Each of the three sessions had its results, but only in the last did I find what I was looking for.

 

I. Brooklyn, 7 October 2012

IF YOU WANT TO CREATE SOMETHING, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SHOW UP FOR YOUR SENSES

DANI: Why is it so difficult to make an artwork that is as interesting as a person is? What does this difficulty tell me about art?

 

NATHANIEL: Your genre is travelogue.

ME: The great thing about the genre of travelogue is        that you can make shit up because other people          can't check on it.

DANI: That is an important statement about reality in      general.

OUR PATRON IS A SERVER IN A STALL

II. Claremont, 20 May 2014

Whatever the truth is it is being transmitted. We approximate the old methods of planetary communication technologically. The internet is only the most recent form of a higher consciousness that has always existed on earth.

 

The gods are using us to fantasize a world that they can occupy.

 

But it's the past we have to work at. The future is absolute leisure.

A FERN IS NOT A FLOWER; IT HAS SPORES NOT SEEDS

The animal with language is just the animal that has adopted a flower cult. We are not a mix of animal and spirit but of animal and flower. The human is an animal into which someone has spliced a plant gene.

 

There are spore-worshippers and seed-worshippers. The supreme rite of the seed worshippers is the reproduction of the old adult. The cult of the spore-worshippers is higher. In their rites they bring about the recreation of the unachieved.

 

The question is whether you can choose your mood.

In my conspiracy theory, I am the keeper of a cult. I am in the employ of a god.

 

Our fates are imagined in other lands. We serve the demon Jane Goodall. We worship a god who hides himself out of embarrassment, the god of the signum $. Everywhere the sick medicine of his mangled caduceus. This whole cursed reality is made of the double helix dollar sign DNA. A cult of permanent exchange, with anxiety as its pathetic rite.

 

 

 

 

 

Start over with the survival kit they've left you. All the animals are represented in the human. That is the meaning of the Noah parable. Paranoia is spider consciousness. But we represent all the animals. Not to mention the plants. To the extent that we receive them in our senses.

This sententia holds within it a test. You simply ask: do I have love in my heart? The answer is almost always easy to discern. And if it isn't, you just wait until it is before you act.

 

Say what you will about late capitalism: those guys put out some sick beats.

OUR EMBLEM IS A SPHINX WITH A FERN HEAD, COUCHANT

AS LONG AS YOU HAVE LOVE IN YOUR HEART, EVERYTHING IS PERMITTED

III. Outside Jenaro Herrera, Peru, 7-13 August 2014

STOP ASKING YES OR NO, TRUE OR FALSE, RIGHT OR WRONG––JUST ASK WHAT WORKS

Does it work? means is there love in your heart? Posing this question, and not the others, is what you must do in order to understand, by practice, how it is that everything can be permitted.

 

It starts in the song. Everything happens in the song. The rhythm of the song creates a body for us to travel in together.

 

The patterns you see are the scales of a snake dreambody that we are inside of. We inhabit that body, stalking prey. Because thoughts can be hunted. They hide from memory and apprehension, but you can stalk them. Snake power.

YOU MUST ROOT OUT YOUR PRIDE

The Princess and the Pea is a joke at the expense of the aristocracy! How has this escaped me for so long?

 

I have wandered in the labyrinth of my own infernal mind and ended up always at the same dead end: pride. Pride, and the complacency that is its handmaiden.

 

The remedy for pride is gratitude.

LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF; LOVE GOD WITH ALL YOUR HEART, ALL YOUR SOUL, AND ALL YOUR MIND

 

The god Biology will outlast the radical sect of Christianity that has claimed for its territory the whole universe. The cult of exchange is in truth only a local aberration.

 

The reign of the $ is over. A new age has begun. The currency of this new age is S/.––the Nuevo Sol.

 

Someone shows up for his senses. Now the whole world, no different than it was before, is heaven. Our paradise lies in the song in the midst of the world. Time is fulfilled: you can work, sleep, think, play absolutely whenever. It is not dolce far niente, exactly. It is rest in the midst of no matter what you are doing or not doing. Everything is rest.

 

Thus Marcio's recurring joke. He holds a spoon in his hand and says this looks like a spoon. He points to a newspaper and tells us that looks like a newspaper. He says to Lindsay you look like a woman.

Detail from Clio Sady's "Saturn Banishing Melancholy" reproduced by permission of the artist

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