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wrkmchn.bsky.social
@wrkmchn.bsky.social
140 followers 1.2K following 44 posts
wooden thing.

ad feuerbach 3//on the concept of history 3
pls bring back the dead

https://werkmaschine.wordpress.com
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wrkmchn.bsky.social
pained today too how ferlinghetti consistently and stubbornly ignores the things pasolini is using line breaks to think

"exquisite that which unveils the world in trembling // not human(s) - you believe in the world without / another measure than human history"
passage from the bilingual city lights edition of pasolini's roman poems to compare the original with the translation: [ "squisita che svela il mondo in brividi [ non umani – credi nel mondo senza [ altra misura che l’umana storia: nei colori in cui fiammeggia la presenza" (with brackets in the margin to indicate that each line is (also) to be read by itself), vs. the too tidy ferlinghetti translation that seems to miss the things pasolini is doing with the line breaks "that reveals the world in non-human trembling - you believe in a world withouth any measure but human history, in colors in which flared the presence"
November 2, 2025 at 1:03 PM
wrkmchn.bsky.social
so far failing to find a picture of horkheimer with dog, but at least discovered that there's at least one picture that has adorno holding what might be a dog, sitting next to a possum
picture of Lilly Latté (holding a black or grey cat in her lap), Theodor W. Adorno (with what might a white midsized dog or a very large white cat on his lap, Adorno is embracing the dog or cat that buried it's head in Adorno's arms), and Fritz Lang (holding a small possum), from left to right, all three sitting on a low stone-fence
October 12, 2025 at 4:08 PM
wrkmchn.bsky.social
5 second sequence from "true crime"
3 stills from true crime: clint eastwood (slightly to the right) lighting a cigarette (to the left and out of focus james woods in profile with open mouth about to take a bite from a chocolate bar) james woods (center left) frozen with snickers bar before his mouth and a maybe startled look cutting to a shot of the trash from a fast food meal on a table (some cola cans, one person (visible only torso + hands holding a cola can, head out of frame)
January 26, 2025 at 5:24 PM
wrkmchn.bsky.social
+ the very first bit of song of mu stepping back behind "the" (and starting to try to think through/do things with "a")
"'mu' first part // The day before the / year begins woke to a" [with markings on the side to read each verse in isolation]
December 8, 2024 at 6:49 PM
wrkmchn.bsky.social
more mackey working the
So there I sit outside the [+ my markings on the side to read the line by itself]
December 8, 2024 at 6:46 PM
wrkmchn.bsky.social
macking working the in the song of the andoumboulou right from the go (with my very euphoric notes re the short definition of communism as the movement to abolish death)
(Nathaniel Mackey, Song of the Andoumboulou: 1 + some fast euphoric notes): The song says the [read this line by itself, song says the, the object of the saying, implying the next two lines]/ dead willn ot / ascend without song. // That because if / we lure them their names get / our throats, the/ word sticks. // As not/ more than a week / before when she/ did, dhat it read they'd return, turn out one day// our mouths/ touc,h, Tutor" [ + my notes: ohne lied (ohne dass wir darüber reden) keine erlösung/befreiung (oder gar wiederaufstehung der toten (in eine welt die mehr ist als die die wir jetzt leben)) (lied aber mehr als nur ein sagen) und das ist the (the it of it, oder das, worauf es ankommt), das lied sagt das, was wirklich zählt und was wirklich zählt, ist dass die toten aufsteigen sollen und nur aufsteigen/gerettet werden mit dem lied (lied vielleicht auch das was aus dem bloss seienden mehr macht als nur das seiende und schon dort drin eine verwandlung (ich könnte versuchen mögliche funktionen von lied/musik aufzuzählen (auch antrieb (und rhythmus, dann aber auch klage (ich denke im hinterkopf immer an die dritte these über die geschichte bei benjamin))]
November 17, 2024 at 3:32 PM
wrkmchn.bsky.social
... (d.s. marriott)
The walls bathed ın sweat. Bodies in a heap forgotten in the basement. Dis is no joke, star. How many ‘yous knows-me?” are in this place? Talk to anyone, violence is no more or less than b The sudden imploding trace, the realest codes flashing like sirens, but there is no one here, so whose song is this, still embracing still linking the downs that made us give up the towns that made shit one of the seasons the rain pouring down all the elsewheres and maybe nevers of experience. And here I am barefoot bleeding leaning against the po po so viciously off-key from one imploding moment to the next (the human orphaned from its spirit), where each thing granted is farther off (fenced)
January 1, 2024 at 10:25 AM