[...] there ye shal find the lytle dogge, the whiche knoweth you well, & take hym by the eares and shake him that he may crye loude, and whan my lady shal heare hym, she shall know the voyce, & the incontinent she shal cause me to rise, for to let the dogge in, and than I will come secretly to you, but I pray you fayle not, for yf ye doo, I wyl neuer speake wyth you a agayne, Than sayd the gentylman, O my moost trusty and gracyous louer, I wyll thanke you hartely of your gracyous and lonely wordes, & be ye sure that I wyll not fayle, and so the gentylman abode hys tyme, & cam vnto ye place that was appointed according to hys promyse. And so the lytle dogge thought to haue gone into the ladyes chaber as it was wonte to doo, and for by cause that the chamber dore was locked, he abode in the chamber that was next vnto the ladyes. And so the lady is gone to bedde, and her chamberlaen wyth her, and the lusty gentilman is come into the next chamber, and went vpon hand and fote for to seeke the dogge, and at laste he found hym, & hath made him crye oute a loude and so the lady hearde the dogge crye, and thought that he wolde come in, & sayd to her gentylwoman the chaberleyn that she should aryse and let the dogge in, for me semes that he is in the nexte chamber, and she sayd I wyll doo it gladly, and so she arose and came to the doore in her smocke, and the gentilman came and mette her, and when that he sawe that she was so gracyous and so goodlye of person, he was so gladde that he loste all hys power, and fayled, and it was not in his power to doo her swetely, and groped her round breestes, & all that he coulde doo perteyninge to loue, but the fleshly operacion excepted, and so the gentylman returned agayne wythout comforte and yet he wolde gladly haue kepte her: but she durst tary no lenger, and so the Lady went her waye and shytte the doore agayne, and the Lady demaunded her if she had lett in the dogge, and she sayde naye, for she coulde not fynde it. The ladye sayde well let hym alone, and so the chamberlayn was sore agreued, but he tooke courage vnto hym and sayde, yf yt my louer came agayne, for at that she is so fayre. I wold gyue her better knowledge that I am a man, and so he caught the dogge by the eares agayne, and made hym for to crye, that the Lady hearde it, and so the Lady caused her chamberlayn for to ryse, and also the thirde tyme she arose and came for the dogge, but the pore gentylma had not her power nor strength for to breke one spere And whan that she saw that there wolde come nothing she went away into her chamber, and he perceyued her Than sayd the chamberlayn for to recompence hym of his great payne, and for to please the lady, awaye thou noughtye ape as thou arte, for thou shall not come thys night in the house, thou foule yll fauored beaste, and wyth that she dyd shyt the camber doore, And the ladye demaunded to whome that she spake, and she sayde that it was to the other dogge, the whiche hathe doone me great payne in seking of him, for he had hyd him vnder the benche, and whan that I had founde hym he wolde not aryse, for all that I coulde doo to hym I woulde fayne haue had him in, but he wolde not ones lyfte vp hys head, and therfore I haue lefte him wythout, and so she locked the doore wyth greate spyte to fore hys face The Lady sayd my doughter that is well done, And thus was the gentylman deceyued [...]
"73 Suspect Words." "This three-minute film consists of nothing but credits: director, producer, department heads, lawyers, consultants, accountants, administrators, executive administrators, assistant administrators and the end title. The perfect satire of bureaucracy." From Rich Cante's "Giving An Account Of One's Jargon." "On the Authenticity of Jargon: From Barthes and Adorno to Godard." The first issue of World Picture. A lot of the text in the fug we did at Xing the Line on Friday was from Keston Sutherland's essay "Marx in Jargon" in that issue. The rest was more-or-less by Bernard Noël trans. Paul Buck, by Villon trans. Rodefer, by Craig Dworkin (quoting Peter Manson's Adjunct), Lara Buckerton and John Wieners. It didn't sound how I'd imagined it which was like this.
I am reading with Rob Holloway, this Friday, 8pm onwards at The Leather Exchange, Leathermarket St, London Bridge. I have nothing left to say. Don't come or if you do don't pay any attention. Bad to Tase bellies potentially Rob-peckish but if you want to make an omlette you gotta say boo to a hen. Do you see what I mean? Argh.
Unfinished sequences. Currently include those about Andrew Duncan's, Emily Critchley's, & Simon Jarvis's things. Caveat on quotations. (1) The Blogger architecture collapses tabs & multiple spaces; it's possible to get around this – (& if you’re nice to him John Sparrow might tell you how?) – but it’s friction, I hardly ever bother with it. Quotations which have lost indents or other formatting are labelled “not sic” unless I’ve forgotten. (2) Stuff filed under 1999 is kinda my personal commonplace book for a POLITIX course, a.k.a. BUCKBUCK Courier Point (Hill House): 799999, so. (3) I often don’t proof what I type / paste in. Gotta dash for snax. Avant garde British poetry.Peter Philpott holds the answers.