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Friday, January 14, 2011

LINK TO E.SNIPS from which Graham harman's powerpoint presentation

I couldn't get the actual audio.

but the slides did interest me, yello, pink and green objects in their own right, presenting an IDEA about Causality. For some reason, I can't yet see the full Harman picture, his view (if you like that word) is emergent (probably) in your own life anyway ("everything changes, you eat jelly roll" as Ginsberg sanf sangue this morning about RkJ and skeisis, i thought, well yes, there is a good reason anyway to make the distinguisher "bullshitter" and Sincere. It does make for more interesting reading. I could see something of the LSE from the Thames as I rounded through the park Embankment chomping on a donut, glimpsing the Eye of Cleopatras needle, sitting for a few hours between lectures about the rippling tides and formica contracts that were being arbitered nearby; I probably stank from circuitry of ambient train odour, qwick spurts of sweat necessitated by the churning intensity. The statue of a poet I stand in front of black great face, an inscription that moves me, the snoring intensity of grandeur backlit by the massive obsiloquence of Security breaches. LAterminals were in the paper; I saw one flashing through the undergrowth as I decided for coffee and not a beer. We were suited and booted round Planck length tables, the japanese girl particularly eloquent after three sips of white wine announces her phenomenology. A table of autiocratic didacteurs shifts over to make way for Melanie's finer features, and the table talk kicks off with an Ontology of Objects moving and being moved in slow motion through the plasma" "Causality, he saus happens when an image that is divorced from its Qualities" pouring a green pesto onto the bisqet as London traffic assemblage data comes to a temporary halt outside. I troll on up to the British Museum, confidently very certain that I've absorbed enough from the intellect for this century, and assuage my ears with the silence through the other side of wood doors, eighteen concrete steps and a MArble archway where I catch my breath beneath the radiant hexagons of the new sunlight. the auditorium's magnificent; and the great statues are where I'd left them, guarding the entrance to Ur, the great Sumerian epigrams and crystallographs carved out into sphynx and Lion; the great stories of Ashygryash, Idryssly await me

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