disclaimer ++ self-portrait ++
if science is science // self-portrait ++ self-portrait
self-portrait ++
i make a beeline to the water cooler
self-portrait // no matter how hard it gets // self-portrait
z ac k
d a Rs e e
disclaimer
The following was written on company time.
The proceedings were composed in the company of contracted workers under oath.
The consequence of violating our NDA is 5000 EUR, which is to be paid to the victim, which is the company.
These questions may be exported to a PDF and emailed to the appropriate network for observation.
In the hands of a lowly laborer, this process is time-tracked and will be subsequently deleted from the database.
The research will be photographed, lit, delivered. The research will not be given blind approval.
The research will be tried, tested, wobbled, fit, resized, teased, romanticised, willfully, and negotiated.
Limits will be set. All litmus tests will be litigated.
This is a controlled environment.
A severed worker is therefore required to deny all prior affiliation with the company.
Therefore, in the aftermath, this is an act of jacking off in the bathroom of the company.
self-portrait
This office was once a milk factory. Now it is filled with prodigal little worker girls.
A single monitor pours its artificial light into the open mouth of a typist, who chews
gum as they are producing text. The text is generated using a thrusting motion by which
a series of predetermined words are carefully arranged into different positions. The
typist is turning them over and pushing them around, against the page, holding them
there and waiting sometimes; sometimes rotating them and applying more or less force,
in order to coax the most desired action from the consumer. It is this singular text,
written over and over again, that teases the depth of a single original idea without ever
brushing against it. It is a text that you will read many, many times. It is a text that arrives
in your inbox, in your feed, in your window, in your throat, in your eyes, in your ears, in
your mind and even in your asshole. It is like an ouroboric parasite. It is choking itself
on the regurgitated belief in production. It is a text about the perfect leather bag.
As the typist chews their gum they generate copious amounts of saliva. At one point it
becomes so wet inside their mouth they must swallow or use it. Spit somewhere. They
spit on
the enter key and rub it in. It slides down the raised sides of the key and into the cracks
between enter and delete. This will lubricate. This will transmit—
Spit will slide into the text and allow it to glide— It will slide from the mouth to the fingers of the
typist into all the girls who want a bag as easy and everyday as a single breeze—
It will slide so effortlessly into the secret minds of the little girls...if science is science
Thus science is science and birth, birth.
Thinking of the light today, last year, etc. and the way time speaks
exploding into frames of light on the sides of buildings
I know a different science. At home in my lab
in my big white hazmat suit I feel fluffy
like a distraction yet with light I feel scientific
and I use words like pastiche. I said into another box
Now that I know the word pastiche I can use it
Then I went into the meeting room and in my suit in my box I became the light
exploding into frames of that that you can easily understand:self-portrait
THE BIOLOGY OF A BAG IS A SUCCINCT SYSTEM! BELIEVE ME, YOU
DON’T WANT TO MISS THIS PRESENTATION! THE DELICATE SEAMS ARE
A BORDERLINE DESCRIPTION OF THE WORLD, IN SHORT! THE
VOLUMINOUS DELIVERY OF ITS ORGANIC GRACE IS A METAPHOR FOR
FEMININITY! THESE SHAPES ARE SURE TO CREATE A SYMBIOTIC UNION
OF RECIPROCAL USE-VALUE BETWEEN THE WEARER AND THE SHAPE!
SPACE HAS AN EFFECT ON THE SHAPE OF OUR PERCEPTION OF TIME!
TIMING AFFECTS OUR ATTRACTION TO OBJECTS AND CORPORATIONS
BY SEEING THEM AS CHARACTERS! SOME OF THEM ARE EVEN FEMALE!
NONE OF THEM ARE MALE! SUDDENLY A BAG JUST APPEARS!
DANGLING FROM AN ARM IN FRONT OF A GREEN WALL! THESE
MEMORIES ARE UNFORGETTABLE DUE TO OUR PARTICIPATION IN
THEM! IN TIME AND SPACE! OUR COMPANY IS A CONSCIOUS CREATOR
OF BAGS AS PARTICIPATORY EVENTS! WE KNOW THAT BODIES
INEXPLICABLY FILL SPACE! WE KNOW THAT WHEN YOU ARE WEARING
A BAG YOU ARE WEARING A COMPANION OF YOURSELF! IT IS LIKE
VICTORY OVER A DOPPELGÄNGER! IT IS A TESTAMENT TO YOUR
SUCCESS! IT IS PROOF OF YOUR EXISTENCE! REMEMBER HOW YOU GOT
HERE! THE INTRODUCTION OF A PURCHASABLE OBJECT INTO THE
WORLD IS AS MUCH AN OCCASION FOR ART AS IT IS AN OCCASION FOR
CELEBRATION! IT IS A REIFICATION OF OUR BODIES IN SPACE! OUR
COMPANY IS THE PERFECT REPRESENTATION OF OUR SHARED GLOBAL
CONSCIOUSNESS! OUR BAGS ARE LIKE TREES! SOME OF THEM ARE
EVEN GREEN! BELIEVE ME, YOU DON’T WANT TO LOSE CONTACT TO
THE NATURAL WORLD! THAT’S WHY OUR BAGS ARE LEATHER! ALL THE
COWS IN THE WORLD ARE FARTING INTO THE AIR FOR THE EXACT
CULMINATION OF THIS COMPLEMENTARY MOMENT OF STYLE! THIS IS A
STATEMENT! THE VOLUMINOUS BORDERLINE WORLD IS ONE THAT IS
DELICATE! IT IS THE SHAPE OF A CORPORATION THAT CREATES AN
INTRODUCTION! I WOULD LIKE TO INTRODUCE MYSELF! I AM AN
OBJECT! I LOVE THE COLOR BLUE!
self-portrait
From all this phosphorescent texting, allow me to open the curtain and expose my thorn!
That I came by way of a newspaper route is just evidence of our attachment to sign
So that an earlier struggle against getting too wet deleted us
And replaced my body with an emoji
Until so muted the conversation becomes, two particles—become none!self-portrait
As I signify such opulent choices by way of description, brings me to the subject of voyeurism
Though I hold the lowly position of a memo typist, may we just observe a glass of sparkling water?
And when you’re looking at me like a glass of sparkling water from across the open office
As you plan your strong walk over here and lean your crotch against my desk and drink
When I finally raise my eyes, so engorged on fluorescents at this exceedingly late hour
I, too like the lights in water twitch— drip— vanish!I make a beeline to the water cooler
I make a beeline to the water cooler. At the water cooler, office girls are getting their hair wet. They are
getting it really wet and feeling all sorts of effortless and heavy all at the same time. Their hands are
rather versatile today. They are exchanging their hands, taking them off and testing out the sizes and
shapes of each other’s appendages, replacing thumbs with index fingers and pinkies. Their bodies are so
spacious and voluminous they are transforming into stylish idioms, peaking with new shades of bliss and
contemporary attachments. I have never seen them so luxuriously positioned for everyday use. I have
never wanted to use them so badly… Position them over the water cooler and open up to see what’s
inside...
self-portrait
After the meeting, you could have at least given me the pleasure of introducing myself!
Just that I arrived late with clothes on and dripping in acid rain doesn’t make me avoidant
But as I was pressing myself into the proof, that is a room, I nearly destroyed you
For shattering such a lack of contact would give anyone a heart attack
So loud that fluid glass between us becomes—it hardens into plastic!
no matter how hard it gets
No matter how hard it gets I can’t seem to get out of the office, no matter how wet I get I can’t seem to
stop working, no matter how bad I get can’t seem to stop typing—writing these turgid little thoughts...
and all the little office girls are watching me...
Watching me unzip the handbags and pull out something hard and secret...
I hold it in my soft hand...self-portrait
Like a cock fuzzed and recoded onto hard material symbology
This belief in the bag reinvented is but a symptom of the future
With its dignifying frontal reforms, nylon alibis, and effortless transitions
Here’s the clean base triangulated, the new and improved deep-dive into gashes, pockets
The pregnant video where the hired slap its surface like some subordinate on a gurney
And to reinvent the archive is like using a batch of cream saved from the morning coffee
So yes, I do have the nerve to ask you tomorrow:
How’s it feel to sit at your desk today?
And must you bite your lip and think of where your typing hand has been— ?