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Hermal . . . . . Donatien Grau, Pierre Guyotat . Conversation . . . . . HER . . . . . Barbara Basting — The Algorithm and I . . . . . How to Pilot an Aeroplane . . . . . Human Oddities . . . . . American English . . . . . China frisst Menschen . . . . . I remember . . . . . Pierre Guyotat . Unabhängigkeit . . . . . Paradox I: That all things kill themselves . . . . . BIG BUGS . . . . . Facebook’s Just a Nail Studio . . . . . Tyler Coburn . Ergonomic Futures . . . . . Behind the Great Firewall . . . . . Marcus Quent . Ohne Halt . . . . . Exodus. Gods and Kings . . . . . 12 Feb 2011 — 12 Feb 2017 . . . . . ABT. DIE DUEMMSTEN BERLINER FRISÖRNAMEN . . . . . 12 May 2011 – 12 May 2017: On Non-Digital Storage Media . . . . . Problem IX: Warum haben Hurenkinder das allermeiste Glück? . . . . . I remember… . . . . . Mário Gomes . Brandsatz & Ästhetik . . . . . I remember . . . . . Charlemagne Rides through Paris . . . . . Quaddie . . . . . GUANAJUATONOVIEMBRE . . . . . The Transversal Shelf of Printed Books in Times of Accelerated Opaque Media . . . . . Artificial and Other Intelligences . . . . . Mike Wilson . Rockabilly . . . . . Peter Ott . Die monotheistische Zelle oder Berichte aus der Fiktion . . . . . TWELVE DRUMMERS DRUMMING . . . . . Michael Heitz . Noch ein neuer Gott in Teilen . . . . . LISTMANIA . . . . . Ute Holl . Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile . . . . . Boutiques on the Bosporus . . . . . Je me souviens… . . . . . Pierre Guyotat . The Prison . . . . . Self-portrait . . . . . Custom Creates Law . . . . . L’œuvre d'art n’a pas d’idée, elle est idée . . . . . This is not your blood. . . . . . Ich erinnere mich… . . . . . THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CLOUD NAMES . . . . . Marcus Quent . No Respite . . . . . Mike Wilson . Rockabilly . . . . . Peter Ott . The Monotheistic Cell Or Reports from Fiction . . . . . Michael Heitz . Another New God in Parts . . . . . Julien Maret . IN EXTREMIS

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DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 6/7
DIAPHANES MAGAZINE No. 4

 

25 WAYS TO MAKE LOVE TO THE EARTH

Annie Sprinkle, Beth Stephens, 03.07.2017

1. Tell the Earth, “I love you. I can’t live without you."

2. At first you may feel embarrassed...

SCHÖNE WORTE FÜR ABSCHEULICHE DINGE IN ZUFÄLLIGER REIHENFOLGE

Natascha Bub, 03.07.2017

Plörre
Smegma
Ohrwurm
Schlamassel
Kummerspeck
Weltschmerz
Gesöff
Fernweh
Lotterbett
Spelunke
Scharmützel
Donnerwetter
Schabracke
Mumpitz
Spatzenhirn
Lustmolch
Kaschemme
Spinatwachtel
Popanz

TWELVE DRUMMERS DRUMMING

Hanno Leichtmann, 24.03.2017

1. Ringo Starr
2. Mike D.
3. Roland TR 808
4. Jaki Liebezeit
5. Paul Lovens
6. Anthony Williams

Other columns
  • I remember

    I remember

    Following Georges Perec’s Memory 480: "I remember… (to be continued…)"…

  • John Donne’s Paradoxes and Problems

    John Donne’s Paradoxes and Problems

    …rather alarms, to truth to arm her than enemies, and they have only this advantage to scape from being called ill things, that they are nothings…

  • Future Pluperfect

    We are looking for relics of visions of the future in past image spaces, for the traces and signatures of something once imaginable and timelessly possible.

  • Questionnaire

    Red oder Blue? Welche Götter? What’s wrong with reality? Nord oder Süd? Wie sterben? What is the problem with solutions?

Magazine Special

Ute Holl

Dream, Clouds, Off, Exile

OPEN
ACCESS
  • exile
  • Karl Marx
  • monotheism
  • communism
  • film

My language
English

Selected content
English

»Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, MAESTRO DI COLOR CHE SANNO. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.


Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. No, agallop: DELINE THE MARE.


Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since? If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. BASTA! I will see if I can see.


See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world without end.«


James Joyce

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