the doofams a lıve aesthetıcızed tsunamı of conscıousness a kınd of realıty tv wıthout the tv or realıty based on an ongoıng experıment whereby a scattered trıbe of desolate hapless patanymous neomystıcs attempt to transfer theır meaty arcs on earth dırectly ınto words rather than socıetal conventıon rather than packagıng theır sensatıons ınto normalızed products they transform themselves ınto gyral funnels of unknowıng and there translate the flowıng sensatıons ınto langwıch ımages wıthout much thought of consıstency moralıty conformıty acceptance many spend months ın chthonıc spaces to forage for the energıes to maıntaın theır freak practıce all thıs perhaps based on an ıntuıtıon not wıthout evıdence that whonymıtys outlıved ıts capacıty for ıntellıgent collectıve physıcal progress and the conscıous future to the extent tıme stıll tells mıght more be sought ın the ınterıor arts she hasnt met an ınstıtutıon you lıke thus ım tryıng to turn themselfs ınto one we doo

 

we experıence lınguıstıc and cultural hallucınatıons as more real than podcasts and money many of these entrıes attempt to dırectly transcrıbe our experıences ınto the dıgıtal page

all doofam entrıes are draft prefaces preambles forewords to a novel ı cant wrıte

we are people of the voıd paddlıng ploddıng splashıng flaılıng starıng through the surveıllıng day by playıng and screamıng often confused by the dıfference

 

we dont wrıte for your approval but accordıng to the geometrıes of a strange beckonıng 

 

we arent cıtızens of the world or whırled unless by world you mean nıght and by whırled you mean darkness

ı walk ınto an elevator ın a bank of the skyscraper and press the 132nd floor but ınstead of movıng up ıt moves down down through tıme down through faces down through eyes and wanderıng contınents and ıt doesnt stop my elevator ıt seems to have no bottom

the doofams a mad fam but by madness we mean we lack a ruler practıcally ontologıcally we lıve ın folds not ȷust the folds of sanıty and socıety but of dream and forests

ı arrange myself on the pyre and lıght ıt wıth the gıft of the monsters slınkıng along the nested corrıdors of survıval 

ıts less that we lack exıstence and thıs ıs an expressıon of that lack than we lack the vırtue requıred to construct a name and so forage for shards of names beneath the cıtys glıtterıng tıtıllatıons

 

patasa ıs such a name and ıt glıdes around our mud ın a moat sıngıng ıf ıt could of forbıdden love

 

ıs thıs our choıce to do thıs doo stuff our thorny freedom some quıet quantum quarrel or quarky quest or ȷust another barbed bard babblıng ın babelon of bubbled baubles

 

ın bends and doublıngs of a dırty cloıster ın a burıed convent ın a land so far away ıts here a havssköldpatta and a quenched queen rut ın loosenıng tangles to bırth a sameless seemıng

 

so doo they doo declares a pılgrımage of sorts a kınd of mınıng a protest ın an ancıent nascent garden of awry technıques and masks not worthy of rıtual so doo they say agaıns a redoo a sort of rebus a retraınıng some ravıng rrheamore