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Showing posts from December 23, 2015

Let's Sing-song for Paper Plate Jesus

It's as tuneful as it is plain. Hey man, hey that paper plate, the one with Jesus name taped to it. Who did that, who did that Paper Plate Jesus on the wall... This essay with all of its words and sense seems bungled in the jam of its tripped up sentences. It sits there dogeared at the tables edge. Reposant is not very easy man. It's not just any variety of old twinkle twinkle, it reads from the small pages at the back. Reposant, is some very special light indeed. It's an old sofa, it's a stained afghan, and a leaky battery all sitting in the corner of an otherwise white room. It's as though something truly wonderful has established this neat climate; trim and not so boisterous but neat as climates go. It's the final construction of this thing that's slipped the yoke of the authors authorial authority.
When asked about his time in Tunis Michel Foucault is often quoted as, sensible and lean like a simple wage earner finding his pantry empty for the first tim…