Montevidayo

Body in the Bog

“divine materials” (Whitman)

“I am going toward a future that does not exist / leaving every instant a new corpse behind me”—René Daumal, Le Contre-Ciel

memento mori

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“Colour differs from substance. Is colour always lyric? We are not sure. It seems to consist of the detritus from natural history stuck into sentiment. For example, it is said that among humans, women are colourful. Nothing more needs to be said on this theme.” —Lisa Robertson, Occasional Work and Seven Walks from the Office of Soft Architecture

(e.g. Cecilia Vicuña, precarios):

El Quipo Menstrual

My favorite detritus is the canon.

It was Montreal, 2002, then a city of asymmetrical haircuts. I was studying, on campus, with a friend who identified as straight. Out of nowhere she looked up from her books and exclaimed:

“I can’t stop thinking about Peaches. I want to fuck her!”

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIECE OF DETRITUS?

Go!