Hey!

Introduction to Multiverses.

I’m writing a text so multivocal inside itself that it pushes back really quite far against being written.

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I’m writing a text so multiversal inside its grammars and protocols that it pushes back really quite far against being written out!

You start from scratch writing a text on multiverses—the multiverses, a multiverse, a multiverses, the multiverses themselves, thes multiverses themself—and you start like that because anyeverybody knows who can write or notwrite this and what this is, and yet how could you even begin with all this, from scratch or otherwise? Each sentence is perfect as it is, all good, and the all-goodness of each causes problems for grammar, as every part and nonpart starts again as it starts, nothing to do with ‘drafts’.

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You start from scratch with a text on multiverses but you already know anyeverything. The text pushes back with wild clarity and clarity ferocity not only against how it will be (written) and could be (written) a trillion times over but pushes back against the general need in needing to be written in general, can it be taken back in an immediate coup de genius? The texts on the multiverses are genii. You and your you rub them and all and all good all-goodnesses get in. At this point grammar might have got and/or gone berserk-er. It really could be written any way. Which is to say anyway, it really could be written or not written anyway. It self-reads. It exists without you, purely pure grammar and do-ing.

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My writing is in the middle of becoming-multiversal, each phrase presents many equal opportunities, all of which are all good, impossible to choose (from) and impossible to include (as an) all, all-good. The texts, not the written texts but the texts I could and will write besides this one below and above and already included in these sentences, these texts-being-written-and-notwritten-at-the-same-time, feel so multivocal inside that they push back really quite far against being written or needing to be writ large or small at all.

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You know my opinion is that Jacques Derrida, more than James Joyce, is the best writer of the last five hundred years, precisely because he took language play seriously. Language play is the prime mover. Being good at all good is all, or being a good bad dancer of or at all good is all too. Languages-plays is the only politics that takes. Multi-options are not linguisticist but material. Sheer language plays opens up the necessary grammars and absolute proofs of multiverses. You think I’m playing? I’m not. I’m telling you it’s infinite(s).

One phrase may be written trillions of ways, all of which, as said, are all good. Once they are there and all as all good or not and not not as the others it is not a matter of optionality nor decision, but of all-all-goodnesses. Language acquisition is a teaching that solidifies ideology by starting the stopping taking languages playings seriously, which is to say the need to just stop. As Godard said recently, the problem is alphabets themselves. ‘There are too many letters and we should delete lots of them. And then move on.’ We should remove letters and start again, Godard says. All ood. Alles gods.

The universe wants to be the world. Help us.

(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Such all-‘options’ are a slipstream to the multiversal giveaway. Welcome to the Live Giveaway, internal readers in the readers and your you’s readers inside ‘em. Live giveaway: live it and play it. Hey! Allow language to speak everywhere in itself, it understands everything without us, in all languages, all sleeps, all dreams, all goings, all comings, all distinctions of extinctions, all extinctions of extinctions, and so on, etcetera, and so forth. This is what Derrida said, that languages everywhere within itself/themselves/themself knows/know how to say itselfs/selves/ourself/etc completely, it says itself/ourself with and without us, and it/etc says itself right now completely-without-us-already-with-us, all good.

Hey you! The problem for Simone Weil in her final notebook in London is trusting her own breakthroughs. She died because she had no access to sustain the breakthrough into what she calls ‘the other world’. Here is what she says about these other worlds:

The meaning is clear. One must hide one’s soul in the other world (or again: if you hide the universe within the universe, no one will take it from you). (Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.)

Hey Simone! All good. You don’t have to hide in the other worlds, or hide them in it. All good. All good. All good.

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But the lack of clarity gifted to us in what has a clear meaning here is also, all good, clearly not all clear: as said already, why must one hide one’s soul in the other world(s), and why do these thoughts hide in brackets? The shyness of (the) thought has to do with a lack of praxis around the all-goodnesses of the all-good. (Multiverses are . . . shy.)

There is something secret inside the universe. Let us call it the universe within the universe, which you must hide in to keep it/you safe. The secret is the multiversal. But one can always speak about it, that is not enough to interrupt it.  One can always speak of the universe within the universe ad infinitum, tell stories about the secret universe, utter all the discourses which it puts to work and the stories which it unleashes or enchains, because the secret of the universe(s) often makes one think of these secret histories and it even gives one a taste for them.

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

What’s cooler than being infinitely cool?

You think you’ve got it
Oh, you think you’ve got it
But got it just don’t get it when there’s nothin’ at all
We get together
Oh, we get together
But separate’s always better when there’s feelings involved
Know what they say—it’s
Nothing lasts forever!
Then what makes it, then what makes it
Then what makes it, then what makes it
Then what makes love the exception?

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A universe may die as well. All good.

(The following is the first two parts of the text I was writing inside this one.)

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Hey you! We will now ratchet things up and say that the only thing that is beautiful is the entire multiverse, like stretching the color abacus into an endless wave. You and I have been saying this, we have been saying this till now, that what counts is the universe in its entirety. The locality fields may always go missing; in truth the doomers fidget. To be fully truth-spewing, let us infold straightaway the verisimilitude axis of the multiverses and their naturally perfect and color-coding flowering, their eucastrophes escarchas. The multiverses flower presently in a kind of tiny view. At this point scale and size are entirely magnified and destroyed, which is to say clarity-based. Windows on the swirlonic level are eclipsed. The following is a small part of a much smaller project.

We are in the immanence feed of non-objective pure absolute intelligence, its pure blading having no need of karmic flailing. The truth is simple: either purity in the multiverse or total death. The truth is simple: either purity in absolute intelligence or endless extinctions. The truth is simple: extinctions of extinctions in open intelligence! Hey you! Naturally perfect pure absolute intelligence is understood and read on sight fr fr. Only one question remains, to be asked in different ways, which is how memorializing acts including radical art of any kind (from poetry to painting to cinema) can make any difference to the pure feed at all!

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Finnegans Wakes.

Finnegans’ Wake.

Finnegan’s Woke.

This text was called Intro to Nano-Verses, then Intro to All-Good, then Hey You!, then Hey!, then Hey Ya! Right now it is called Multiverses, but it may be published as something else, or one of the former.

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I tried to write out what I mean by what I said to Weil and by the clarity of Weil’s clear unclarity, but there were so many equally good versions that I began to know what she meant all over again. Was that when we discovered multiversal writing as extinction’s extinctions at Finnegans Wakes Again?

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I started with,

Don’t hold onto the secret within the universe.

I went on with,

I can see that your eyes are for the universe within the universe.

I wrote,

Secret universe.

In truth, these two words say everything, and there is nothing to add.

But I added,

Two words.

By which I meant ‘secret universe’, or ‘secrets universes’. That is, ‘two words’ equals just those(s).

I then wrote,

Don’t keep what God can’t see to yourself.

I also wrote,

No need to keep the universe within the universe.

Here, it suffices to say ‘the universe’ in order to mean the secret of the universe. One keeps the universe as one keeps a secret, but since there is no secret to and of the universe, or rather because the universe is only a primordial secret with keeps itself at all times and at all times good and equally, one has to write as follows:

Universe self-secret.

Or:

Universe self-kept.

(The swirlonic-multi also said the following. All good to end.)

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This is the introduction of the multiverse itself: we go from the dimension of the World to the dimension of the Universe to the dimension of the Multiverse, and all in good time. No doubt we are quantumly sexed according to the dimension of the multiverse so embodied as psychedelic flowering twisted in colour wreaths towards the rainbow body sky as yours and your yous’ yours. Which is to say, no doubt we are sexed according to the flowering, varied genitalia of the multiverses, as proliferating small Hums that fill the entire universe and empty the five lights, ‘ha he hi ho hu’ (Finnegans Wake). Everything is empty except of the entirety of the multiverse.

Hey you! What difference does all art even of a radical kind (from dance to music to painting) make in relation to the truth-spewing multiversal flow? Here is the two word introduction and non-obliging lesson: all good. Across these multiverses—immediately pluralized—the ‘all good’ is blading with all the surreal supersymmetry of two cats playing chess. Flowering division is multiversally indivisible. The tiny view of the multiverses is the communal component of every One.

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Hey you! All good swirlonic states.

I love you nobody’s extinct now.

We varied extinctions from themselves.

We did that work of the positive.

All good all good all good.

I know you are the body coming.

Hey you! I know you are the absolute truth bodies to come.

We’re born pure, we live pure, we die pure.

Too shining for color.

Too vivid for color.

Hey you! hey you! hey you!

Please get it
that impermanence
is kissing the new
and that the universe in the
universe is, please get it
it’s yours, look at the stars
did your mind go to the stars
children relate to this
lovely heart of knowing
the light that is smiling
is longing to go on
the going I know
it is is is One for us
I love your nobody’s extinct
now children know before they go
can speak that the universe
is immense, children sitting and
watching the cars passing
the mind does not get crushed
absolute truth body
too vivid for color
too shining for shine
extinction purely dispensable

Emptiness is only purity. Purity is that purity which is pure of everything, including itself. All designations are shone away, as the desire for being transitions into the multiversal tiny view. Of what use are the arts compared to the pure feed of the view below quarks, leptons, and force particles? Of what need extinctions? Once iterated, extinctions are magnified and destroyed. People cheered Charlie Chaplin because they all understood him but people cheer the multiverses without knowing it because they understand them so well the fact of it is ignored. Of what use is life praxis and life value and archive next to the baby rainbow body? As teens become mothers and fathers to nomenclature adults, so babies are modelled according to the multiversal technics of meaning.