The purpose of the corporate body is to reproduce itself; every production is a reproduction. Conceptually, the body is a code for making this from that. It is the body of language that repeats the story. "It ain't the meat, it's the motion." The code is the process that organizes the unorganized, and it is that process which is marked by a beginning and an end. What about the unorganized? Is the unorganized experience an experience of chaos, or, is the fear of the unorganized, reproduced through the generations, the genetic code.

The conceptual machine is reproduced in dialectics, or, incorporation, or , eating, or, fucking. It is the dynamic of the relationship between the genders and the generations, that reproduces, the species body. But this reproduction is happening surrounded and permeated by the unorganized, the entropic shithouse. The machine does not produce itself from the void, it produces itself from the shit. The unorganized is "that."

It would appear that it is an ambivalence of desire with regard to shit, that fuels the fantastic machine; it is this ambivalence which is reproduced by the relationship between the parts which make up the whole machine. To dismantle the parts is to stop the machinery. There is, Oh Monks, a desire to dismantle, a desire to turn the machine off.

Harris Creek is silver this foggy Monday morning in December and the garden is falling into Winter. The funny thing is that once I began to think about myself I could not remember what it felt like when I didn't. There is the experience itself and there is the experience of watching the experience itself. I cannot say when I first became a watcher, but now, in those hours when I am awake, it seems as if the watcher has always been here. It is not as if my childhood has vanished but it is confined to a space that is separated from the space in which I here and now find myself.

The watcher's world unfolds in the process of reading/writing, which is surperimposed upon the process of participation. There is the fantasy itself, and the reading/writing of the fantasy; there is the original and the recording. The participant proceeds the watcher.

Reading/writing alters the experience of the corporate body; there is a bifurcation, a separation of the stream of experience into two streams which flow in parallel, each to each, one real, and one unreal. As the childish participant learns to read/write the body of experience divides itself into parallel worlds; the real one, and the one up on the silver screen.

Once the body enters the theater, there is no turning back, no re-unification, short of disease or insanity. The watcher takes his/her recorder everywhere she/he goes. The watcher is a development in a fanastic experience which begins at conception and ends at death. The world of the watcher is an analog world.

But now as I tap these words into cyber-space, there is a new superimposition upon my already superimposed body. The watcher is being digitilized. Evidently, this is a new development. Stay tuned.