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L’état critique
A strict serialism

 Article publié le 21 novembre 2010.


How could i hear a smell of series ? My mind is a vacuum cleaner.

Sometimes be something as a series by itself ?

None of those series could be hidden.

Is there a series anyway ? But i should not relink all things before i drown.

Serial things often come out of my brain.

Series are always series of one thing, ain’t they ?

The thing of series hurts my brain at once.

Some people complain about atonality and loss of regular patterns. It’s not my case.


No morning could awake a series when asleep.

You know when you look at series. You never know when series looks at you.

That bothers me.

Between 2 lines, how many things can be told to be a series or more ?

I’ll remember all of a single series when i get - uh uh – older.

Those series are not red !

Blinded by my mind i could not reach the top of those –

Drops of things of series are not rain.

All series would come out at once. Speculative fireworks.

The end never came to a series (of things)


No time be spent in a mourning of series. Stay awake.

Space knows no limit. Series no bound. Things not to be shared.

There’s always more series than meets the eye.

My brain was ordered by series. Obscured by thoughts.

Time aint no serial thing. All series spread in space.

When things become, series be gone !

Heading towards a series of things may be more than tearful, anyway.

How many series does it take to keep silent ?

Hooked by a series at dawn


My thought is a stone, rolling down series. How do i catch the train ?

La serie, per cosi dire, e notturna. Ma la notte seriala e rigorosa. Arrivederci !

There is no bothering about series. It just stays at home, watching DERRICK on television. Cool life, a life of a series, really.

Anyway, can one say that series being towards next series can figure to appear around following series ? Indeed ?

Some series are not red, allright. But some are.

If you dig in through a life coal you always find series of things.

The sound of a series begins with something like "uh". This is the only truth [about series].

The more a series makes a day, the sooner i wake up.

I should be more of a series. Series could get me more.

I have been seried


Some days begin with a series. Some nights, too.

Not a time for series. All time spent on (under) series.

Sitting on a series may cataclop all hazard horses

Of all series i never knew, i’d rather speak without a word.

Others are series of no name.

Might a series become a happening ? I’m not sure. A performance ? Maybe so, maybe not. The only thing one can be sure about : a series becomes a different series - just as it changes.

No one comes out of a series.

Some things happen in through series that don’t exist.

Series - don’t breathe no more.

No more - breathe of a series.

No more funky trouble, just a series of things or a series of facts.

Never mind a series not coming !

Meltdown has begun. The opening of series as an "opera seria", maybe ? Tchin !


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