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      <g:title>Memento Vivere T-Shirt</g:title>
      <g:description>&lt;p&gt;Simple white stamp pressed t-shirt with adam&amp;#39;s skull and the imperative to remember that you are alive in latin.&lt;/p&gt;</g:description>
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      <g:title>Adam's Skull Patches</g:title>
      <g:description>&lt;p&gt;the official emblem of The Parallax Conspiracy for the Articulation of Thaumaturgical Research/ Ideas, linoleum stamped on ~3&amp;quot; canvas&lt;/p&gt;</g:description>
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      <g:id>117316245</g:id>
      <g:title>The Filthy Bouquet #1</g:title>
      <g:description>&lt;p&gt;An experiment in literary pornography: polaroids and ruminations on, of and about desire, sex and being at a loss of words. &lt;/p&gt;</g:description>
      <g:price>10.00 USD</g:price>
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      <g:id>117316212</g:id>
      <g:title>Illocutionary Meditations by Hannah Torres</g:title>
      <g:description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent;"&gt;The meditations in this small book were originally intended to be spoken— with one’s lips or in one’s head— in a measured, repetitive manner. They are not mantras, insofar as they are not intended to aid in the induction of a particular state or achievement of a spiritual goal, nor is the shape, sound or semantic content of the words they contain essential to that achievement— though the words themselves are important to the practice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent;"&gt;This practice attempts to include the dual-connotations of the concept of meditation, by either offering you a choice to meditate on the words, or to use the words— in their rhythmic, sonorous or semantic dimensions— to meditate without an object. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent;"&gt;They are illocutionary because they are practices of utterance, which provides the set of conditions for both the subtraction of intention and the impact or effect of the content itself. Though both of those are liable to play a part in the effects of the practice, the fact that the practice is illocutionary is a specific attempt to have to do with something that is not strictly lingual or cognitive, while at the same time present in those moments, like a shadow in the background. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent;"&gt;I crafted this practice while I was in the process of leaving my chosen religious tradition, as an attempt to replicate a similar practice there. While it emulates that practice, the text I have written for it subtracts the theological tenants of that tradition that became increasingly untenable for me to affirm. They are meditations and not prayers, because they make no appeal to any one or anything, opting instead to themselves be as objectless as possible (as illocutions,) and to articulate observations and metaphors for the simple task of navigating daily life in something like a simple poetic verse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent;"&gt;I no longer practice the illocutionary meditations, and while at first it was because I did not want to have to do with something that was a mere echo of an element of a tradition I have come to strongly oppose and therefore did not want to have to rely on in the endeavor to find my own way, it eventually simply became tedious in and of itself, though I do remember and say them intermittently from time to time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent;"&gt;I do not deploy them out and into the world in the hopes, or with the logic that, maybe they will help somebody somehow, but because I regard them now as poetry, which means that their value and their beauty are different now. This could be true for anyone, but especially for me as they are products and signifiers of my journey, as I fall along the slopes of time, and their brilliance or grime or the nature of the fact that they just are changes as I go, like suns rays through the cheap plastic crystal that hung in my childhood bedroom window. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent;"&gt;Thanks for reading. XO — Hannah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</g:description>
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      <g:id>117126780</g:id>
      <g:title>The HyperText Initiative's White Star Quarterly Reader No. 1</g:title>
      <g:description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;In the summer of 1999, a young student (“X”) at a university in the midwest came across a box. It was in the upstairs closet of a large house they called “The Miracle House” in a small town in Kansas, into which he’d moved following his first year of college. He spent that summer alone, waiting for his roommates to arrive in the fall. Upon examining the contents of the box, he found that it was full of all sorts of material, mostly literary— poems, stories, essays, cassette tapes, minutes from meetings, manifestos, and a few drawings and photographs— by a number of young people who he assumed must’ve lived in the house at some point prior to his moving in. He took it with him when he moved and every time he moved, and over the years learned that the material in the box was all written or created by one or more of a group of seven students who formed— according to the smattering of documents left in the box— a small literary society they called, more or less, “&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;the white star society&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;.” At some point he began laying the groundwork for organizing the contents of the box into an archive for the express purpose of curating said archive into a novel-length book. He called the project &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The HyperText Initiative&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Eventually, however, he passed both the contents of the archive and the burden of the project on to a friend of his (“Y”), who intermittently worked on it until it was stolen from his apartment sometime in the early 2000’s. It wasn’t until the late ‘teens that it was “rediscovered” via a particularly improbable coupling of coincidence, code-breaking and a treasure hunt, and ended up in the hands of its final curator (“Z”). By this time records of the project and its provenance had been added and the archive addended to include its journey, and so its new curator followed suit, adding the story of his story to its story until he was finally almost finished with it by the spring of 2020, when he all but disappeared. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Enter &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The Parallax Conspiracy for the Articulation of Thaumaturgical Research/ Ideas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;, who now has the pleasure of continuing the work of The HyperText Initiative by publishing four of the essays that comprise a small percentage of the archive, together with short biographical sketches cobbled together from clues found there, as well as some ostensibly well-informed daydreams and extra-archival materials regarding who and what The White Star Society was— and what happened to them. This portion of the project is called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The White Star Quarterly Reader&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Most of what we know about the members of the white star society is gleaned from documents found within the archive, though with a few— as is the case with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Eugene Love&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;— we were able to track down and get in contact with folks who knew them. Not a single actual member of the group, however, has been located to date, though we continue to try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;At the time of the writing of his essay, Eugene Patrick Love was 19 or 20. A Korean-American cisman, he and his younger sister were raised by their mother in a suburb of Kansas City. He wore his hair long and played in a number of punk bands (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Ride to Ruin!, No / Thanks&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;), and only attended college for a year and a half before dropping out and disappearing— the first of the White Star Society to leave (and the only one for whom we have some account of said leaving). His primary contribution to the archive are a handful of cassette tapes on which he recorded a smattering of “spoken-word” poems, though he apparently hated that term. The essay in this volume represents his only written contribution, and was written at the request of the rest of the group as they worked to publish their own journal. His last known whereabouts was Colorado but, like the rest of the white star society, his current whereabouts remain unknown. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;His essay, “&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;(More) Regular-Ass Everyday (Historical) Materialism(, Please)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;,” was given its title by its current editor, as a) the original manuscript lacked an official title, b) the term itself is central to his essay, and c) said editor thought that bringing the vernacular of online social media discursive practices might help would-be readers clock the goals and aims of the text. In it, Eugene critiques the ideas behind common colloquialisms by pointing out the way both of those things are “taken up” andused to perpetuate “exploitation and domination” of the world by the ruling class. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The essay is divided into three parts. In the first, THEFT IS THEFT, he shows how seemingly simple, lazy colloquialisms reveal the contradictory calculus of value in capitalist society, and the fundamentally idealist notions that this sort of common sense is predicated on. In the second, THE DEATH OF THE SOUL, he shows how the common idea that we have a soul works parallel to that idealism, and articulates the mechanics of how it is used to subjugate people. In the third and last part, AGAINST GRATITUDE, he shows how the fetishization of certain affects similarly works to maintain a sort of self-imposed docility on people who might otherwise be animated to fight against those powers that rely on that self-policing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The essay seems to end without an ending, and all the characteristics of someone for whom a new way of seeing (and therefore of living in) the world is rushing upon them, connecting heretofore unconnected dots. The almost gentle abruptness of the end of the text seems to be an echo of his life at the time, that point where he apparently decided to stop what he was doing and leave, like a sort of sigh of relief. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Besides the above text, the inaugural issue also features an interview with Eugene’s roommate at the time of his departure, as well as a Eugene’s playlist for the writing of his essay (along with some notes on the importance of music to Eugene and his writing endeavours) and a brief introduction to the second installment of the series, Hannah Torres’ “Illocutionary Meditations.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</g:description>
      <g:price>7.00 USD</g:price>
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