I would like to start experimenting here with another fictional idea I have of a series of brief sketches of a pronoun. “The concept or open field behind “I, for instants” includes the linguistic function of the pronoun (“‘I’ can only be identified by the instance of speech which contains it, and by that alone” –Emile Benveniste), an inquiry into the use of the singular pronoun with pluralities of selves/individuals (“Language is like drinking from one’s own reflection in still water. We only take from it what we are at that time.” –Simon van Booy) and the spatio-temporal/multivalent/polyphonic boundary of it all (“where the wash of uncertainty begins” –Nelly Sachs).
In bursts of instants of writing, I (Is) speak(s). Multiple instants of Is. Exploring I via time, place, situation, knowledge, composition, etc. hopefully thereby instigating some of us to consider (reconsider) our “Is” and engage personality and community in its becoming.
This instant seemed apropos to Valentine’s Day:
If I grew, for instance, in which direction? Perhaps a swell, a fissure, a scar or disease. I believe I reach out, long crooked arm with a wide-opened hand. Or is it grasping? Even the relation feels fictional. How could I know? Without you.