Investigating “breaks”: antidote? meaning?
When there are assignments – yes, that’s the word – trajectories commissioning the laborious application of signs – I resemble a young school-age girl white-bloused and checkered-skirted skipping little curlicues down a sunlit autumn sidewalk. Either in performance or avoidance of what demands to be done. Activity testifies to play. The weight of the backpack keeps the frolic tethered to the ground.
Geometrically you could geo-graph-ically map the carefree trail, which would end up looking quite a bit like the path of Woodstock’s flight (extended)
[how I investigate world]
Relieved of positive burden – reputation, obligation, guilt, shame, agreement – anywise some sort of internal enforcer relating to the external world – is as if Schulz erased the yellow birdy’s gravitation. The backpack become balloon with the force of hot air but random like helium – set free of a hand and willy-nilly flitting to loss in midwesternly wind-raked sky.
Mine is more of a breach or a gap in the hedge – squares of deconstructed sidewalk without boards.
Collapsing toward me in slow-motion imminence are towers of books and billings, due dates and mouths to feed, souls to placate or nourish…rebar extending in its warped way out of the soil behind me – projects halfway done, future commitments previously agreed, promissory plans enacted for stabilizing measures. Even now I hear the dogs barking outside, wanting in. But the knot of rubber and tie of string are so easily undone…like mowers accidentally thud-chopping coiled garden hose that lay mimicking the hoppity school-girl’s jaunting…and all drifts off and away, falling through space, spinning in time – neither up nor down nor to or fro – simply set free / total loss – momentary or not: unknown – vacuous absence – somehow unmoored.
Where I am.
Wandering back over writings from the past year that I have yet to “organize”…I’m running across portions of interest (that I can’t even access to fix typos in now!? having been done on a former computer and transferred/transmuted with missing marks / disintentions, alas) – but something I can do when I’m sick… so I’ll post a few of these and you can weigh in (if you will) with what you think – whether interesting, worth filing away, saving forward and what-not. Thank you!
press here : Taking It In : press there
Human flu is a term used to refer to influenza cases caused by Orthomyxoviridae that are endemic to human populations (as opposed to infection relying upon zoonosis). It is an arbitrary categorization scheme, and is not associated with phylogenetics-based taxonomy. Human flu-causing viruses can belong to any of three major influenza-causing Orthomyxoviruses — Influenza A virus, Influenza B virus and Influenza C virus.
Most human flu is a non-pandemic flu that is slightly different from the main human flus that existed in last year’s flu season period. This type of flu is also called “common flu” or “seasonal flu” or “annual flu”. It causes yearly flu epidemics that are generally not deadly except to the very old or very young.
Human flu symptoms usually include fever, cough, sore throat, muscle aches, conjunctivitis and, in severe cases, severe breathing problems and pneumonia that may be fatal. The severity of the infection will depend to a large part on the state of the infected person’s immune system and if the victim has been exposed to the strain before, and is therefore partially immune.
All of these symptoms are characteristic of numerous infectious agents, so many that most diagnoses of human influenza technically are diagnoses of influenza-like illness (ILI) and most cases of ILI are not due to influenza.
[peeling paint off a pencil used for teething]
in a fluey oblivion – that weakness and stingy tingly skin surface of hurt while the bones diseasing ache and organs rot following torrential attack of the virus. Just that sort of glaucous gaze, while wishing I could be contributing meaningful language into the world of humans, duly rearranged toward some import, feeling the passage of a bright cold day filled with wealthy hours bulging with productive possibilities, eyes stung unable to tighten to focus or move without sand, arrow along anywhere, body bereft of batteries soughing along, draped, crumpled, wrenched, deflated here and there throughout the house, asking again and again like a cyclone of pencil marks – sentencing – within a gluey glaze of cranium bathed repletely in symptom-smattering chemicals scrambling and defracting synaptic sparks – “what do we think we’re doing when we want to – write/paint/draw/dialog – express/describe/inscribe/communicate?” “When we want to?” Why do the hours pain so when they disappear in illness or hurt, confusion or despair, inability?” “What have we proposed to ourselves or one another that we might be offering were we not undone?” Whirling conflation of such creamy viscous thoughts like mumbling mush, crossed inquiries, towers of babbling echoes just seeping stains, unable to vomit or defecate, trapped between intestinally sluicing back and forth as if clarity or some stint of reason could make sensible hope and power, as if, on a normal day with faculties and physiology aligned I might dialogically inscribe some arrangement/re-arrangement of terms and rhythms, sounds and sense that would change, remake, foster, enable or disable to some extent deemed important – but would I? Have I? When? How? In the ocean of stories, atomically-termed universe, paltry chicken feed of the barnyard of my pen on paper – what difference outside of me has any word meant lined up just so next to this on or that how it pieces my own world together like a context the two tiniest slits of my perspective, shaping and giving shape to all the data or input, experience or information swilled together like steel shavings to an electromagnet brushing a factory floor – what difference though – really – to spouse or children, you or universe, god or war? Absent depression or dismay because virus + medication is muffled even beyond apathy adding discomfort not soured in the brain but citrus mixed with dairy curdled without complaint what is it I think would have been made if sick days didn’t intervene, interfere, intrude, interrupt, would it have been better than this – this nothing but record of viral mania reformed by terminal translation : linguistics, semiotics, indices and signs available in repressed unhinged layerings of smoke across the pages?
Bare Bones and Synapses : Oscillating (a Story)
Feel like I’ve been out of the game…aside from Friday Fictioneers I haven’t had time for concocting, playing and revising original texts for awhile…feeling this time opening up a little bit I’ll be trying to finish up some long-term projects, while also working out some ideas that have been swaying to and fro in me cranium…here’s a gutturally wrenched structure that I barfed up today…we’ll see what becomes of it…
#1 perks up, signaling “it’s about time something truly great were written…at least what we’re capable of writing…the best we can do, right now.”
#2, energized by this, by the vibe that the entire gang might be on board, the whole shebang ready to summon resources and operate, sync up, as it were, breathlessly quivers, smiling shyly, eager
#3 promptly curls over and balks, doubts, folds under, clenches. Mostly afraid of failure, or of not having what it takes to see this thing through – concoct something “great” – shimmies and blocks out, switches off the snaps and veils the crackling lights in nearest hallways
#4 is feeling good, having been freed to excesses in the night, sensing the throbbing in the basement and burning like a reptile in the sun, pleased and exotic, inspiring
#7 with pleasurable visions of fantasies and victory. Floodlights on, matched to #4’s bask, but also pulling in air, rolling back shoulders and drawing up the chest while sucking in the tummy
#5 babbling away nondescript utterances, filterlessly spilling data, codes and equations of plots, prose and characters grabbed here and there from the crooks and crannies, gutterways and mushy sewage-scapes like pebbles stuck in gluey glia.
#1 now boisterous and bellowing, carried away in surges, blurting out hurrahs and coach-cliches, beckoning a kind of connective huddle
If #4 could think alone, he’d claim erotic inception for the will of #1, having woken aroused by images spun from #7 throughout their “sleeping” 8Hz
But #1 is wanting more and #3 isn’t giving or opening up
#6 and #7 providing soundtracks and scenarios, pressuring #4 to kick up the heartbeat, #2 to activate arms and hands
Four of the seven are joined, yawping and dipping, rippling a recursive wave – this group is on the move
#4 sends chills down the surface and tingles spine and loins
#2 adjusts all openings, focusing on bright lights and sparkly things, deep greens and muted blues
#4 pounds “approach” and “happy” buttons like timpani
#6 starts sweat and shuffles memory volts of breezes
#3 begins to forget as #5 yammers and badgers and #4 jacuzzies the mass in hot syrups
#1 commands #2 to to focus, clip and edit #5, while #6 and #7 distract with many-colored bouncing balls
Optimally they’ll link up and ride this wave in balance – each informing the other – shocking, supporting and inspiring the murky mass trapped in 22 inches of bone.
Like margins, thresholds, beginnings.
Species of relation.
I am drawn to synthesizing agents, it seems. I find myself attuned to, and triggered by, generalizations, and yet curiously constantly in search of them.
Fitting things where they converge, borders of meetings and passings.
Oscillation is one such theory. Neurologically cognizable perceptively, passaging to and from hemispheres and lobes, neurons and systems, and productive. From which we get “fire together – wire (conspire) together.” Symphonic circuitry. Fluctuate congruity. A jazz band improvising.
Extended to bodies in spaces and times, collective moods, or space and time themselves, if you will. Constructive theory of observation. Oscillation.
As if a structural template for an expression of personal creative process.
As if an introduction toward a story, that story that’s been brewing, surging, throbbing and stewing throughout my physiological corpus for days, since an opening of light, of breath – a semester’s impending conclusion – aptly (I hope) nominated “break.”
If “break” belongs with “dance” and poetic feet fall into step, or sentences seek their stride. She hopes so, as does he, now ungendered in a unison of copulatory oscillation, my hope for the tremoring bits that vibrate me toward a Nathan : writing.
…to be continued…
Of Inquiry (Inquiring)
“Inquiry, then, is more like running around a circle and back and forth between different points on it than walking in a straight line”
-Stephen Littlejohn / Karen Foss-
Theories of Human Communication
And yet whoever thought of it otherwise?
Still sometimes we use logic, as diversion, among the so-called “points,” letting it go. Circular, perhaps, in that way. Much as we’d like to, never quite constructing a web. For capture. Or a moment to observe, re-flect. Rather, more de-flect.
If you get their picture.
Would be something like this:
“Intention provides the field for inquiry and improvisation the means for inquiring”
The Language of Inquiry
That is, I assume, if for “improvisation” we substitute some creatively imagining wandering – the wonderings of intention or querying of some inceptive experiencing? After a fashion.
I’m prone to argue the “point.” I.e., “What/where/when/how – a ‘point’?” Inconceivable for me. As my understanding of ‘point’ is like my comprehension of ‘god’ or ‘time,’ ‘truth’ or ‘being’ – concepts as moving targets without definite characteristics – indefinable insubstantials. E.g., the falsity of my diagram.
It wouldn’t surprise me if I thought of inquiry as motricity. When we intend to inquire we’re moving (point-less) and inquiry moves us (point-less) among (therefore, obviously) moving things (thereby point-less), if only in relation to us. The denial of a dead present. Pointedly.
No stasis for the living. Life (logic leads), as, literally, pointless.
So how do we refer? Index? Sign? “Point” to – in all this motion? Commotion?
Language levies us these lies. These helpful and distorting machinations and maps of partial, hazy truths. Like mathematical “laws” providing invisible scaffolding in which to graphically refer. To question and inquire into falsely stable invisible objects. Creative and imaginative markers. Hypothetical space-time convergences – true experientially – but unlocatable save for the traces in ongoing movement – unstoppable, uncharitable, unrecordable – each stoppage (representation), chart or reading of ‘reality’ being an-Other, a deflection, an improvisation and wandering (i.e. a new experiencing)…
…dropping the term “experience” as blatantly false.
…retaining till death “experiencING.”
Not, then, “to question,” but questionING, one and same with observING, evaluatING, inquirING, seekING, readING, creatING, fabricatING the impossibility of a truthful past tense.
…running round and round and back and forth,
not between points,
simply, actually, between.
N Filbert 2012
I continue to be passionately intrigued by the processes of “camera-less photography.” Chemigrams, Cyanotypes, C-Prints, Dye Destruction prints, Gelatin-Silver prints, Luminograms, Photogenic drawings and (overall category) Photograms. The most recent inquiry being this fine collection (tied to an exhibition) by Martin Barnes: Shadow Catchers: Camera-less Photography. In his introduction, Barnes makes statements like the following: “the essence of photography lies in its seemingly magical ability to fix shadows on to light-sensitive surfaces…an apparently unmediated emergence of form out of formlessness.” “Camera-less photography can be viewed as an embodiment of this definition, the images created through the process itself harnessing the ephemeral…showing what never really existed, but have the appearance of fragments, signs, memories or dreams.” That, dropping the distortion of lens and eye, camera-less photography is a process of “fixing traces, accepting elements of mystery and dealing with forces beyond normal vision.” As if it confuses roles and relationships…
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Many thanks to Music & Meaning / The Rag Tree for awarding me the “Very Inspiring Blogger” award. The work there is genuinely inspiring, in fact, just this week I was speaking with my spouse, artist & blogger Holly Suzanne, about RT’s work, particularly in translations and all that brings with it regarding languages and cultures and purposes of art. Thank you Rag Tree! I am honored and, indeed, inspired, by your work. In fact, I would hazard to guess that the decision to begin a personal blog or website, followed by the clunky and quirky process of finding or constructing a steady community of readers or viewers might be characterized by inspiration. As we watch one another follow their urges to “do or feel something…creative” it does “create a feeling, esp. a positive one” in us to continue doing/working/creating our own. I am thankful to the blogosphere for providing such a cheap and relatively easy format for those of us who will to expose our work far beyond our limited personal spheres, and especially to receive comments and criticism, and gather multitudes of inputs from others works all throughout the world, that we, most likely, would never have otherwise been exposed to. It gladdens me deeply if my work inspires others to work or think or be, and all of you that I follow have done the same for me.
I relish in giving awards to other bloggers, as there are so many out there, but we’d live in social media were we not forced continually to edit and select the number we can truly “follow,” and actually attend to. By that point, a blogger has gone through (for me) the same sort of criteria any music I listen to, literature I read, or conversation or activity I participate in does – engaging it involves an enhancement of meaning for my life. How can one not want to award or acknowledge, thank or praise those whose work and words enhance and expand your daily living?! So I find no difficulty in finding bloggers to pass the gratitude on to, the hardest thing is choosing! This blog comes with a few “rules”, as follows:
Seven Things About Myself
1. Writing joins me to the world.
2. I love theory – as a way of thinking about thinking about the world and anything in it.
3. I am particularly fascinated by the way humans learn and change.
4. My wife and children amaze me and expose and explode un-countable aspects of the world into me.
5. Rain is my favorite weather – especially the thick drizzly kind, the all-day kind (or all-week or -month) – optimum temperatures 40s or 50s.
6. I read 4-6 hours a day.
7. I like cabins and caves.
Now for those I recommend. For the selections for this, I have spent a good deal of time thinking “which blogs do I truly go to for inspiration?” Not only interest or admiration, information or curiosity, but that I seek out and miss if I don’t see, and that genuinely create in me the urge to “do or feel something creative…” perhaps even the “ability” to do so. Here they are:
Life In Relation to Art – see also www.hollysuzanne.net: yes, this is my wife and co-creator in everything I do. It’s true she always makes my lists for blogger awards, and it is also true that no other’s life or work inspires me remotely as much as living life side-by-side with her. I can attest to the effort and deep work that goes into each of her creations, and how her creating fuses into every aspect of our lives and activities. Thank you, love, for inspiring me every moment of my life.
Objects – see also www.spoondeep.wordpress.com – contributions by author “severnspoon.” This author also occurs with each of my kudos and thanks because he, too, constructs the courage to be alive in me. His work in graphics, poetry and mixed media ALWAYS inspirit me to do and make and think. Thanks, compadre.
Draw and Shoot – see also www.karenmcrae.photoshelter.com – when I first spied Karen’s work I was impressed by the mood and quality of each shot. Now, over months, I must say that I anticipate each shot, and have truly come to be amazed by the “capturing” her eye, technique and production do in relation to the world. These are photos I go back over again and again, almost as a meditation, guaranteed to evoke feelings, thoughts and the urge to create in me.
Christian Mihai – how can one NOT be inspired by the quality, content and sheer verve of Christian Mihai – he is instructive, productive and full of ideas and insights, as well as fine and evocative creative writing. Press “random post” again and again – let me know how many times it took before you stumbled across something “not interesting.”! Thanks CM – for all your work – and work FOR all of us!
Ironwoodwind and Photography Of Nia – Doug and Nia are two of the most humane, attentive, genuine, interested and interesting blogger-people I’ve come across. Both obviously care about the world around them and the people and organisms in it, and express themselves warmly and carefully into it. I notice from many that their efforts at commenting and encouraging others goes a LONG way in inspiring ongoing work in the community of WordPress. Thank you both for your kindness and creativity and communal encouragement.
Settle + Chase – in line with Draw & Shoot, S+C’s work indeed settles deep into the subject and chases what is ephemeral, mysterious, or not objectifiable in it. This leads consistently to photography that we are able to “enter in” instead of just observe and admire. I enjoy work like this that asks to be questioned over time…and continually provides new responses. Thank you S&C!
Boy With a Hat – I can’t remember how I came across this blog, but have not missed a post since I did. Here is some ingenious, fresh and alive writing and thinking. His 50-word stories are little explosions of insight, and his particular way of involving the reader in whatever it is he is considering in language is admirable and unique. Thank you Vincent Mars!
atelierscheune2012 – see also Ute Schatzmuller – here you’ll find visual art and collaborative work that I promise will evoke new ideas in you, inspire new collaborative desires, and set your mind or hands or eyes off on new explorations internally and externally. Ute’s work is suggestive and entire in a spiraling manner – each piece feels complete and yet also as if it’s the beginning of a journey. Thank you Ute!
The Disorder of Things – I promote this blog because I admire blogs that take on big issues and are willing to dig deep and explore options and ideas. I appreciate this because whether or not I agree with any position or concept under inquiry – it invites and enervates more thinking – which is inspiring.
Ooggetuige – primarily portraiture of some sort, the settings and background textures combined with perspective on subject consistently intrigue me. These photos start stories. Thank you!
The Hour of Soft Light – the writings, images, poems, quotations and reflections here nearly always brush some deep human place of longing, nostalgia, wonder or gratitude. Important things to keep alive in us. I appreciate the breadth and depth of the entries – the range of our human experiences.
Quirk’n It – inspiring in subject, expression and real-lifeness of it. The energy, interest and genuineness of her intention and attention to subjects, meanings, and scene are delightful to follow. (Also, there’s collaboration in the works – being considered for it is inspiring in itself). Thanks!
It Started With a Quote – likewise – so much of my life is inspired or rises out of what I read and then winds in and out of my lived relational experience, testing, proving, questioning the language of it. Here you encounter all sorts of worthy inspirations and get a chance to watch them thread through, effect and alter an able mind into the world of experience.
The Artsy Forager – I am SO thankful for the work of the Artsy Forager – bringing all manner of creative, enlivening, interesting works and activities into our days. Our family has a funny attribution to “feeling artsy” – for when we have that curious, active want-to…the Forager satisfies and often increases this want-to.
barbaraelka.com and Dark Pines Photos – two sites that do things with photographs that make me want to do things with words – change the finish, crack the background, tear the edges, skew the subjects…MAKE IT NEW! Very thankful for their work and steady spontaneous creativity.
There it is – longer than usual, but fortunately for me – it’s Thanksgiving Week in the USA, so seems appropriate. Hope you visit and enjoy each of these! And follow the tags onward to new brilliant blogs!
Wanderings & observations
Understanding ourselves and the world we live in.
-the near-unconsciousness of possible meanings -
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Information hygiene for the Covid-19 infodemic
Caminante, no hay camino. Se hace camino al andar. Wayfarer, there is no way. You make a way as you go. (Antonio Machado)
all that inspires, shocks and makes me purr
Freyja Howls is a writer, performer and activist who would have been a style icon and comedian a century ago.