For some time I have been lacking for representation. Processes and patterns go on, no doubt, but nothing materializes save scattered words, informed thoughts, scholarly papers, and so on. Spouse says of self: “I need something to shoot for, develop toward, to propel…otherwise I stagnate, repeat…” and I agree with her – I’ve been itching for fiction – a larger project – something to belong to and build while fulfilling responsibilities, learning, parenting, husbanding, being “professional.” But the pages have been blank. This morning I began, and it started like this:
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Experience, anyway.
And stared at the head of Buddha. As if literature were whatever could be fitted to symbols. There were experiences anyway. Complex goings-on.
He started. As if starting were the only thing he could do. He, she, self, other, organism – whatever. It had begun. If there were a god, it might know where, but they – for the life of them – could not figure it. Not literature.
And for all the anyway-experiences, also.
In other words.
They stitched and thatched and wove, tore through, ripped out, clipped and pasted and tagged. For all the cross-hatching and shading, foregrounding and back-, no image came through. Or if it did, it never matched.
Representation. Representamen – for a more mystical suggesting. Arcane. Obtuse. That which is metaphor’d. That which signals, indices, or forms. That which functions. Which can be acted on, or with, within, without. Functioning ephemera. To latch.
And undo. It passes. Lock on – decipher. Pass around the room. Agreeing by argument, it becomes. Difference. Evaporate.
The head of the Buddha is shaped out of stone. More likely poured, cast. More likely art – official. What is artificial? – But human construction of world. That radical deflect. That begin. In symbol.
At a certain time (constructed, invent), cross-purposes : experience. Anyway, perceived. So aroused – appreciation, cognition, desire, belief – purchased (bought, fallen-for, faith-in) : acquired. Experience, anyway – head in corner on bookshelf knick-knack antiques, money (that wasn’t there), and taken away.
Evaluation = meaning. Interpretation. Somewhere whereabouts and how, or when – experience, anyway. Action occurs. It’s started.
That’s a catapult out of the ordinary. Well done.
again, thank you John
A head looking at a head, head fills with another head’s thoughts, the real becoming unreal, and also reversed wise. I am pictures from elsewhere and I wait for the next…..
I like the physicality of words, working with them as if they were hard labor – cross-hatching into endless depth, like Tenniel…with the tearing and ripping I can’t help but envision the clever, bloody fingers.
This is good; it makes me think endlessly.
thank you
Skating on the edge where words meet their meanings. Lovely, thank you.
very kind. thanks
It is so enjoyable to read you dear N Filbert, you have a wonderful writing spirit… Thanks and Love, nia
A wonderful quote by Umberto Eco.