A certain reader recently brought this old post to my attention and on re-reading (or reading it again a first time?) I recognized things meaningful to me about what it is that “goes on” in this wily to-and-fro with language that “writing” seems to be for me. Strange occurrence of never quite recognizing my past selves, but finding them inspiring. Also nice example of the ephemerality of digital objects – a few short years and music, links, records, ANYthing can disappear…
Evincing
The term is evincing. That word that stands for the complex of tangled strands stuck and striated into a confrontation with blankness. You know what I mean?
Balled up like a sap-thickened snot-slickened hardening knot of twine, all strung together, unruly, but wadded and crushed, like a snowball – a large icy one – but dirtied – clodded thick and gluey-thready – distasteful, a kind of impossible object – something like the idea of the innards of a self – what one sees in a mirror – like a melancholy music – tunes that you love that empty and sicken you – help you to feel more alive – all that. More. The unaccountable enormity that feeds into a stream called entity. All that. More. Horrible, beautiful things.
The fact that we are far more than we are able to surmise, and far…
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Polysemic Stupor 
I forgot to mention how “Flustercucked” made me giggle more than it should have. 🙂 Wishing and hoping a brilliant sunset for you with a long quiet ended by children’s embraces. xxxx
Beautiful, especially when spoken aloud. Thank you.
Thank you