November the 24th

Lydian

The summer

almost always,

so hard to endure –

warmth, light –

no solace

no protection –

only so much

undoing

is possible

in light…

heat

.

The autumn:

a young child

aging,

deteriorating,

dear demise,

desiccation,

something almost true

to fact

.

The spring –

its delusion,

deluge,

as if there were

a coming-to-be,

or fascist utopia –

with

all the bells

and whistles

.

Our winter:

discontented,

and good –

solidity

of presence,

sweet ache

of living,

being,

held,

in place

.

I love.

Maundy Monday, or “No One’s Ways” – thoughts on Monday

Obviously shame and guilt AFFIRM us… as organisms that CARE

(at the least about ‘how we are perceived or incorporated’)

or, it tires me out to be around ‘people’ but ‘people’ are what we get

or, “Hello, Adam” (Thalia Field, Personhood)

or, “I” am constructed by/in/with a context

or, what do “I” (does I’s) know?

or… and so on…

What does “care” stand for? Or represent? “Mean”?

~ a fine form of self-determination-destruction

indenting “i”-dentities

Behold: “I” cares. “I” is ashamed and guilty. “I” loss, lose, be-wilder. (Can you?)

– Care as apparatus and negotiation. A “feeling-for” securing a sense. Places and times.

“Concern”?

How does this fit? Be-long? Where when how what.

And so on.

NOW.HERE. (always – for humans, etc…?=ETCETERA – or beyond outpast = ellipses).

Sing again. Breath. Sound.

“Care” as negotiation.

– somewhere somethings laughing

Homo Fictus

“words are not a translation of something else that was there before they were” -Ludwig Wittgenstein- Homo Fictus  “Even when the body goes to sleep,…

Homo Fictus

Intriguing… I forget almost everything I write, thank you any others for finding it and letting me read it again.

Components


And then there were two
yet before that no one

but components
an organism of many
replete with fissures and gaps
traversed by muscle, nerve, synapse


(I often argue with words:
“two shall become one”)


It does not add up
and a unity has yet to be found
even in a singular
air is both inside and out
and language is still formed


And we tend to argue in words
with muscle, larynx, breath and tone
never terms alone
it’s cellular


if there ever was just one
it is unknown now
or how


our world is constitutive
it’s miracle
that it holds together at all


(It is argued with words:
“One is the loneliest number”)


But thankfully(?)
we’ll never experience that
even our grief and solitude
comes at the cost of others


left to one
undone
and silenced to pieces


And then there were none

Will Self on What to Read: Canons to the Left, Canons to the Right, and Everything in Between

Even if—as per my last essay for Lit Hub—we know how to read, there remains the equally vexed question of what we should read. If the 21st century is…

Will Self on What to Read: Canons to the Left, Canons to the Right, and Everything in Between

“I is Another” (or pronouns as shifters; after Jon Fosse)

Like the first,

the every new

dependent of change;

agent of again,

now this

.

the starting

that continues

into while

.

its struck

and tumbled

and keeps rumbling

a murmured name

.

an other, again,

an I, again,

iota, (the smallest mark),

now this