saturday, october 21st
There is acid in the wind today. There is more phlegm in the spittle on the pavement. There is a heavy violet greasiness to the waft of product that remains like an unwanted hand on my shoulder from passing by the groups of haircutted yuppie-emulators. There is a wolvish honesty that the sharp drop in temperature has brought out from the practised protocol behind the smiles.
"Hello." You sound like a violin out of tune.
In summer, the new arrivals mistook it for a yodel of introduction.
Now it is yelp of that bastard inequality. We are all piano tuners under the skin, we've been pitched into unease.
Now is the time to refashion yourself into a Russian, what? English? it does not turn my head, does not resonate with me, I have no response, and you are left there, breathing your own air. How does that taste? While then, a ripple of reassessment mellifluates everybody; the terms of composure are dwelt upon.
Sometimes a non--answer makes you investigate the question. Warm your heart, cool your blood, come back from the frost, blink.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
frame
thursday, october 13th
"... is only one child and they keep getting born over and over and what makes different people is the lives and the conditions of living. So "different people" just means different versions of the person, of all what it can mean to be a person. Like the one child has split and is dealing with fractions of themselves. Or is dealing with themselves on a time-fractured basis. And the loop of population, no I mean demographics, ok, ok, no, both and also a general climate of social conditions, what if that looping is a self-referential and sensitive logarithm?"
Why do I have to be held back by the maths teacher and be the last one on the bus and have to sit next to Max?
Why today?
And I'm certainly not going to put a why question to Max.
I mean, it's interesting talking when it's summer and we're on the trampoline and the universe is really big and it's easy to think and talk like this. That's one thing. But dude not here and now.
I'm on the bus going home and your clothes are stateless, they are refugee clothes, man, you really should be a little more aware.
and I look out of the window and am confronted by squares. Everywhere man, just like every shape of thing I see out there is a collection of squares and, if not square, a whole damn lot of right angles.
I've been doing that a lot lately, feeling smacked over the head with squares every time I open my eyes and the teachers at school got a snitch, like pack mentality, about where my eyes are. I mean, they say, about me not paying attention. In class. But I can hear and think and look just fine justthe same on separate tracks.
I'm kind of noticeable to teachers, or they have radar for when my eyes are either not on them or the board. Or on my desk.
I like being in lessons and it's kind of soothing hearing an adult's voice making continuous connections for like, thirty minutes, even when they repeat themselves. And as more and more arrangements of squares keep coming into view, I have additional draws to my attention and the thing is they're on a grid, so moving your head, it's like all the crystals get redrawn. And the teachers don't like it. They start holding you after class and blaming things on things. Now, that, I don't know why. If it was last summer I would ask Max and he might talk it through like he knew.
But what with all the squares in sight at the moment, what am I going to do, not notice them?
"... is only one child and they keep getting born over and over and what makes different people is the lives and the conditions of living. So "different people" just means different versions of the person, of all what it can mean to be a person. Like the one child has split and is dealing with fractions of themselves. Or is dealing with themselves on a time-fractured basis. And the loop of population, no I mean demographics, ok, ok, no, both and also a general climate of social conditions, what if that looping is a self-referential and sensitive logarithm?"
Why do I have to be held back by the maths teacher and be the last one on the bus and have to sit next to Max?
Why today?
And I'm certainly not going to put a why question to Max.
I mean, it's interesting talking when it's summer and we're on the trampoline and the universe is really big and it's easy to think and talk like this. That's one thing. But dude not here and now.
I'm on the bus going home and your clothes are stateless, they are refugee clothes, man, you really should be a little more aware.
and I look out of the window and am confronted by squares. Everywhere man, just like every shape of thing I see out there is a collection of squares and, if not square, a whole damn lot of right angles.
I've been doing that a lot lately, feeling smacked over the head with squares every time I open my eyes and the teachers at school got a snitch, like pack mentality, about where my eyes are. I mean, they say, about me not paying attention. In class. But I can hear and think and look just fine justthe same on separate tracks.
I'm kind of noticeable to teachers, or they have radar for when my eyes are either not on them or the board. Or on my desk.
I like being in lessons and it's kind of soothing hearing an adult's voice making continuous connections for like, thirty minutes, even when they repeat themselves. And as more and more arrangements of squares keep coming into view, I have additional draws to my attention and the thing is they're on a grid, so moving your head, it's like all the crystals get redrawn. And the teachers don't like it. They start holding you after class and blaming things on things. Now, that, I don't know why. If it was last summer I would ask Max and he might talk it through like he knew.
But what with all the squares in sight at the moment, what am I going to do, not notice them?
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