these little things that plug at my heart strings

thursday, 24th february

So when you write is it like peeing or thought. Is it a bodily function that is traceable? Is it as natural, is it as unbidden, as unregulable as sweat in humid conditions? Why? This is the big question. In fact, why?, is the only question. “Why?” is question. Is as does. Raison d’etre. This is the germ of all human genius. The human genius is for explanation.
The human genius for explanation (requires to operate) the prerequisite “why?”. Why is writing so unsatisfactory. More than the inadequacy of words. The crafting of word to the truth of the thought. The gap in integrity between the transmission of and the impetus that motivates speech. To communicate in a learned matrix. The straightjacket of language. Flip the bird at grammar and make a futile escape a pretend escape from the clutches of permissible expression. A new language?An unrecognizing of language? Denial. Ignorance. Ridiculising.
When you write, it is an act of will, yours on the myriad of perceptivities in which you operate. Another’s will to whom you address your inclinations, to deliver a work of your own independence that they commissioned but did not commission. The commission is like the slipped sideways submission.So that you can always say, “I did not mean that” What is meant?This is where language gives a respite from the act of justification that it finds itself an affiliate to.…You can’t start with a hug. You can never start with a hug, it’s what is built up to. The hug isn’t a beginning.…What I keep being confronted with in life is the importance of not throwing yourself off a bridge. Just over and over. And the constant realization of how young you were.…So that’s the most perfect poem.…What?…Two people meeting. That’s the hug not being any sort of a beginning, any sort of a carry on. There must, in a story, be something for there to be carried on, yeah, so if something is carried on, then the sublime, the thing that gets the audiences rise out of their seats and their train of thought to some clear inspiration that’s when you introduce the two people meeting each other. You can set it up and it can be skillfully incorporated into the carry on, the train of thinking – oh yes, the narrative, and this can be honed, you can learn a multitude of genres, yeah, you know – but you see, the meeting, the physical act and the time it takes and the space it covers and the expectation and perspectives and emotions, it’s this meeting. The sublime is captured in the meeting, and in your story always, always keep the integrity of the meeting and you will have a little kernel of magic to infuse the exercise and your process, so even if you are having writing troubles, you know you have magic, and at your discretion you can implement it, always, always refer your sensitivity to the meeting.It’s the perfect poem. It’s the most perfect poem I know. What are we dealing with – form and impetus and humility and absolute tender honesty. There is no better representation of the humanity of humanity than the meeting of two people. Do you see? You see.…You can’t really interpret a meeting. You know. It’s essential. It is the essential.…Yeah, alrighty, I get you.

w'happen

wednesday 23rd february

call me what you hear in your nerves when you think of the breeze, in a park with fountains, over the ceremonial pebbles. call me like there is a green scarf wrapped around your neck. call me when you are walking and the scarf is yet to warm up to your own temperature, is new against the air, and you are quite warm.
because when i think of you, i think of you thinking, when i think of you, what it feels like is being called by you.
And you're probably not - in the infinite alternatives, some how that is even better. Man, you better keep your voice down, all the crows are scattering.

umbrellas are better for floating in

When it rains, it rains, it rains and it rains.
That's what hits the pavement far below and that's what I see past my window. I'd been looking at the harbour, clocking the expression it was painting on the city, for 3 days now on account of it being so hot, and me being on the beach and so close to it, and walking on the track above the nearby suburbs and looking down toward the roofs of the business that churns the people here, seeing them coated in glutinous sun and the harbour glinting. The harbour was a mischief. Highstreet behaviour, like banking, warrant of fitness, running in for a drink, looking for metallic belts, was commonplacely one-eyed like always, and even through the impermeable, amateur focus of accumulation of hours in acts, the harbour managed to sweep itself into a peripheral dimension, so that every breath and awareness seemed to be happening on the edge of something.
And then it got hot, with a curious metallic lightness; then it got so light, the clouds were silver and if you were to find yourself inside one, you might have heard ringing; then the sky disappeared into silver and all of a sudden it was dark.
On the peninsula, the view of the city was munched up by globulous, fastmoving clouds, shapeshifting but motionless, an emulsion of water vapour and vaporized proofs of human life poised across the harbour, so few feet up.
And I was very happy that the lady behind me had 2 cans of tuna and 4 cans of salmon, because it looked like a habit and it's quite a nice feeling to believe you share a nutritional culture with a stranger in the same town, it feels like you live here.
It broke like saucepans and tambourines on patios without number. It broke like glass. The wind weaved through the raindrops falling straight straight, it felt like being kissed. Nobody left for 16 minutes, it just came down.
At the moment, the whole place is grey. If it is still raining it is doing it very quietly, at this point I can't see past the glass on the window, I can't see the harbour. Perhaps the harbour doesn't exist. Actually, there are lights on the peninsula, I can see those. Which means the harbour is still there, but it is incredibly cold.

excitement in lifesize increments

put backing on picture
make phonecall to mobile
krisflyer
ask about hanging picture
go to rhubarb
clean room
starbucks
txt
120 min circuit
sauna

Dialogue

this much is true and i want you to hear it from me. i know the weight of it and how it can be taken and i know what it is to me and how that much will not be understood by you. this much i open up like a bird released from cupped palms.

- mhmm. small smile and possibilities.
possibly circumstances have forced this crisis
circumstances really circumscribe my response and possibilities
your timing is quirky
and you're slow off the mark
next time go for it. and this one's in stars, lit up, urgent and teasing

series of pronouncements on personal mental state, perceptions, projections.
however, and this one's like a banner, no implications are extended, these truths are islands contained
series of generosity in continuous and reciprocal verve

i am a little bit in wonderment, a little bit in security, this is my ambiguity and this is what i know, my ambiguity is my pillar.

--Certainty is the one thing that to me is false. Truly it is. --

- well, you know that i am in a no-place
i have a job starting in 2 weeks in another country, the ticket has not been issued yet, the agent and i are sorting some vague dance,
why is everything so difficult, my negotiating skills, my greater desire, can i see my options, can i see clearly, and these are things that i do not include in THIS, which is going on right now, with US, these areas are the uninclusive nucleus of a more flatter sheaf of my life, i have stress which i am trying to defuse and diffuse, engaging my attitude and my perception and concentrating on my breathing

now i'm worried. what's that look on your face? what are you thinking? will i see you tonight? come back in half an hour. let's let this be what it is.

- let's let this be what it is
and it has been a part of my reflection in this persons eyes for a while since they began to construct an identity for me, i love freedom,
water, air, freedom

--i like them. i like that they see me. i like them because they see me. --

concern, wonderment, laughter,

i take the time of future dates and make a calendar. the future dates are significant to you, now they are centred on me. i take this period. and the last person you see will be me. and the last night here in another town. and a long car trip. just with me. and an introduction, a significant introduction, through me, for me, and your identity will be through me,

- and this will, what?, to YOUR identity, for YOUR identity?

and in this time period, this era, this bonsai relationship, a fantasy in 24 hours, carissimi, love in a house

- when did my anger, my disengagement, my horror, my disappointment, my incredulity, my nightmare, my selfcensureship, and kaleidoscope of reaction become known to me. as if this is relevant, WHEN!?! the deal is HOW, how to annul this delusion?

and let me lay out my reasons. i have an essay. i employ persuasion. i conclude within a cabal of selfishisity, some series of pronouncements on personal mental state, perceptions,

all of this projections that i want to smash at a wall smashily, not like this emotional bulldozing that is going on here, smash these lies don't polish them by resistance don't inhale them and participate in a fulfillment ritual that will subsume me as the weaker conjoined twin, attached at a point that is vulnerable for me and will considerably reduce my life options

- and it has been a part of my reflection in this persons eyes for a while since they began to construct an identity for me that i believe that when you apprehend choice, it signals that there is an out, it signals "not my preference"

At this point at 2 in the afternoon i call in unannounced to say "i am angry with you"
And i say why
in a nonconfrontational way that is very honest and unmisconstruable and unmodifiable
in the way that when you say "no", it is your body and you are allowed to and noone gave you permission, it's your body

and they say
you have hurt my feelings
and pronouncements on mental state and influence of you

and i say
feelings and doubts and imagination
i have them too
imagination, i touched on the other day, in some collaboration on identity, togetherness and the primacy of the present, in everyday language
containment is in the family of "was". here, now, this, us, this is "is" and this is truth, constant
not consistent - but i did not SAY that bit
let it be

let's let it be

And now here we are.

always already

the music that goes straight to your brain, or wherever it goes, like the way that chocolate creates those pathways of physical memory that a chorus of inner smiles responds to (hello chocolate, hello, heyyyyy, mhmm, everything's fine, just got a whole lot better, you alright?), the recognition of instant and elemental all in one, this music carries my my heart, carries my little fidgety movements, and some days, carries my day, my waking and most recent sleep, the dream that will be later.
On these days, i feel like i am in a greater line of human discontents and supersedence and quirks, subliminally, subliminally, subliminally it is this and it carries me.
and i forget momentarily that i love boys more than blood, and that words are lies, and that electricity is untidy and that feet are the first part of the body. Music is flight.
pharaonic wings in the psyche,
and long strong sings from other people's voices, like a quality of soaring that is aquatic,
and apt lyrics that spit and pull you, yes you, up. These things that are real, know them, this music says (and makes),
and some version of the hyper-real, that ennables music like this, is carried clearly through it and carries me.
Life is so obvious. i love life. i love the everyfeeling, the nothingfeeling, the absolute, the transient, the core.
gayatri spivak wrote pure thought, upon reading it, the words that a reader-over-the-shoulder would have been able to see on the pages in my hands, existed merely as a convention, symbols of language on paper that seek to present thought and i think it is because her writing traversed the grammar and the nouns so very aptly and was already itself, needing no representation.
the last item in the end-of-year out-of-school music concert, was a 9 yr old on the drums, kayaiiiiiii, he flew! in himself, it was like a solitary tornado on the greenish gym matting, on the lines of future basketball courts and soccer fields, in front of knotted ropes and the stupid babyboom period bell, the double doors open and obscuring him somewhat in the light it let through - 11 am.

The Autograph Man Zadie Smith

wicka wicka check it!

from 7th oct -


Mon Jan 24,12:10 PM ET

Science - AFP
ROME (AFP) - The northern Italian town of Vicenza has imposed a week-long total ban on cars at the beginning of February in a major bid to fight pollution, the city announced.
AFP/File Photo

Bye-Bye Beige BoxMod your PC and turn it into art. We explain a few simple tricks, and how to shop for what you need.

People in this community of 115,000 will have to use public transport between February 2 and 8, under a new city order.
Exceptions will be police, emergency services, taxis, disabled drivers, people going to weddings or funerals, cars on liquid gas, hybrids and electrically powered vehicles.
Citizens must also keep domestic heating to no more than 20 degrees Celsius (68 degrees Fahrenheit) during the period.
Several Italian cities including Rome and Milan have imposed similar temporary restrictions on cars when an absence of wind, rain or snow make pollution worse.
One-day restrictions were imposed last Sunday in Milan and about 100 other communities mainly in the north, including Bergamo, Mantua and Verona.
Rome and Milan have also been testing a measure banning cars with even- or odd-numbered license plates on alternate Thursdays.
Similar schemes are already in place in cities such as Venice, Turin and Verona. Florence, meanwhile, has decreed that on three days each week vehicles not equipped with catalytic converters on their exhaust systems are banned from its streets.
Before the centre-right government of Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi came to power in May 2001, car-free Sundays were a regular feature, though not always very popular.
But Environment Minister Altero Matteoli doubts whether temporary traffic restrictions will resolve the smog problem.
"There must be structural reorganising," he said Monday. Last week the minister said alternative traffic was ineffective, suggesting instead offering premiums to drivers who give up older cars which caused more pollution.>

Everybody looks good in yellow

yellow is a pleasing word. it is pleasing to the ear. it is easily and pleasingly voiced. yellow looks, sounds and feels like the colour of all the aussie open girl tennis players' outfits. And Anna Kournikova's bikini - great pictures. Feels like 32' in the blink of an eye. Crescently yellow is succour (horrible vampire word, sorry for the juxtaposition of inferences and connotations) lunar reamed to spiritual observance. I would even say our spiritual observance, but I'm not channeling Herbert tonight.
Everybody loooks good in yellow.

15th july 2002 - nothing has changed

friday 13th january 2005
how much do you love me? she said and he laughed because it wasn’t true.
And this small joke was part of the bigger joke (and was the big joke) and people shared oh so easily in the spirit of the joke and it was the big joke and you didn’t need to understand it.
When people shut their eyes she hears that absent something of deaf laughter. When she is not in her body the unfathomable circus of humans and time brings her to a funnybone crux. But that wasn’t true because her body is all she is in.
And who is laughing now?
Listen.
And at the top of the tree all the small, near things.
The wind and the everything.

Skimboards and rock diving dogbites and torn ligaments septic cuts concussion a 24 pack burping and smiling looking for affection raw food dares and being a wuss.
eccentric and unmarked. stored for later, fuller reverence. and somebody will show you the way. nothing’s for free. good thing you’re paying.
The question is, what would, be done, without.
Bobbing along and not being stupid, not being like that.
One day.
Vomiting and running. (Because feet are the first part of the body).
But if she knows, she knows. and that’s the difference.
As if it’s true.

the elementality of zigzag-y peace

hello.
thank you for the warmth you have, for pointing out the flowers behind railings, for smiling at plastic bags in the wind, re-inventing every situation with the laughter you bring with you. Thank you for telling me the history of the world. Thank you for meaning it. Thank you that you let me hold you. Thank you for all the and then's ... Thank you for clear glasses of coffee and of lime juice. Thank you for interminable silences. Thank you for letting me explain you back to your ears and letting the history of the world then sink back into mine.
i think you are more beautiful than a flute barcarolle.

how eliptical is the maze where process, cognition and framework paradigmate?

monday 29 november
I am trying to figure out if guilt is a human invention.

this is

The Half Brother
The Last Samurai

there's something to it

Each key stroke that provokes a twinge in my spine, contributes to the overall narrative of my labour. How this is true. Even I am not entering any numbers, which are my labour and which narrative they course, the span of my contract and the little fish-bones of the project. I feel this work that I have done and I want to practise it more. However, I have an office and also, staff and a report to submit.
Kai is constructing a public baths. It is muscle-power, long-term and I think it is a good thing. My involvement is voluntary, naturally, but in myself, my will which is my own must converse with my engagement. I am single and rational but I am also a member of a partnership that is greater than myself and of which I, as a skilled functionary, recieve a salary for something which has ambiguous potential and ambivalent applications. The future is not assured. The future, if it may be phrased in so grandiose a fashion, is at stake.
I have the bruises to prove it.

Herbert the foreign citizen who is an accountant recounts a tale

wednesday 24 november
It is a strange thing. Absolutely it is an unusual position, and one that I find unusual to be in. Were I still at home, the bandages would be giving me some personal and national, even, comfort, bandages applied over my lumbar region, my lower vertebrae manually investigated, infra red directed over my kidneys. It is not inconceivable that I would have broken the fast of my invalid nocturne with kidneys on fried bread, dense with iron, to the point now, to the point. Perhaps there is slight bruising, I doubt there is any discolouration at the top layers of dermis. I am tanned for that matter. I am not hurt and I don't think I will even mention it. I write to cause a point for reflection, and that which I reflect upon occupies my mind so that it might as well be a mental bruise. I mark the page in sympathy with the mark I feel is dissipating through my brain. Whichever will be the more permanent.
Yesterday, I was included in the digging of a hole, diameter 3 metres, central depth 1.42 m, circumference depth .66 m. This tuesday, was completely unlike any day previous, this activity foreign to my normal conduct and it was instead of my usual employment during the hours of 8 - 6 (when the sun descends and backlights the flight of ravens, which I observe from the carpark, in my work car, which is unpleasant to travel in until I have let the ac run for a period up to 10 minutes).
Perhaps you know that few places in the world experience civic systems of water and electricity delivery, perhaps you live in these places and are unaware that such organisation is notable for its minority position.
Kai is constructing a public baths. The plans and illustrations are displayed on the info board that stands in the driveway. Particularly, mosaic covers all the surfaces, and where it is clear as it were, there is cement and coconut wood slats with cement guttering underneath.

TUTSOI or TUTSAI

wednesday 17 november

the urge to stimulate other's initiative.
hero.
in your own life to seek what it is you find to be beautiful.

Punct

thursday 11 november
Have you read a great story?
Probably going to teach english in japan - i know i know, i know i don't know though - so for life and for the flight, please recommend a book.
The Tale of Despereaux. In this book, the light shifts and turns.

In the same place when you said it was a syllabus

thursday, 4th november
It is possible to get seasick on the road her house is off. Where she lives is her house, and her history in this place trails her like a veil of trenchant tendrils, thus she lives in a historic mansion at the hub of the nation's independence. The other tenants know that they occupy the upper stories, and she the ground floor. It is an appartment over the sewerage outlet. It also borders the sea. The ground floor flat has patio doors and a garden that runs to the beach wall. It is a midgey appartment and the midgey overbridge practically scratches its back. So what? After the skeleton, isn't the life in the doing. Yes and she is history, damn, it's salty. You can breathe and smile in this place continuous as a dream. She does. Smile means that you know what this is. Smile means you can wake up tomorrow.
This is a description of ketchup. Which is how it feels when you are seasick on the way to her house. Ketchup. You have turned off the tarmac and you are not smiling.
I think you are listening just fine.

It might begin like this

sunday 31 october

The wind picked up. The concrete would set quickly over the evening. In two days the fence would stand and the house could be viewed from all angles. The sun would rise and set behind the boatsheds beyond the fence. The people would approach and recede against the strands of reinforced wire. It would be very pleasant to look out from a dawn kitchen and know that in the visible darkness something enclosed you. To know that in the visible darkness something as substantial as your own flesh, innocent and familiar, was doing as much nothing as ever. These things were good to know when you were a somnambulant pupae. Three holes remained, a flat residue of urea and earth over the workmen's efforts. Over all the efforts of all the people in the world that ever were.
One must put on contact lenses and go to the club. There had been no electricity for three weeks. Beef and pizza and much fish had been prepared and consumed at the waterfront in this time. If communism involved sundowners and collective barbeques in a meeting place of grainy stones and sticky tables as joie de vivre was known in that place, it hardly seemed plausible to be framed as a revolution, more acquiescence to common sense. If there is water I will be able to put on my contact lenses and be good looking. This was important for making things easier and understanding reasons. For many things, as you will see.

Dehydrated Exhilaration

saturday 30 october

a slightly euphoric drained sensation resides in my veins. Or maybe it's in the breathing in. I feel cradled by some benevolent satya, like I'm in the crook of an insubstantial arm. Rehearsal went from 10 - 4, would you countenance, el manic/manichaeo is so far inside the glass box the reason that he can't hear the sun cannot be explained by young-at-heart physics teacher. The lines of communication were on fire today; working overtime to connect and to challenge and to ask and to encourage and to soothe. The beast was unbeastlike so our attempts might just have effects over time. Numerous sleeps might evince some conception of how we might proceed. We want to proceed with directorial input. The true proportions of the beast are constrained like those supermangled watermelons. Tell me I don't want to teach English in Japan. The glass will only go if we wish hard enough and we will only wish if we all feel it. In short, I am kwisha'd by working 5 ways at once while deferring to the fat controller. And he yelled at his nearest support. So anyway she knows what she's doing, she's in it for her. Quite like her now.
ThenI had starbucks with mum.
How many countries have a starbucks franchise? Do the American embassies have little starbucks cells in their clubs? The freakiest aryan nation epitome would be starbucks available on missile launch vessels. Ow that hurts like a hammer in the elbow.
Maybe when sleep comes it will be regenerative. The night before last, something happened in the world, that hasn't been reported on bbc yet, but I woke up and it was cold and something in the world has stopped.

What do you know that makes sense of the world?

tuesday 26 october
The Bone People
Of Human Bondage
Cannery Row
Wide Sargasso Sea
The Love of Stones
I Can Read The Sky
The God of Small Things
Eleven Minutes
To Esmé with love and squalor
My Brother
Jonathon Livingstone Seagull
~ Dorothy Parker ~
Brick Lane