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

digital karma

sunday 24 october
an amazing, funny, astute, sartorial, collection of jokes and understood looks visited. my friend rocks. i am so glad to be their friend. if you need proof the world is good.
good luck, my friend and calmness and excitement.
we get the same intakes of breath.
Truth telling exists in the quality of the silences.

Trying to love you yesterday

friday, 22 october
Trying to love you yesterday

i’m sure it’s possible
it will happen,
i only hope, the way i want it to

the things other people have read about
are beyond my reach,
the speed of someone else’s journey

a flower i didn’t see
the change of air
the iron taste of all the iron everywhere
a twoway mirror, the reason it is so easy

a harmony needs to be struck
that is when it will happen.

whatever can be accorded

thursday, october 20

For some people, infinity is not for them and what they are. Infinity isn’t for some people, and yet we are all part of it. Sometimes I don’t know why I do things. Maybe people who do are just fooling themselves.

Much and all is elided over. All and much is elided for the absurd indulgence of the craven creed of Respect in the eyes of other men.

Houses are just places where men fuck women. Men fuck men everywhere else. A house is a place for plumbing. Covered plumbing systems inside a house. And also stops the wind.

I just don’t want to lie next to somebody and be lonely.

But then, again, sometimes you think just leave people to each other. People deserve each other; everyone gets what it is they need in their cycle of stupidness. And then I think, what about for the intelligent ones? What about for the ones like me? Oh, I do not want to be left to the wildernesses of the jovial and the quag. It is a burden to all thought – to be left at the mercy of the addled and the strong. That I would, will, not be left. That I have recourse.

So for the ones like me
For the ones like me, and me, we are the others’ recourse. Which is a very funny thing that we can only project through and across the generations. It is a curious thing that we cannot communicate. It is as though our communion is enacted through our powers of imagination, to the extent of our imaginations. An entirely intellectual communion. And not an organic communion. An interiorly physical communion.

Goddamn, are books sacred?

Trees in Berlin

thursday, october 20
Upstanding twigs

When you have glass then you have a clear view of modified nature. You then become separated from nature and more cognizant of what is around you, of it, of what it is and how it is distorted is what you are lesserly aware of of necessity. And of where you are.

It’s a play about control, and autonomy and manipulation. The manifestation of identity.
You know how they take up spheres and these spheres of identity, of identities, machinate upon each other in such this tragedious way. It’s a slow rolling to resolution, and the vital part of the ball is Desdemona.
I love her vitality and I love her love for Othello. That is what I know, Desedemona’s love for Othello is the biggest and the least consequential part of the play. The inconsequentialness of her the psychic or moral weight of all the motivations and justifications of the play.
I think in 'Othello', Shakespeare has gifted us with a playing field of an equality/array of philosophies.
And the human heart of the play is Desdemona. Her heart is what she gives and what we take for granted. It is a role of magnificent relation; it is so reactive and chemical and the energy is what I want to know. I want to know how it is that she wants.

The obfuscation and machination of Iago – the conversation between men – is the crafted significance of the play; the figure of Desdemona has a truth in it to an extent more than linguistics and yet this truth and this figure of truth is vulnerable to the susceptibilities of Othello’s self doubt.
The play is about Othello – everything in it touches upon him, takes its’ course from his psychology.

We have the same unknowing determination. I want to learn the ways that I don’t recognize