July 19th, 2001



i haven't meant to forsake this place i have just been very busy with books books and more books and the occasional explanatory paragraph or essay and usually by the end of the day i have no energy for chronicling my exploits unless like tonight i am fueled by beer and subliminal uneasiness.

beer because i get to name my own fridays and this is friday. both housemates are out of town and so i could be having a big party but whom would i invite? i know three people. well ok five but two of them are like i said out of town.

so in the absence of guests i have bound myself to the keyboard until the subliminal uneasiness eases. i don't know what to expect.
  • Current Music
    throwing muses' old stuff yay

(no subject)

and then there are the times that writing is circumscribed by fear. as though i do not want to go into it for knowing something might come out of it that i don't like. and yet what usually comes of it is even if surprising relatively rarely upsetting indeed even gratifying.

in undergrad the idea of the paradox of transitions was presented to me as the situation in which one projects one's current circumstances into a future which is to be brought about by a given change which will fundamentally alter the circumstances themselves. the upshot is that the conclusions you reach regarding what this future will consist of will be all wrong because you are projecting circumstances that will no longer obtain should this change come about.


writing is something like that. at the front end of it i am afraid because something is bugging me else why would i write why does anyone write except that something is bugging them and writing when something is bugging you allows that something a voice and this is dangerous.

but what i can't comprehend in the beginning is that writing tends to render the something bugging something else something projected held at arm's length and rationalized or at least rationalized to the extent that one's style of writing allows it to be.

which brings us to the question of how rational is writing and how can writing be true to the irrational and i don't know the answers to these questions i only know that there is fear of bringing something untoward to light and that writing tends to make it less untoward and that causes me to wonder if writing isn't a kind of betrayal of the untowardness of the not-yet-narrated.

always i try to hover between one and the other that is between the domesticating gesture of telling and the revelatory gesture of gesturing. the odd thing is that i try to do this hovering in writing itself which is the work of domestication except perhaps in poetry. and in near poetry. and in that which approximates nonlinearity all in a medium where all unfolds along a line.

i'm getting off track here. what i mean to say is that i approach writing obsessively as one who must write but who fears what that writing will bring about either in itself or in the state of the one who writes as though something will come into being that i cannot abide but which sits there obstinately as the truth itself in all its linear irrefutability.

which brings us round again to the same sorts of questions except this time one sees a tension between the insistence of the irrational and the righteousness of the rational and both are tyrannical in their own right which brings one to the question of whether to say anything at all.

but one says and one says compulsively and sometimes in the saying there is a little relief.
  • Current Music
    pink floyd. yes really.

style maybe. or rhythm.

whether to say anything at all. well one must say and so in the saying there must be something ameliorative of both the unbearableness of the untowardness of the unstated and the unbearableness of the systematicity of the stated.

i mean i don't know why there must be and i don't mean to imply that it follows from the imperative to say that saying must be of some good but simply that there is nowhere else to look so this is where i am looking.

at the same time like i said saying itself betrays something of the unstated that is brings it to account as it were at the court of saying itself and the implied order of syntax itself. but what in saying does not cleave to the order? well of course there are the varied interpretations of what is said that cannot be controlled but what within the saying itself apart from subsequent interpretations is renegade from the linearity it itself imposes?

i don't have the answer to that question only a strong suspicion that some answer could be made.
  • Current Music
    einstrzende neubauten -- silence is sexy


but in any case i can't answer now as the teeming that was is no longer teeming and i think this has something to do with my 'only' getting 8 hours of sleep last night. today has been abortive as far as teeming goes as i can hardly think my way through paper sacks at the moment but that really shouldn't disqualify me from saying should it?

i mean who says one must be sharp and at attention and acutely missing nothing in order just to speak.



if you don't speak no one will hear. what if one can't speak. levinas writes of listening to the other but what if the other can't speak. is there listening to be done where there is no speech. is there a way of listening in touching and watching. is there an auditory component to sight much the same way there is a visual component to listening.

can one listen by moving in sympathy with. i am thinking of course of what happens when you hold a cat down to do something you must do that is good for the cat but scares the bejesus out of it and how do you coax the fear out of the cat by nothing but gesture or pressure or rhythm. is there a speaking and listening there.

levinas seems to want to say that the world is offered in speech by the other without touching the same but i wonder about where the same touches the other and what kind of offering there is there in speech which is not speech exactly. what world is offered by the other who is so other it does not speak exactly.
  • Current Music
    aphex twin


see this is the problem today today i tried to remember something and couldn't. it's like this line from the music i am listening to right this minute it says beauty remains in the impossibilities of the body. and i don't remember what that means because beauty and the body no longer know each other in my experience or beauty no longer knows my body or my body no longer remembers beauty.

there is perfume coming through my window. which is odd as my window does not give out onto the sidewalk but the courtyard where as far as i can tell there is no one. but there is perfume coming through my window and i wonder what it was like to touch perfume to bodily welcome perfume. i cannot throw myself into it as i once did or as i fantasize that i once did as sometimes i wonder if things were really so much better then or just different from the way they are now.

but there is perfume coming through my window and i cannot quite touch it.