from the unpublished archives
All I really need to do is feign vanishing, close my door or windows, and then they start knocking and peeking in. When I am open and calling, no one’s home. Funny how we switch our status dependent upon others’ availability. How much of a social creature are we? …One with THINGS to prove.
Our food is a poor mimicry of the natural world. We are divorced from our land and our crops; we are married to industry and infatuated with “freedom.”
(How can one live by oneself forever?)
We see mathematical programming, and we think “nature.”
Let’s not forget who we are, sitting on the edge of the world.
The writer experiences; the readers wish to. How many readers are there to writers proportionally? Writers need to remember chronology, or intuit it. They are on the outside, playing god… while musicians are IN IT so completely that they diffuse to the water surface over all.
Dates are really just new titles.
I love being injected into a band’s life for tasting. Sometimes our palettes are so close, it floors me.
When we cannot orient ourselves, we look for reflections; it’s a natural occurrence.
Sometimes I really hate the outside world, and the choices it made without me. When did we all become arbitrary numbers? *thinks*… however…. Arbitrary numbers will always perpetuate themselves in arbitrary systems. Do we act out in these human-suits, (for so long we have worn them after the war), being arbitrary numbers? Or do we shed our suits and demolish the system?
The writing prompt I was given: “Write, taking off from visual projections, whether mental or mechanical, without thought to the word in the ordinary sense, no craft” is my default “how”… just the Way I am. People actively ignore their senses constantly. It fascinates me what people need to be prompted on and what they do not.
I kn(o/e)w the ending at the beginning and vice versa… if the speed of light means anything to you.
…1100 words in no particular order conveying fantastical imagery of pierced-sky blue and we all, at every end, curling the space up and out so we all meet again.
(We never live completely alone.)
DISCIPLINE has its own temptations; don’t let them make you believe differently. (It is the values of steps that we drew out.)
Remember that we all kept the same stories…
So that we could tell them to each other
And share them at each round.
Convince yourself that a story heard from back to forwards is the same story as heard from the front to back. All stories are the same story… there are always loose ends, but never ends. We cannot be pulled from the paper, the story, the position until it is all out. This is why people hang on; to get it all out.