origin 7 notes in origin index ellie epp

spirit battle with a father




hegel: everything depends on grasping and expressing the

truth, not as a substance, but as a subject as well


a self having knowledge of itself in the antithesis of

itself, this ether


the beginning of philosophy presupposes or demands from

consciousness that it should feel at home in this element.

but this element only attains its meaning and acquires

transparency through the process of gradually developing it


this simple element is thinking ... really to feel alive there


the real living one is the one who is only there in knowing

itself to be and in managing movement among states


as a being it is simple otherness from its states


it isn't an original or primal unity as such, it is not

immediate as a unity. it is merely the process of becoming

itself, a circle


its work can be seen as play, then, but that leaves out the

seriousness, the suffering, the patience and the labour of

the negative





this quiet house. the fire breathes. continuous inhale with

particle crackles


today when nordhagen stopped by and saw my blankets on the

outside bed he said, aren't you afraid someone will r-r-rob





yesterday's fine concentration. in the afternoon i

hitchhiked to la glace to see them. after supper i set my

spine very vertical and began to lead him, instead of away from,

toward his vortices of complaint


it makes such a sense of brave balance to look into his eyes.

he and i have never looked in each other's faces except

very fast on the way to somewhere else, and i hold him now

for sometimes almost a second before he veers right and down


it's still hard for me to hold against his fright. i have

to work so fast and accurately. it's a kind of concentration

where speech comes from below and i have to rely on what

comes. it feels like sheer risk because it goes so against

the long practice in guerrilla warfare


and she's holding her breath. her long practice in distraction.

she can hardly bear it. sometimes i have to head her off,

or cut her off


and he dodges into his old safe hideouts and i rout him out.

i move fast because if I didn't i'd lose my nerve


when i was in it i didn't know at all where it would go,

that utter relying on the moment. i liked it too, it took

me out on a limb


i wanted to tell him something i'd held against him. he

was out of the chair and to the door, but i kept him there

until it came to a showdown. i said i needed information

and wanted to be relieved of what i knew. he couldn't let

me tell him


when we'd got to that bald ground, each returned to ourselves,

held so still, i felt a very delicate shudder and

realized i was going to cry, and would have to cry out in

the open


it was such precise crying. he was on one side of the room

and she was sitting opposite me, and we could all hear the

little tic right and left and right and left of the

tears hitting the table. then he went out the door but

not till i'd stopped


she made a flurry to get him back. she didn't understand

how it was working or how strong i was at that moment. but

i stopped her and he left


and then she, i was cold and exhausted and i realized she was

feeling so left out and wasn't understanding, she needed

comforting, and i didn't have any. so she took me home.

he came too. she tried to talk but i wanted to be out

in the wide west. long shadows, the depth of sky in

the holes in the road. my eyes were happy


today i had the backlash. the voices in me were muttering

and quarreling with him most of the day


i felt my friends in me during that meeting