| dames rocket 6 part 5 - june or july 1977 | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
The beautiful girl in the laundromat, who smiled. When I'm here working on my wall putting concepts next to each other accidentally and deliberately isolating questions answering them or not being able to, seeing a place to exist which is wholly mine and which is like no idea I have had of myself. The place I remember when I'm not in it, crave and call. It feels like bursting and I'm afraid. Stop myself. Eat. People together can be tidal me to you. Relative motion - by Einstein, it doesn't matter whether we think of the earth moving around the sun or vv. Moving east toward autumn. Oh presence, oh Jami, silence, eyes, headband, gaze, chuting down darkness following the red lights meeting white lights on the left it's quiet, it's quiet sings us full, gear catches, motion's good. Slip of a boy/girl. Light on your feet. Resonant cavity feeling. Sometimes a dazzle. Calling us out so gradually. The joy just underneath. Cautious on its account. Is it true? She drew an arrow. The body was trained for nothing. Hair sweeping my back its each tips tingle. Sleek. It's a dry slippery dry warm over the skull and in there the trained mind. She was obedient and hid out, cached the soul, used a little of it. Made her direct. She grew an inch. The little hands broadened, a little who. Who. Search into the fictional pasts for a real one. The other, the rest, oh. "In my core I'm lonely, I'm waiting for you to find me." - The exercise of them, of having people who 'knew more.' - They taught that the self isn't consciousness, and the freedom and confusion of that. Did they also teach the freedom. What would that be. The pleasure of not defending consciousness necessarily. It is more precarious log-rolling. Can I trust what I think at this moment. More likely what I do. Confusion because what I feel is the best indication of what you're doing, which is not what either of us think we're doing. The method is because we want a bigger space for being in. The uncertainty forces alertness which is like the birth of the self into consciousness. In fact the sensation of alertness, sudden pounces acknowledged, is the greatest pleasure. Model is lost knowledge. We can come to it because something in us recognizes and verifies. The spider webs made by spider on caffeine, other drugs. LSD was more perfect than straight but not much. Harmony. Caffeine very erratic and crooked. Like a computer graphic. -
Prophecy. Make a form of it so what's known appears sometimes as déjà vu. - I'm wondering if I could use writing to find things out. And with you to find what can be done. Because you will. Affinity - relationship by marriage only, as opposed to consanguinity. "I dream I am in a new world with you, and you dream I am trying to cure an old wound." "No, that isn't how it is, the way it is " - I'm looking somewhere else - "is that I dream that I am in a new world with you, and I fear that I am trying to cure an old wound." And she cried, that was late in the night on the floor. "I stopped being your friend about an hour ago." The tests. - The bears. Hiding out again, Daphne and Edith, while the bears could appear anywhere, learning to lie still. When we meet we hunt/seek set tests where are you and do I want to be there. Woke from a dream and realized that in the dream I had been myself as I had not been it, uneasy with you.
Oo there's no writing it. She said, as if preparing a place. Meant, that I might have dreamed her. How would I have known. Behold I come to prepare a place for you. It was first talking about Carmichael and then that marriage where she found him in his weakness and that was necessary because he couldn't find his way out of it. D and O alive again, here. In the D and O couples it has always been the D's I have a hunger for. Taking in shock 'ten years' and the passionate marriage of such a long time and I felt so unmarrying. The panic and how obliquely it found you out. Is writing obsolete. I made a place for myself. Preparing a place. The dream where you're a scout. You see: it's only notes to record the satisfaction of talking to you from this floor and the happy jazz, and moving from my sad raft your cold belly to the place where you're a quiet-footed scout and I am building tables with Cheryl, and the story of spring and jumping slowly. How patiently you ask questions. It was the ark and became that. You're waiting to be found the way Sandy found you and I won't do it like that. But this way - oh it's cautious. When I said I wonder if you're Carmichael that was because of the conviction in dope - that doubted itself immediately on account of his marriage. - Dreaming a war. Hope and something like fun, with women in a canteen, a truck, fire. Met C and T at a café, they set up their superior/exclusion and I stormed away. C came after. She had been picking raspberries at the same farm up to the day I arrived there, seven flats a day. I took it as a signal that she'd been willing to come off her high horse. She was talking in a dry flat voice like Jam, that was that she'd grown up out of the sex/enchantment/power man's woman. The dream and the place, the joy that was in the thought of it, was that I wanted it to be another time, so that from her tower we could go on to a community. Last night unstoned we slowly climbed into the absorption of flying. When we left we had already come partly down exactly. We do that. Oh we do that. Oh that's what it's about: it's better than that. And so. Love what does it mean, that. During that first year in college I felt myself losing the right soul, I remember dismay walking in Kingston thinking it was more and more rare to emerge out of the dullness. Spirituality is precisely a conscience about consciousness, that is a strong need to stay awake. If you were with Sandy that long it must have been that you had a good being together, as D and O too, and how that would change your being in the world. Lessing. As if she were with someone although her stories say she isn't. Intimacy. She is intimate somewhere. It's possible only her writing? I guess that's it, the art form is as if the intimate friend that keeps you tuned, satisfied so you don't have to climb down on account of wrong attempts. They liked who they were together. The form of the spiritual quest we're on is that we are trying to learn how to include a person another in our accurate intimacy. Peter wanted to marry with me because the mind he was in - mine - was good for him but his - in the journal - was not good enough for me - it is to do with whose mind becomes the marriage, she lost herself in you, if either you or I have lost each other in the other how would we know at this stage. I want some Wagner. If he is a pattern maker, that is an educator, an actual visionary, which would mean - What it is with Trudy is that I don't like her from here, am impatient with her little ways that keep it all nothing and enslaved except at the moments when you - no, not true - you come out when you can but so engulfed. Did she ride on mine. I think so. C. It is T and then R who gave her the gift, she like O is a free-rider? Yeah. "When I first met you I thought you were a vampire," Martha said that! Martha somewhere is very advanced I'd never paid attention. She also said that in my movie she never thought I'd made a wrong decision. That is - oh I am I am or was an artist, that is I was able to make a thing out of the right impulse. Want to see Trapline again. In my right mind I have no doubt of it, being lost, being found has to do with Luke being away, if he were away could the times we were together - do both he and I simply realize we have to live apart, but he was loving because he sees. I love you momma disguised. Yes dear Luke I want to think about you. What is a psychiatrist? Could one lead me out of occluding Luke? The dead language are like training in concept without sentiment an algebraic language. But the poetry had - She named it, reading Catullus and admiring him because he said what she at that time was unable to say. Lessing is a kind of journalist but she's a journalist of consciousness. She makes some kind of bridge. When we come together is it that we mesh on the best part and therefore can't meet on the other. With Sandy the mesh was unconscious? You didn't know what you had. (Conscience in literature.) - Every work: is this a mind I want to be in. - Are there really people who are not spiritual? In childhood is the wedding present when we see and love, the reminder of it - the first task is to find it and the second is to testify it, and that's done by the process of it. This is the period when we're teaching each other what we know. It's a period when I'm recovering something, you too. She didn't keep up. To be absolutely awake. Does anyone know what that is. To be absolutely awake. Do you also live on that question. What is the meaning of this --- --- ---. "She doesn't question her being, it makes her very strong." The doodles during lectures, how bored and far away I was and didn't know. Question of whether Ezra is in mental sync giving you alpha. When we aren't in sync one or the other / both of us will send out an invitation to fly, which cannot at that moment be accepted. At the drawing class John's wife was the person with the most presence and he didn't know. He said an impersonation of a sensitive person. Sarah's friend, her way of being present was to let me in on her frantic monologue, it was as present as she could be. She knows / sees things, said Sarah. The class problem was that I didn't have the mannerisms of the being I had. My mother and Janeen. You said the honeymoon's over; I said, no it's just begun; you believed me. Are we satisfied then. We are weighing in some way struggling. Do I really want to go away. Yes if I can stay right there'll be letters to write, that next experiment. Sitting down challenged to find. "I'd like to be a slob with you." You're saying you feel a pressure as Nellie did: I can't stay there. Is that what's happening? Only at that moment when it was your turn to be afraid you couldn't sustain it. Hey have faith. Artists are different from - Putting out simple language what's the difference in the quality of the thought. A black and white person Ethnographic museum Absent. I was in shock again, from the overnight? We have to deal with the dreams that are in us when we wake. What happened to her this morning, we didn't get into anything, I was asking for what she knew of the natural laws of fairies, Demeter, her mother's intelligence. She didn't want to go into any of these. But the fishermen saving to go to university, jumping from the wardrobe to bed. Not wanting to make love when it's possible is always a sign of absence/occlusion. Learning to judge people's consciousness consciously. That gives clairvoyance and power. - Question is coming, what was happening this morning, she went away and I was opaque opaque waking out of sobbing in a chaos of papers and people, Roy coming briefly to the door, that's a dream about the soul. He was in the doorway and left again. Losing and finding the soul. Was it the food and drink. Was I in shock from the moment she said she wanted to be free. Food is always macrobiotic, signals wanting to change the level. That person who imagines she wants out/freedom is always a darkened person? You went into shock, you were out. Why did I fall into it and then she could be primary. She did it after the morning happy on account of how on the telephone we'd found our way through the maze. We were both impressed. You're still looking to other people to give you thoughts. I love your accounts but I'd like to hear more of you. That will be our trade-off I'm so Her absence made me look at her body. Was she morning dull or was I - in the morning I want to hold myself away from her. I have to do as I am then, it's an immediate fall when I don't. I had done a sideways leap into pictures. "What a stupid thing to say!" she exclaimed, misunderstanding me. She was finding me stupid, or her. We were afraid of finding ourselves / each other stupid. Competitive about consciousness. We're learning what is different in our capacities. It separated us when she couldn't feel me touching her and wouldn't tell me how it was. The message of her anger was, you aren't finding me. When I told her I wanted her she was there and had been sulking. I hadn't got her message because I was back in shock. Our pathways in and out of absence. It is the structures of consciousness that music makes/suggests. So what is rock and roll?
I don't like Rudy. That's it. You've laid your sensibility into language and reference. I am less interested although also, that is what makes us scholars. Here where I like it, you're fast. At that level she feels resentful protective and I attempt to experience myself retrospectively as that. It is pity at those times, yes that's there, says it about my histories. Don't you understand that pity is only in the present: ask right out, what is it you pity, what do you see at this moment, you won't die when you say it. Touching me she sometimes found it and sometimes not, if she'd done the same thing for a longer time I would have flown away, as it was she hit the little stones of intense pleasure. She needs to bring me and to have me bring her, hurry up. What does it mean to her. This morning and last night it was a conventional affair, what changes it is the shared curiosity more than bond. -
The intense pleasure - Summary. Presence - clarity - confession - sex - music (split?) Q for you is always, yes what does this mean (for you) and elsewhere. Poetry. Judgment. 'Meanings.' Circumstance Abstracted - picture of person leading something, cloud, by an invisible lead Further. Diagram concept - a picture, structure in which two things imply relation by their posture but the relation is invisible Personal variant and (origin) - picture in which two persons go through acts that are nearly congruent but you can see they are missing each other - Do we stop our journals when we're afraid to see. The function of fights is to make us say what we're keeping. The smother to have objectivity back. Being has in it relative clarity and obscurity. Obscurity comes from being afraid of something. Clarity is the posture of unafraid, I mean vv. Yesterday she went into gossip with me - I should have got her madder given her a reason. Because she kept going off. I want to flame her up without committing a false treachery that would ruin us afterwards.
We went in the park. An invisible man, I was right there. Right, there. Shadows under trees, taking the shirt off. Dark she touched. Ezra on a long invisible lead but both of them in the posture. Under the bridge, the lights, light on water. Red and white taillights crossing above and below. We swam when we looked at it. The times we don't: the misses. Teach her it, she has to see it. I have to not be scared to lose her.
I think we succeeded in something though we may not realize what. - Want to see a chapter of your thesis. Go into the valley dream. Draw and paint. Omphalos - navel. Where Kore disappeared, the maiden's well. - I am writing the story of the process of marrying. Do you know it's that not trusting to say? If we knew it were would it force us to test it all the time. Can we go on peacefully if we bracket that understanding. Maybe we need to blow it up when it needles us. Before we started to touch there was a complete release for me, I was soft and instant, in that my flesh could sigh well. But you wanted me to come. No by then you weren't quite there. This was a meeting in which we generated our homework. Is it as good for you anywhere else? Well then. Asking at the restaurant How did you feel when I said I couldn't be that, and then when I changed my mind? Is she dazzled and not certain. We're getting to the place where we'll begin to be irritated, that's good, it means the person becomes visible. Your face with a certain wry. Where love's form is, love is; love is form. Preparing a place. Letting go of certainty about the world's existence as imagined until now. A secret rise of joy I don't know what to do with. Why don't you let me love you, C said. I didn't think she meant it. Performance pieces - lost in thought. Luke is being taken away into the patriarchy and I am alien on its account - darken him out. The performances of the young days. Landforms can I go back to you mysteries. Science looking for concepts named outside, a little more outside, social parti pris. - Movies. Having one sense fade out as the other comes to a climax. What we make is how to move more exactly. If you were finding me stupid you'd have to work with it - yes because you chose to misunderstand to give it. The afternoon I found you stupid you said you felt pressured. On the berryfield hating the stupidity of the interactions. School and finding them so unjoinable. Keeping apart. Known as that.
- People with light running off them. Lights running on the wall in the park. We move on too fast. Oh! You're going into my journal for your dreams. Dream: I was a tracker. What's a tracker. The tracker / scout / big glasses impede. She blinded herself not wanting to see - what - going through the bushes she didn't know how to bend down - she doesn't know passion. Love you're as hurt as me. The stories don't tell. Wanting to work is also wanting to get away from the fright/confusion of meeting. The face you get blinded she made herself so that she could only see behind the windows. I am only safe behind the windows. What didn't she want to see, I could find you there, you want me to, then you'll let me touch you. Things that concentrate the light, with and without the glasses. Get video. Look at you, because I do, at the refrigerator legs apart one holding the door open light strong on that side of the body she has her elbows raised holding the glass and pouring from the big tin at that moment like a tarot picture a naked moment that is repeated very exactly from night to night hair thick falling as if heavy, but not. Our hair opposite it's your head that strains up. She thinks too. What does this really mean. That's the new land.
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Are people in trouble Saint is preoccupied with sincerity, warrior not so unsure. Things keep coming back. The interest in the process. A certain rhythm in my writing means - the intoned - I'm no longer speaking true? Pitched where? We have to not touch - no I'm wrong. We can touch. Whenever we do, it's for information. Kisses are gift and information about attention. Have to eventually know about Rhoda. "What people are thinking of you, that's the thing you think of most." - Stories of taming. You win the confidence. Domestiquer la rose. That you want the person undiminished / horse. That you won't read their friendship as an abdication of themselves. The furious. Did Sandy domesticate her by trickery or not. Did she occlude Sandy by trickery of making her the woman. Did we ignore the things that happened that afternoon. I put on a pressure about who is it you want? The woman is always right. The panic of the lie, something? Did we find it. What was she on about. "I want to fuck, if I can't do it with you why can't I do it with somebody else." "I was going to ask you to go but then you came up with something else." Ever since the beginning she's been worried she won't respond. Does she have a history of failing to feel - Sandy's made her mistrust her affection? The pain of a reservation. It's about not losing herself. But sexuality. As we went along the lagoon shore in the dark we heard and saw the ducks shove off from shore / the way ducks move out into light and just dark when there's light in the sky to reflect / but earth surface layer is dark, that's thrill. Artemis, it's to know what that was about for her. Feel me as a child and piteous, even when I'm not being that. Let me be free. It's over. No I'm only Please keep up. She was worried about keeping up. Who is? I am but am I only. There was something not true in what she said but I couldn't find it. Jeanine? I didn't say. Because she'd been attracted she felt guilty. Made an excuse. She's holding Jeannine the way I was holding C, an alternative when it wasn't touching me. We said I want passion yes but not by the tricks. I didn't say what I wanted. - She was about to put her hand on the door when I was seen through the door's glass. Was going to say "I'm dull, sharpen me." Ie already something stopping. "What do you like about me?" I couldn't answer it. Felt like a trap. Surely it wasn't a real question? - I thought it was full, after our marvel on the telephone and arrived to find a disaffection. If I did it would be gross. I wasn't fast, bewildered. At that moment we didn't find it. But it's there to find and scares me. Why aren't I finding it? (The why form slows down thought.)
You're ideological. I recognize it because I am too, I'm on your program. The false emotion and sadness of I love you because it was like a bribe, but the issue became instantly my shame and her help with it, so it went labyrinth. Go on to the next thing. That seems to be saying, do you love me in how you want me, ie is there a reason for you to stay? Is this very moment's sadness to do with something you're feeling? Not to avoid the connection. You are doubting. What is it you doubt. SAY the worst. Faced with it what do we do, we aren't ready to part, oh we want Listen if it doesn't turn out to be marriage. Don't you know it's more important for me to be rightly alone than falsely married, and don't I know that about you? You're testing it, me too. But when you test me on sexuality - what are you doing. Oh that, seeing. I was so glad to tell how I was angry to have tried to please her and fallen off the skateboard. But don't you also know I'm willing to give it, what I have, to find what we can do. Commitment and the other. I'm right not to want obsession. - Do I go childish? Is that money? Ember days. Bruises. Should we start all over again and you say what you want. Masks. You aren't remembering that you're welcome to say what you think. Are you afraid I won't keep up. Dazed. - The truth is that I wouldn't be able to touch somebody else just now. I don't care how inconvenient to you. Nellie who wanted me when I described another prospect. This is so magazine but it is what I think about with her. She didn't keep up. My mother. She did it to keep up. She was telling me something.
Dreams. A happy lecturer who stood naked my grandfather stood up when he played with his dangler and protest. He laughed and put on yellow underpants. Some of the audience cheered. The Bookwus is a supernatural being who entices humans to eat the food he eats, so they become beings just like him. The wood has to be rotted. You have to fast when you smoke it, or the smoke will turn black. Agee's description of a sound. It is this sort of mystery we should run against in all casual experience if we found ourselves without warning possessed of a new sense. To very ordinary people I was doing a show in a nightclub. They were going to tell their extraordinary story which I'd never heard so I didn't know if it really was extraordinary, but I was flying by the seat of my pants, they put some slides into the projector, when I turned it on, it jammed and everything fell apart although I gave it a theatrical introduction. My crossness, how we jammed last night in love making although this morning after that it simmered and was complete. Looking in the mirror saw a face I didn't want, concentrated on seeing the face that wrote Antlers with me. I wonder if I've ever showed myself in that way to J. Whose face has only two persons? I was scared imagining how if I knew her, I wouldn't want ever to not know her. Do you know where we are, locating our presence with each other, whether in the mind or body, history, information. This person looks so unlike you. The troubadours' work in love was that? Imagining the essence of the unknown person? Known to them only by excitement? We're patiently trying to lead the social beings in us toward the place where they know what they think - so that if we meet each other in essence we'll be able to remind each other we can be there: a strange groundwork. Where were we all that time. Does not being able to fuck mean we don't have our presence? The kiss that winded us. After a fight in which I was challenged to find her way out of her mistake, and didn't fully find it until this morning saying "And then you say 'I want my freedom.'" Oh you wretch. I have pretty memories I've been holding up, how you walked in white on the sidewalk, next. "Usually you're quite logical and pompous and explain yourself." "Oh you are interesting -." The clown she finds too. It is not can't be love at the beginning, only assent? No that's silly. How did the journal get so dumb in its language. The stories of encyclopedias. Europe seaside bay. The man who shouted at me. The times when speaking is 'done' and the times it just jumps back and forth. Both learning to call it. She doesn't enthuse the way I do, silence in bed. Face this morning, the way face's skin turns into lips and they with all their colors, the eyes that have a deep slick wetness on them. Leaving the kiss where it reminds for the minute across presence to absence. The things we know. We keep explaining them to each other, as if ducking under water to speak. Q is what the discourse about it is for. Having a sense of occupation. We take each other into trips. Briefly to show the pictures we find in it. Actually it is work. Because we work. Otherwise would be something else. Work built into us, it deceives us. The strange sense we have obscurely and secretly, of being in another life, that's mine from this winter but she seems both to understand it and not to - What are the thoughts of someone just married, or marrying, in the old life. Are they like ours, but ours have so much doubt. Setting out into destiny. A new life. Talked at that lovely dusk on Kits Beach about the parents having thoughts forbidden to them. We'd gladly think any thought if we could only find it - our forbidden thoughts are - ? Name them and get into categories. Ask about taboos. With C and I did we both have to revise our lives because we saw each other?
- "Oh you are interesting!" Get tired. Bewildered among the senses of words a word has too many meanings to trust writing. What does this language mean. How tired is got. Tiredness is. I am tiredness. We tire, it is tired around me - It means not having thoughts. I imagine a time when writing was fast light nuanced the analysis I do now written into branched sentences. Sitting down in sentences as chairs, Josie's style, Diana's, what is an exercise to make it run. I get tired thinking about everything I'll never know, or be skilled at. Caution making an epistemology, trying to win back the lost parts lost lands with the teachings of what made us lose those parts. Music, sexuality, presence in the world, thrill. She has to come back. Loved I not honour more. Here in the afternoon, bedroom in Luke's room. "Sandy's face is very beautiful in love making."
How it was all around, went away, the music came in, in the morning there was such subtle color of light on the white wall and ceiling. I get a sense of disorder when I try to record these times, no longer have literary experience except that that makes a beginning for writing. -
Is it true that my best writing might be just the writing I can't see; if I can see it it's already someone else's? Hearing musicians talk about music, could I make a tape about talk about music. Mahler "It all depends on our mood of whether the clarinet should be piano." He terrorizes when he sees something that isn't right. "Nothing for show. Just inner, inner, inner, inner." "We want to do justice to the music." Old musicians talking thrilled, in love, about Mahler. "All his life he was sticking to his inner flows, his affinitives." I've just realized I've been sacrificing the journal to Josie and allowed myself oblivion in exchange for goodwill. Because she hasn't been here I could sometimes turn into her without judgment. She has been a repression in me: and what I've held is my dismay at her face, all the times except the transformed times when it hasn't had that look of stupour on it, something like greed. And so real as she is or sometimes was, visible embarrassments and partial gifts. But I would look ashamed and duck at the times when I didn't like her face. And all we know but didn't say, my grace for favors occulting what was always there, the presence of a watcher, she's eager to get away from it too. Something also in the writing, it embarrassed me but I felt bound not to be on account of snooping and goodwill. Does this life really exist? Now I wish I had made good notes of the happenings of the time.
There has never been a real account of influence? Affinity is influence on a more powerful or longer-distance level. I work so much on the account of these times that I am no sort of crafted. What is that? Private philosopher, a sort of dreamer. We kept it quiet in this house. That's it Josie is more submerged than me, down there has vivid pictures, underground. Some are attracted to stones, attached to mystery, preferring awe.
Thinking before noting to not be literal / for all meetings. - It's causality that's troubling me, I'm trying to do without it. What are the rules of flexion and deflection of consciousness according to other minds, ie gravity.
I could let you in here if you would give me your whole understanding of it. I keep wondering if the world exists, a dumb baby testing footsteps that were safe once. The dread of the shift of positions. The central patronizing of the self from which we cannot escape but must pass through. Forms of modularity. Doing something twice. Nearly doing something twice. more interested in the relationship potentialities of a site to a viewer of the site than in the aesthetic properties of the site or in the formal potentialities of an arrangement of pictures. He wants to present a vision of place that "weaves our pleasure into one," but that is almost incidental. He is more like the artist in Plotinus whose sense of order goes behind the order of visible forms in nature, and draws from the same intelligence which brings them into being. Plotinus. Go back to the reason-principles from which nature itself derives, and, furthermore, that much of their work is all their own. - I do not want people to please me, said the Traveler. I want them to teach me.
Persisting in a perception -
Relation of culture as to parent It seems to need a courage equal to the expansion of what I see; bewilderment must not be right except as a moment. All day, thinking about the morality of consciousness. I need to anchor in a material I think. Tony [Reif] phoned to tell me to enter my movie in the Northwest Film Festival. Have to acknowledge that she doesn't put my hair on end and that I'm resting with her. Will she mind, will I mind. Can I change it or do I want to rest more. Valéry Histoires Brisées 1950 for Xios story The Stitch-Randall #42 Verzage Nicht Bruce and analysis of Korean music, I couldn't concentrate on his explanations because I was on the trails of my own ideas, it was a sensation of watching myself prefer my own company. Watching to see whether he knows what he means, judging something like the complexity of his person, not always knowing if he's faster or slower. That is to say wanting not to go into his. The pliability that can, has to, analyze after. That's growing up. Imagine not deriding this culture but working with it. Imagine not hating it but just seeing. That apartment building. Who's this for? She. Maybe she knows how and won't wait for me to learn. Is that how it was? Imagine that when I write here. Taking the same attitude to waking as we have learned to do with dreaming. Confidence that it has structure, and is visible/comprehensible but has to be found. We are invited to be participants in a mystery in which the craft (technology) seems necessary and related in every respect to the privacy of Razutis' mind. While other artists have submerged themselves directly in the environment, Heide has always approached it through the mediation of the window. Heide Oberheide Newfoundland - The truth then be thy dower. [Lear to Cordelia] a more exact version of wind graph. Diagrams. The side of the boat. Curved or straight. Blinds. Oh dear. What is it that's dear. - Zoe's story, how we went into it to tell each other the heart of our love for each other had been refound, by the help and hindrance of two people and the indifferent fisher youth. She thought to rebury it just as I was thinking it. How I told it to Jam and how closely she listened. And then how she reminded me of it this morning, we looked at it again and I cried to feel what had happened. At the time I Trying to note what happened. We got very busy watching testing testing testing what we can see together. I do use her to remake my ruptured sense of myself in contrast to them. The secret we have from each other. Revealed. C was telling me she didn't believe me, "I see you both frowning a lot." "Does it feel like a long time?" At that moment staring into her eyes, weighing the silence. We were satisfied and reconciled. But I could feel - was going to say - encompassing - a sisterly satisfaction, a younger sister. How I went from there to the custom of ancient China in which after a month the newly married woman visits her sisters. Imagining honeymoon. Telling the story of mine. (My parents.) Having the meeting, remembering it (they got tired), questioning it, having it again together. Making the mesh. Mush. C's reflected profile as T told her about her grandmother. "You're eccentric." She looked alarmed and famished looking at T. But who I saw, coming into the room, the familiar, the dark sister of early imagination. What were they called? A mother keeping such a record and the child at 32, finding and seeing her present sacrament prefigured.
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