| edged out 1 part 2 - 1981 october | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
October 5 1981
She walked into a dark room in which were crates about the size for a television set, she could hear the sound of human breathing. She broke into hives. Her guide said Caroleena cover your neck with your sweater so they will not know you have seen. "There is nothing one man will not do to another." Tears had made welts grow up in their track one on each side eye to chin. "I closed the book because I didn't want my body to see it." - Form. It has to be inclusive. Energy shape between the eyes [sketch] felt in dope, I wondered last night whether when I gaze up from under my brow it is something to do with focusing. Raising my face so that sensation is aligned between the eyes makes me feel commanding. My strength drawn up under me. It's not poetry although I want the use of multiple language, back-shifts, inclusions, dictionary, dislocations, whole-body dancing, image magic, ambience memory, small lyric, access by the other, free glamorous invention, any language, sound pleasure, language intuition. cryo chore frost region I also want minute record, exact description, complete reliability, coherence by accuracy, acutely sensitive process. Structural pleasure of implication, shapeshift. I think I can use them all if each is and knows what it is, and the others are also there. What I don't know is what about misery of other persons, starvation, political horrors. Is our peaceful time paid for in El Salvador. Is my skill paid for somewhere. Does it work like that. The boy on the porch polishing first a crowbar and now an axehead. And even if it doesn't - I'm making heaven esoterically, for everyone. I'm working on a head that will be used instead of the one that makes horrors. My love and skill are paid for in horrible ways I don't know, but my place is to balance them, that's how it works. My time and skill are purely parasitical maybe on a scale I don't conceive. I accept the gift and risk punishment if there's justice. Or get away with it at the cost of there not being justice. My time and skill are parasitical but only immediately on people in my experience, the rest are in another system perhaps imaginary, and yet have to be accounted for. What I do is useless but is training for something that will be useful. I can't know until the gamble's over. What I'm doing is or isn't parasitical but it is useless and there is something that can be done about the other, and I could find it and do it. Useless but there is nothing on any scale I can do. Useless, and there is something very small I could do. There is something very small I can do but what I do already is more use in some way. What I do already is some use but there might be something else fairly wide that I could do, if I put everything into trying to find it. I might never find it, would be likely never to. I should continue learning what I am learning but at the same time should inform myself globally. I have to learn the meaning of the parts I work with now but the other knowledge has to begin. To do it I have to use whatever I know of reading through given information - that feels a fire rise - and in-countering situation. Diplomacy She let herself lose and leapt over the edge A corps of my lean women Is the unconscious everything else. Whatever isn't in consciousness, anywhere in universe, has its way of speaking inside experience and can be read. The picture a Sufi or Tibetan knowing how every situation works and inserting the extra-system nudge. What I need to know s'entreferir What evil is. What those men in crates are doing there thought of in the whole. Whether I want to side with the whole or against it, ie what is the whole doing, ie would I be willing to be in them if I knew. How to know Meaning: whatever isn't in my lit space - something in a vast expanse - has its way of Has its way of speaking A picture of a light in a vast space in that lighted space there are marks that I could read as registration of all elsewhere. - A piece that can't be transferred out of the handwriting it was made in. Being attached to the first form of a piece. The habit of exaggerating. Reference to body as sensed rather than learned mid hrif reef
The logical signs
prayers
Trying to be in front of it and talk,
Two on opposite sides of a room who are in the same mind, which is the size of the room, and
Doesn't say how it feels. I was remembering. To sit with someone in live air and presence able to move privately and together. I was remembering how it feels to sit with someone Two on opposite sides of the room From here to there and in a complete cube two on opposite sides of the room I was remembering and trying to describe how it feels to sit with someone in live air and presence able to move privately and together. Getting cedar blocks from under the building. I'm going to leave as I have before, thinking it's impossible. Sad. He reaches his arm partway. Don't go. I see his floor open, he's putting in plumbing, black pipes in grainy dirt. The quality of the hallucination midrhif lit is that the dream gate. Today cutting pictures in Nat Geog. Roy phoned. Collage thought and delight. The wrecked boat and green and black bits that have been together near Luke's door. Been eyeing that. Pictures made of very small amounts. Simultaneous grids: that is, minds of reference. The quality of hallucination, something from my guests, who none of them look volatilized, rather, heavier. [Jean-Vi, Kathryn and friends] From the dream, that awake dreaming I'm most recently connected to by Robert with your spectacles on ("the spirit jumped me").
Pink dancer on the box. Kathryn's delight. Rolls her pants to her thighs, puts on her glasses. People in strobe can't be consumed and keep their beauty. Edgar Snow. Thinking of wanting to travel as a news photographer to provide true pictures. This is a time when nothing's holding me any place. The picture was, after that, costume, style, body, resistance to the mores, the autumn streets outside the hotel in a Chinese city. Getting to the truth of this visit taking photographs of Chelsea's body. The way the truth of my existence in most times with people is visual. Falacci. McCullum. You see me looking, you see me thinking with my sight. What should be strobed. Could I strobe over a sequence. I could strobe the film first, negative.
Place looked unfamiliar when I stood on the street with my visitors. She was crawling over a fountain. One of the jets came on suddenly, shot straight up her anus, blew up the colon where it turns. She "nearly died.' It was some time after J-V had fallen in love with her and Kathryn left with Chelsea. She has a colostomy and below the mouth into the plastic bag a stoma, the lower mouth, stitched to the abdominal skin, tube down through to the anus. They don't know if they'll be able to reconnect her. Big features, calico hair. Twenty years' outrageous performance. We meet across the counter. She's willing. I don't know her story but looking at her in what she's wearing. "A cold narrow hand." "It isn't narrow it's fat." "It's not fat." And imagining her with Jean-Vi. The goodbye performance. Chelsea steps forward into my arms, what's a real embrace, it's light, the quality of embrace and the quality of the body embraced, it stands blissfully just where it wants to be. That's the embrace there'd be with -. The message is joy. There were other messages and each had the quality of the body embraced. J-V steps up small and narrow but all one solid middle and that except for the approach - dare we - is nothing. And K bigger round than before comic squeezes a tight grip forearm on forearm. How much can they see. And the one I'm distracted hoping won't, puts out her arm and mine locks out. They want to use the money they get suing the city, hers, to buy a warehouse for theatre studios and living space. Terry Riley, a garbled it seems antagonistic conversation [with Luke] that then I realize is asking to be informed and then he forms the picture and tells it, and I can partly join him, and then I realize that was what I was waiting for, and he invites me to lie next to him in the narrow space between him and the hard edge of the marble table, briefly. Water falling and outlook over palm trees. J-V cricket. Black tails. He's paying careful attention to war politics. Robert Cohen [boss at Hastings Steam Bath] giving me an IQ test, in a hut in a forest, I'm in the bath, have spent too long on literature, what I know, haven't remembered how to do math and other problems. I don't want to finish the test, it will misrepresent me, so I must quit. Start taking down sheets of work to leave the forest but the memory slightly haunting. [dream sentence written without turning on the light] He says, even after he is married, it, my work, is my soul. Relation of a cream colored room and a piece of paper.
At 6 in the dark. Stars in clearly drawn emblems. Frozen grass. Toward full moon. Grass slightly scoured. The dream and creation excitement. The named emblems. Orion with more stars in some areas, a fuller organism, the added stars faint but clear. The quality of the sky, black and clear so the figures were there without background sprinkle. When I looked I'd see more but the figures themselves seemed clearly signs. 11 October Visiting old Konrads with Luke, Zoe and Cheryl, back seat of Pacific Stages with a young man reading Time magazine in the centre seat. "I loved seeing you and Luke from the bus arriving at the same outrageously last moment." Two very small old people greeting two small women and two children, Grandpa's long hugging Luke, in his presence I'm not celebrated. C's silence, Zoe's eyes, Zoe's colored face appealing to Cheryl. Luke insolent at the other table head, Oma's hand on Zoe's thigh. "How old are you now, thirty six, my mother was 38 when she died, and she had nine children." Ancestor worship. Tribute to the old pays for the only privilege of young bodies. Looking from Zoe's cheek to Cheryl's the same fine veins in clean sparkling flesh, in already greyed. "Such bright eyes for someone of any age." Wanting her to meet them so that when they die she'll know who they were. And I trying to recreate Clearbrook Road and succeeding. The plants in heaven, apple plum cherry grape! Red current black current cedar acacia (Akazie) dogwood maple strawberry bracken fern hazelnut walnut. Ernie's house, Nick Brauns', the railway roadbank, Clara Thiessen. Ditches with bramble and that pinkflowered bush [thimbleberry, salmonberry]. I was missing J, longing for the sense of Frank's familiarity and love going up the back hill with me, his voice's ironic love (Paul's). "I read somewhere that no one can hypnotize you if you act real negative." Richie Rich. Wanting to be joined in the little girl. J doesn't comply, C did, what is -. I used to love to see origins - how Trudy would see it differently more belly expanded less bird's-eye - Frank in an affectionate knowledge of foible and community process. "You absorb yourself in people." J holding her impressive integrity operating with them out of held distance demonstrated comprehension. The high streaks are pink, summer's stupidity is over. "Ellie," twisted stretch out of sleep, bum underpants, "what countries would be hurt if a waiter dropped a tray on Thanksgiving." It's light outside. In the room the orange electric light. "Turkey, and Canberra? Brussels?" "It would be the downfall of Turkey and the end of China." 13 Oct Wake thinking in the dark at 5. Turn on the light. Write here with tea. Luke wakes at 7:30 when it's pink. He's going to Woodwards. I phone J. Woodwards basement cafeteria young waitress with strange curls. "That woman comes in here every morning, first thing in the morning she talks about war. It's enough to make a person upset." The old welfare bodies coffee and a doughnut for breakfast. Pender Street waiting for the 11 bus. Luke's bag with space Lego and 2 Star Wars figures preoccupies him. Stanley Park, J's territory, a longing. Red leaves walking fast upslope stiff leg past tourists. He's in red pants and blue jacket. I'm in red shoes green socks jeans green sweater plaid shirt, tight things. Aquarium looking for her uneasy she won't come. Trying to phone. Thinface person khaki clothes a daddy's wool and leather jacket. I am so moved to see her, love her so intensely without permission to say so, feel her fragility, feel sorry, have to stay in the truth of the distance,
The turtle's beak-mouth, dog nostrils open, eyes in creased turrets, flippers plane rowing pivoting wings, flat body kept flat by interminable rowing. It knocked its face against the glass in front of my face. Let me out let me out. Confinement without even a weed, in artificial light. Jellyfish swelling, squeezing, the finest fringe streams out, the inner ruffles built to a tower. It moves forward like a smoke ring. Her eyes looking from Trudy to me to Trudy. I feel my face with nothing for her to find. Planetarium. How she looks in bright hair and coat. Lying back with Luke showing off between clouds and music. Being excited to be there together. The movement of microscopic life in jumps of the whole colony. Bus, going home kids, streets, stars in murk, cocoa, Roy, candle, she sits on the chair, depression and war, having to work at jobs. The bump on their heads has in it a perfectly clear oil. The pictures of a good brain. It was she, drawn, in brown, who said it. -
15 Oct Goodbye brightface. [Luke flies back to London]
Assumptions 1. there's an unconscious connection by which people know things about each other and so "These are the car keys, these are the sac'rity keys, don't tell the bishop about me eh." [priest handing me his pocket contents before he goes downstairs in the bathhouse] Know where they are, it calculates. Matters arrange themselves so the truth is shown. Not always. - Wake before 5 ache in solar. Work in different ways to open through the pain. The ache has random thoughts, is it grief, etc. Open legs [sketch of diamond shape] and leave them that way. Hand on it. Pain in the chest. Longer breaths, open mouth. Put hands up and try to magnetize them, it's a clumsy paw difficult to fill. Desperate fingers are dark areas only roughly in existence. A webbing or some line sheeting across them. I think of other things and return to send to the hands. A drawing has arcs from forehead up to them, or does it travel through the body without being felt. In a boarding house the short-haired blond man. I think I'll lie down next to him. Long thin tongue mine wraps. (Going along with the part of the word that suits.) He's wonderfully probing but he won't come. Later in the dream I'm told he's a dancer. Do I follow him onto the street. High overhead a pickup with a yellow fluttering canopy over the back flies east. From the street I see. Costumes, sorting a handful of baubles into a found property tray. Yellow submarine kind of land. Later I'm in that pickup. A forest as it starts to rain among the saplings. A tarp hanging vertical. I find sticks to prop one end out. There are odd materials lying on the right, what I take to be a plastic tongue-and-groove, too short. They crowd under from the left, I from the right.
Then a magazine, Mad Murray writing about Ffos Moscal. Introduction (I hear) about outside (not staff) writers sometimes producing something special. I expect it to be about Penelope's place and begin into an unexpected voice. She's telling about coming to be where she is having seen the last of a lover. A high voice. Irish phrases. Celtic capitals. Is it laid over - as I read down the column I notice as if a background - a picture of one place setting, gold edge, blue border, fine flatware. She has taken an authority. When did she learn it. She's got ahead of me. Telling her story. A photograph, one column wide, taller than, it's better than mine, the same crystal light but perfect (like the plate, from another class). There's a sill raised an inch. Beyond the window an autumn sky saturated blue. [colored sketch] In front of it the outside branches of a bundle of leaves or staghorn shaped flowers, whose gold yellow is giving off a glow beyond its edges like infrared film in color I think. At the bottom edge - I don't see this now, but remember - some square of a brilliant white curtain. The shape of the bunch of leaves implied the shape of the rest of the bunch and its vase, and also the outdoors it was gathered in. It went on and I was out in the snow seeing tracks in the snow, beside me, hearing the written voice commentary. And then a light creature running from the left across the trail - I think it's as she's leaving - a cat - a dog - curly hair - cat-size long-legged body lighter than a cat - a something-like Scotty head. I look at its tracks, each pawpress has pushed up beside it a little snow wafer formed exactly like a leaf, a small tip-pointed maple. That's its particular mark. Sorry I'm awake and can't read on. Glad of the high voice. "Soften the body for beautiful dreams." And then: take it on into a section of the PRC movie. Parts of color parts of image. If there were a way like that to bring it through heard and read language underprinted image full image into surrounded being-there. It is also philosophy. "When I began to study philosophy in third year I felt I had come into my home ground. My mind and appearance had clarified while I was away, I had been alone, had traveled, morally, and had become noticeable." "Capture the strength and delicacy of every sound." 17 Oct
Have transplanted two poplars, one I can see from across the precinct - arena - has died, a support built around it nails driven into the trunk. Someone else built the support for the other so it was buffered. The small temple of Ephesus falls over near them. There are men with bull masks running at and overturning other men. Before it was a barn, the rich farmer let the bull roam in the stalls. I climbed to the ceiling, they were unconcerned, he was going to take us to see expensive cows. I was thinking the temple had tipped because it was made inside the larger temple and magnetic field of the god antagonistic to its god. The poplars were also of Ephesus. euphrasy eu phren good mind Sunday school. Evoked places, told stories. Report the party. [Diana Davidson's] Small black suit hair pulled person, spectacles, her worst closed face. When I dance I know she doesn't want to look, when she dances I keep my eyes away. You've always got Sandy. You can have anyone you want now but with that face - (and what's happened). I don't want to know anything you're thinking. We did dance once. The evidence is - by summer I was gone - then those were real denials - the infant's time is such that if she is removed from the parent for what to the parent is a short time, she will have suffered through a very long separation and then have begun to reattach herself to the one who is looking after her now (me).
Rhoda's cigarette, bare arms at the drum. How bad the dancing when invited. The man at the table looking at Cheryl dancing. How when she was in the room with me drunk I kept feeling it was nothing. Sodden purple. Once liking the music. By the rivers of Ba-bee-lon. The sense of the power of the sight of the 3, once more briefly shown. Why nearly all the time except for a clapping and drumming that was taking me up on my toes, it was resigned, without inner existence, slaved to the room. v.t. rare. Because I hate the music. The amount of food and drink bought by the woman who won't do legal aid. And I went to eat. She was there a big smiling mother accurately jiggling speaking in a little girl voice. And I smiled too when we praised her party, because I'd eaten. She married a very live young man who dances and drums. The delicious fatty ham piled on little plates. Her fat children being given conspicuity. A tall goddess with a little jumpy bald man caressing her waist. Thinking of it now it was the embarrassment that was wrong, instead of RING
If the sense of the whole The 10 year old genius of algebra, 4 year old genius of music. She was the genius of common consciousness. She puts out her extraordinary field and everything in it resolves. Then years later her memory has it so intense and complete that she can just hold it in front of her and write it down. She spent forty-seven years writing down what happened in twenty previous. When she describes herself in a space, Miriam described, she's describing a personal relation. She greets it, it speaks to her. When she describes herself with a person she describes the person as an observed artifact. "Revealed himself, by the way he had of handling statements, as." "In the unbroken flow that by reason of its temperature," that's J, "left her free to wander." It would take a flood to move us able to be together now. Elation forgiveness. Comm'on my darling I like you best. But your desperate poking last time was Sandy made you cocky that I don't forgive because you liked it. And the way you don't answer letters. It is a way to start sentences without the Luke's warships shooting red lines of fire, is it the way the program keeps him minded to shoot sperm. And if Douglas Bader had had a child. A writing in protein. Do yer dooty. Her language eccentricities are so in my element I take them without noticing. There was a great fellowship of pines.
Protein proteid protetos protos writan to write up illegally excessive statement of assets
Is she literal when she says that in the bright light thought is visible to the mountains. Small intricate buzzing in the presence of the mighty, "simple statement sounding just out of reach within the air." She uses passionate observation like what's usual to love affairs, for any sort of moment. The tall one goes out the door into the spotlight, holding it with her trailing left arm, for the shorter and older one, who has just said "I feel as if I'm ten pounds lighter," and who now, passing into the bright light, with her face held back toward me as her shoulders go on forward through the door, is saying goodnight. I am standing at the top of the two steps heading the corridor, and when I turn to the laundry room door, I am seeing, the first midway down the corridor and the second near its distant dark end, two bands of light that signal rooms emptied and needing to be done up. This sequence, as I pause to consider the look of the corridor, and to wonder if I am also remembering it, seems familiar, even, as if a dream I've recalled and wondered at: I'm working in a steambath, two East Indian women leave by the street door, the one leaving last looks at me, intent pained face, and says "Good night." I see the corridor with two bands of light thrown across it, one halfway down, the other near the end. Or is the familiarity and sense of repetition, from the sequence of two, the nearer more intense, followed by another two of the same structure. "Or is it two followed by two." was real to her on a level just short of reaching down to the forces of her nature, was pathetically, or culpably, a stranded man; subsisting. There was no cessation in her way of being, no dependence, none of the tricks of appeal and demand. She allows herself to saturate into her own past time but she arranges into it little recognitions for the reader. Information catches up. She's very good at doing more things at once. Teases. Grateful when she sets out a situation and shows its turn, accepted. Comedy of misreading found out. Is that effort ended. "Other people try to love each other. We just loved each other without trying." So why were you mean with her. Oct 20 Not being intimidated by what's given, into not making up extras. Not giving in to how easy it is to make little things in despair of seeing what's given. Seeing those little things in the way they're given. She's company. Brenda thinner at a concert shouts I want to pee on you. The crowd roars, I see they know the ritual, he sets her onto his lap, I wait to feel warm creeping from behind. Music. It hasn't come off, she doesn't want to but he says it has to be finished, takes hold of her sets her onto him and jerks like a dog. She gets off naked, thin, freckled, slightly used, not very. She's in touch with R, tells me where he's bought a very small place. The name I say again to recall it, try to say again, don't recall, Cariboo SW corner near a marsh. Brought back flying over east field. Islands in furrow lines. Remainders. Straight line black in light snow. Flier says it's archeological. Foundations left on the hill I love. imagined earlier people on it, only riding over - Beauty were you treed. Yes like Hill Sixty grassland saskatoon alder poplar balsam poplar crow magpie fox coyote deer moose mouse. She tells her fright. It begins where one of Lessing's stops. Anguish of class and religion and having disengaged. When Luke talked about being afraid they'll start a war I told him the story of myself and my mother. This afternoon the shock after talking to J, I was still in when T came, the way one toke made me want to be alone. She went to look for something to collect me, came back with the piece. I was watching the sense of when we understood each other and when not. Saying she doesn't want anyone to come to her house. I said I didn't want either at my house or theirs. People are too much. She said "I've never felt it as strong as this." The way she ducked when a girl who was walking and looking in the alley, she said it was because of how she was positioned kneeling on the floor. I didn't believe it. Walking back among the maples - walking there the red maple lit from behind and then from the front, her leather leaf's red. To see the house from front and back, on the porch, country house. Walking back looking at houses. Tuesday 20th almost afternoon. Permeable to shock and pain again. Yoga again. I thought to call C about her welfare appointment, two rings, "H'lo." Laugh. "I don't think I meant to call you, I thought I was calling someone else." "I think you did. I'm afraid there's going to be a war." "What are they saying on the radio?" "They're saying things about Russia again, and there's a recession in America." "You mean you're thinking of your family?" "I have to go now. I mean I have to go because of the feeling there is in me about it." "Alright." [Notes in origin sequence plan] To T about DR. Wanting to be able to do what she does without her heavy diction. Great grandmother. Convey Looking at first summer photographs finding them innocent mysterious and accurately conveying, and love, gifts to the place, satisfying. "The way she writes has an old-fashioned sound but what she conveys ...." I did go far into disintegration to get them. Is it literal the way light changes when Now they stood distinct in a light that was dark and bitter and cold. at just this moment to warn her, to give her the courage of herself as she was, isolated and virginal. "He greases City Hall. 'Look,' he says, 'gotta go down town anyway, will you drive me.' He wants me to stop at City Hall. 'You gotta grease a few of the boys eh.' He had'a stop at the bank first. 'Oh Emilio told you about that' he says." The way she stood on the steps complaining, "You have to come." Seeing the oddness of the act. What can make her play that one. I say "I can't, it's alright," holding. Thinking, this transparency can be with anyone, is the same anywhere. She's Trudy but it doesn't matter. Afterwards remembering I hadn't been held at her body. There's oldfashioned diction already - but DR's readable forever. "But you made a fool of me." "You weren't foolish, I could see you were just pretending to be foolish." Said with laughing confidence. After that one toke feeling shifts in the head first one into solitary and then engaging with her playing at reading the piece, again. Does DR feel in the space what could be felt in the body The classical shifts of light. A personal answer and assurance somewhere within the deeps of the living air. It was a touch. It conveyed the touch of a living, conscious being. She speaks to her sigh with a smile. Miriam Compendium shown gathering. Talking the smoke line streaking past out the window and around the bend. Laughing suddenly, it's like a train. Taking the credit for having seen it and been willing to interrupt. Was it her sight made me see it, likely.
Fantasy of the little girl on the lap. And the loving one. Breast skin. Roll me in your arms, joined and then moving in equal scale simply. I am distracted by attending to her technique. I'm not it's just added. She didn't tell the best time with --- directly, she told it to Wells. The way each fan-shaped shallow spread slowly forward and ate with its bubbled edge a little further into the snow. Small monkey people. One came iced from outside, tiny fur coat, grey fur light tips standing out of grey inner fur fuzz. Not monkey long limbs. Human woman anxious tiny face. looking, away to the right, into a far-off pearly-blue distance, that held her eyes, seeming to be in motion within itself: an intense crystalline vibration that seemed to be aware of being enchantedly observed, and even to be amused and to be saying, Yes, this is my reality. the flood of her voyaging love She also presents what she knows and leaves it at that. What was it about those vibrating particles of light that made them so familiar and reassuring. certainty in that endless brief moment, that ages hence they would once more be there, only all about her instead of far away. and the color was fading from his voice [someone else on Richardson] to risk detaching themselves and their visions from life treating fragments as though they were wholes, and taking their chances with posterity that ordinary life in the world which Joyce and Woolf somehow had the courage and genius to transform and transcend. - Kuan Park and wondering whether the split is possible and whether it would be worse than going on in nothing. The grey jacket! commentary contrive devise her conviction of the inner vastness of space a space that opened before her in the air between herself and her surroundings Walked through the hospital corridors looking at the children in beds. Took two confident steps on the ice with a small child who knew how to skate. "To get anything out of it I have to be in it and if I am in it I'll get crucified, because there's nothing in it that's for me." "It's your chance of a lifetime." That there's something in you that injures bodies and is too easily injured by bodies. "Wanting to learn is what will bring you through." - Is this another way to say keeping or not keeping an other. What I remember - changing by pressing as if watched - always to the most essential - trusting and being afraid - being self-vulnerable - loveable - without navigation from outside - navigation from seeing the widest, survival. When I haven't had the fight to take something through, and have it still suspended. Work in a quarter, sitting in kitchen on lump. Afternoon sun. Deep net of triangles on hand's back. A pain in relation to J. Red thread went through white dots. Fine line sun slant hits. Anguish today not ease. Anguish do your work. Pressure. An ally. I have to have an ally in order to be able to disintegrate again. As if I'd been kicked in the chest by a big hoof.
"I can't be anything here" = what I am here can't be shown. Envious jealous desirous injured at sea. At Diana's party stock still women in chairs while men talk, and Diana. Billings method. Sticky opaque or none, preparing for ovulation slippery and clearer. On and off for up to half. Graced with little touches The emptiness of waiting. What I'm hoping for, to be made strong enough to be able to know and show. What the dangers, losing the heart. Why KP, to make the bridge so that when I want to I can. The worst. They'll love each other in fullest respect and she'll come. I'll have to know my saddest intuition of second-rateness. T and R in the living room talking. I see their hands and a look on T that I imagine is the 17 year old in the tent. I pass through and look, I want to join, T says "We're working." I say "Go on." She hams unable. I smile to say I know you can't cause I'm here, and leave. Rhoda light voice, "Call her back." She doesn't. It seemed that what would be really wrong would be to pay someone to be my friend. And that for love I could thank fortune. In smoke the sense of shattered understanding. I was gazing inside wondering is that the cubist. [Robert Cohen] "I love kids and I've never had any. The way he would wait for you to go home." "Yes an attachment." The people who will love me if I show. What do they need. The sense of a more broken understanding than I remember. In the smoke one can look anywhere and see something and if you accept to follow it it's a trail. But what I was feeling was how I couldn't believe whatever I saw. That was the sense of [sketch] unusual judder. I wondered if it's the collective. What matters: I have to go after who I want with everything I have and not creep away and not blast the heart. You don't love: you don't accurately imagine. The worst is I lose a competition and be assigned a place where my spirit feels cheated. But if it's real and I was myself. Fearing all along. - Another five o'clock. Why does it wake me early. It changes the - For her the worst would be (I take a lover, I have a child, "Will I see you with your big belly?") she saw her friends opening my soul. The November goodbye, January goodbye. "If I give up the lovemaking I can have what I want and it is the really preferable." Her empty house that at last She sets something. She's looking at the speaker and there's a fuss with latecomers, and that's the feminists and the great march.
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