| edged out 1 part 6 - 1981 december | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
18-19 December 1981 Midnight of the day and of the year. I was sad and wanted to cry, the sun was fading quickly silver grey darkening. We were in her bed. She held the book toward the window and read out Traherne's funny poem about the underworld. Chink that ox and horse may drink. She was looking out I think not long at me but without glasses, telling that in the "I saw eternity the other night / like a great ring of pure and endless Light" she had felt the presence of another rhythm that came out at the end with the whisper. I couldn't see what she meant and when she was reading it I was distracted, I was listening, in the voice there was pompousness, that is, stupidity, next to intelligence, it was there to read but I was blazing an image, that was her face as it had been for an instant and my frightened and challenged knowing I was there with that one and could rise to it, it was the first room and how we were in it, I got it like a memory of what I want, and why I had been faithfully waiting for a mean stiff person. It wasn't her but the emergence. She said eternity and I said yes. I could describe it firmly. She said "You must go down now." I said yes abjectly but I knew that downstairs I'd be starting again not like that. Called it "that face." "You can have your boot back now, I got what I want." At the table feeling that with that knowledge I would like to be alone. Seeing the jokes obscure and break the thought, and in others the fine double statement. Full or empty jokes. Conversation from newspapers. Stupid discussion of what no one knows. Sandy persuaded to stay the night. I knew to resist. The hard night, headache, turning. In the morning falling asleep with knees up hearing the footsteps creeping down. Who saw me sleeping like this. Lying her body lighted and pulling. She jumped as if she'd woken. "Did you fall? What was it?" "I saw Percy's cock lifting toward Ashrafbi." Delight. They can all come. "So hard on my man." "But I have --- and honoured and fought for your woman." What else did I see: not to help any of the ones: don't want, thinking of the Simone Weil paragraph about waiting. At the table telling what religion is, always having to doubt. "Rhoda do you remember the red pea?" "Yes!" The African pot. "It split." Dragged to - "Very, very much." Saturna Island, Maggie, repudiating the ones whose 'real' person wasn't seen again, loving her again. Here at the end she was lying looking up at a small face on the pillow so abruptly changed I felt it was a test I unfairly couldn't meet, it wanted me, it, she, the pretty girl, humorous, wanted me, perhaps wanted me to, what? I couldn't know, looked suspicious. "What were you thinking?" "I don't have to say everything." I meant, I couldn't have, it was the spirit being tested. "I could because of the acceptance." "That is so." Across the table Trudy's live, conscious hair. Rhoda's.
In the direct way of being interested: "Do you like your brothers and sister?" "Very much." Diana in red kerchief when talking about music, Weburn, the touch. Was it true that you only love that one? If I'm at all taken in by any of the others I have less chance of ever seeing that one again. I've worked with the others, I've waited. Their faces from sleep get a blown out of shape look. You don't need to tell me, I know what I see.
"That gathering had moments of terror for me. I was feeling what the last 31 years had made me forget. Ineptnesses. I used to know a lot." She seemed to be crying behind the stair rail. "The three of you." I'm tired, know I'm writing it without energy, there was already so much talk. What was it. A party. The fire of the cake. Lying in the landing at night hearing the rain pouring off the house. J's dream about the new wing. Rhoda crouched left of the path and next to her a deer, a stag, but without antlers, with an old neck wound. The plastic phallic. She and her young animals that went down the right. The way she brought up the dream but wouldn't tell it because - That one can't belong to me. Is that why you brought out the ones who could belong to you. The moment looking at J with R, seeing, that her romanticism, family kink, made us equivalent in her. R looks at me and says "Stereo." I'm a minute looking and then believe maybe she means what I see, then the little smile, whose quality - Disregarding what she says. Our secret agreement she thinks is to close it off. It was because we were working so hard that our bodies opened. It was briefly I felt I could stroke. When the mischief face lay under me asking for - it - maybe. I said "We all three had beautiful mothers and absent fathers." "It isn't that I want to know, it's that I want you to be willing to know. I don't want to be your unconscious knowledge." Dreamed Don kissing me, Olivia asleep on the bed. It was a slightest kissing but I felt on my belly the wet cold spread. Talking to R in the afternoon. "There have been times I have been supported by the way you look. There was one time when I was - I felt Jam and Trudy - I could do it because I could feel their vision of it." The suspension in my chest a slate of perception, wracked waiting. I was feeling it waiting for whether J would come through. And when I was telling Rhoda how it was trying to read against his resistance: "I could hardly bring out the words. It was only because I knew Jam could hear (all of it) that I could keep going until my voice was stronger." "That's amazing." Her anger is displaced. That I've had to shut down. "Breathe from your womb up." She stands up, pulls the form of her hands from her crotch up to her diaphragm. The currency of your primal: is it your physical youth. When she goes to sleep she is a young child. Her unconscious is a young child. The one I love is the one that child (will have grown up) to be. Not giving up the primal: is immortality (you think). I wonder. "He was the only friendly face and the only beautiful face." "I was a friendly face." "But you were not beautiful, in that context you were not beautiful," said knowing everyone would know. Rhoda got up and gathered plates. Little curled touches stroking the edge of the cloth where it comes to skin. You have refused to feel my touch unless it is a touch that feels like a woman touching a man. It is identifying with the father but what does that mean as a child's choice. What I saw and wanted to say was: if you want to play you're Percy I'll play I'm Ashrafbi. "I was missing Percy, at this time of year I was afraid of his death, this year it wasn't like that but I was missing him last night." "The real birthday inside the birthday." Coming true. When I'm working this way I'm working with you. The breach of mutuality. metonymy altered name The physical depth of the truth. What does it mean if she won't let herself feel the feelings of the woman: what is at stake. Is it that if she feels womanly pleasure, her mother was really pleased by her father. (If I have felt pleasure with a man) if she feels womanly pleasure. (The conjunction of her feeling a womanly pleasure and my having had an orgasm before) = that her mother was pleasured by her father = (that the child is sexually redundant). It may be more (worse) than I know this from my own denial, my mother's denial and her mother's. I deny that she felt pleasure, I deny that she feels him = (I deny that I feel him). If I deny that I feel him, she will not feel him, is the bargain. An intolerable exclusion. So sibling rivalry is all displaced from parent rivalry. I will not fuck him because I don't want to live in his world (patrilocal), and he isn't able to live in mine. I would like to go to China separately with you and her. Julia Kristeva 1974 Les Chinoises D: "I was thinking of that, you have the --- of an eldest but you also have the willingness to learn that is like a younger." (That's her.) Quarter to 4: phone: Mao and contradiction. "I don't seem to be able to go to sleep before I tell you I'm not mad any more." A few privileged voices. The silent masses. In that corner red, that red that white that blue and less yellow in the white from the ceiling. The sounds from the heating vent. The gloss net of the cupboard. Red twined around green. The lamp hung down through blue from the ceiling. The chair under Luke's black and white. What I have to remember about Luke is to fight clear of the rivalry before I see him. I have been liking bright light in the corridor and workroom. It's the 19th. Was raining then bright, clouded when I had the lesson. Then took the fridge down the alley. Now star clear. Diana was giving Peter a party (party music), it sounded close. Yesterday was [sketch last quarter], today begins the wane. On the 17th the sudden change. Wanian: the wane. Beveled edge of a board sawn from a log, the bark or defective portion on the edge or corner of a board.
Qui Jin's daughter was educated in the United States, and became the first woman aviator in China.
His dark red sweater, how I felt looking at his forearms and hands. He has changed his look, is making himself he thinks handsome, and less beautiful. Heavier possibly. Her role is to say to power "that's not it". The two days: what quality: a grey light, "there is a beautiful light," glad home release, silver sea light from the low, I don't remember seeing it so low (southeast) sun. On the house window a yellow changing form. And why are we working for her. When I saw that one of her it was woman authority and I was given to be able to say I am that, with that, frightened, it is the space I have to move into. "It has supported me that you look the way you do." When she was afraid of Percy's death it is phallic power not authority that she is afraid of losing. So did she get taken in. In fact I don't paint the things I see, but I paint them from my dreams, after I've dreamed of them, when I come home from the fields, a bit tired. Is it a law that in the dyad a production unit represents, one member must be sacrificed. Structurally yin, structurally yang. suspecting some prohibition of the mother's pleasure Farther down / back / in than that. That's what I didn't like about Roy's displays of power, he always outsmarted me with Luke. The battle being played and in what way. who sank wordlessly into the river, her pockets weighted with stones, haunted by voices, by waves, by lights, in love with colors - blue, green fled to the refuge of lights, rhythms, sounds: a refuge that already announces, for those who know how to read, the silence with which she will abandon to dissolve being, to free it Miss Weaver by Joyce lamina vanilla No mother can serve as an axis, when order is taken apart by rhythm. Isn't a woman the most committed anarchist when she is carried away by what the symbolic order rejects? In the eyes of this society such a posture casts her as a victim. Her questions suicide, marginality, who is identified with, the sex war. "Jam can sing I want everyone to know." Giving in. Continuing to give in.
The meaning of a word What is made unconscious, what conscious Whether it has already happened / it's the same The women friends met without / and with excitement. First I had to show you how to be a physical man. That is where it's issue and the question is: both. Excited learning (catching up) Unconscious - allowed to know There is set up a system of not-being-allowed-to-know and knowing
Voice (through) the male/female vagina Differences in relation to glamour I'm thinking how it was at the Slade. I only knew my resistance had something to do with gender, gender war and status conventions. She was blinded, she blinded herself, her body blinded her except to (what can be seen in) intimacy. Glasses given insist she see what they say is to be seen. Range
Beauty and desire
How did she make that smallness bluegaze intensity of beauty and next time will I meet it well. Are these night hours shorter. It's 20 to 5. The windy talking to C, gusts blowing unsatisfactorily without quality demand. I can see her work and my outpour but no one is caring. It colludes in easiness. Her arms. The pain because she's - first singing wail then slow sobs, then faster and tears. "It's too much." "It's too raw." What I noticed to think about: what is that practice of giving some sort of mind admiration and another not. The tainted being. The continuous quest. The kernel that someone would be willing to be the lower order memory and organizer, in order to be with your quality of higher order language. What it was like tonight. Someone not very well seen. I could cook but not -. There's the gusting changes of direction, who're you with, why aren't I listening. In Loong Foong the young girl come from a dance class, singing, jerking her neck, flicking into the hand positions. Her mother seeing my look. A nervy body. She went on thinking and talking about it, taken up, technically preoccupied with her work. What I felt in her arms was what if she's sleeping with J and I don't know, then, when there were footsteps, what if she's going to see us, the figuring out before, was this pain an information about something tonight. Hotel in a strange city. And then it was gone. But the real body was never in my arms like some other times. "But I don't want any more of the multiplication of instances! Someone else I haven't known in their earlier time, and it gets worse all the time. I don't want any new people, I want something different with the old people." "You'll find yourself in a mythology whose story you don't already know." "I don't believe it! I don't believe there's a mythology whose story I don't already know." Complaining. What would I like. Somebody sexually free. The only where I'm interested is another bound one longing to be loved. The way it moves. I say, she really is a finer perception and manner, and then, but how much more crude and boring in - The quality. What I see when I look at what I want. "Oh no it isn't somebody looking at me with love, not at all! That's what I wanted, I needed it so much. No that isn't how they're looking, they're looking full. It isn't fire and passion, not at all. I don't want fire and passion, I hate fire and passion. It's a look of lucidity. It's not having to be bothered with a whole range of things. It's being in heaven." Say it to someone else: What I see when I look at the image I held. I may have seen, I saw a look. "It was when you were telling me what you'd heard in the poem. Climbing up into the company of your perception." Rumi. It is your senses and their language. When you're with anyone it's impossible to know what it is, it's just a marvel, (you enter a world). Better said I saw a turbulence. Yes. I don't love your whole person I only love your genius. That was the look of your genius. When I see that person I don't believe she can't see without glasses. Signaling the world you're in. What if I did hold out. I want that one. Syll intruded between level or gently inclined beds of other rock I took that image as a center. So that every human being and every other thing in creation was something I could see if I keep that experience. Agnes Smedley 1892-1950, China 29-40. In Canton on one occasion two to three hundred women were executed for having short hair. Over 1000 in the white resurgence. The look of the Hakka. YWCA. "Children are being taught not to lie." Patterns of avoidance in the family. Family such intrigue fascinated with each other. That girl had a revolutionary haircut. 24th With Val [Power] saying the technology is important and precision in her sense of how much is right. Staring at her fixed in the incongruity: her narrow temples, pallor, thin sagging mouth. What is the relation of how she looks to these images of - these theatrical images of fear and pain. Something she wants to see and condense and again condense. "The use of the mind." "I wanted to bring it in technically." She said "It's music." "Where is the music coming from?" "I can't say. Sometimes I think I know." The outer is what it was: "Hey you guys." When she said "Take care of yourself, sometimes you aren't in control of -" it felt like a prurience. I bragged "Yes I am." "Bad people they see me coming they cross the road." Why did I throw in a quotation. 24 Eve Ruth Anderson points. Sine wave veils. A voice with a stripe in it. "Hello." Man: a sexual sound (who). "This is Paul Epp." "Where are you talking?" "I'm in the bedroom." "Oh you have a long phone now." "Yes a phone with a long cord." She said "I'm going to have new grandchildren." "Did they adopt!" "There's a four year old girl and a five year old boy." "Oh are you feeling like you really have new grandchildren??!" "Well I haven't seen them -. I'd like to see them. Yes." "What kind are they?" "They're native." "That's wonderful. Do you know their names?" "Yes I do, Judy says she's not completely happy with their names. They're Janice and Frank. Maybe their names can be changed later but for now -." How music feels these days. (My sexual field registers like) touches. Suspense as the line grows into sight forward. Carnation smell. Oh carnation. [sketch] The blue-skinned green and pink core. The buds open five-pointed flaps at their tip. It's the folded flower material pushed up that forces them open. The labyrinth of the bud in formation. A point lays up a ring. It lays a wider, the wideness is already being built folded, the wider it builds the more inside there is, the more separation of touching surfaces each it must be in lateral connection but the cells being fed and feeding on from below up. From the simple foundation. The colors in front. New leaves on the tree. The Island. Blue and white. Red. And the lamp's beautiful veil and its beautiful shadow. The shadows of pointed leaves moving in the hot wind. In these days the presence of once-loved. That means I'm near my historic stem. Oh the old skin on the back of the hand. Andy. Roy and Sarah and the children. Catherine. Having taken prints of those many/few existences, that are still alive. Jill and Sean. And though I don't say so, and in the midst of fullness of loves, and though it feels like it might be years, I know I'm waiting for (you), what I thought might come to the door tonight. Where are you. Is the tenderness of the eve the only form I'll hold of you. I'd know you patiently for years without saying. Any of the time was - the clearing in Alberta - midsummer mud ruts - small poplar border - the bottle explodes - night and late afternoon - morning - across the batted ground - crossing it - a kiss on the shoulder - just her back passing toward the water barrel - how did you mean that? - an edge of the hand on the warm upper arm - to rotate into again the mouth on the skin of the shoulder blade - lifts it to give forward the smile of the eyes - you see. The way the library card photo looks happier today than when I was looking at it with C. 25 Waking at three. Flat. The woeful voice made her guilty. Fought. Still without talk making pink mousse. We're together knowing the movements within the kitchen. T is making mashed potatoes. J is berserk with a kidney. "It's so bizarre I don't even want to think about it. I think it's a way of having an absent friend here." "Anna do you know how to roast a kidney?" Rhoda's fingers in a pile breading cauliflower. She found limn. "I spent a day with that word." Two breaths smoke. In the bathroom seeing the magazine pictures differently. Absorbed in a different entry. I'm sure it's alright. I'm certain. Going out into rain in the silk jacket and cloth shoes.
Wrestling the bone. Meat grabbed and pulled. Oo! The Voth creek. The afternoon we followed it to where it was in steep banks, standing on the steep slopes and cowpaths. Foreign bottles and tins. The house up there. When I'd first smoked thinking it impossible to talk. About not knowing my child. She that I falsely present it. I that she can't because she isn't in hers. Then, "But I have great respect for yours whether you know it or not." She "I know you have." I know she falsely presents hers but she doesn't know that what I 'respect' is something else? The sentence sounded odd. Looking for the blind spot. The others delighting. "You're really looking somewhere else." Trudy's [game] seeing how far we can [how far away from a book we can be and still] read. Sandy's happiness. I was choosing numbers to hide from her logical reconstruction, what I knew would be her method. I hid in 4. The really fine ephemeral structures and the duds: that they can be responded to without cover.
When I retract I am wondering whether this experiencing friendship is taking the fineness of my spirit: what was Robert. He leaves conversations, they're too intense and confused. Does he have his beauty because he goes off, yes but his conversation's so unexperienced, he was learning a reference culture too, what he thought was a good movie. It's because he's a writer. The transition in which I want to be alone. "Ellie and I want to have fun in the future and nobody else seems to want to do that." with deep resourcefulness in improvisation display little religion beyond a reverence for the rain forest have been observed incorporating into songs the echo of their voices bouncing off trees When she first menstruates she will wait for a friend to also have her first period and then the two of them invite their friends both older and younger to join them in an alima house where they live for a month. During this time boys who come to court them may enter the alima house and sleep with the girls and their mothers. Once inside, a youth may sleep with one or a number of girls by mutual agreement. It's considered a time of experimentation. Usually though not always a marriage results. "You don't need to attract attention to yourself in that sort of way." The intensity of hatred I could hear, gazing. Let the answer take care of it. Very quiet, "They didn't." Afterward heard what she was saying. Mesmerized in the constructed world. (If I now refuse her will it be a shift from there to here of the refusal.) In the same way what Rhoda said. The sentence had a light in it so afterwards I could (read) it. Had a light in it so I held onto it. And later it returned with the meaning I hadn't got. (And had she. By now.) In the blue pages and here the uneasiness working with writing that's partly careless partly in subconscious articulation/relation, and I haven't been willing to resolve it. A blind - The way I had got to conscience before I met her but now I think of her vision as my conscience.
27 5:30pm. Waking without having had a day. In a swimming pool with my sheets soaked hanging around me in the water, lying moving my arms, crossing the pool. I can swim easily now. I can swim anywhere. Back to that end of the pool. There are (men) crowded. It's too shallow. I turn and go back to the deep end, the swimmers lanes across. Could drop the sheets, I'm swimming naked in a pool where there are swimmers in bathing suits. Lie on the surface. A naked man swims by. In the (can) squeezing past women waiting, deciding to take it freely slowly without fear, feel each woman's body squeezing past. In the night bedroom (there'd been a fire I'd taken out the plastic bag of slides and the pile of writing) with Jam and Judy. From the window a light moves. It's a white light throwing a narrow strip (2') moving across the ceiling down the far wall. I thought of it as moving the full square but it may have been that the image wasn't moving but its picture was as if of - a full square, thrown by something that scanned in a circle. The image was fine silhouette with detail of leaves, beautiful, enthralling. When it had got back to what we took as first position it showed a magnified fly's head and upper body. Thought of the fly as on the window, middle sash, facing north. But remember the image on the wall as facing south. I thought of the projector as a round drop on the sill. I said perhaps the fly's eye had acted as - We watched the image begin to move across the wall - behind the exquisite shadow image in black I could see clouds and sky, pink, blue. I was mad at Judy for distracted attention. She was naked, I was pushing at her neck and face. The shelf on the east wall had her collection of domestic dishes, ugly patterns, like a dowry (she could have - with Joey) with intelligence enough. The image rotated so I was in it, head upright against pillows. Light outline but dim. Next to it a shadow, maybe a shadow, something dark, facing away. [*sketch] I was holding myself open in sight of the two parts particularly the shadow, expecting, frightened, willing, a change in depth, sight. Wake thinking whether Rhoda's prettiness is from staying in the feminine, what would that be, the kind of action and decision there is in what's called the inward, that could be called the fluid or spatial. She walked into the river her pockets weighted with stones. In love with voices, waves, lights, colors, blue, green. The movement is, from thinking that I've seen how it is, the polarities, and existence between them, to desiring the new position, which has one wing open. The right side stands open to space where there may be another, unknown, pole. polos pivot Thinking what is the trying to be manly, and how did I get conned. (It's love for the father.) How-I'm-seen.
"You don't know that." She wanted to say that. "It's too soon." That means I do know something and it's about what she's suffering of, her desire for Rhoda. "Is more desirable than I am," calmly. And more than you are. The primal is multiplexed. It makes, it seems in the picture, a firmer structure. Strands. Gluten. And then can it be thought of as soul.
Looking to see whether something can be read as soul and what's the relation of that to the primal. Do we know there isn't going to be a winner. "There is someone in her who interests me more than anyone in the world," I think that one may be in everyone, "the other ones of her don't interest me very much because they seem to be made up out of mistakes." Blind. "I said I didn't want him because I didn't want to want him unless I knew I could have him." Claudette dressing her infant in a pretty cap that disguises his widespreading ears.
Why DR is a storybook. By contact feeling anything has that suspense. But it is in a real story. What's the dif / feeling afterlife and not: the one who feels afterlife doesn't believe, I mean myself, the existence of the present life - that present surrounded by collective inference, materialized within collective inference, history, a materialized area within a receding unmaterialized one. When I think of this life as spirit I can imagine a walking into the river with stones in pockets - leaving the body - finding oneself in a new conditions - what is that 'this life as spirit'. In the previous life the (spirit is given to the) organizing and holding full of the world picture and in it intelligent decisions and observations. Many of them fall. There were persons and books I accepted being drawn toward, that said, loosen it. those nights beneath the high trees their very roots perceptibly stirring in the earth beneath me What I've been trying to do in her way, hasn't really been interesting, even when I'm close, why, when I transcribe I don't, I still don't, see through. I saw through more in young (it's the morning of 29th, rent due) writing. I long to be 'a writer,' the slides are true but I don't stop with them because I insist I have to become conscious, in her, it's the conscious, Lessing, registering, oh, how she could remember. She learnt: to remember (both did) and see through the remembered. Le Guin dreams. I want the technologies and familiarity, more than to be any artist, I want more than one, and to know how, and yet it doesn't work to only randomly be able to travel, the story is Panic, partly hunger maybe,
The innocence of recording. A gush I think was ovo.
Look for the heart again. Your passion. Alright. 30th She says it's only possible when there are no men in my imagination. That won't do. "The thing --- --- is that you are fully desirable to women as you are. In sexuality there are always others in the imagination, of all kinds." She was in trouble with Kristeva, read her as saying the Chinese think bad of a woman who tries to pass as a man: "a brutal seducer." "Things I've done make me cringe, that I did when I was pretending." "And you were brutal." "Evil." I imagined the guilt of abandoning - The way she A circle spherical area of ---. A pop a blind spot a dot a blue spark. 3 things over each other - her A trail, looking through the lens close-up at the back wall of the inside of a shed. Passing, the cart finds its own way on the road, the road's curve turns it. The dot she can click in. Falling asleep - the loved naked body - the way she - came to image of a [sketch] keyed fit - the parts of what's necessary. It isn't a single principle, like maleness. It's more and less of areas of a principle. Thought, I wondered, DNA, whether one could miss the part that didn't come, and look for it. That means the other half that is there isn't enough there. Fission - resets the imbalance very time. Woke with a grasp of three structures equivalent in different media, the sphere and the point of possible - no how did it feel - as if she could emerge at that point, not emerge from somewhere else, she could come into existence like a focal point. -
In language the body is the first reality. Birth underwater In some cases this split was never accepted by mother or child
void and pleroma tetelestai it is fulfilled When the man of power looks around he has to be aware of enemies infans speechless There are blank dreams. Falling asleep at the breast Matrix womb and nourishing Ge-meter His limping gait indicated that he did something wrong in relation to his father and mother which carry beside the idea of professional skill, the idea of forgery, wrong-doing
hang oscillae in the vineyards little mouth - mask - doll - girl - eye the divinity Thing Is talk about penis a cover for the even more tabooed vulva, I think.
Knowledge and love The imaginary partner of seeing is the seen
swelling oidma swell the sea
Sauros is tail lizard
error mistake plane wandering
The castration of animals Akazie without badness tabernacle tree Attis the cut tree dendro phoroi One of your members should perish, not your whole body He cut off his hand to listen to the tree
The contempt of the impotent male / respect of the priest Education what is pulled out
The Norse death boat set fire and adrift to sea As in Abyssinia Scotia darkness skotos Creeping murmur and the pouring dark fills the wide vessel of the universe gy nian to gape, open (begin - to open up, lying open, spacious vertigo self-perception of regress if these intensities are aligned with something to explain them the excitement of unrecognized resemblance perhaps felt in its original situations Then what would become of the world-loves
lime lehm clay running primary: as fluid world = a lifetime
Posture, meadow, orchard, garden, are all belly pleasure. What I want that you say I'm going to get, I don't understand why you say it that way, what I want is for it to come out true, and it is, but you don't seem to know that when it has come out true, you in your own loves and I in mine, we will still be in each other's. When I understood that Sandy would be newly included it was a flash of joy. Could you have guessed. There is something true for me in you, amazingly it is not what you think you want, amazingly you don't know how faithful I've been to it or how lonely in that faithfulness. When I'm with you I'm paralyzed by your refusal. I can hardly find a speakable thought. Tonight you could have said, I'm thinking of last year and I'm still angry and what you did was x, x, x, x. I don't remember last year, probably I was in distress about Luke. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU'RE SO ENDLESSLY UNFORGIVING of my distresses and so oblivious of how much isolation and misery I've been put into by yours. Everytime you cut off rather than fight what are you choosing. Resistance is your tank you roll away in. Once you begin there's no way to stop you. I don't understand how I'm not worth fighting with, I am, or no one is. You seem to demand someone do all the work for you both, I think Sandy must have been willing. Someone who has done nothing in her life but love you, it is touching, I envy it, I'll never have it or be it. I did want you to know me and you did give me time and you were watchful and generous and now you're angry it didn't get you what you wanted. You didn't notice what it did get you, I only can feel hopeless because you didn't love what I could give.
Embarrassment is the helplessness in front of the ideal ego formed
The library cures her. 'presymbolic magical participation' fantasies of reading and writing funeral feast used to be of the dead one 'wonderful' the sperm in the air the ancestral father the little ship (protector of souls)
being seen being foolish needing magic to magnetize ealdor-gedal life-age, cut off the symbolic working with loved images that is what need exciting
wanting to experience one's will
Whatsoever first openeth the womb (is sacrificed) The maniae spirits of the dead lemures Ancestral What in the person isn't it. The fresh young ambition.
phonos meant murder ga-macian to make (fire), to fit together, to match the slave and the adulterous woman shaved head libidinous and repetitious regressed - primary fantasies
children revenge the grandparents
|