| edged out 2 part 2 - 1982 february-march | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
February 1982 [We visit my grandmother in Clearbrook.] "In seven months I will be ninety years old." Said from the size of a child. J looking from the living room. [There is a snowstorm and we stay overnight with a woman who has an adult Down syndrome son] Helen reading out the text that when god doesn't give us what we ask it is because he wants to give us something better. "Dennis regards himself very highly." The blows. "Such small things make such a difference." The blinded house. You were taking your animal into church. "A slur. That I'm doing the work that will interest the girls."
"Yave that to yor mum." [My grandfather says.] I had the queerest feeling that some inner part of her was slowly turning on its axis. so conscious of his sweet competence I was so happy to see your innocent face on the pillow.
Distraught flooding woman, agony face. "I was smiling and singing happy birthday to him and even being happy with him." Did her husband die to get away from their retarded son. "Good morn ning El lie." "You are the only person who has ever asked me that question." Dr. --- was very blunt, "There's almost nothing there." "Everywhere I go I'm known. I'm the woman with the retarded son. That's how they know me." "He's developed a way of talking so that people think he knows more than he knows." February 25 On Granville called my name. David [Rimmer]. I wasn't looking / how worse he looks. Why. Hair dry brush face fattened and toxic. I'm glad to say -. "It's lovely shooting." "Is it autobiographical?" "I hope not in the worst sense." And begin to look at whether it is, while his eye wanders away from the sight. Shelley smiles maybe not wanting to speak but I like her face and stay with it for a while.
The chances for her to come through / she doesn't. Shocked and continuing in wanting to phone someone and get calmed. Whether you take someone on or not. [Rhoda comes to see me.] It was being trapped in not being able to say what I thought. What if I had. This is like offering me a compensation for taking J. I bring it up so she can talk about it. She brings it back around: "So anyway, I think you should -." What I'd already said I didn't want to do and couldn't say how much I hated the thought of because she'd done it. "If you change your mind let me know." "If I changed my mind surely I'd let Gerry know." It would be taking on as study, how else. I'm not wanting to be nearer. The alien of all. Because women are so sensitive they pick up in one afternoon a hundred and fifty opinions. What did she fail to do, she failed to keep a diary. Said Marie-Louise [von Franz]. Evil nonexistence unnaturalness any condition of moral impurity that obfuscates reality. Beauty is purity of self, naturalness, which is to say reality. can regard heaven, earth and the myriad things as one body because it is natural to. We have about us the universe of fluid force. of the universe as a moral organism through the transparent darkness poured At C's pressure of crying. "Doesn't it seem to you as if there's something out of proportion in it?" Worms, wanting not to look at it. "It is as if I feel that if I can't figure it out I have no right to be sad about it." "I loved writing for that reading but afterwards I was stopped. It was the last summer Luke was here." "That's five years ago! Something made you lose your confidence." "It had heat." "Yes it had heat and this stuff is cold." "I don't think your stuff is cold, I think it's light and lovely." Where I saw something in there I didn't say was that I don't want to put these out or have them liked because I don't feel them myself as those were and that before I can have these loved I want those loved and seen. Ie I didn't build forward on my warmth except in the north. But it isn't so. But the bitterness of D liking plain laid. I made it in my own delight but why do I feel the praise bitterly. Rhoda's Cheryl's Trudy's not liking that reading stopped me. The up north material I don't care who likes in that way, I was myself entranced with it and not lost in it. (But have trouble forming.) It seems that of the writing what I should do is send it into other contexts, this one doesn't work. Saw it sent in its thin delicacy out finding its few persons who'd America? Huh? Her answer, that she illustrates by herself, is to show work. The rain pouring all today. Depression. C's photographs and how I look curved next to C smiling at J, a jag-toothed massive dyke, grupp but I own the space around me. Little eyes big cheeks. The picture showing reptilian sad collapsed that she shouldn't show.
So yellow and distraught. Crying. That I wanted those three people to like it and they didn't and it stopped me. Was that I didn't go on from there -. That neither she or C listened when it got to the point where something could be found. "If I'm not going to get any love and affection" "I'm technically more ... I can set a rawness so it can be seen. People have always liked my writing." "Rhoda helps the production of my work. You are the enemy of my work in a way Rhoda isn't." What Rhoda did was an attack and I couldn't accuse her. Could I: you were still suggesting it, "If you change your mind let me know", there was something. - If it's launched now. Thinking how to recover. [transcription of mushrooms tape from Olson house:
[couple of pages of notes in origin planning]
- Here the door. Footsteps. It must be her. More than. It's a lot of people. Come out where I can see. That sensing of the light and colors around myself which is the reversed (cone) of being looked at. Green pink and red in yellow white. Holding the blanket up in conscious theatre. "Then I should put on some clothes." I'll use every way I can think of to keep dominance, that's what I know. Choose the room. Make first raids. Threaten the tape recorder. Hold eyes knowing nothing. Let out none of the real information. Keep in the defensive so nothing can stray out. T offside is guessing right and I'm liking it. "It's a game." J off my side is closed in a lump and if she's following she isn't going to show. No one but T is choosing their quality over their vested interest. I knew I could expect her to be inert both ways. Posture rapidly broadly changing. T says "It can only be one thing" and no one asks her what it is. R is making a show of trying. There are moments I feel for her. "It doesn't make sense." "You ostracize and cut lines when it suits you!" [I say to R, meaning she ostracized C] She was going to deny it and then checks. In a space: what I'm working for is our not being reconciled. That's what I know and understanding it will have to be later. Except that I do understand it this way, that she has got J and it's better to lose her to an open enemy. The way she has got J is real but J may be too opportunistic to act with her self in something so near. If I'd said any of this I'd have been the weeping sore for everyone. Sad sad sadness. They're going home into the rain. There J sits. What for. Oh cause it'd be held against her. Well I'll cooperate. There's no human company for me tonight. Was just pressing to have them all gone and then writhing in bed. The work crew planting trees for my ugly brutal father, they come home, Robert isn't there, ask my mother "Where are --- and --- and Robert." She doesn't say then, as if she didn't hear, but in a minute she says Robert stayed in town, he doesn't trust my father to pay him, he's doing some badly paid inferior work. I see him with a mattock digging roots. I say can I take the car and go in to see him (Abbotsford). She says yes. An apartment. A room next to Luke's. Eggshell new-apartment walls. Realizing it's the apartment in New York Anne used to live in. Out the window the wide black field cultivator lines smoothly across in winter wet weather. Looking at Luke's things saying to him it's six months since he discriminated through his things. Come back, he's put his things in boxes, worked a lot. I think it's here it goes to the part with Robert. But I remember there was a white jeep exceptionally bumpy the crew was riding on. Under the stubbornness of this fright, its carelessness about being magnificent, fair or clean, there's not having anything to lose. It says, I don't have anything to lose, meaning neither R nor J. That seems to say this hardness is how not to lose J. The way at night she leaves saying it's over forever. In the morning I blast R. In the afternoon J arrives. She says it felt like I called her. On Sunday she says I have a radiance. Alright so. And the other doubt, that refusing the open heart position, its wash of pain helplessness, yeah I like the sound of it, I will set the same relation in myself, where something refuses information to something else (because it ). Was thinking during it, that I was like my father refusing, except that I wasn't fleeing only hunkering. Was thinking it would make me ugly anyway. And this winter so low-down, so poor, dead-ended, suspended. "Sometimes when I see an axe starting to fall I put my head under it just to make it clearer that there is an axe falling." J interrupts, "I don't see why it has to be seen as a binary, rejection or not." No one listens. I know you're here only to score a return and I'm determined not to let you. Tired out. If I'd not been already brutalized into this winning - why aren't you asking Jam the right questions? - program, it would have been that Friday dusk when she came up saying Rhoda wants to drink that I'd have blossomed out into grief. And if she could have replied it could have gone on in all of our depth. And she would know that her true lover in the outer world would have to bear this image for her and develop it in himself for her. Choosing up the animosity leaves its other in quiet. persecuting white witches most ferociously on account of the benefits they brought. For many years I was on the lookout everywhere I went, for a certain look of worn and experienced strong eyes. (Also for a certain kind of man not very different.) The question why not be friendly with R, what it means to have nothing to lose, why I've been telling J about having tested her and not wanting to. The series after first friendly moves of very small indifferences, also rebukes, patronizings, and the first battle she shared her bad will in. Having to write this because of not saying it. The Nuer or marsh-Arab experience The mother is a tree
Essences of fragrant trees
The tree is the milk-soul Virga stem rod Trying out realms of pictures Autumnal gases glowed in darkness underground (Rich)
The irregular breathing means dreaming To report back A dissociation to be awake in our auditory system but not in any other Reed bundles Ishbar weaver These trees are always watered with water drawn from the famous Ain Shems eye of the sun, a well of water fed by a spring in the immediate neighbourhood. shamash sun and a balsam is produced, and grows,
soak the cow mother Below the ground she is imagined no longer as the cow, but as the tree whose fruits are cast into the ground for the renewal of life. and the nomes dedicated to herself and to Nut were called conjointly the Land of the Sycamore The predynastic history of Egypt is African Libyan Ugandan North African. The heart of the life of space Is it somewhere else
Dreams after the Sunday night at 6th. R with hair back looking grave saying she needs an objective friend, I assume J, there's a possibility it's me. Narrow frame like a message. D noticing that something I knew came from her private information. Woke early in a fright. Earlier, J jumps out of window, taken away to Richmond by a young Chinese man, hurt or not. Through the transparent darkness poured That's like the light coming from the stars - Roof outside window. How did those two smears of shit get there and there. Garbage lump swell, falls out body of a stag, blackened empty ribs partly decayed, the entire stag. Can't look at it. (Eating toast resistantly.) Arguing with the father man. Who put it there. I'll help with his work. Phoning the garbage site. They're on strike. A full container. A lot of work. If he'll get rid of the stag I can't look at. Out on the field looking at it stretched. It has antlers at either end. From the legs, or the feet, are lines that strike root. The coyote carcass. It's stretched out with empty ribs, blacked, dried shreds of meat. They've turned it and set it on its feet, have cut off the crumbled feet. It is steady on its more solid leg stumps. Next it will move and does. It is still alive. I'm backed off, a little downhill from it, grass slope. What is it. Not clear in this passage, did I decide I would look and go nearer. Feeling the being of the half-dead, or the dead but alive. Its head this way, maybe silvered eyes. I fetch its cut-off charred forepaws, put them on the porch rail. The shape of the hand is like mine. "Go nearer." In attention, Be a clear air near it around its head. -
Transfer when it starts to back off take frame #. -
I believe in this life, I believe it continues an occult relation to the planet Its effect is that of a thought or emotion coming over me. Kosmos order I seem to partake of its rapid transformations. Live dead shamanism without hands J saying she uses smoke to do something she already knows how, I said I interrogated it. The way it went. She came unloving when I was hurtable, I was berserk through the party, hung round, after, didn't want talk, next day wouldn't kindle, she was saying to set up a ground for separation, afternoon in the music room wet hair combing, she looked manly, I was telling Roy and how I think it should be on my own if I did it again, she listened up to, then, it became her grippedness, either I accept to help her or we get free (for a year), I'm saying if it isn't for my life, its whole, I can't trust her with that link. She isn't doing the research, she says, because she has to have someone else want it. That doesn't seem right, it seems we're talking it to get more intimate. Shall we smoke. She's tired and I'd rather be smarter. Beach she has to keep moving distressed. Red shoes in pocket carrying velvet case stopwatch. (Crying when she'd described the au pair.) The pretty Philippine baby amah (she imagines she has money). I'm telling her she's not so privileged. Couldn't even go for a walk. Earning capacity. I've got one more degree than you. Friendlier pity makes arm links. "I think this is a boy-girl game." ("How much you want to be looked after. I thought you'd refuse to -.") Walking back talking about contract thinking is this flirtation. (The amount of rationalizing, you have to do something that isn't common now.) "Persisted a long time." Happy flood, I throw my arms out, oh have you realized -. But she meant she had. Above the concreted pool in last dusk pink, she in my jacket. Whether anything had happened. Lay down head at the table. T, then steady R. Then they're angry. The J cold voice "You've found the way at last to break it up." My ice understood the other. Sitting in the corner T sat next, I yelled exasperated, T supported. It was worth it to have her shown her harmfulness. That excited her more than Having not seen or imagined that T was distressed and needed support. "I thought this year we'd really do it." - Soft and feeling nub. It's forthright now not ingratiating. Stroke stroke stroke. She wetted suddenly. Inside the feel of a tongue. Camped next to my car in tall grass, a campground I came to late when others were sleeping. Woke in the morning a wide herd of longhorns, a boy herding them with another on the far side. They could come toward me but the boys would likely control them. Get to the (Valhalla) house, I'm traveling on but want to leave a word for J. Does she wake. I see her. Someone I know passing over in a war machine like a building. He's the guard standing in the very high glass-sided room, like business foyer or foyer of an electric station. It sails overhead. [sketch] There's another man like a gunner in the centre section. And then as it passes over I see another tall glass guardroom with one small man standing attention in the centre of it. Seeing the first man then as the ship passes over realizing it has a large crew some of it not visible working in the centre section. It goes overhead but I see down into it. It was going over a place like the East Place. I expand and live in the warm day like corn and melons. beholds the whole circle not as accumulated but as an instant eternity for contemplation accepts the phenomenon, as it finds it Religion in the world does not build up nature around us, but puts it forth through us, as the life of a tree puts forth We do not know the uses of more than a few plants. occasional examples of action on entire nature Buy one of the Chinese houses, walk round buying fine things for it, pink stones in the entrance under trees. In the walls bluestone. Pool. Scented plants. Round table. Gradually stocking it with glasses, framed work. Ask them to make a wood settee. The rug stores. Stones and trees, hosed sand, birds, glass roof, raised pool. Take the coffee out. She comes, bakes something for breakfast early, housekeeper. Desk, kimono, brioche, fruit, a small steak. Orange juice, apple juice, banana juice, milkshake. The wood table, long, wide, working. Pantry and. Hi kid, wakes in the same room. Morning room. First breakfast, second breakfast. Late lunch. She looks after the clothes, only works half days, good pay, shops.
-
Something never before What it is to the belief that I'm working I felt I was close to another way of being, that I had wanted, but that I mistrusted. I mistrust also being a person among persons, it seems a con. I didn't want to be an instrument of an unknown order. As a person I suspect but don't feel that directedness. I think it is possible to look into being and move it from within. The study of it is essential but it goes into silliness and vanity I see in other people. There's always the worry that other people's souls may be lost in a way that could be helped. Fear of losing the soul is the frontier.
In a light trance knowledge of dream symbols will be given. "I'm so happy I'm with you." Clearing the back right corner. Beautiful bundles of twigs. Headband is up the tree on strong legs. The ear-pick spoon. Going to visit Daphne. She's taking a cake from the oven. Cheese, over peaches and pear halves. Are they done? She's turning it over trying to force it out. She's in a fur coat wearing some dress that bares most of her breasts and pushes them together, on her lap a little girl who's only begun to be noticeable, talking and climbing. "I never knew you had this little girl." In ringlets swarming, voluble earrings. Roy's some awkwardness in this middle part I don't remember. Do we go into the basement (a basement with a daycare, that's another dream). I have a cake of my own, syrup over plum? halves. The little girl put her hand over it. It was a whole cake. The bite I'd taken out was back? Or a different cake? Some confusion. I go out, D follows me. Did we have a fight. We're lying down with our arms around each other's necks, bodies not touching but both of us with our clothes pushed up so our bellies and pelvises are naked. She might be crying, saying "I'm so frightened." Two men come up the stairs, her friends, I assume, don't move but she jumps to cover herself, surprises me. The man said he didn't look when he saw it was her. I'm demanding the other one shut his eyes so I can dress. It embarrasses me more to dress in front of him. Outside a blond girl in red-orange dress. Looking at her from under her, see very small patches of black armpit hair. This girl sent by her father. Daphne has done wonders. Earlier at table another adopted boy with a flange of flesh grown off the back of his head. Waking thinking of her complexity, how she is invited places and has acquaintances in 'writing', manages to do everything. Waking thinking I've taken a poor way in which I can do little. My organization of careers both times pulled down by wanting a mythological friend and magical revelation and speed. That C has taken over my place in Daphne because it was partly their place before. -
It is in panic. Forests flocks shepherds sudden fear. Anguish of minds unable to. Last night at Carnegie among people with something wrong with them. Hell faces. In big boots working fast singing. That man who looked with his beautiful face as if he knew me and was glad to see me. Lips so sweet and tender / like petals falling apart / speak once again to my -. Moved me so that when he was in sight again I looked again in the steady way he had. [Richard Tetrault I think] Edmonton 1936 and an underbite. It's in the last quarter, 19th of March, decisions about the job, Presentation movies, no money again, Friday, should I go to the Board today, desire. Women especially who might be menstruating may not cross behind where a man sleeps, behind his medicine bundle. From whatever it was yesterday in the car, "How about a kiss," ironic, I feel the mechanism in the expected reply and reverse it curiously, she mocks a wet one, I'm left with the real kiss's nowhere to go, a vestige gesture around the neck and going hurt to the Carnegie. Bull man's boys and woman white reunion. Night shock. Morning sludge. Why aren't I knowing what I knew before, how to fight, what the attacks are. What could I do that's exciting. Strange the way I/we am not learning how to handle myself in our recurring structures. The birthday party scream was easy to do, both times, twisted me around and down, holding belly to the right. Equinox Sunday. Excited, wanting to go there, expecting not to be wanted there, going past on the bus, phoning from UBC. The trees with red catkins very small pink-grey flowers. T won't say. Walking to blot the anxiety till heel's sore. Fine heat. See crooked limping person in long shirt, in a corner between a mirror and a store window. Try C but know she won't be. Down Yew. Wrong side of the street. Have it direct now: "What's happening at your house feels so interesting." She wants to lie down, is a happy full voice. At the table eating drinking not caring about any persons, feeling not caring about persons, and having no observations, but staying in gazing. The video they concentrate on, must be something to see, I should look to see how she and J are alone, playing baloney! Manner with face and cigarette. ("Not at all!" says Trudy.) But I don't see anything special anywhere. They must. Gestalt about substitute excitements, bring in something to talk about, that I can marvel at, as I do, 'undifferentiated.' What I want
Not to be shamed and confused To be in truth Sense of centre in right being The power and simplicity a traveler acquires when she arrives in a completely new place What could I do that's exciting
There's a sense of it not being settled, what one's position is. There seem to be ways one pretends a lost conflict was won. Having to give up impulses makes one worry about whether one's existence is right or wrong. What the work has been
Method
What wasn't said. That what I saw last Friday, unanswerable, unfightable, was you preferring the sense of writing you have with Rhoda. I don't like a lot of her writing, what inspires you in it, doesn't, me. It means also that your recent work done in that inspiration, I can't love as you and others do. The painful contradiction is that you are still the one I love to talk to about writing and that that love is the center of my love for you. This cleavage in the question of writing goes through the most of our connection, for me. I think the center of your love is something else and that makes it strange to you how hard I take your preference in the sense of your work. I've had the sense that you're so volatile now, that what I must do when I see you is just hold quiet and watch very close. When you were here on Sunday that is what I did, and what I saw was you. It is a question of how much loneliness I can take, I fail to be able to bear the intensity of our difference, and then I stop watching. In language, the precise turns of the word in its meanings. In literature, the tale, which is structure of a life as soul. In movies, the detail of flux, which is to say, flux. In religion, the ear that can hear what's true. In persons, religion. They are not uncertain about the future life, contented, they have nothing more to attain. Do not covet or hoard, are free from crookedness or busybodying. Merciful, care nothing for profit or loss, help everyone. Love all creatures, are free from anger. Stay where they want, fear no one, are fond of music. Envy no one. Have a radiant inner vision of the whole. Stilling to get through the perceived to what perceives. At this point language fails. Reaching this point is to get into the birdcage without setting the birds off singing. All the quietists say, from it you get truth, happiness and power. That words move in a world of their own, connected only in a most casual and precarious way with the world of reality. One has to go from level to level of awareness. To follow the breath is a sure help. The process of working out in detail the decision to -. Unification of the whole around one purpose. What higher power could be surrendered to. [list of Sufi categories of failure and their remedy]
It's already live and the already bright picks up tiny lines of vibration. It registers exquisitely the smallest breathing shift of your thigh as fluctuation of brightness. The erotic of landscape. Flare. The kindled image feels the smallest flare. (And comes after 100'.) The values derived from work in science, values on truth Visions and dreams, "the eerie state" "where consciousness of actual surroundings is also consciousness of the presence of fairies" Lucier A knife. Both tips 3 circles colored. Traffic lights. A silver bar, then a color bar. The colors are pastel and flush out as if the long middle body of the knife is the sky. At the other tip the same. Center is black leather sheath. Should it be sky. One end says stop, other go. [sketch] It might have a midline I can see but not the tip end of it. Seems to be like the hilt end. It's Trudy's. The playhouse she's made is her birthday present to herself. It's beautiful. Clear sides with small areas of prism color. (Is it clear or orange - it may be the color of negative.) I'm envious. She gave me such a drab present. Little thing with upstairs and downstairs and an open side. She's next door and yells about a cut hand or some injury. I grab for the house and rip off a sheet of the side. It's like paper out of a magazine. Then have to tell her, embarrassed, know it was jealousy. It can be put back so there's only a line like a paper tear. With J somewhere. I've gone off to sleep in the next room. sense of hurt feelings and excoriated desire. Schoolyard at La Glace. I'm getting into a car with a man I don't know. I seem to have chosen at random to go off with him. J's face watching from far back inside the room. I only see the oval. He has something written on his back, maybe Charrr oo leena a. Writing these pain and worry. Hiding the sacs I'd borne, feeling them to see whether in one of them there might be a mature baby, some are empty like sterile pods, some not big enough to have a live one, there was one big one, but opening it seems to have made the baby in it unable to stay alive, feeling the lumps inside; I seem to be birthing them (don't have the experience of them coming out) secretly and quickly while the others are somewhere else, there is finally a little mouse born who's living, I put it to the breast and when it licks the big surface of the head of the nipple milk does come. When I wake from it the memory of "one little mouse, very pretty." Still aching and prefilled with images of the shelves of grub. Whether the cramp between the eyebrows is the craziness play sphincter. a delayed timeframe mechanism that calms down his view of the action around him, allowing him to anticipate and react at a speed out of sync with his opponents. What appears to be a 6th sense enabling him to feed a pass blindly into a void only to have a teammate step from the penalty box to accept it. He studies the game like nobody else, how to roll with the checks, slip away from them. Peter Gzowsky on Wayne Gretsky in The game of our lives. Quieter nights, but to permit himself the luxury of watching him and him alone, is to observe an astonishing virtuosity. The genius he has is the one which was possessed by the great Brazilian soccer player, Pele. It has little to do with those skills which can be practiced, refined. It springs from a sense of space and anticipation of movement, and as Canucks coach Harry Neale said, "it is incredible to see." [cutting from the Vancouver Sun] One little mouth very pretty I made her see herself the way that man might have seen her. Then she stopped me. I was touching her the way two women would be together, I'd been at ease. Love and companion are anachron. If I am in a better mind when I am alone why am I still having to be interested in being with. Finding it impossible. The sense of working to correct the other mind, that's the navigator and who does it for whom. Dream of coming up into Ladbroke Grove looking around at the development that has replaced it. Greensward without houses, some concrete. Then in the shell of the house of happiness a bank of grass. Don't know why, this dream waiting to be looked at. Next to J at a meeting with feminists, HG Wells to Winston Churchill "Your soldiers were strong figures," something like that. All the women recognize and are smiling at. The paper stain cutting itself out animal, witty so I know it's her but will I recognize her in the swamp water. Is she bewildered so small --- will not know how to come out. The electric broth. How'll I see wit in so small a being or how will I set a signal she'll see. The Buddha. No pathology. I think I wanted there to be two. The stress of believing something. Cutting up books. At the wedding banquet, "And then they danced." "In their long dresses." "In their long dresses."
"Now you're crying like a child because I said you put crumbs on the blanket and wiped your hands on it." I was in The way minds are in relation to each other and when they're alone. Trying to see it without the division. The one where there is more two. The other two is from thinking of some of the parts as enemies, controlling how someone perceives you. I want there still to be testing and some things found to be true and some not. Again: moving in with (Opa and Oma). It's maybe the 4th time. Maybe I'll stay with them in BC because there's nowhere I want to go. Where do they live. In an emptying house. BC was BC from childhood. Clearbrook's plants. Being a door for somebody, sponsoring somebody. The resistance comes from the way you talk about it. Where do they live. At the edge of dying. Q. if there were a way. How has it been talking about it. ("I think of it in the language of one person talking with another.") I go into an unreal protest that is testing and watching. Do you really want it, do you still want it, is it it you want, is it with me. Is there dominance fantasy in it. What I say comes from another time, it's not intelligence, it's passionate, stale and stales us, You don't know yourself I'm saying. When you're lurking there I'm in revolt thinking I'll get you, I'll do it with a man, you won't get me. The real protest is I mustn't do it though I'm interested, with anyone who doesn't love my being. Then I must do it alone. How would it be if you loved my being. When I'd smoked and was thinking of spirits I thought of how I was thinking about us and she might be having a free run. That we'd been working together but she wouldn't regard, because it's more usual, my work. If you found another category so you wouldn't have to be in that category you'd find other people in it too. Experience The fantasy of displacing the settler and sleeping with the settler's wife How would it be if you loved my being. In the afternoon, black and brown person in the car. "I'm glad to see you." "That shouldn't surprise you by now." "It does still always surprise me."
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