| edged out 3 part 5 - 1982 october | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
[a number of pages organizing notes in origin materials by year with columns for slides, film, writing, tape; list of kinds of uses of materials; list of tasks] [collection of before-birth notes #245-347] 9 October 1982 Inside the basement door in the coal shadow between me and the daylight door a roselight overlayered (diamond). [sketch] Then from outside the door looking back at the same place but straight on, not the oblique, three beats like an overlay of an overlay. Then what was that delicate seeing, already I can't resee it. Who is there when I'm not. I am the shell of it. I want to see it. It was moved by the basement. Two days gripped by working in the basement, the first a silver daylight in the garden, when it burst clear after rain, that I saw through the door and from the sidewalk carrying things through in that powerful continuity of working. The dream job sorting things. Diana's father being buried, I'm building her a shelf and taking her trunks and boxes down onto it. Upstairs running footsteps, girls' voices, furniture being moved, like a Saturday morning preparing for a wedding. Itch I don't understand you. Dawn moved far into the south. One gull rowing through. Their row of windows orange and grey in the brush strokes. The comedy of the Jerusalem artichoke masts suddenly having each a single yellow daisy lying flat on the tip. Is it a ray collector. Higher than the sun ever goes, have I ever seen it there, the white [waning half] almost straight up from the crown. The single gulls crossing to different places, unlike evening when their lines go parallel. The five trees. Center one in a yellow bell. On either side the dark green chestnuts and then what are they, dark green but with brown edges. Intellect drawing near to its desire sinks so deep that memory cannot follow it. when I saw Beatrice turned round to the left and looking at the sun was added day to day the newness of the sound and the great light kindled in me They move, therefore, to different parts over the great sea of being, each with an instinct given it to bear it on. Chrysanthemum. First year from seed, seeds March or April. Stake and pinch out first buds. Cuttings in spring. Someone who knows everything the public reason of the Romans A god DNA the angels, brother, and the pure country where thou art But your life the Supreme Benefice breathes forth immediately, and so enamors it of itself that it desires it ever after, and from this you can argue your resurrection, if you recall how your flesh was made, at the time of the making of both the first parents. 12th The questions in Dante
How time is changed so this autumn and last seem next to each other without much in between. Has been so since I'm back in town.
Your way of will. Luminous eyes. Working on the tile - having learned and done it, yelling in stress of aim. Pointed elf legs and then not being able to look.
Souls born amorous, when they are chastened and deepened, do not lose their ardor and tenderness but live now -- -- --. A luminous line across ----- starry space
If I've found what religion is, the puzzle of why I have and not they. Unlikeliness. Goes to, being the one whose story is that one. Individual passage, no one together in one story. That is: if I can imagine, within the explanation, the wrung passage without a sense of together except that one who was there and the containing world, and its senses, is no longer there. I can see air. Ie I was together. Something else is offered. Being with bigger. The curious thing is how does it happen that mother is plausibly turned into father, wherever I read the story, seeing Heavenly Father set in the place of the inner mother. Climbs on the lap of the father. Outer mother called father because it's not inner mother. What is father. The first parents, each a word, same number of letters only one letter difference. [mama/papa] In the beginning was the word and the word was god, and the word was with god. How god is dog is by the leash. That word says let the earth be separated from the water and it is so. A school pool, I was new in school, dived into it with clothes, once the length, see my eraser, when I come back, dive for it, find many other erasers. The tall young man bending me over the bed touching my neck, we aren't liking each other, it's just an accidental nearness, I don't know whether I want him to go on or not. When I lie back my vision goes white, am looking at it marveling in the chalky color, a bluebird, bright blue, and red breast, suddenly dives through the scene from the front, diagonally past right shoulder, lights on the shelf. The witch in the other room has shaken herbs onto the fire that she means to kill me, she'll eat my friend.
Their new zone sleeping in the high holy parents' old age bedroom. The children eat at the table without them. The belly a bag of garbage. Hers. which made me seem the needle to the star -
[visiting my Konrad grandfather when he nearly died] At the hospital bed I'm standing holding his hand. He begins to say what I fear will be religious exhortation. "That is not up to me. Something I want to say to you ...." I'm looking, he can see I'm not following, he's shaking his head and laughing. I was so worried he was going to force me, but it was another spirit I wouldn't have had to be afraid of. (She said "It made NO SENSE at all.) Was he saying I should think of marrying, and then was he saying or maybe not. That he'd lain in the hospital bed thinking they'd been crazy to fight so much in the La Glace church. Maryanne's shrill describing how many fish they caught, how very much canning they did. Peter coming kindly to dry dishes. Their thanking and praising. When I'm out of the room they get lascivious, rouse themselves, gossip. "She has a spirit of laughter in her" [I say of Oma] with tears. I got her white dress out of the closet and wore her suit jacket, turned around for her to see. Our admiration, which is a very pleasing motion of the mind, immediately rises at the consideration of any object that takes up a great deal of room in the fancy, and by consequence, will improve into the highest pitch of astonishment and devotion. Addison Stars as so many vast oceans of flame And still discover new firmaments and new lights that are sunk further into the ether
Bonnard "to show all one sees on entering a room" Varnishes are resins melted in hot oil or turps. 17 Afternoon. Clearbrook. A gardening day. She tells me her theory of another kind of patriarchy as function, I can't stand it, think it's her madness, am repelled; go to telling the Clearbrook story, its imprint, it seems, in the pressed ankles rigid trunk and arms. J is making me in her way writhe and loathe myself, as I'm ready to, she's angry I don't imagine being touched, I'm repelled, the way she massages, she says and I feel, the Konrad flesh, I didn't guard myself by any difference in the time with them, now I'm ashamed, loathing is in participation, "Your righteousness feeds on their lasciviousness the way their - ." She was already off the end when I came, we couldn't come through clean. In the garden intent stealing concealing, lifting the great paeony lump cutting it into big lumps. Lying in bed feeling the penetration into substrate of the ferocity to dig up and cut apart, hack apart, the fat tubers split off like juicy starch, raw jam, tubers crawled over the mass, grown together. I pried it up, dug holes, three holes, filled them with compost, put in the severed lumps, with roots and 'dormant buds' those fresh candles that look as if they're emerged, but are an inch, two, under the surface, into the new places and the freshened old one. Kept one, and the loose broken tubers, for me. In bed saw the digging up splitting knifing grave digging and burying. ("They act as if they don't expect to see each other in heaven." "That's grisly." "She doesn't know she's going to die.") Urgency, the inner one takes the imprint, expresses frenzy (phren mind). This morning she puts on the leather coat she is most ugly in, straps, buckles, short flared skirt. I can't look. "I won't have tea because I want to get away from the atmosphere of last night as soon as possible." "Me too!" She is blaming me! She's freaked. I said what she feels is fertility, like anyone; she calls it what she wants; she said I was as vulgar as, in the same way as, my folks. Both our madnesses. I touched myself dreaming (of having) a penis to move in them. She saying she can do in imagination what she doesn't want to do in life. I yelling that what she means is - furious she keeps lying - does my mother have cancer. She made me feel it. Who are you angry with. ("I had an image of your grandfather.") I was hitting my father's head yelling he'd done it putting his dirty thing in her. "I'm sorry" she says. Does she read it as I just did myself, oedipal. I know that's how it feels. I grease in. But I am snarling she's lying, willing to let me get away with it to keep her cover. This morning what she was fleeing was what I said. "Fathering is a con, there's no such thing, I don't understand how you can want what you want." Small amount of wine has brought us to stupid brawling, bared us right to the questionable base ugly fantasy. The trade off is, a constantly recaving fantasy base, and the high joy of joined focus. That's strange. Queasy. Throwing Ezra off the balcony, she was gone. T in the brown jacket sitting in the brown wicker chair, girl look, I can see that what she really is in, is painting. "You really like it." "I'm hooked." Why and how am I moving to join, in the low ceiling stacks head near the fluorescent lights' faint irregular heart, looking for Constable, Turner, Kandinsky, Money. Learning technology at a tear without notes. "I was in an anxiety state looking for books." "I know about that." "Writing and painting." She looked from her window at the roofer climbing up to look into my rooms. "He was studying it." Thinking of painting I begin to see. The golf course willows heavily wet, high cut moving sideways (build shapes) each one after another from the bus, personages. The spruces' beautiful shape [sketch]. Birds seem tossed up out of them. Trees turned up undersilver their feelings. From the bus seeing the trees excited. wanted to marvel at color's occurrences and meanings, to admire and, if possible, to uncover color's secrets When I've described this work to anyone but J, M, who else, T?, I've had an inner drawing or holding back, that I don't have with myself, as if I'm lying or fantasizing. I don't know whether it's their skepticism or my own. If I describe it in sentences, outside. Yet it's fertile. It's my fertility speaking. It, if I bring it to any reading, that Addison, Dante, it sets me into a so dense incredulous knowing, it richens any matter so much, that I stop. I said my project was to discredit god the father, it was easy to say, but I don't know whether there's resistance. I think I have come through into an understanding that is, I'm thinking I'm going in that way to be under or over speech, art, 'culture', as it has been. What the danger is. The horse in my dream. It had been with a maniac writer, it was starved as she, by the (evil) in her work. Not that her work was, but she lived feeding in a thin grey and mean spirit world, and was like it, and the horse (June) who now it was with me, is physically strong again. I ask am I to feed it chop before water. In the old house, the first small white house as it was, with earth floor, I put the chop where it is too low for the horse's legs. I take out one board. It steps into the box and eats. I ask should I bring water now. In the middle there was more this and that, an empty pail, looking around what to put the chop in. There is a store I'm working in tidying inventory. Taking a strange seal in my arms up the path and through the fence (Stanley Park) to the seal tank. It's a seal with some fancy thing growing off it. I set it down, watch it approaching the squirm of seals at the edge, it's nosed by one, allowed to enter. The Experiment as Transmitter of the Object and the Subject not merely regarded as fleeting mistakes of sight. Rather, they will be considered standards for all visual perception. the survival of succeeding generations is decreed and it is at this moment we see the livest color Color / fairy tale We believe in the blue character of the sky. "When there are two days together you have to put a night between them." [my grandmother in delirium] the condition of space around us when no objects are perceived by open sound eyes is called darkness. There go to rest. To dark the door
If there is a small knot or fiber in a piece of white paper color will instantly appear. The white paper the not the fleck the instant the color
It is blasphemy to say there is optical deception Singularly the world of the eye If I'm careful not to use the other senses all rationalizations transform into one (coherence).
as they are and not to suit observers, respectfully, as if they were divine beings not from within the observer but from the realm of things a level, quiet glance and can mistrust himself against himself Envy is the researcher's greatest obstacle Knowledge is similar to an enclosed but active body of water. It is at this point, the transition (the desire to prove something immediately) that the inner enemies lurk (only think less of your views than of your eye) Two experiences in the same category - judging them more similar than they are - the striving with enormous will to connect Search and work through any and all possibilities, all phases and modifications of a single experience each phenomenon in relation to untold others like a free, floating, illuminated point that emits rays in all directions In the garden, cold, under the sumac, roofers' debris laid down in fall leaves. Telling Leah this summer's research. Sky says "Mom is this like an eclipse?" "It's an eclipse of the clouds, Sky." I say "It is like an eclipse," not understanding how completely they've spoken, then hear what all of us have said. We are all silent. I see the washline pole's grey nap. She is thought of as a rational person who within herself created others with rather little material. by graduation the simplest beginnings This separated being reseeks itself and can recover and reunite itself. If this separated appearance first intensifies itself and creates, by reconnecting its intensified self, a third, a new, a higher and an unexpected nature.
Direction up down back front and by sound
And thus as we descend the scale of being nature speaks to other senses - to known, misunderstood and unknown senses: so speaks she with herself and to us in a thousand modes.
Traced phenomena to their origins, till the point is reached where they simply appear and are. The visionary afterimage White is the opaquest degree of transparence Intensification of color shows itself as an inner pressure Movement to the right gives the impression of a homeward journey, to the left, out of the world. all the infinite vitality and the immeasurable sensitivity of a correctly painted picture a great objective disaster in its independent meaning in its independent meaning is as much of a eulogy as a hymn about the new birth that arises from it. those minds that remain prisoners of triangles while looking at them Monday - sewing machine - Kandinsky Cold air Slides. R looking at Brigitte, the face I thought beautiful when I look there, is not. I remembered it lit. It's anxious. The most beautiful images of the brick garden and Sarah Black. Catherine and her friend. Wittgenstein saying if there's dispute about an idea it means it hasn't yet been stated clearly enough.
The dates attributed to the older colors. Light fast
20 Dear company, in bed, blue, yellow, if everyone wake in a window box behind bamboo slats, the ware for going into a cold bed, pp!, written then smell, t'-t-t-t-t-t', t'-t-t-t-t- t-t, assume I cycle it in, anxious sense, louder, - - - - - - - - / - - - - - - - - / - - - - - - - - , ahead Leah and ..., strange telephone, fear, the intention could go to the morning and more firmly on, you, anguish, Tuesday, knowing what to write down, firmly knowing, wishing writing down about not knowing, out to the white light has green leaves shining down from it, somewhere loving fear, all the stirring, window down through, very small metal voice, >>>> >>>> xxxxxxxx ^^^^^^^^ a wave motion in the hearing, straighten them out the row. There was a wave unwatched, do I want her in my thoughts, to it's only Tuesday and missing. In bed I brought it through, every time different, every different shape, by imagining a timing. How does anyone know. It's slow in, short bounce, wait, quick out, wait. Pleased. Sorry thinking of you. Sorry missing liking to sleep together young people. Wait meantime. Stood on my head. Body unfocused shoved up in parts. Wake up having to eat quick, make a hot cup. Start into painting technique book. It's early. Streets. The man in his woman's clothes unlocking his front door, going in. Sweep, begin in the kitchen, Gzowski's voice, keep sweeping all the rooms, broom scrapes. Poplar fern water to basil, air outside. Sweeping the painting room T. "You don't know what's happened." White face. Quick to be face to face through rails. Bright. "I'm so mad at my mother. I'm so mad at my mother. I ripped her face off," there was a bump at the nose, her face lift, "for pushing me." The polaroid edge, the polaroid finishes them as if it's a psyche. Had intended to go to the gallery, bicycle, Main, cars shear past. Walking in. It's Lorraine and that dark one. Is her coming up looking comprehensively. You've got new clothes, brown, you look solid and well. "Am I still on." "Are you still on? I'm still on." I know she's anxious for me to do it but she's going to act offended, is she. Can hear the voice, "Ellie," swing to the wall, "you give me such a lot of trouble. Lorraine sitting showing her profile not looking. (Do I? No no.) This is an angry look. I'm sealed. "Equipment isn't included, you'll have to talk to Marion [Barling]." And does Marion get a sweetness past on or is it for her, I think, looking at her height. When she tells me to go, afterwards, cracking into apologizing smile. "Thanks!" like a tap of deliberate liking, she takes on her face. Not surprised, similarly confused, when I look at the wrong end of the speaker cord. "Good - that means you can come." Then downhill, bicycle kid, apples and oranges, cold air, yellow streets month, garden the roofers raked, sumac part stripped red, come driving into the grassing court, rope the bike onto the fence. Nine o'clock Leah. (Heard a car.) Back room work. Green notebook, look for local country notes, what I find is descriptions of life before birth. That's all I was collecting, I'm taking out separately anything that seems to come from something else. Ie having left it, the country I left is that, it compiled structure. Went back to live in the country I left. then set my gaze steadily to know where I was Place is first of all an ordered multitude of local directions Enjoy with your family the beautiful land of life. immersion of one space in another
What is the show
redemption of the energy held in the unconscious by the image of the (father) As it went, transferring from one notebook into another, it begins, I don't see what they are, take them as they were, attractions, and then when I see one as that reference, I begin page after page to see where they fit, some of the compilation tells me more, locates the question. (Neither are here.) I'm wondering how to show it, as the story of finding it, or just the parts set up to make the state. The answer is - black and white - red separates - is art only that cherchez la femme faim fame flamme - and then afterwards what's to do, what's different and - the intelligence of how it's done (elaborating superficial observation). [*sketch] Ie having figured out what an artist is but not what a dream is. Learning to recognize the feel of anything prebirth. Why everyone isn't fascinated in the same way. 'Indulgent.' The equations, conversions, the math I could read from how, if I've solved them, the clues are distorted. The love I had for knowing that geometry is from the experience of growth. The way it's looking like a closed system. A fright as if by following 'myself' without resistance as I have been doing, the method and material found in the same way without feeling 'will', I have found my way into a closed universe, not one that as I want goes on spaciously - immediate answer was the lever or will is here, the carat of extra pressure in the attention making the sentence. Next was - look at the fright to see what specifically my own - the closed system goes back where it comes. Where to work now. T painting: since yesterday morning peeling off the face, the light in the polaroids indicates moon was as if behind her head all along, the second figure looking through the peephole. "I want to keep it." The rim of light that shows moonlight, that brilliant memory of real life. Condensation silver the moon outside, how do you know it. Swirled up the figure and got out of it unfaced howling body bloody hands holding the muscle apart. What more does it say. 'Face lifted' before she did it. Her parts. The red current. Curtain. The sewing machine (I bought). Leah. Leah's house. "All of that provided by you," and what she's impressed by was the roughness that could disregard providing and make brilliance. I cheat. She forces herself. Her Special Star. What I remember instead of what I wrote. The lane, I think moonlight, the house on the right, the imagined house with a rosebush next to steps. I can see the rosebush and the rose. - Lately going to see J and there being a rose on a bush on the way to the bush - the color of the lane - meaning the whole lane to the road - the unconscious says Krishnamurti is as mucky as the conscious - the extent in the sea bottom light moon makes - remember where I sat in the ditch - was it further up, the sand bank, screen memory? - thinking of Al coming down the hill. The girl in pink something over her breasts. The rose. Breasts, maybe at the lane below the hill, I think I can see where the moon was, west of the axis, if I think of listening to the grass, scared, she says it's always there. Standing on the lane at the bottom of the translucent sea. Standing on the lane with dry grass next to the track. Standing far, away, under the moon. Around the moon is light as if on a surface the height of air. Oh the crystal air. amnion. amnesis amneon amneo A gown pale as moonlight. Fairies. Little voices. Suddenly the moon would burst out of the cloud and spill liquid silver over the world lighting her way to her waiting beloved. Is the moon the principle of swell.
Brent burnt? Bent? Horny code. Whorny. Is there a single order. What does it say. Moon, red velvet, breasts, Al, Janine. Man woman baby. Sensation. #2 Looking at handwriting not recognizing it as mine, it's my mother's, some words, others are younger, is it code. Was she reading, what was in the drawer. Someone else's too. What if at 13 I could have gone down into the ditch and got laid. If it could have been Al and Janine. Three moons. Learning to swell.
What kind of day this is. The south wind. The air's smell of plants. This morning the wind clashing the bamboo, drops of water crash on my face. She says is there a message, I say best wishes. "Cheryl was furious and you knew she would be." The smile's involuntary sunny delight. And then uneasy to have been seen mean. J caught my mentioning Rhoda and then saying she wanted Trudy to come. "If we could go to a third place." It's too much to sort in the Astoria Hotel lobby. Mary McCarthy saying she doesn't notice what people wear anymore. It is Doris Lessing's birthday. I'll do a show. What'll I show. What have I learned. Writing. Dimmer?
About T's painting. Synchronistic most likely in strong tension - an energy concept - indicates a unified world. This elsewhere participates in the world of information or imagery representation. Two halves. Color/sound/concentration/murmur. / language White blue green [sketch*] What was the project. What is the feeling for home landscape. Nativity. Take it to the border. In the fantasy the way it has been moving, at the end, from the outside looking, to being right in line of the phantom dawning or mooning up. The way it works in opposites. 'Coincidence of opposites.' Green is equivalent to red, in to out, birth to death, entering to exiting, wanting to having had. And when that is cleared aside what's left. Take it to the edge of the next one if possible. 1. delight and fascination 2. suspicion and reading [guest list] Equivalencies of orders earth prenatal sexual cosmological consciousness. Phrases said for the tone shape. Did I say that [tone sketch]. Daphne dressed like a man. Is she standing differently. What did I see. If I see the metaphor can I feel back through to - mountains and passage - the littoral. "It's like there are rats coming out of her mouth." "It's in my body, I feel myself dying, I have to struggle to be alive." "I talk to myself, I find a way to where there isn't fear." "It isn't just social paranoia, I feel the as-if platform under identity, dissolving." "You can't just let it?" "I have let it, but to do it socially is different." When I see the metaphor can I see the necessity of metaphor, can I see what metaphor is. I've understood the body in the water, which reads the tremours' shapes, that the moon is gravity, it becomes yearning, the sun is electromagnetic, what, how does plant body feel it, another yearning. Arrival, sun and sound source. Waves and waves and waves. The sources. How do waves communicate their source. By the straight lines. And when I have got this far, to imagining the translucent boneless shape plump full penetrated by waves on the skin and the electromagnetic however it's felt, then, I feel as if, situated in there, I should be able to feel my way out into any knowledge. I mean through the perspective of changed experience. I feel something shief, perhaps, like a flip, I can't see it, it's a passing or peripheral shape, it's a logic shape, felt in the body, which computes in shapes, but try again Einstein. If in my present mind I can extrapolate to simulate, the mind (I imagine it a mind though it would be the sequence of) in the water (again the glamour could have told), I could see the design. From any two points, establish. Then having seen it, what. I want to be beyond the computation (could I go there directly) (computation / listening) though I can see only the possibility and don't know whether I could do it, beyond the computation is again having been born, and in a world. And so. If I just keep situating myself in the moment of having been born (talking to T, I saw that dope - ) Seeing a certain kind of thought, is always - is that, anxious thought. Is metaphor always - is the nature of metaphor - the way to read, I sometimes glimpse - speak of it from the unborn-into-it. What is prestige - before to bind - prestrung - (juggler's trick) - metaphor ferryover - through, beyond. The slant of her head toward R. The way I was listening to what she would say, more personally. She bragged of CG Gow forgetting I made it. She's not willing to hear anything of mine. And now did she recognize her pleasure in having hurt me. I want to know why after yesterday afternoon seeing and being sorry for not reading the emperor as what she's doing to herself. "Chaos." Was tears, she was stroking her legs, I saw to stroke her back, she cried. And about Hong Kong being able to say it in words for her. Then in public the oddness of what we'd say to each other. "Everyone else has a better time than we do." "But it made you very pretty." I could feel her wanting to show me dominated. The evening. When there's any feeling sorry for or accommodating she gets mean though she asks to have it. Discomfort seeing her social. Our false relation visible to ourselves. She was using it to get out of the newspaper. "Rhoda is right, it wouldn't go over, or hers either." Ie she's protecting a fantasy and I must be protecting it either. Wondering what is the metaphoring mind that can say it without knowing. It goes into an image without noticing the shift. What's dreaming that it doesn't need to sleep. Does the fetus sleep. My evidence for learning is in Biel. The logic is laid down. As it grows does the thing learn +, -. I am finding out what it is from here, but not yet, what anything is, from it. That's my doubt. [plan for text sections of the notes in origin show] I've read the code but I'm not more alert. I'm being harsh to C and Paul, amn't more compassionate. Dichotomies and questions indicate what parts of an understanding are locked out or garbled. Mistakes of emotion - retroflexion - self pity or punishment - who do I want to do it to, who wants to do it to me - who do I want to do it to me - self criticism, turn it around again and see who criticizes. Am not pushing. Curious. When writing C I was hearing J's voice. 27 A sense of having laboured in the two ways. In fascination and then to track it. And to learn to see to write. Question is what's the relation of this coming-through to the new attention. Sunday night 'getting through' by not watching the whole - or - was the whole liking me well enough so - Painful - how J was that evening, how we were, and then. Today she's coming to T to see the painting. And what am I not seeing. She offered garden work and 'the newspaper' when she thought I had agreed to have a baby with her. I was revolted by the quality of that thankfulness. Why. She would ignore the quality, she'd give anything. Is isn't that she wants to have a baby. (Do I.) She wants me to have a baby so she can be it. Talk about having a baby dilates me (you won't think it through) and fires me up, I would be glad to, and I'd like one that would be like her and me, Oh the slide of Luke newborn, that I'd never seen the pain of. Now I want to just pick him up and hold him. Sara making new-borns for Roy. I've been seduced ignorant. But more than most, and call it being an artist. What is the proportion. Does having come through to knowing what glamour is, That agony like this one (is she - ?) (in half hour) Science But I see she doesn't care for me or prefer me. (Who doesn't care for me) (who does she prefer). I know who she prefers. She has a bargain friend. Oh let's quit. I want to start again. I couldn't have what I wanted and got what I could get and it was at times better than. And what is it with Cheryl cleared out. What is worse about her is her lie and the hatred it puts her in. With Cheryl cleared out. And right through is T's lobbying. But what is she after. For her version to be the one that goes ahead. She got her painting. The way she smiles at R. What is it with Cheryl cleared out of me. That J always mistrusted her. Her rat face at times. That her soul is never pretty (but was). What was I dreaming. "It was sexual, she seduced me, we seduced each other." I've already known better - sensation of slogging - oh having seen ways to correct myself but not having them. I've written in relation to my own story. The way she isn't able to see a whole story. What's next - something with language. I was beating the bushes all these years she couldn't see to tell me what it was. The way she can't be interested in anything of mine, now - what she says about it isn't true. "You seem so uncaring." This, that if the embryo's learning is dreamed ever after, as 'feeling' about the world, and if the only thing different here, is the experimental method. Then - observation is the way to carry it on. What did I start to see. If our world is the embryo's program, and the embryo is in our world, that is ouroboros, ie it's cancelled, start again. But not yet. Looking for what intuition, vision, feeling, is. Looking for another language.
Paintings I think made to follow each other around the walls like windows made by headlights, at the corner an arm reaches out of one painting across another. A square rose or white it's a paeony. I've understood how to see the paintings, lighted parts, something can be seen by emerging it. When I walk around closer to the paintings I see very worked detail even relief edges in the image. I recognize that I am where I left off and was afraid to stay. When - at the first performance. Looking with pleasure back to sitting in a small boat moving downwater looking for a place to sleep, feeling whether I could leave myself in that place in the reeds, I notice there's someone, a man, move back to the faster stream, whose movement is away from the city, that I can see behind, I think I turn back out of the wild woods and am in the estuary near the city, floating among mounds, come out of the water regularly, all 13 in white, I'm told they've put a 13 wherever they've found 13 crabs, mussels, knees, something white flat and round. I liked floating in that comical place. In my school, am I left in charge? Under the desk I find love letters, I think, of some earlier principal. A very brief segment where images behind the writing obscurely see or not what the words of a fast reader are telling. A projector that could have a rectangle size of the wall and suddenly narrow it to size of a concept, double it to recover some other part. In the story the dream's told, and then the dreamer's small memory of it. - Decisions are made before languaged yes/no and because. This amounts to a sentence. Sequential constituent analysis where a series of 'rules' tell the analysis steps. But if it isn't worked out, the next section has to be dumbly refused and I have to go on until there's yes and connection. Adult grammar has in it structures of indirection, evasion, social side issues as well as overdetermination. 28 How to remember to really go on alone. 29 A leaf shrinking to brown except at its contact with (---), it stays green that spot will radiate thousands of images. Took it as event dying around its contact with (---). Seeing mastery. Granting it. Accepting agony. Returning to the beginning of accepting agony without protest. The real living one is the one who is only there in knowing itself and in managing itself moving among states. As a being it is simple otherness from its states. It exists in knowing and decision. It works with its own states as continuous with the other. It isn't an original or primal unity as such, it is no immediate as a unity. It is one thing only as the process of becoming what it has been.
That wavelengths penetrate the belly, are refracted, all the optical things, on the skin. 31st [Jam says she won't come to my gallery show and then I suddenly cancel it] Solar 'pain,' "I think I won't come," was a flash in the lower belly, not an emotion, a stab. Gunpowder flash. Then - what I think it is. She's making it right, wants to cancel the first fall. I wanted her to hear what I can do. "Do you really not know why?" "No I really don't." It could be you're saying: you won't give me a baby, I won't see your single baby born. We'll leave it there. I was in a thrill of clarity, but knew we could be mistaking each other in the original way. Then standing by the stove eating salad calculating. Now I'm almost blank. Where does it take me. I said it (has she never said it), they believed it, though I said it to effect something, didn't know what, and have been feeling what it might be. Face is fired now. She took it as done, though she said go home and think. The shape of the whole.
That she took it as done. almost over. Opened. What does it open. The actual open world where I choose as I go and it is according. Hello. Is it over. Am I alone. Am I not going to be a person anymore. Is it not going to melt through again. Exhausted. How this day was. On the phone they're saying "I was looking forward to it." Marian "And here's Ellie with her five dollars," why is she talking like that. Lorraine putting her face so close and staring into my face, why, so I have to see hers too, the bare shape head, is this your dear? And I found out easily what it might be; the sensitive timid mind unsure of itself, thinking, I'm able to understand and speak, thinking I'm broken trying earnest. Was when Sandy said she wouldn't come, grieving broke out. I'm not going to run from it. In this writing down there's no indicator for when one mind is quoting another. All anxious. Yesterday and before the intensity in attention to time. It is a state - today I've been thinking about it wanting to know whether it sees or not - the pressure and her stab out of ruthlessness, I was open to maybe, the cassette of Pribram, having on it what I've never understood, the coding of an angle of a line, watching whether there was a magic time in effect, putting the show together, or in another way pushing it from one understanding to another. Had an image of the many parts, the mass of parts, as angled lines, that's a painting, which if I could push through in that intensity, would be aligned so an outstanding knowledge would be there, across categories. The material seemed about to crystallize beyond myself, I was reading through it already suddenly more beyond myself, discarding and adding. That it was a time in which there might be choice. I might take the step and be out in the dimensions. The cross doubts - make a show that celebrates our goodbye - don't let her doing that push you out of heaven work into anxiety work - I want it all together heaven and human worry, I want to make, I saw I had, a submersion piece, all the ideas the slant of prenativity. I saw something in the last writing and that there was the story of the finding.
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