| up north 6 part 6 - 1981 april | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
April, back in Vancouver [letter to my mom] M, hello, are you alright? The tests? This is from 820A again. Provisional agreement is that Luke will come here for half-years starting in September. There's no safeguard against changes of mind. Luke is happy in school. His teacher likes him, he seems to be popular with everyone in that school. I liked the school. His classroom was full of stuff and the report books were interesting. I did a slideshow for Luke's form - 3rd. A bright projector and many children on the floor looking up waving their arms. Eager. It looks like a river! It looks like stone! It looks like the wind blowing! It looks like a horse running! It looks like a chasm! I was awkward from inexperience and there were too many to hear them individually enough but I came away happy for days. The little girls filing by saying thank you. Sara's babies are beautiful little bodies. I expect you'll know them sometime. Sara would welcome you, she is a whole-hearted mum. She and R are quite good together, I could see they like to live the same way, messy and not too particular about what's true and right, but generous, especially to children. I think R got more children than he would have wanted but he is in love with them. They were good to me and there was no strain on account of old connections. Luke kept a fine balance in relation to his two mothers, he was admirable. On Sunday morning when Sara and I were sitting on the couch he brought out brown envelopes and gave us each one. To: SARA Ellie From: ? ? ? ? Mothers' Day cards made in school, same verse inside. Hers had a two-sprigged clover blossom under a web, mine a wild rose with two red-outlined thorns. And a box of butterscotch candies for us to split. There was a quick shuffle and an odd story when we asked where he'd got the candy. He is brightfaced and wellmade, careful of his manners, brilliant at lego and less brilliant in school than he started out. What he liked best, of what we did together, was taking pictures of his lego constructions. [journal] DA DA DA FAME I'm gon-na live for e-ver (Sexsmith) conference. Camping in those bushes? I'm there alone. J, I see, arrives with A. Drives in fast, band around her head, car full of that kind of women, smart, witty. I'm lonely, dress for, pull fabric across to cover breasts, the dance. I'll go in bravely to see what I can do. Reflection, I'm lovely, they'll want me. (The reflection isn't E.) Warm shoulders, a boy's grabbed me in the corridor. I'll dance, for the heat. Our feet collide some but it's sexy, I think he's roused, there's commotion between our middles. He suddenly stops. Sets me away. I grab his arms to get an explanation. "What happened? Did you come?" His mother on my left grabs him. She's accusing of another time, a girl (nurse) pregnant. One of his friends back right. He says he was dancing with me because --- asked him. I guessed a favour to a once lover, older. She didn't ask, it was understood. Who? Ingrid. I am understanding, Ingrid is with J. That's all I want to know. They'll be at her house. There was more before him. It's a film conference, I'm looking for companions, there'll be some I like. A young man, etc. The smart women. I begin journeying to her house, across northwest London. Landmarks. That elevated rail bridge like a sandstone wall with arches, it's this side of it, was Sarah's? (Beyond is the garden suburbs' edge.) Across here streets converging to go down into city. I have to get across. Climbing through a window, I break part of it. In a hotel, someone staying there, maybe Bill, if the hotel keeper's concerned I'll leave my address (I think), I'm giving 820A. --- cents vingt. Have to repeat the first number more than once. (I don't think it was huit.) Ah, ah, ah de l'alphabet. Hurry don't bother with E. Pender. Street. Vancouver. Hurrying on. Down a deep drop a brick wall with the old woman, Greg's area. The bells. Keats. Easy drop. We're climbing over rubble both with crutches. Broken bricks. Nearly there. The bells creators heard. As I come up the stairs I see the tops of the heads of some of the smart women. Confirmed. Further up, I see them sitting in (3) rows of chairs, a discussion. Someone on the far side is just saying "Trapline and (Natural Light)". I don't see J. Go into the next room. My father's voice intoning about how sometimes we (hurt without wishing to). J round the corner saying "How did you understand me so soon?" in a dark dress, short sleeves, narrow skirt, belt, like linen. I viciously pinch the tip of her breast. It's a pretty narrow poke under the dress. Anger (wakes me). Back at conference corridor looking in rooms for her open a few doors, persons sitting with cried faces after spiritual experiences. Not the right place for her. - (In snow) preparing to leave one winter house. Luke's jeans and jean jacket hung up hand-washed by my mother. The fire hasn't died back. We're leaving, it maybe dangerous. I poke at the embers. The side of the stove is open to be seen. Knock a brace off the left stove wall, red hot, bends and collapses. That leaves the fire unheld and more likely to set the house and our things on fire. We'll have to walk. You'll have to walk a mile in and a mile back. Snow roads. Coming into or near the house can see a glove, light shining twilight beyond the window. Hurry through. He's holding Luke up by the shoulders. He's wearing thin clothes. He came here earlier, did he wander outside. His head's fallen forward. [sketch] I ask the man. He says he's dead. He's frozen solid. I'm not believing it. I know frozen can be brought back. But wake with whole belly in intense pain, not pain, fear, with whole belly feeling, considering what's this, again, now, what does it mean. I have to learn how it works. Little delay. Realize the whole belly is, that's what's below the diaphragm. When Luke dies does it mean the part of me that had him. Frozen. Why does it put me into real shock and fear. Is it for that: it gives a story that will fire the belly. Catharsis burning. Lauderic. The belly pain with J. J's willow wicker witch half cut away. Neighbours love her that she's cut it back. the long strands still sway. Each cell must be having to hold itself differently. At the table overlooking it, seeds being planted by the book in sifted little rows. There'll be vegetables instead of the whole mass of rain water line. who has successfully handled twenty thousand abortions in his Florida clinic a woman's choice. If a woman has enjoyed sex once, the intention to abstain may not be dependable.
Going to the women's office in Manpower. "I don't want to hear about it." Angry. Is there a way for clear white on black to make those fairy structures Plankton are music continuously violins a scribble Music from the elements by Ravel
tissue rich stuff developed by plants and animals for the performance of a particular function a connected or interwoven series light or gauzy textile fabric reading the plants and animals spines and other fine projections that increase surface area in relation to its weight. This increases their frictional resistance to water. only temporarily planktonic -
tit-lark a pipit tit little thing as the skylark. 2. but unrelated birds, as the titlark or meadowlark laewerce lark2 (lärk) lark-spur the process of hardening work Trapline and Natural light if anything could be done technically what would the area be able to words/images area working an area
Knoxville 1915 Sam Barber beautiful written soprano
the easy thinking libido = interest she praises her feeling lifely interest -
connected, not causally, but by their identical meaning if the preconscious aspect of an object is to be found like the picture of luminous sea with sparks arcing in and out prismatically of existence abyssal allowing, with the sense that it will fall back extinguished into untime
it seems at such cases that one is present at his own unconscious work
a naming of time and place and principle characters a control. the series if it crosses to show a definite idea it is no longer a dream O Lady my Mother, show me my faults and the roads the feeling tone associated with each structure April 8 A tape-slide show sent from there. It was going to be about eating, to show in the church. When it comes it's a cartoon (Little Lulu). The package had been in the post office. I hadn't had the ideas that would've let me check it before time. Coming to the school we walk up the steps. It's night, her arm tight large around me and to the end of the corridor. Going home on a bus, or was it to the school. My father displays on the dash monitor a message quite loving about running things once through before time, to check. Fare 17 cents. During a filming I look around the edge of the scene inside the big tent. A soldier sitting playing with a baby. Thinking this film is made so it has the possibility. I wander into that edge of it. It's as if under the fly sheet. A girl. Some food. I take. There's the bank of food? A girl sitting with the top row? In some way I grab a piece that wasn't meant to be taken. It's very good. The film scene is as if the square of the canvas. I could see around the corner. Someone and I on this side a low dividing wall. It's water being thrown from that side to this. There is old logs planks rotting, a big muscular man alone on that side. We on this side are trying to float a boat. We have a movement too. Is it holding the boat when the transfer is made, bringing it up and down as far as if a wave's gone under? There is a time waiting for the other side to fill. It isn't a difference in level, it's that the water gets to this side. The boat's there in a lot of water. We're still standing as we were next to the wall, on mud, but just beyond the boat is floating in enough water so men are diving to position the round drum floats. There's one for either end (edge). Around the walls ancient dolls. They're posed like beings on a frieze. They're on the picture rail in a very high room. I go up close to greet and see them. One with gold rim around the eye. One whose little tit I kiss, the next I don't. There's beneficent staginess in how I'm going down the line with a greeting for each. The last has legs up, a boy. They're like children. (Seeing them from here they're little wax dead children gods.) At the top of that line - there are 2 others I'll ignore - I take one fast look into the toy cupboard. It's full and rich. A big stuffed animal (life size), a television. The look is fast because there's a crisis, the canvas gate is closing down from the ceiling. The room is high like a museum gallery. The crisis is artificial. I am in some way directing it, it's fiction, I'll have to bust through the canvas to get out. Fly at it twice, it's an impossible resistance. Think they'll have to fly at it with me and that will do it. They of course do, and without any sensation of it, I get through and am awake. New moon high.
stripes Over a roof drop down to get through to the other (hiding out beyond the bridge). A uniform. Wild girl. Being held among. (From yesterday) in front of my wild house (a baby in it) just right of the path a tiled basin into the ground. It's the size / length of a baby bath, well made. Another later moment in that place a deep (adult length) hole, looks torn out of earth. Right kidney? -
- Francis Yates
location is who a whiteness - When I think of smoking the sense that I'll go deep into some unessential uncentral unrelated thing. I'll further my distance into what isn't really mine. And that if I first sorted so I knew it was mine, then I could go on. Counter: that there isn't a central way there's only whatever way I make through the three-dimensional substance. Or: it's the mind not the thing, and is it better to be interested in anything than go to bed early. in a room with a serving woman - Oh - the wonderful - a part of London - through the gate off the street into a layered wasteland seeing the gatesman's bed standing on the right. Business men coming from a restaurant. It's to the left off the road. A big complex like Highgate Cemetery, buildings heaped. I go in through a room I think is off-limits, big room like a mansion library. Someone there asks me to leave. Looking for the way out I'm going through other small private rooms. Come out high up and take an iron staircase on the outside of the building, down. When I've begun, realize it may be unused and so rusted it could fall, and I'm 4 stories - like a brick warehouse - up. But decide to take the chance. Can see a large probably clay or thick metal plate curved into a slight cavity, it's checkered, oxide and red earthenware colors, I think of it as having been used in dyeworks but it seems, it's heated from underneath, to have belonged with metal working. The heat is like heated metal plate. Beyond it, I'm standing at the canal side, there's a cement edge and I'm watching fascinated by the movement, because of movement of the water, of a sort of masonry log, it's a long chunk of demolished building, brick, and, when the water raises it and turns it, to show its belly, carved and joined stone like a cornice. Andy - the serving woman - ridged uneven plaster orange walls - Andy has come home with me - am I wearing a bluegreen dress, not the one from (14), one like it. I put my nose to his and wriggle it quickly side to side. Something about school. The grade 1 room. Mrs Lowe. - Telling stories Pressure. This is what I saw I need to tell. It's wonderful and makes a delight. It's compression. How do I feel telling. How do you listening. You go away because I'm gone out of the common time. Love needing to tell. Anyone should tell their story but to whom. OE cuman komos revel
It's so powerful. It has to be made impersonal to tell in a way so they come along.
-
Is that true? Can consult your judgment. What I'm getting from notes today and have been looking for is the instruction complexity that is all the vocabularies I like sorts of writing I know messages as from others as from inward event place personal story sorts of scruple experiment what's noticed and unconscious April 14
The way it was holding the intention to go home. She put on romantic music and was interesting to smell. Then the large trees with very small new leaves fine airy open lit on the street in front of clear black with a few clear stars - the light here and then there with black/distance between (so horizontal in the scene, is horizontal outward) I had mania strength for the garden and hall. It seems we won't come together again.
Ruthless in the garden and thinking to take out the tree. Why what I say to her or C stays remote from what's being noticed. Noticing C looking beautiful. Hurrying me to the show I let myself be forced to walk badly but when she said "You've got to" I knew I didn't have to. "I love alcohol." The new picture with image skin flakes. - The similarity of meaning of different kinds of events. Lying in bed in the morning: it does mean there's one material of things and thoughts - one material: I've been working on seeing that way - a feeling of rocks (?) - the times there have been, working on seeing that way - An inner dialogue - that another knowledge with its other brain or - there's another knowledge not as voice but picture and so on. The dream (I was felt but couldn't -) Oh - her, the other one of her - oh - it slightly caves in - I see - alright - like that - yes. The rhythm of what's written and the time during the writing are also like two We could because by now we know it runs parallel. - [Mechtilde von Magdebourg] Das fliessende Licht The way plants keep a very complex working but have some conditions they can't defend themselves in, as minds seem unable to do some important things for themselves. Imagining how a capable mind would. Your gifts with which you touch me without pause, and which cut through all my bones and all my veins and all my flesh A wrong soul comes to be filled with stones and ashes. The true greeting of god has such great strength it takes all power of the body Their children they were to conceive in holy love, as the sun shines into the water and yet leaves the water undisturbed. They eat glowing stones (in hell)
The body is refined by the loving soul. Soul as a dog or a bird Soul as a container for god love I will draw in my breath so you will follow me like a lodestone. I saw with the true eyes of my eternity, in sweet effortless bliss - I asked the sweet stone who it was It said: I am Jesus Then I saw that (externally all darkness was shut off from it) and internally it was filled with light. - That recalled the feeling of a dream - it's the light backwards - showed a - showed but not so I could firm in it - an area - a part of a dream from last night. I saw this tree; it is not large and its fruit is outwardly very beautiful and delightful as a rose. [sketch of joined womb and vulva as flower and fruit] A bride who will greet me with her mouth and wound me with her glance, for only then does love begin. Whoever shall at any time be truly wounded by true love will never be sound until she kisses again the same mouth by which her soul was wounded. Frawe Mine Frau Love You have devoured my flesh and my blood Love herself She is nailed to the cross by the hammer of mighty love. So firmly that all creation cannot call her down. He must lay himself in the wounds Si wirt an dem cruze so vaste genegelt mit dem hamer der starken mine loffe, de si alle creaturen nit moegen wider geruffen. Er mus sich selber in mminer sele wunden legen. I will and must drink from the same cup as my father, if I'm to inhabit his realm. I live in a land whose name is exile. There I have a house whose name is suffering. So it begins to shine lovingly on the soul and she begins to flow from heartfelt love. Who believes, from within, will have living rivers Water in the rites of entrance The god is so fiery hot. Let me cool my god with you Afterwards the bride became so dark that the body sweated and cramped with pain. Den nim ich, miuste sele, in den arm min, und isse und trinke in Und tun mit im was ich wil
This is a greeting that rushes from the flowing god into the arid soul. And comes running like a hunted deer to the spring that is 'I'
and the soul flows back, with glad strength, as well as it can What should this book be named, to honor only you? It should be named: a flowing light out of my god (gotheit), into all the hearts who live there without dishonesty. Only with soul will he play a game body doesn't know, nor the villager at the plow. Noch die Ritter in dem turnei How they then play with you and devour into themselves your desire for love, that is such heavenly sweetness, and so necessary union, that I know nothing like it. Again: somewhere last night, a railing? At sea? Bridge? A calm looking-out. And so begins he lovingwise to shine against the soul and she begins to flow from heart's love. Then loses the soul all her guilt and all her miseries, and so he begins to teach her everything he wants so she begins to taste all his sweetness and so he begins to greet her and so he begins to wed her, so she becomes sick. So she begins to suck, so he gets sick (minesiech) with love. The mountain was white below, cloud-colored and above in its heights fiery sun and bright. Its beginning and its end I could find nowhere, and inside it played in itself flowing gold-colored in uncalculable (unzellicher) love. A voice from the child, though its mouth doesn't move: whilst they hold me in their thoughts (gehugenisse), I'll hold them in my grace.
A small spark flies to the cold soul and takes it so the human heart begins to burn and the soul to melt and the eyes to flow, thus it eagerly wants to make earthly human such heaven that, in her, the god can be followed, loved and recognized. Ah, dear bird, your feet are red, your feathers are trim, your mouth is true, your eyes are beautiful, your head is smooth, your travel's energetic, your flight is quick, and all too soon you are back to earth.
Si kumet geswungen als ein are eagle usser der tieffi in die hoehin So hebet er sich us in eine hohin und weget sine vederen und zuhet sich us in eine hoehin also lange, untz er der luft ergriffet, so kumet er in dem vluge. Je lenger er vluget, je er wunenklicher (blissfully) swebet (floats) the longer it flies the more blissfully it floats
kwir choros dance bench
the everlasting human, that floats there in the everlasting god the eyes / that shall eternally see love's hover > closeups from the fine-grass slide the centre > the snow images run into one another The god says: that I love you often comes from my nature, for I am love. That I love you greatly comes from my desire, for I desire greatly to be loved. That I love you long comes from my eternity, for I am without end. a spiritual instinct still the soul keeps its sweet hunger and lives without care
Then the clean lamb lay down on its own image in her stall and sucked her heart with its sweet mouth. When they see the earth they are frightened, as people are who see the ocean and worry how they should get across. Fast waters flow through it and winds from south to north. The swirling sun of lively god / shines through the clear water of happy people. The 3 - the force of the god, the good will of human, and the noble bearing (edeln gevughirt) of the holy spirit and set itself in the open heart of her flesh and united itself with everything it found in her, so that her flesh became the child's The god with its wiseness, its human truth, its subtle sweetness, went through the whole wall of her body with a hovering bliss without effort. It was done as quickly as the sun gives its shine to the sweet dew in loving rest. the 3 is green white and red In the morning in the dew is the secret inwardness that first goes into the soul. The prince will come toward you / in the dew and in the lovely birdsong.
The wounds poured, the breasts flowed so that the soul came to life and was well. She bears in her right hand a chalice with red wine that she alone drinks in indescribable joy; the angels never taste it. There the bride is found so drunkenly bold. - What happened, walking out, the radial spines of dark grass. Glass. Wet. Looking at it thinking, but slightly false, I'm really here. Then the landscaped edge of the park, the bush's arms stretched out, all the trees' arms, all the kinds of trees and bushes. Flat worn places under the pines. Paths more formed than the last spring I lived here. No - the acid Easter. I walked around to the eastern end and was standing looking at the kinds of leaves.
The colors of night light on and behind them, thinking it's my neighbourhood, my world, I can be in love with it. Where to walk. Home. Down through there, Daphne's place in the alley. I'll walk down there. To Roy: I was told to. Voices in garage, light at a car, a man instructing. A boy: So I just shove her in there. The asphalt slope. When her red car - From the trees to the building across the street pink weathered shingle, a window, a small tree's head, a boarded rectangle, the line of grass, the one of sidewalk, the curb. In that pale streetlight, what's the sense of it, it's an arc lamp, a certain color, purple. Isn't there my abdomen flares suddenly, is it that. Then I start to calculate, the joy has turned over. Was it the openness to the trees that let the message through, that had been formed before. Yes it was prepared. The parts are there. I'm so frightened I have to phone. Shall I try to think first. I'll say - . She's so grown-up. The way my sense of her has become admiration since I'm back. I've noticed. The postcard. Is something happening? The amount of hatred when I said - And how I keep refusing, trying out and refusing, the explanation.
I'd have to fight with my own - But her anger And the way it crashed - it was Mechtild's writing fired me so I was imagining how tomorrow night I could without talking - The way when something's going to happen everyone adds to it? If it is so I'll be getting perception from it. News. And then what is the fright. I'd have to stay alone in the pain and then would I change with them. Is the fright because of how acute the change would be. What does it feel like now. It's a circle at the navel, heat inside a glow toward the skin, some radiation into the upper cavity. Looking down into the black chasm between square trimmed hedges, remembered when pain is so strong I can't stand to think of anything else. It flees from what it was into interested in - Back to that Easter and what else. Violent spring, exams. The first month with Roy, Rasheed? South Carolina? Something else I've been remembering from how she is, the acuteness when we were watching everything we were saying, for how it carried us. To throw out centrifugally or closer to essential. Holding a tension, alright, enduring quietly first, finding out from the automatic defense, how it works. Of all the many parts certain lines can suddenly fall into powerful conjunction and change their value. - A Steiner School - 4 boys outside La Glace, it's Sunday, they're in suits, with spades, probably digging dandelions out of (Bohns') big field - come toward the school Al Morrison in a shirt finding spoons, cutlery, he's taking up as if (after a fire) before he's getting married is what I think, the older students studying. Michael putting sheets of glass over a girl, who'd rebelled, 's window. I slot in a lost piece that makes a beautiful structure, he takes it apart for a billow out the window, the window open etc. It was the conspiracy and also that anything can happen, and then you don't know and that something probably has happened and you don't know. Spooked. The house became uncomfortable to me. At the school, Luke can come there. I'll swim. It's solid earth. I'll go to the pool, children, the older ones, are just dressing. Smoking. I'm continuously smoking (cigarettes, without taste). Someone watching. In a hospital. I say something about when I'm flying. Little sticks from the air. We're making love. There's a movement, of mine, broken, as if she hasn't noticed it, she stops to tell me about Anna, I'm outraged. Wake, it's 6. The earth pool was left, water pool upstairs and R. -
What does it feel today - At the thought of your project here's a delicate liveliness in my womb but you were ugly, such a belly-forward little brown dress-shoe father - I had my clothes off before you were downstairs - the way you hold your head back show teeth and when you have your glasses off there was someone but as soon in the dark there was nothing. Oh yes change the What happens with words, when in any sentence that comes 'I' play them for fun. - Scale. We have to leap over it. Now I am feeling I have to fight within a quite broad time, not forgive for ease. Not sleep over with anyone to break suspense. There's the suggestion to work on getting you out. 'Work on'. But what I want if I can is to work here, I don't want the hardness. And her - she thought I said stink - you dancer, you're the dancer, you're the lonely dancer, is it you I should draw. But what I know already, about what we couldn't do.
What's the danger, if it became as bodies without questions it would be free with other bodies as mistress. He's pulling on the cherry branch to make petals snow down past. - How to make lines and spaces with sound.
It is in waking. It's a pain about my 'life' and death as if something is wrong. When I lay down with my back to her there was a feeling I wanted to listen to, in my abdomen and even in the small of the back where it was nearest her. Should it be x or him. If it were careful. Neither, what it was is designated by the picture? I thought she was feeling it too, feeling as some active sense down in the abdomen watching intensely on the surface of the sensation. I thought she was feeling and when she disconnected I turned over to look at her. It was a shrunk face in a circle of loose skin, strange, and if I could be near my instant, touching. I have to look after myself, it seems, and that is by connecting, by reference to the familiar I'd had alone. That was her not sensing what I think of as the field. What does she do instead. Right in the - what - it - we seem not to be able to do anything but look. She says, What do you see - I can't say: I see it, that face in some way it's never been. We don't understand each other. She said that was a moment of greeting. I look sad, because the moment after was disappointment, but I don't say so. first I say hatred, then revenge, and then I tell what's closest, that it's a sense I should mirror back what she does so she can see it. Sensing it's both, or how it's both. I go down into my bed the minute she's gone, to revenge myself, and erase what might be a hunger bond. My breasts are that cool almost immaterial soft at the tips, but I can make so little of their feeling. It is so less delight, though it is pleasure. Piano downstairs. It's without dreaming or real joy. But when it flushes it hits a last knob that's almost from the deep. Then the whole abdomen seems to be whited and my mouth, I'm not sure, becomes less crimped.
There were hundreds of country poets in those days
Cocaine. - Guler style. Garwhal.
The abstractions enjoyed by a mouse. Those - the cloud of witnesses. Then a lonely misery making myself come and lying down under the lightbulb to sleep. The phone when it rang wasn't the right person. All night under the lightbulb. It was full moon? In the morning the bright sun and the lightbulb. Not wanting to wake to nothing to do. Then the wonderful morning and working in the garden but after a while felt it mania. Money is $5 for the next 5 days. The dissolve and salt piece. In the sadnesses what I go to, once yesterday, once today, is you've wanted to be gone for a long time, you've seen me through to being able to go on to something else. But there's whine in that formation, not whine, some round the back coercion because it covers a howl, why wasn't I what you really wanted. Then I think of the open heart time when we were testing whether maybe and I get to the pair - you're what I wanted really although it wasn't quite right for you either in your fantasy or your real necessity, and I've been running after you. X. You are too stiff for me and how you live doesn't interest me, I'd like to be with a freer heart. What it means is can I, is it time to, do I want to, lie down with, somebody. But never to be as with you again - . It's wanting to know what can't be known, whether it could be as with you again. Because if it can't, I do know. I'm ready to go on but if it can I'll wisely wait. Further - further - further would be calculating whether and then moving - but the. Any natural cleft or opening - yes I like it - only, to arrange the right cuddling for you. - Two crystals to be put into a cabbage while he's away. Get them out in nine months. And the discussion in sleep about whether it wants me pregnant with him. Or is it alchemical, the two having a same structure. Up on a frame one of beams I can see is going to separate. A floor in the trees and a tent roofing it guyed to branches was an idea. While I'm looking to hammer the beam there's talk around about traitors? People lying in beds who're in danger from authorities. Often at the time of flowering there is a slight elaboration of the leaf oil rose geranium, the leaves of which acquire a more flowery character as the buds open At fecundation, when there is a slight slowing up of growth, a certain amount of this fragrant oil is used up. Mohammedans forbidden wine distinguish the different waters. The violet only likes soft light waters from rivers and fountains, heavy waters such as come from wells often kill it. John Parkinson Paradisi in sole Bearing spoakie tufts of yellow flowers, which turne into thinne, small and flat seedes In the convents herbs were grown and dried according to the directions of Pliny, Galen and Dioscorides. But when the flowers in the woods and fields were in blossom the herb women who knew where to find the plants went out from the villages to pick them. The plant betony in last night's dream uprooted lying in the alley. Soothing Michael by explaining that she, J, doesn't know it's poison. In the alley behind a wood fence an ugly thing with black - it isn't betony - it's that berry. [a solanum I think] Betony a sinister herb It's woody nightshade, not deadly. It was the sleep face. I'm beleidicht. It was a sinking out the window over a black slanted roof. There were two treetops, chestnut and a yellower green, new leaves, open curly edges in front of even grey, a point of yellow light rose out of the treetops straight up. When I'd watched that I saw the darker green chestnut, on the left next to brick chimney shaking behind water. I'm in a wrong relation to myself there waiting for her. She wants to talk about gardening. The little bent carrot seedling in the tray. Deviations in sexual differentiation. An avidity. It is speedy. I've been thinking it's like a possession. The Adonis gardens / fast growing persisting in - what does she do - an obsession - to sit before - thoroughly to stand. No she's sitting in front of the idea that of the two kinds she's the opposite to what anyone thinks she is. (Shadow's what one refuses to be. She's shadowed by a girl, therefore hates girls.) (She's a man in a wrong body fighting to be what she is - she has an energy that's not like x - she is in some ways like x - in others like y - in sleep she's x, and the x is usually a child - I've lost, have I lost it? a wonderful chance - no I haven't lost it - Do I have to see further into it - it isn't mine - can I leave it - I can't think about it this way?
- a suffering of the soul to the imaginal mystery expressed - where we have not seen into their darkness, their deadly nightshade eidola das es in the it. without logic / memory / morality / immortal impulses only the voice, no looking the stranger companion
That wants unions We see that something is shiny Have you lost someone close to you? Yes, my son David. When I'm by myself I seem to go through a series of doors a change in the texture "This is your mature work." Cat singing oh-l-l-lay-eh in a human voice, both in the rain. 21 April Die Mutter. A slice taken off the cervix. That I wouldn't be able to feel it except in the presence, C's. She kissed it. how it exists in and for itself beyond life with unbearable - polarities - in his thinking Hatred when you look like that.
Hardening mouth presses
Death and the fear of it "I want to die" She is our materialism
- (the story of Sarah) Taking away what I've given into you, to see what's left. At UBC to get books, in the big cubicle, quick soft shit, I get up, look at it, speak to it in surprise, it's a long, exceptionally long, S, fourteen inches. When I step out there's a girl at the mirror I didn't remember hearing come in. A rich joke. Delight abosh smile. A bosh. Well I remember the feel of it, isn't that the feel of a rich joke of a rich mature person. It was simple interest exposed madness. When Carole from the garden heard me talk to myself about sin. I saw that he is to us all thing that is good and comfortable to our helpe. He is oure clothing, that for loue wrappeth us and wyundeth us, halseth us and all becloseth us, hangeth about us for tender loue, that he may never leave us. And so in this sight I saw that he is all thing that is good, as to my understanding. And in this he shewed a little thing, the quantitie of an hazelnott, lying in the palme of my hand, as me semide, and it was as rounde as a balle. I looketh theran with the eye of my understanding, and thought: what may this be? And it was answered generally thus: it is all that is made. I marvayled how it might laste, for me thught it might sodenly have fallen to nawght for littlenes. And I was answered in my understanding: it lastesth and ever shall, for god loveth it; and so hath all thing being by the loue of god. In this little thing I saw iii properties, the first is that god made it, the second that god loueth it, the thirde that god kepyth it. But what behyld I ther in? Verily, the maker, the keeper, the lover. The gardens of the rich were open to only a few, but the Norwich weavers, tailors and dyers had their own. [Julian of Norwich 1342 -1416] - 23 April
Want to be a traveler into hell and take notes because it's possible (= fright) The book. - Dream. Five films one roll each very rich color through or on a silvery window pane. It goes steadily back through the frame through another frame fluttering silvery white rags off the edges [sketch] steadily back past a pink? shady wall. Showing them to Roy K, having not seen them. They're all that rich fast steady pull back through found areas. I remembered moving the camera. Tried doing it on a little camera, on a roll that it seemed might already be - It was in the mountains with two railway boys who'd go by early morning. Some of them have no names. Was writing dream in welfare office. The bluntface Chinese man - his face - Bill Chow - we were standing on the circle inside the garden, I was eagerly telling him about it, breaking off little ends of herb. He came upstairs and down again continually smelling them bruised together in his palm - stood beside the wallflowers saying again, It's a wonderful day, in his dark blue nylon ski jacket. His eyes were afraid of me. I was friendly to his Chineseness. The warm blissful sun. 25 D dreams I have taken out the fence and there's such an expanse. narke numb
27 Waking early in pain. An opening of fear under ---, death, Jam, that we are separate, and swarming cockroaches. That we are separate, the different destinies, I felt it. [fortune teller in HK] "You'll have a happy affair for three years." "You'll try but it will never work out." "You're brave like a man. You have a talent." That we're separate. Through an auditorium - hiding, three of us, between rows. C had been with J but when I left she laughed and came along.
"It would depend whether I thought I could get you back." He has rigged a camera, has a picture of her bare bum. She's affronted but when he comes to her she leaves her legs open. He puts himself between them and then grabs for her breasts. I'm seeing from behind him. The reverse on the combine is very fast. I have to back onto (Bohn's) field road from the highway. Have got round it and backing fast, then turn, miles up the field road. Have got the dash light on, before my father comes from the highway end. I ask him if I can learn to drive the swatter, he suggests housework, I say it's too low pay. [instructions for building a concrete garden pool] -
That she'll go on and I won't know her. [C] "She draws the way it moves. It goes like this and then there's a giggle. You lose sight of it for a second and then it's coming back the other way." The ego dies because it can't keep up. But something goes on perceiving? And then the ego comes back to look after things. When you've passed the acid test. The fur on her face. Cold powerful blade of her nose. Whiskey without sense of drunkenness and waking this morning in a soft body. My phantasy companions, when I'd come gold leaf skin from thighs up to the chin, I gave them each a thankyou kiss goodbye. A sweet round penis nosing at three levels. I touched her as she learnt to touch me. Last night when I held the small woman, I was standing beside the oven, I noticed briefly a man with hair standing up called Henry in a body that felt like Frank or my brother. New muscle under thin skin. "I've seen her in my neighbourhood, she looks like a spirit." - What is it. Now I can't remember what the terms, it's the 'life' discussion. If I use that concept it will be that. It's a form I'm noticing but haven't been able to see.
That doesn't happen anywhere else. Hand shows a flapping at the belly. Remembering the tiredness with R when heart had gone but there was still connection. Wondering why aren't I fighting. Has it been enough. Was it living together.
A lucid decision and then. This is like paramenstrual, droopy. She heated up. I get a sore back.
"Are used by the whole self constantly." 1. inner vibrational touch 2. images and sounds 3. other time 4. conceptual sense - you can become the idea 5. cognition of knowledgeable essence is an illusion, and both spectator and performer must enter into it at the expense of burning, screaming pain and freedom from ordinary human reaction there is a lucidity and suppleness of movement in Karen Kain's arms that a state of agony in which the powers of --- were known but the ways to produce it were not any true concept has its origin outside your camouflage system direct instantaneous cognition of the essence of living 'tissue' the tissue capsule surrounds each - and is actually an energy field boundary 1. innate knowledge of basic reality 2. expansion and contraction of capsule 3. disengaging from camouflage You can be awake while the body sleeps. Dream. Having smoked I wouldn't talk to Judy (at Paul's) or Paul. In the dictionary it's the multiple tiny movements reflexes logic, unlogic. That the stages of this work are once for all, the later depends completely on the accuracy of the earlier - it has to be drawn back then as far as Can I think of it as ballet. Teaching it to flow and also to stop and pull. At the corner in front of the hotel on Keefer a prostitute stepped out of a taxi. She stood near the other girl on the corner, in a fawn suit, with the jacket hem slightly turned up across her back, black toeless small shoes; under her black hat glasses, red lips in a white face. She stood slightly leaning on her umbrella bowing to look into cars, sometimes quite a deep bow toward a low car, an odd courtly industrious working in the focus of held stares from all of us, Chinese men and women, waiting for the bus with bags of shopping. When I looked at the shine of nylon at her ankles, and the panty line under her skirt, I thought of her sex wet from the man she'd left when she got the taxi. A big man with his hands in his pockets said, standing sideways to her so she had to turn from the curb, I read his lips, "How much?" When I was coming from Chinatown with my shopping there was a hooker on the corner in front of that big hotel. She was just getting out of a taxi when I got there. I had two shopping bags and was going to go to the bus stop. She was wearing a fawn-colored suit and black high heels and a black hat. She stood near another girl who was already there closer to the corner. When cars came by she'd suddenly bow down to make eye contact with the driver. She was standing slightly leaning on the tip of her umbrella and she kept bowing. Everybody at the bus stop was staring at her, old Chinese women and men. I was sitting there for a while watching her. She'd look at me or them and go on working. She was like a hitchhiker. I suddenly realized why hitchhiking sometimes has that feeling. She was dressed like a lady but the jacket of her suit had the hem turned up in the back, she didn't know. Her hat and shoes were ladylike, her shoes had open toes. Her face was very white and she had bright red lipstick on. Glasses. I saw a man stop next to her. He was older, quite big, had his hands in his pockets. I could read his lips saying "How much?" When I decided to walk home I went by her and thought I could say, how much. My fantasy was I'd give her my phone number and tell her I couldn't pay her full price but she could come to me when she was free. I'd make her tea. Having her seen coming into my place in her high heels and narrow skirt. She'd come when she wanted. My friends would know she came to me. I imagined telling J about it. - Luke as a baby who with swollen head and ears beginning much too high, is still crawling and makes no sounds. I remember him, when he was with me, his bright noises and looks. I'm asking, he's two and a half? A suspicion he's nearer 4. Howling in cellar thinking I must look after him now. With 'her' the texture is, when we weren't looking, staying afloat, looking at her sometimes the alert forwardness of the pretty color in her mouth, other times a distance seeing what a strange wild emperor. So you're going to justify yourself? If dreams are information being given to the 'whole' television set in the toy cupboard. You already have all the information you need. "Piss kiss." Word for embryo body: Watched from above, she opened a pit on either side of the two lines of peas. Went to the packing case got out 2 plastic shopping bags full of shrimp. Poured and shoved them into the trenches. Bone meal from the pail. Began to refill the trenches. She was showing her daughter, laughing, how someone else does something, two tottering steps and a little jump. Opened the space between the two rows with the hoe, hilled dirt up alongside the stems. Her daughter began to shove in the stakes at angles and crossing each other. The shrimps completely buried, a yellow tape holding the peavines toward the stakes. The first of the tapes. She said what I'd told Paul: "This must be heaven for them, that's why it feels the way it does here." Will I stand by my instinct. That's what's most mine and also most given. From the tent looking out toward the hospital see on the broad avenue a jet coming down and two persons to meet it, ceremonial, joke, rush out to go now, J's gone back for her clipboard, looking at the people I meet, a Chinese traveler smiles, he's going the other way with a packsack, he's a child looking back from his father's hand, where's J, she isn't following. The hospital's big foyer, two girls reading on the sides of a pyramid wall. More - the open heart I can't have - back to that! - lament - what happens there I don't know - this and that - hurry on to tell the next part - I go back by the narrow wood path straight to the other side of the railway tunnel then takes left to the tent where Cheryl is. She didn't follow because she realized Zoe was still sleeping. Will they both come? Zoe will sleep till eleven. The row of houses gutted, things thrown out. The last house is ours. When I get to it, the lease is run out, our things, family are outside. It's empty. I haven't been leading her to her open heart. Why am I forming it that way. I haven't been willing to listen to soften her, it hasn't been because I was wanting it free for C, it is free for her anyway, she's prevented by resisting, I was angry she's unconscious, in control and pretending. The wispiness of what I am making still in romance pain. Am going to Energy economy crossties. Being stuck among these women. T phones and I feel better. Movies with Diana. The dawn scene of My brilliant career. Fingerbone's long thin body running. - When I'm going toward the big hospital is there a rose light. May 3 In another night I'm struggling. I separate. What will be the first move. I have to go somewhere. I can go to Edmonton for tree planting. Hotel YW with Judy. Packing. We'll go on the bus, sit in a café. Her company will be ease and pleasure after the heaviness of J. There's a thought about telling Daphne. We're separating because it's so heavyhearted. Boxes from the home bedroom. A pillow? I take it out of its case before I remember there's also a tree planting pillow, the red one. On the flatbed truck I'm near Greg? at the back. There's a baby too, near the back. I'm arranging it to go right at the back bed in its seat. The mother doesn't think it's the right place. A crimson sky. Through it the baby will see what it's left. The tribe of ? has gone. Somewhere recognizing in the dark with someone maybe a story, the right mind, it's dark multiple leafy happy (wide). The way this work is dangerous (Rudy Wiebe). When one's making vision there are immersions to try something, try and find something. You leave your broad view. "That a presence might come through."
- What is it. Ist das.
- It doesn't think it can know - decide - in the kinds of thoughts it has. May 5 C Daph Max "He isn't whole you know, he's gimpy, he ...." The way it goes forward as if I'm watching and can't intervene, conversation = two levels. Somebody talks in response and the other watches both and knows the other person is the same. The person at the front is an instrument of the watcher, also a betrayal of the watcher, because it exists as system with the front of the other person. In relation to the division there's despair or work. Question of letting be or vigilance. "I have to be strict with myself." Striction. Vigilance if it knows it will miss. Holding a posture of separation: not only watching but being ready to move on perceiving the other is attacking. That's already letting go the other urgency - is it - of finding out what - I am as if referring to J - the larger something is - how it works - and the clear heart. In the social what is there then a temptation to win any way possible - that's what - it's a true contact with how-it-works. It's a very intricate threading through. "He has a very sophisticated mind." Trungpa turned her on. "He knows exactly what he's doing." And it gives strength for more interesting battles but if it has been won crookedly there will be some confusion. Can an open heart also see the intent around it - yes.
What is real winning. It's when the battle comes through. To the sense of true situation. Social: what to do with an enemy. It's an enemy for a reason it doesn't want to accept the terms of - competition - I don't have to do that - but I do it - why don't I want to - the structure I find myself, competes - because the terms are not right - but not competing is a death of energy. To seek together - does that mean everyone is raised - yes but losing - is it like a pool where the winner goes away with everyone's energy - no - because everyone's been forced. The sense of honour is a sense of the terms of the competition. What will make a best competition. The further question is do I want to play. There rather than somewhere else. What do I need to know. Being pulled / finishing what started / only good fight around.
Barthes 1979 A lover's discourse Hill and Wang Figures. Gestures of the lover at grips with the figures offered to the reader to be made free with, to be added to, subtracted from, and passed on to others The figures are pests. the seriousness of finding out / carelessness of letting out writing that remembers something in its time and place an open death by dilution into the ether the truth of which the other gives me the sensation let the other save me from social distance the energy of the state the other alters and is spoiled, seen being social a world shows by language or see the other caught in desire catch a self inflation They say when you fear breakdown, notice whether it has already happened and so for jealousy. Suspending the action of the unequal images It's the originality of the relation that I could conquer.
He says hiding isn't conceivable because passion is made to be seen The moral advantage of stoicism It's my fear and deliberations that are spontaneous Attracts to it whatever language The entire structure of the relation comes to me Reads there an assertion of mastery, power, solitude Catastrophe the disturbance of one system by another in math Liking the strength of a futile demand Surrender to the image, in relation to it reality irritates Incident makes elaboration reading the structure from it Looking coldly at the other's body Commentary on the relation about is still to Wanting to dedicate it Demons and fighting them of language, by language Thinking economy or not: exuberance Losing interest appalled at the conversations raging for liveliness greyness beyond no defining Anxious writing coalescence He says the beginning of writing is to know it won't cause me to be loved, compensates for nothing, doesn't sublimate. I'm alarmed at anything that alters the image I am not another. I must create my experience of - An idea of pathos - a theatre The idea of outcome is a verbal being a language nature Articulate the other's image in various points Sweet embrace Stepping out the image must die if I do I'm sad if I don't mourn I'm anxious and the other's panic 'without panic' Intruders unworthy Fade out of the other Fault Embarrassment in being seen but not speaking what's known Delicacy to release Identify with place in structure Seeing something image and its pain seeing oneself in a position I'll never know then loving the unknowable This can't go on Thinking of any solution Jealousy the conformity / perfectness question Talk talk busy raising the tone Being bad for the other stifling in talk Silence my resources lose confidence Darkening the mood a derived distorted jealousy to not be absurd The cloud of unknowing w/o struggle decision enterprise separation Banality solitude shame weak belief it's only alright when it's tragic discredited Crying and accepting being baby body crying to impress Waking The good night I am here sitting simply and calmly in the dark interior of love This is What death is most of all: that everything which has been seen will have been seen for nothing. It is as if I were dying. Mourning over what we have perceived The silent mother doesn't tell me what I am. Francis Wahl: chute - In the story of going back for Luke, it was body. Then in dreams is Luke body. Peter Mathiessen The snow leopard calling on the elements to join in celebration of the One Caragana in high Tibet It is the precise bite and feel and sound of every step that fills me with life indicating his twisted leg without bitterness, as if it belonged to all of us But body isn't body it's He talks to whoever is at hand. Anthem for the New Nations on African Marketplace Electra an even pedantic symbolist - The young man in the library, stinking from a distance, tearing pages out of an emphatic little notebook, muttering Fucking , curses. Dirty red hair, a big large-eyed strong face. A drug crazy. Between the filing shelves I was muttering chat to myself. J you must resist the way I'm trying to make you see me. They're resisting the way I want them to see me? Liking it if it's so. The white hotel. Parts of the story coming up again, used in the later episodes. Lessing's sense of emigration to a city in the desert. 'Body.' Holding a covert level instead of laughing and confessing. - "When you said it had never been in that allusion I wanted to throw up."
"The way your voice split telling it was useless to me." -
Hypnosis
She said: You'll only feel that for him. - A told story and flut, picture The white hotel. Parts and more
- real scientists If I have learned so much I never expected, what more can I hope to learn and understand, providing I am patient. The social anguish there always was. There has been a sensation, in this past while, as of erased traces. It is when I think of what I found and built on, from 25? to 30? Something in Lessing - her view especially of the young person resolving not to forget. Parked a red small VW, she and I on the street, a young girl, the two young men have got into my car one in the driver's seat. I scold them "to impress this girl." J and I drive it somewhere else, park it, but it's parked where she and not I remembers it. I'm going to go home. There's some fright they'll revenge themselves. "In situations of having to pay rent, there's often rape." Earlier, when I wanted to pull out, a sudden turn from on the other side of the regular line of parked cars. Policemen or some other uniform going by in formation on motorcycles and then marching men in tweeds, I thought a funeral. When I think of some of my bases of that earlier time they feel as if they have faded: there is a trace but a trace like a faint line on a wiring diagram. They don't support. What is supporting me now I think is the idea of accuracy. Has she erased me. Can I use writing in the old way to defend myself. No she hasn't erased me. But what is she doing. "Because of what I couldn't tell you." More? Anger formed like that. She has convoluted it into old issues increased. I don't have the passion to see through it. I mean the emotional rush. "Green slime," carefully buried madness that preserves and makes attractive. A good time Charlie Sexuality's gone back to being helpless and waiting When I was enraged it came out a distorted snarl not a direct rage. How often I talk to her in that stretched parody. Something wrong. What does the hero say. The way I've been lying down waiting for somebody to touch me. If I'd stayed with C there'd have to be somebody else to balance and there isn't. Something that knows itself. Oh oh but it isn't pain like that. With Peter T on a train seat sleeping with our heads together I take off my pants. His hand goes down. He gets up, comes back in a German middle-class boy's suit. I understand and agree I was silly to offer.
The anger's a better state. I get rid of it immediately and then get flat. She doesn't give me enough of her process so I can stay angry. Now he leads the religious life of the careful observer. We are in a new world with that. indicating his twisted leg without bitterness, as if it belonged to all of us What death is most of all: that everything which has been seen will have been seen for nothing. Mourning over what I have perceived. Everyone as close to death as their art will allow. - Separated from right being The ideas I fought with are faded even dope is full of the memory of dope. I liked saying and listening to whatever came. I must have that again, I can't with her because she persecutes me about men. That only leaves therapy. -
Realizing the danger and being strong enough without spoiling access - testing it. That is listening and acting. Forehead What is pain and how to have it without garbage thought Next time I get focused and I'm tempted to join up could I try staying single please. "I don't feel comfortable with people. I feel different from most people. I don't like most people very much. I am unsure of myself." Sheila Johnston April 14 Thursday. Yesterday I came to the memory of what it was like wanting to know. Today C said she'd been discorporate trying to remember before language and that she'd come up with wanting to go without secrecy. I've been struggling with J saying her secrecy and not being willing to know stops us. "It was more important for the set to stay together than for me to have one." "A little thing." How long it's been that I've been listening. Considering. I felt it the way I considered you that day, I believed what you believe, felt what it would mean, the implications in their branches, what body feels if it is as you say. I was in a completely vulnerable willingness to know.
"All I want is that we should be able to spend time together." "I'm giving up on you." Then she laughed. If there's one who knows and one who doesn't, what's their relation. Things are said or indicated in a way so the message gets to one but not the other. Not a thing, not a thing. What it likes structures the way you are my other, is like her. They say talk to it in pictures. If most of the pressure in anything comes from recognizing a reference to the other part. "The anima likes stories." She made him realize there was someone there. - A purple shirt and very fine chain, large more delicate head. How is it, today, late banana apple orange pieces in milk, in the metal bowl. Had to write a letter to 'you' and in writing it felt I'd found something apart from it, a change in the level of interest. When I begin those letters I've been restarting 6, 7, 8 times. Body was excited and felt it could lead you directly into lovemaking. "You're envious she can do that." "Yes I am but she's envious of me too." "Why?" "Because I don't do that." "Yes." With C easily saying where I'd been and she could too. Library. They put away the books and lost my notebook. Salad café. Gazes. The girl with the big black heavy hoofs who ate two platesful, black glove on her right hand, a slight smile. I'd passed her on Georgia. The slides. Overexposed Roy and Sarah, Roy's tired body. Showing T Luke's Lego and she saw and telling her showing at his school. $60 for the studio [Trudy rents my place to work in while I'm treeplanting]. Tony at the Cinemateque, those ugly instructors, Diana, and oh J, sitting behind. "Did you get my telegram?" "Yes." "Did you laugh?" "Yes. I didn't only laugh but I did laugh." She looked as if she'd cried and left soon. I was sorry she didn't hear. An inflected human. Of one kind varying. Someone of the old women saying "I wish you would praise me from your heart, I would blossom out." [Daniel Schmid Tosca's kiss]
It was a rapid quite accurately flowing day. To make it beautiful in the 4th dimension I use numbers. I looked at him as I wanted because he's a beautiful boy kid with a beautiful listening head. In blue jeans green teeshirt white sneakers a long blond pony tail, hair crested over his face, an alert nose. - orchidaceae or with wild fringes, whiskers or knobs When brought up north they may bloom the first time according to their habit, and change the following year. Some never do reverse their season. Ancient ruins in tropical countries are likely to have orchids growing on their stones. merely send their roots rambling among the grasses and weeds and litter of decaying vegetation clarifying generic concepts, placing species where they properly belong a microclimate niche cloud forest this procession of clouds flowing through the trees the lip or labellum 3 sepals the bud cover - and 3 petals
between the anther and the stigma is a structure called the rostellum in others it gives rise to a viscid disc connected by stands to the pollonia, forming an apparatus with the pollonia called a pollinarium bees butterflies moths wasps flies and less often beetles lure them with specific scents often pleasing only to the insect, or catch their attention by colors, or by tails or lips that sway and bobble by both scent and structure causing the males to attempt to copulate with the flowers and so carry pollen from one to another patches of tissue on the lip that reflect ultraviolet light forming patterns that are visible and alluring to their pollinators from a hundred thousand to a million in one seed capsule a symbiotic relationship between the seed and certain fungi called mycorrhiza which penetrate the seed coat. The fungus digests nutrients from the humus and the embryo obtains them from the fungus. In cultivation, asymbiotically. Generic names of orchids a fleshy crest and two hairy keels
Aeranthes ramosus has a fan of upright, pale green leaves 10 to 15 cm tall. The long flower stem is like a fine black wire. Buds come in succession from the extreme tips. The flowers are 4 to 5 centimeters across. Pure apple green, shading to white on the very broad column foot to which the lip is attached. aerides and rather thin, pleated, stalked, deciduous leaves decorated with five dark rose ridges that come together on the narrow point (Sierra Leone to Uganda; winter) the ovary has 3 tall wings and 2 small ones the Japanese wind orchid Weekend May In the pizza café I told her "You want to divorce me because I can't have a baby with you." Her sad shoulders. "There's some truth in that." "Every wife you would ever have you would divorce for childlessness." Little tears. In the car parked facing streetlit bigleaf trees, near white green. You said it flirtatiously, "Any man knows if you believe her at that moment you're dead." I remembered the quality of the excitement I'd felt. "Oh alright, I get it, yes, I agree." Looking and seeing the one who knows it that way, admiring his acuteness, polish. The position of 'woman' is helplessness and has to be protected. "Do you think you could leave me?" Back from everything that happens trying to deduce the laws. She's studying growth sequences and diversions. [sketch of orchid flower]
they like movement of air, night air in summer
plump solid-looking leaves means good humidity
if it has lost all or most leaves save it by putting it somewhere drier and water sparingly until new growth develops leave in one place 21 Packing in a student attic, Luke's things too, when I wake, don't like the place. She has been sleeping closeby. Hot head. My storyteller is sad. "You sent a good strong cable." Airport streets. Thin thigh and small close head, hand on the stickshift. That's a good face. In front of the little machines running in front of the window - very far on the grass in front of the sea. "Would you like to read something." "Oh, yes." "You've found something. A movement." She leaves me at the barrier, slope shoulders in the grey padded. You're quite old already.
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