Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Walking with a glove in my hand

January 14, 2023

Having taken off my glove but, instead of putting it in my coat pocket, continue holding it in my hand for a while. Walking with a glove in my hand, will go the song.

The hand was in my glove
(inside not above)
But a reversal came unplanned
And the glove is in my hand.
Baby I just can’t understand
I’m walking with a glove in my hand.
Baby why do I wear the glove
When it’s you I’m thinking of?
(Shebeedooowooo)

Just like I’m holding your hand
I’m holding a glove
And that is our love
(Shebeedooowooo)

Is there an analogue to the rule of law in culture?

January 13, 2023

The idea that Graphic Novels represent a sort of culture of populism. (It would be interesting: if art for leftists had become what politics is for rightists, which is to say, populist.)

Q: populism in government has a negative connotation as it implies that the will of the people supersedes the rule of law. Is there an analogue to the rule of law in culture? Or is culture free to be whatever it wants to be? (Perhaps the French Academy offers a vision of a sort of cultural rule of law. Perhaps a vision of a populist cultural rule of law is Disney. Corporate culture generally indicates the will of the people, but a sclerotic form of it.)

Idea that past, present and future, are to be understood as rates, as speeds. The future is light speed and a limiting velocity — in the process of slowing in the present — moving more and more slowly in the past, — where there exists, somewhere, a full stop. (Can we find, in our written histories, evidence of a Red Shift?)

Audible to an inaudible ‘hi’

January 11, 2023

Audible to an inaudible ‘hi’: I have managed to reciprocate the passing man’s ‘hi’ but it was mouthed and not audible. Still it might well have been audible and I am not sure of the cause of the failure — of why the sound did not quite “mount.”

Exhaust from a tailpipe briefly taking on human form. A woman in sheets on the road.

Clothing stretching artfully across that woman as she performs a task, like a person wrapping something.

Woman darts suspicious glance at my notepad at my notepad at my notepad as she passes, which of course she wouldn’t if it were a computer.

Same price at the Shell and BP for the first time I’ve ever seen — 4.33 (regular).

Blue recycling bin on the street having received a nice polish from the rain. It’s thought that for, many years now, this is the closest I’ve come to “being out in nature” — being out in the rain. Nature where the recycling bins are a resplendent blue.

Perfume still crowded in the bus shelter of the woman who just ran after the bus.

Curiously, Poor Drainage Area 2 is much more poorly drained than Poor Drainages areas 1 and 3 today. Step into the road around it.

Initially a mere assessment or observation which, as it nears articulation, builds into swagger — “much prefer it in my cap and poncho than in that mercedez” — then, fully articulated, but unexpressed, realize how it sounds.

Soccer match in the mind of Pihil

January 10, 2023

Mr. Phihl had several thoughts at once but the most pronounced of them, like an image before him, though it was like a taste in his mouth when he had nothing in his mouth, or an idea in his head when he was thinking of nothing in particular, “pronounced” to that degree, was that he was looking down at a soccer game and La Sex and AndWell and Dirpeeto and Leonistic were on the team and Biliby of course was the captain of the team and Erich was the player that all of the fans and many of the players of the soccer team all hated and positively could not stand because he was always playing below his level and always blaming others for his mistakes and for achieving below what he would have been capable of had he at least tried.

And Biliby (who was not always known for his attainment or achievement but was ever known for his trying and his positive attitude and his hope, a person who did never ever ever give up) did dutifully earnestly selflessly pass the ball crisply to Orland, who trapped and pushed it forward himself; made as if he would dribble forward, then cut the ball sharply to his right, with suddenness creating a shield or fortress around the ball with his flank; pushed it forward then launched it with a nice touch to the distant Freidma who surprised everyone by not trapping or otherwise stopping it but by immediately volleying it to the distant charging Erich;

Erich who was charging for it harder than he ever had charged, as if the energy he’d saved from all his previous half-ass efforts were suddenly manifesting itself and expending itself in this run of all runs, a reserve from all of his lame lazy shuffles accreting into this burst of blazing speed;

And reaching the ball he was barely able to control it for his speed, but he could not reduce his speed, for the defenders’ harassing steps so close behind him and for the way they pulled at him and his shirt with their arms so the ref couldn’t see, and it bounced upon his thigh and it bounced upon (surprisingly) his cheek so he could not kick it from the ground but to give it a half-volley himself on the run;

a half-volley on the run, and how it was struck: and the shot, which left the goal keeper as frozen in time with indecision as a statue (crow-and-ice covered and time worn, a still and impotent indecisive form incapable not just of motion but of knowing how to move: one could see the still statue of the goal keepers thought carved out of the shot of Erich) though it was taken from beyond twenty yards out and seemed composed of all the energy that had been wanting in his past efforts, his lazy intercepted passes, his clumsy and lethargic touches, his inattentive and enervated strolling and jogging; in short, everything which had been previously absent was now powerfully present and seemed part of the extraordinary composite of this astounding goal;

and at once the heads of Orland and Biliby and Freidma –with their hands pressed to their heads as if they yet had trouble keeping it in– as if a star (named this had happened) within a star (name through the agency of Erich) had exploded within their heads– the play had developed so quickly and had had so astounding a result, it was all so amazing, it had all occurred in the nick of time; yet instead of the redeemed Erich being piled upon by playmates, instead of the hated Erich feeling the surprising ecstasy of being transferred from the villain column to the hero column in the minds of players and fans alike, it was the inconsequential Mr Phihl, who experienced all this;

it was Mr. Phihl, thought Mr. Phihl, I’ve done it!; and when he could see daylight no more, he was so piled upon by people adoring him, then he felt himself in the forehead of a giant being looking down. It was as if for instance he was in the observation lounge of the Statue of Liberty, looking down at the soccer field, whereupon he suddenly figured it out that it was his own forehead he was present in, not a statue’s, and he opened his eyes and heard a small dog’s yap, which must have come from a great distance, it was so faint.

Trashing the historians of the future

January 8, 2023

Idea — that instead of trying to write or rewrite history, we should attempt to attack, frustrate and otherwise undermine the historians of the future. (The Historians of The Future are going to try and trash us, rather than celebrating our greatness, so we should try and trash them first.)

Reality’s complete lack of self-awareness

January 7, 2023

Feeling a sudden frustration with the fact that I still have this tenth of a mile to walk before reaching my workplace: having seen this particular tenth of mile so many times before (I am beside the white picket fence of The Commons), I ask Reality, can we not for once, just this once, agree to mutually pretend it doesn’t actually exist? Will not space-time, in this one spot, having enjoyed my patronage for so long, extend to me this one feeble courtesy, and let me be instantly now where I’d like to be?… For it neither advantages reality nor myself to imagine this tenth of a mile exists, so let’s just for a day be done with it and agree it doesn’t matter?

It is at moments like these, when reality seems too repetitive and tedious to exist, that one is most fully persuaded it must exist, — as if reality itself must call the whole thing off, come charging in with its zebra-striped shirt and whistle, if it were only the least bit human… It’s Reality’s complete lack of self-awareness that in the end persuades us it must exist. What is real about reality is that the tedium truly goes on and on.

The brochure-like moments of existence

January 6, 2023

And then I thought of the nature of what I’ve been calling epiphany again: any image, any moment, no matter how tedious, how boring, must be sublime if one could perceive it in the light of eternity (or call it, if you will, the light of one’s own mortality): If you could somehow bring Time to a stop, any given moment of it must be sublime.

That’s the light in which I saw the tennis instructor doing whatever it was I had seen him doing: I caught him in the midst of performing an action which one would might find depicted in the brochure for a child’s tennis camp, or in an ad for vacation retreat for seniors. (What was the relationship, I wondered, between the Eternal, or Mortal, and the sort of commercial photography to be found in the glossy brochure of a half-ass vacation retreat?)

This world was full of brochure-like moments… Yes: reality was essentially a boring brochure, put out by the AARP or DMV or some such, but which, if you could rip a page out of it and hold it forever, which is what Poetry or Literature or Religion attempted to simulate, it would be sublime; it would be seen how sublime that tedious moment in fact was.

January 5, 2023

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Kintsugi of pavement and wind

January 3, 2023

Kintsugi of pavement: fill in these cracks with silver and gold (or just with leaves, sticks, dirt) –or a colored sand like you find in fish bowls? Kintsugi of wind: wind self-filling its own cracks with whatever it can put on and plaster itself with, sucking it up from the ground into its empty spaces. Among the disadvantages of permeable paving: ground beneath it can get waterlogged and now your paved surface is itself water covered. Still there are ample places where we could take more advantages of this, so many non-essential routes and walks we could start with. How do I properly evaluate the end of the period behind me so that I approach the one to come with some hope of advancement or positive change? Why did I not mind, why did I even enjoy, using a word a person might need to look up? Schematic from the other day: how much energy your average African used. Person from Ghana this much, person from Ethiopian, Egypt this much, and a single U.S. refrigerator using more per day than any of them. (You didn’t check source of the chart, however.)

Vocabulary

January 1, 2023

Learning the word dado. What he had previously thought of as wainscoting was really the dado, the lower part of the wall, which the wainscoting merely decorated or covered, it appeared…. This reminded me that if I were ever to be qualified to start a writing school, I would not try to start one even then, but would start a vocabulary school, with endless lists to be memorized of the names of things. (It would start with things, then move on to actions, materials, qualities, places, plants, animals and individual human’s names.) Maybe once in a while there would be writing but only as an inevitable result, or overflux, of knowledge of the names of things.

December 31, 2022

………………………..
……………………………………… ………… Cut grass

……………………………………. in sprinkler water

………………………..on a wet patch of concrete.

……… ……………….Rains tugs,

………………. ……….. Warm fumes,

……………………….. ………..wrought clouds,

……………………….. ………..wrought … freshets.
………………………..