Delusional Variations in H’Excremental Splendor, Poetic Holy Oil, and Essays on Meta Fiction1 comment
Assays in the Plurilateral
Adventures in Note Taking
I got “abandoned” to Frank and Alice, Jael says. Jael is currently the note taker. Language of abandoning syndromes – to leaky freaky whims of my pie, of nature. One knows its function is as a fiction. Chars often show up in triplicates. Char is something short of character, more like Italian for clowns.
Started a proj called AINT. Adventures in Note Taking. Notes from readings.
I am affected by other peoples stuff. As a way to think about looking into writing: Essays on theme, rhetoric, rhyme and other logical correspondences.
Notes include comments. Include mostly heady petty on philosophy, I too have char that relate everything to sex and fertility. Did a spree on the Z. For Zizek. His religious and fantasy island neg preg stuff.
O abject object space as, what else, “seeing things” in dimensions somewhat as a laboratory rat, “degrees of freedom,” sensation nation of the absurd, dense flowers as a prepense, particle physics “sea of negative.” Horror and impossibility of being / not being — in love.
Free style? Could I get away with that. Lester Bangs says maybe.
Red Hand’s Index is a honeydew for help on something and his paying attention to stuff.
Under the Counter
Understand my own fascinations are lark and terror and that I am musing people for beauty and treasure.
Have a thing with density, the immurations. And much here is only half finished.
It is mostly about literature in a way that borders on lit shit and science in a way that is curious and absurd. My first drafts are often weak topical inebriations, that can on occasion steal terms from academic. In re: rapture capture language subscription to whatever its fair game, dilemma.
And yet, my jars are full of bug recipes. Fissures occur as if flying thru density.
Lately obsessed with density, topic stolen from line in Camus.
Last few pieces churned up against Lit Crit (philosophy of literature) in a way that was partner. Pretended I had a Mentor for two whole weeks.
Woody & Flashlight
Andromeda has to force herself out by throwing things.
At some point the big ball in Lost Arc starts to roll and we all fall in. Sooner or later, the weather vane does it with everything.
Had to figure out a format within which to let it bleed, let it create itself — Inclusive of late at night flashlight, the ponder yonder bond (with fur), and wonder blunder asunder deadly o currencies, ear blows woes where flows sheer inbred constellations of fear, hex et era. The Feelies.
Feelies and freindzys are in part “God Offal.” On purpose. Go off on Lime in the Coconut, Alice in Space, stock and chock uglies. But for me — its more about getting in at Kathy Acker, Didion, etc. And Clarice Lispector.
Beauty, is in this context, researching itself for both degrees of freedom, and Holmes on the range. Thats what you gave me. Space to think.
My essays lean in — toward degrees of freedom — in fiction. Latest poetry is engendered off cuts I was lucky plucky enough to receive, whose input has been massive here, in terms of getting my work under some semblance of control. Rhyme for me is Primary. Will not get in way of that!
Catches on sublime hard time and quite often astonishes me.
But am really most interested in growing narrative.
Gape of Vision, Panning Dead summa cum Undead as Media in Medium
Space race, stole from Camus hi call density.
Gapes after sounds as ding dong, feather and landmine, I know it can seem like avenging madness in fast early drafts. But Joyce shows up and begins to cluck.
Have girls, he says, feathers will pluck.
Am always at some beginning for capturing dialog. Moi and Tu. The 2-way stuff. Baby loves crackers. Marcel pops in says my descriptions are “lending.”
Opportunistically, diligence to the dead is never overfed —
Juliet: O if one would let just let it be all about this, language as aspect of love, that burns like a rage for deliriums of freedom. Clings to shells like fruit of a nut.
Belief: at light of day is that movement helps. Cyclops rules are a living hell. But writing was pioneered from origins puritanical vs. the raunch absurd.
Heavies as levies, for fascination with dead, sex, numbers, religion, gender, fear, horror, drugs, bugs and other transformative creatures, shrugs, intensities, propensities. Gimme dat thing, arbors and harbors in fecies species, tra la, of language and rhyme. Go to ground, and figure.
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Pissing Rain in Spain — Delusional Variations in Excremental Splendor
Poetic Holy Oil, Essays on Fiction