Who Said That?
“Trust anonymity.”
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“Trust anonymity.”
December 18, 2007
A wrinkled box of water. I into a painted corner unlock the blue clatter of the tin. On this is the island on which I live where birds fly high nothing survives the four winds into which the dust motes speed like the red nailed barbs of the cactus animals that society has bent on pasteurisation. The verb denotes… [Read more…]
November 24, 2007
My life, the defining terms: Nothing is wrong until something is wrong. Something is wrong until nothing is wrong. Something is wrong. Nothing is wrong. Is anything wrong? Something must be wrong! What, if nothing is wrong, is that something? Did I forget about it or did it forget me? How can something that has forgotten about… [Read more…]
November 21, 2007
Complete the phrase. (Here is a game.) Using one of the choices below say which you think is the real situation with human beings: “The human species is unique amongst the living species of the world because …” 1) It has language 2) It has opposing thumb and forefinger 2 1/2) It wears sharp suits 3) It is… [Read more…]
November 20, 2007
The brain contains two halves: one sensible and therefore that half is fully cogent, and one not sensible and therefore that half is empty of cogency. For one side therefore the two halves are empty, dull, but for the other the two halves are full in so far as since both are understood then in spite of a half being incogent… [Read more…]
November 20, 2007
The work I am writing, it is in my head. And there are two compartments. A wall down the middle, separating the two sides. In one something sensible takes place; in two something meaningless takes place. A circular window, a porthole, joins these rooms. In one you peer out of the sensible into the senseless; in the other,… [Read more…]
November 20, 2007
Hands. The hands that do digital. Real or metaphor. Hands on, hands down. Hands up. Give them the finger. Fine hands. Hand cream. A labourer’s hands. A gardener’s green genius. Hands that have never done a day’s work in their lives. Half-moons, and long painted nails, and life-lines, all fingers and thumbs. The left is what you have done… [Read more…]
October 11, 2007
Narrative is the only story in town. Everything tells its story. A bus conductor for example. He, or she, as is, tells you a story. The story is “I am a bus conductor.” You look at them, you know their story. You look at a fence; you know its story. You look at a tree,… [Read more…]
October 10, 2007
There is a moment, morning and evening, when I move through crowds with the indifference of a ball-bearing. People in motion; people everywhere, wheels and ball bearings, they too wizz somewhere else, elsewhere, going, going, into the far distance: on and on they vanish in a coiling breeze of smoke – sometimes it seems without breath we… [Read more…]
October 23, 2008
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