gaps.

the

even

gone,

This hurts too much but I can't stop

There are so many images and I feel them all leak from me with each second something remaining like a track in the fall?

A ferry trip. The violets in her lap. The cold in the air. A coach's murky window. Statues. Sunlight.

Storm still

Wer jetzt kein hat, baut sich keines mehr.

Redwood

[be]li[e]ve ["Only the interviews inform these events. They alone show us how the moments bruise and bleed."]

"Oh, we live comfortably because we create these sacred domains in our head where we believe we have a specific history,  a certain set of experiences. We believe that our memories keep us in direct touch with what has happened. But memory never puts us in touch with anything directly; it's always interpretive, reductive, a complicated compression of information."

float

Sometimes the tide pulls me away for days.
Far, far out to the horizon

opposite the sun. The sea always spits me out
eventually. In the space of a month,

a week, a few nights, by the span of a
lifetime,

I resurface, hurl water from my lungs
my gut, my bones.

The taste of salt
and the most silent ocean bed

lingers for days.

“There is not space in the universe
to tell the universe to the universe.
Therein lies the peculiar beauty
and the sadness of stories:
to tell it all without all at all.”

"By now I am far beyond copying only what comes after the patient’s saying: ‘I have this dream, doctor.’ I am at the point of recreating dreams that are not even written down at all. Dreams that shadow themselves forth in the vaguest way, but are themselves hid, like a statue under red velvet before the grand unveiling."

any question directed at another becomes something directed at the self and I'm starting to shake here, too much of me in the air of this room

Strange how happy I was just then. I hadn't left the apartment for days. Or something like that.

I need to go out today. And here I am writing this. The light's etched a permanent grimace on me, bleeding through the curtains. I have a prescription to pick up.

There's a little irony. Going out to get a pill so that you can go out in the first place. I want to throw up. I want to cry. I haven't done either for years.

Time to kick out this seat from beneath me and force myself to leave.

I hope this lasts

only images

"A swimming pool. A rocky bay. An empty lot. A tower. A lighthouse. These things are real and not real. They exist and they do not exist. I remake them in my mind with every new thought, every remembered detail, and each time they are slightly different. Sometimes they are camoflage or disguises. Sometimes they are something more truthful."

-Jeff VanderMeer

"The center is not the center."

A new hypertext: I now have a tumblr blog. I think it'll mostly be what I'm writing here - the reason I got it was because it seemed like a good pathway into a lot of the things I have an interest in. Anyways, I think I might also start working back and writing up my old posts from here onto the blog - pretty sure you can backdate posts. I'll have to actually make an effort at tagging things too. Who knows, maybe I'll run dry and the thing will be a dead end. But it'll be interesting to cross paths with myself.

sike[r]

"Maybe it is a good thing for us to keep a few dreams of a that we shall live in later, always later, so much later, in fact, that we shall not have time to achieve it. For a that was final, one that stood in symmetrical relation to the we were born in, would lead to thoughts—serious, sad thoughts—and not to dreams. It is better to live in a state of impermanence than in one of finality."

"Where I've been. | Where I am,"

"Then ... now ... what difficulties here, for the mind. (Pause.) To have been
always what I am - and so changed from what I was. (Pause.) I am the one, I say the one,
then the other. (Pause.) Now the one, then the other. (Pause.) There is so little one can say,
one says it all. (Pause.) All one can. (Pause.) And no truth in it anywhere. (Pause.)"