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Fri Apr 27 2001 at 03:20:34 (13.6 years ago )
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Tue Jul 15 2008 at 05:38:41 (6.4 years ago )
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Jean-Baptiste Say
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this faceless hollow is the reservoir for a mythos that would have intuited divinity. and yet hierarchies embrace us now, we devoid of the holy.

I AM (temporarily?) GONE: -- because i told him that i didn't like it except for the names represented within the cipheric serpents' tail, which was found by the paperboy, in the hollow space carved within the shell that is a nickel: &&&%%himhim***)))#series#(multiples)notexistnotexist. (stay: only for these eight) -- -- i wanted to say, because i am in protest against a severity of erasure, against the effacement of my very hands which, besides, aren't here anyways. but i will not write that, today, because i do not feel it. Rather the truth of it, if it were a matter of truth at all: is: because i do not always belong here, because i do not have the same appreciation for it that you all do, because i am weak before the violence which you do not see as violation, because i am not enticed by the words of so many others whose faces and hands are not before me.

whispered in the hallway, between breaths haunting: “it seems to be getting worse all the time, against all of my best hopes : at the same time there is another river that i gather from the nickel which is getting better all the time.” when i watched her body frame the door, her passsage beyond, her escape of singularity and her destiny of diffusion, i wrote down, in the margins of a bible that suddenly appeared at my foot: “(but there are too many times when i have said: i wanted to write: 'departure'." She heard the scribbling and an intuition in her soul sparked the very names my hand had just described. She amplified a phonograph, and alongside melodic French music, she sang: "Sometimes I too pretend that it makes a difference, that anyone would care, that there is something here when tacitly there isn't, nothing that i could ever be called to 'participate' in, perhaps due above all to the violence represented in any hierarchy, a violence which i (it is my weakness!) could never bear without synchronized witness to the love from the face, smile, eyes. the very fact that i cannot see your eyes is what burdens me - you are no longer real, vapor).”


i was looking forward to secrets and to words. i was always looking forward to late nights with melville and a kitten, besides you. i have always wanted all of you to say with pride, "I have understood that way," even if you had not practiced it.