discursive living
 

new in site:

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recent weeks


sense of site, as of...-------------------mar 2015
shared grounds-------------------------nov 2015
  These are developing projects providing background context for other areas. What’s obtuse is there to be clarified.

being in Time--------------------------sep 29 2015
  planetary commons / progressive life—eventually. The area is barely started, but will become populated with many topics.

prospecting born before 2012---------jan 2016

furthermore------------------------------oct 2015
  Vistas are inherently appealling, seafaring intrinsically fun.
   
   

-February 8:

 

 


 

white space




That causes me to recall the last page of Henry Miller’s Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch, which has a black-line rectangle containing white space. Inside is only the sentence
“This is a Kandinsky.”

To me, that’s like: “This assertion is false.”
What is “this”?

The asserting is a Kandinsky work? The abstract expressionist would gladly reply “Maybe.”

Yet, Wassily Kandinsky didn’t write that, so
would he approve anyway?

Jacques Derrida welcomed questions of the copy or derivative. Are quote marks part of assertion?
If not, what’s the act of quoting?--------“This” is?
And reading: Is this reincarnation of shared appreciability? Is here the place of immortality?: twigs for leaving.

Anyway, one’s called to reflecting surfaces, the act, representation as such, living here. A writer faces space of herself before words that’re likely throwaways in consumerist airs, where cramming a message into 140 marks validates ephemerality of attention, as well as moment of writing. Knowing a tree anymore requires too much attention that readily feels uncanny, u kno, 4 n-sdrs btw n wtf lol brb.

So, finding fullness to cherish in simplicity, as if something grandly archetyped may design itself
in leafless branches echoing seasons, clarity, promise of warm play, isn’t trivial.

You’ve heard a stutterer whose expressing flows when she sings. Or an old trembler who disappears in dancing. Performing oneself shows what there is.

Who I am is the question. Or perhaps I’m just oranges.

All dies, but not yet: I’m still budding.


Next update: Feb. 17

gary e. davis


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