Sunday, July 05, 2009
The simplicity of this white page appeals to me, against the shallow busyness of so much imagism—nothing against digital tatooing—brachylogically troping—proudly celebrating—one's consumption by metro bricolage.
Love words, like winter days you made resplendent summer.
"He would drink artistry beyond his talent through narrative distance that couldn't betray him, seeking lasting happiness in bricolagically concerted quests."
"Is the good of a life high fidelity to one’s prevailing Project, in light of well-growing capability?"
What have I done?
Whatever, it was good (I trusted), so I moved on to the next thing, tacitly retaining all due regard for what was done (it was authentically me!), but fully drawn into the next thing. Emails to a dear friend, postings so deliberated, longer things that have gone through so much revision—all “forgotten” in the flow of being inhabited by new prospects.
When I go back to something much later, I feel at first like any other reader, witness, wondering about him then—though secretly appreciating the thing as what it truly was—and still is!: I’m glad I “forgot,” glad to see it newly, glad I did it.
Notes from a day are like points awaiting their patterning into some belonging, meanwhile gladly looking like a scattering.
Am I all themes with little instrument?
Theme: stridency as dramatic form, distanced for me in rhetorical messaging he resorts to, going crazy as mode of entertainment, remaining unmet.
Bricolagic display in the energy of writing as tacit ego-identity validation.
On inaccessibility in art—associating to the title of a book, George Steiner’s On Difficulty, something else he meant to read, but time—
He throws himself into the most difficult work he can do while he's still capable. "It’s so more important to do the work than to display myself online doing it—unless that serves the work," like a release from conceptual fidelities via narrative humility.
“The Work”? Is it just another theme?
Theme: life as high-fidelity well-growing capable healthfulness.
world as a "literary" mind made of so many book titles, each too evocative to actually pursue into its own pages, because he loves writing to the idea, the appeal of their theme made his own before a journey through those worth reading slowly.
But he gets distracted by a new appeal, like a casanova of textual mirrors.
life.after.theory: about my many lovely days before the Millennium.
Joy, Inspiration, and Hope: to she who frivolously claimed life is meaningless.
The Birth of Pleasure, A Vindication of Love, Exuberance: What can I say that hasn't been better said already? There's reason to love the day!
The Company They Kept: The gravity of our company knit lasting happiness.
-- gary e. davis --- 6:27 PM