Friday, September 30, 2011

quite the contrary

Though implicitly, all

I’ve shown, the past

three years, has been (and will be) thanks

to, honoring, and (in this ongoing

sense) for

you.



something (or someone) to cultivate

authentic happiness without one’s own children

An elementary school teacher presumably cherishes children; likewise with a pediatrician or child psychologist. Choosing to not have any children of one’s own can be a valid life choice for persons who nonetheless cherish children. Contrary pressures from family, social presumptions about good lives, and dominance of reproductive economics in the market can be severe. Bravery may be required, especially for women, to stand for one’s ownmost life (an inner-directing basis for outer-directed life) when the ecology trains one to feel otherwise (an outer-directing basis for inner-directed life). 


Thursday, September 29, 2011

“you”


This is a revised improvisation from Monday, 9.26, 9 pm or so.

I’m obviously at times alluding to “you” in this blog (and on Webpages), but only one person would know whom that could specifically be. Other readers are supposed to see a general writerly, textualist, literary issue represented. I’ll carry that theme to heights which a typical reader might not anticipate. What fun.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

circumspective living

Freshly brewed french roast, turmeric almonds, and a little Beemster Classic Extra Aged Gouda (@ US$17/lb.) supplements my solitude.

Should I be concerned about the effectiveness of morning coffee as a mood enhancer? Does that make my emergent sense of exuberant self possession invalid? Many persons would choose fresh pastry or fruit with their coffee, but I get enough exhilaration without sugary things.

To wit: continuing elations, today on being an interplay, mirrorplay, whatever.


Sunday, September 18, 2011

elations of solitude

Suppose I had dissected all I’ve recently put online and organized it into a new set of thematics that would provide positive constraints (or generative, telic structure) for future writing in light of planned reading (a lengthy syllabus) that ensured fidelity to a well-formed sense of recently-past excursions.

Then, I get persistently enchanted with the oddness of my own creative process, which faces me with a sense of incredible extravagance that I think no one could enjoy, and I wonder why.

Yet, that ultimately matters little, as the validity of what I’m doing and where I am is clear to me, though representing that will take awhile.

Today, I’ve made 4 points or stories in a constellation of 10 and will finish the others (already named) soon, which I’ll note here as each becomes available, beginning today with the first 4.



Saturday, September 17, 2011

saucy life

Smart cuisine prevails in the north Berkeley area that’s the geocenter of my life, the so-called “Gourmet Ghetto,” which is arrayed today with white tents and traffic barriers for the “Spice of Life” festival under clear, warm skys (not hot) with cool breezes and happy people everywhere, all ages, all geopoints of origin. The scene would make a Parisian pointillist hungry. I think I’ll write about Sex, expansively and extensively, Eros without bounds, as I’ve been so long fascinated by the games of bodies, the mating mind of aspiring youth, idealizing an aesthos (my coining) of self-enhancing humanity, Deep Time echoing in boulevard strolls there partly to be seen “oblivious” to being seen.

I’ll write of our sexuality so intensely—Eros so elaborately—you’ll be amazed, I suppose (though I’m not interested in amazing you, rather in a full phenomenology of bodied atmospheres). I will capture the heart of Literature, psychalogy [sic], and “existential” philosophy in a height of all that can be said of somatic play.


Saturday, September 10, 2011

believing in you

When I stop to think about it, “believing in” is an odd phrase—or, at least, yet another phrase (or term) worth thought.

That’s why I’m so likely to put ordinary words or phrases in quote marks, readily calling that “Derridean” because I’ve been so influenced by a sensibility I associate with his work—not to claim that my association is itself appropriately or “really” Derridean. And I have special affection (deeply so, actually) for someone who would balk at turning proper last names into adjectives.