Saturday, December 02, 2017


No news really, apart from what I noted on the home page today. I may update here and there before the end of the month; probably not, because the offline “cultivating” is the basic pleasure (not deriving brief narratives of good sense). I just can’t know before I feel like doing it. But I’ll at least have a lot more than a note like this by December 30.

November 4

I’m too busy to do substantive updating. But I’ll at least update
the update date here, so you know I’m not forgetting that I’m failing
to make your new visit here novel.

October 21

I don’t want to update, just get on with the work.

(Ah! I see in the footer of the document I’m enthralled with
that it currently is composed of 166,656 words.
I’m organizing the notes into many, many [yet uncountable—
hundreds of] subtopics within many tens of main topics
within 11 Areas.

Aren’t you glad to know that?)

Here: something from the summer of 2012 I happened across in “life world,” while working with derivative notes. I’ve done so much already! (The “so much” troped thereyears and years—was exactly one month before I bolted from The Department forever, 5 years and 2 months ago.)

October 14

More now than that “the appropriation is emotionally eerie”; it’s uncanny. He’s so beyond me, I have trouble imagining I’m him.

“Must go on, no time to write home. Hurry before fire destroys everything not yet safe in The Cloud.”

October 7

One’s body is the real scaffolding of being alive (beyond merely one’s skeleton). The scaffolding of a building isn’t really the stuff surrounding the installation of its skin. It’s all of that which structural engineering attends to.

Writerly project development is its own kind of structural engineering, in fidelity to archetextual designing which, in my case, stays designing while thematic scaffolding gains clarity here-and-there.

Over the years, The Project (which I now call “the Work) has evolved a body wholly unlike my earlier sense of designing (i.e., the four Areas, as they actually grew).

But now, years of material for that writing online (distinct from is being reorganized relative to the scaffolding of the Work.

The appropriation is emotionally eerie—and as such, is beyond tropes, because the Work weaves ultimate concerns into an elaborate conception (derived over many years) of high flourishing, conceptual creativity, discursive formation, and contemporaneity. Yet, no one life can embody It All; only engage with audacity honestly, with humility, and hope that writing of my little life can be worth your time—because I presently feel unworthy of the horizons I venture to master.

Later, though, I feel okay again.

Sept. 23

I’m trekking through a large landscape of notes, going back several years, and it’s going well.