finish lake


When my emotion builds I know it does. I want my emotion to be called emotion and thinking. I want to think very hard. Thinking is movement, is not emotion. Is this one thought or emotional? Though it cannot be emotional because it is not the same figure of speech. I wish to allow no space here for ambiguity, for ambiguity implies meaning where that is not immediately an intention—rather a manifold. That is to say, the knife I wield though I wield many I do not wield one language. Some things are of necessity neither both.

Usually I say or want to write something which is in effect just after you've heard it!



3 signs, near ss

'Just a note on impulse: the importance of things is that they happen to get resolved. I have noticed some things though not the woman with the child with gums and rows of teeth adorning its infant mouth.

'Things that might be done for money are not countenanced as such in Colombo. This is nothing to do with Colombo; they are not done because countenance is something that's not done here in that way.

'Recognition and resolution are quite proper. Proximity and project are quite distinct in provenance.'



If one word is related to another word, then how can they be considered equal? Or, if words are not equal, how are we to deal with the impact of their inequality on the meaning produced by them - for example, 'I am this' questions both the thisness of I and the Iness of this; yet we know that 'I' am not 'this' and nor obviously is 'this' I. Nor will equivalence do, as in 'my one I'. And yet, and yet... recognition cannot properly be termed an act, the problem being in the term 'is' which is the greatest sleight, which here I too guilelessly practice.

It is not what I’m seeing but the relation between these that I see: when I sit, my eyes fill with tears, yet I am not sad. Never sad, still they relax!



Hence the best is to have done so much and yet to have neither given nor taken too much. Imagine the abstraction of this instead of the man with the snake curled round his neck, water falling from it. The lake of Kandy was seen from the bottom, flat on top. In the part of town where they used to dismember disreputable ones using elephants and old chains that dragged, we found a vegetable stall with no vegetables and only a man without them spread on his own table. There are stranger things than concepts. Concepts are trees governing meadows. Not trees exactly, they follow. It does not equal anything being what freedom causes.



Coolidge in Colombo

... in poor repair, speeding, lifted from the tracks, weird scenery and weird stunned smiling gold, begging, a musician with a small pipe & drum with him a woman unkempt singing, begging, a blind man at the end of the carriage leaning holding his stick after he’s done what begging he can, all of them begging, until finally a destination’s reached that’s named what was all along expected, expecting only ourselves, in and out of a Coolidge carriage, confused by lights, one alights among palm fronds abloat with crows and a beach strewn with fishes: like adrenaline spikes, beggar writing!


Only I determine my writing. I watch it under this pressure like tilting water: but water loop!


A story this length:

If I have put two words together / that you have not seen together / why does it give such pleasure / to put 1-2 together.