Friday, February 4, 2011

I've been thinking about the detours one takes in life. Detours, I mean, from one's supposed course, one's projected path.

I don't want to go all Dante on you or anything, but...

I've been thinking too about Ovid's Metamorphoses, about -- you know -- how everything becomes something else.

Fuck metaphors. I'm talking about something else. This is serious. Really.

Anybody out there?

8 comments:

  1. Pink Floyd, The wall

    Is There Anybody Out There?



    Is There Anybody Out There?

    Is There Anybody Out There?

    Is There Anybody Out There?

    Is There Anybody Out There?

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  2. It makes me think of Kim Lieberman's art piece, "Every Interaction Interrupts the Future," silhouettes painted on postage stamp paper. http://modiya.nyu.edu/modiya/bitstream/1964/476/9/Lieberman_montage.jpg

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  3. Nancy's asleep on the couch, and I'm at the end of her feet with my feet soaking up the warmth of the fire, which seems to be there even in its hereness.

    Geof

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  4. i'm hereness too. it is almost quarter to eleven. anna and nick are sleeping, i'm reading and listening to internet radio as the hound and the kitty are sleeping near my feet. if that's not transformative then nothing is.

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  5. I'm here, late in my office. It is dangerously windy in London. In France my partner Celine is watching over her grandmother in a hospital. I'm waiting to redial. We're all just hoping.

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  6. John,

    I've had too many "bad trip" moments with Pink Floyd to know how to respond to you. Remember the '70s?

    *

    Jean,

    That every interaction is an interruption is as concise a statement of my aesthetic/political experience as any I've encountered.

    *

    Geof,

    Creature comfort is of value.

    *

    Richard,

    Nothing _is_ transformative.

    *

    Nick,

    I'm hoping too. I am hoping to one day sit down and talk with you.

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  7. Hi Tom. I'm in a very small hotel in downtown Chicago watching the lights go on in the Marina Towers which are across the street. They look like huge concrete Christmas trees. It's snowing lightly. Tomorrow I'm taking the blue line all the way down to HD's grave. I guess I'm meeting him on his own turf only backward.


    Love,
    Rebecca

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  8. Rebecca,

    I'm excited for you. Find Henry.

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