I find myself circling back to journals and notes and things written years ago; Adjacent to or to the side of is the running theme of what I am doing now in my writing which helps me out of sentimentality. Recently I have only read journals as a record of a mind thinking rather than a means by which to develop new verbal constructs that aren’t so deliberately devised .
In plain language rather than seeking new experiences to write about my current work seems to be centered on the experience of writing itself. The work I am doing derives not from “emotions recollected...” but rather from browsing through a curiosity shop of images.
Claims are what words consist of; hence to know what is “out there” in the world as “reality” one experiences various aspects of input from the outside. Ideology grows strange when words make up the subject of material practice. A pull away from content precludes intentionality. What seems too deliberately the subject does not necessarily correspond with an emotional response. Ideology colors the particulars red as meanings, diagrams, words fall away. Language may contextualize ideology as one begins to order language into units of words. For example, making up for lost experience doesn’t seem to make sense if we see language as an object for itself or ding an sich. Already certain areas of experience are crossed out or redacted erasures of agency. A certain ideology maintains that a writer must find a “voice”, yes but what do you do with it can be the subject of the work as well as well as something to be differentiated from others.
Verbal constructs are experiences observed. Premeditated materials form a grid from whence tranquility is derived. Ideology is in many ways indeterminate hence isolation is an intentional act rather than something that is passively experienced. This is the terrain of phenomenology. The observed existence is that subject of the work and the search for an image consist of emotional experiences that make up the claims of the words themselves. We speak more meaning in the narrative of language of liminal subjects. Meaning I have created a narrative but don’t enter into it. Constructs are premeditated not resulting from “emotions recollected in tranquility”. What is described and not necessarily given away as emotional info about me is recollected observations yet, don’t observed operations of the mind determine the subject of the work? “Verbal constructs are experiences” is Wittgenstein’s subject. Premeditated events do not result from emotion but comprise a kind of ideological environment which prescribes those words/hence the problem of narrativity itself.
A paper thin depth as a model for subjectivity is of course an illusion;
A perfect accord of severing inner subjectivity from the pleats of outer commitments/
determines materializes form. The fold occupies a very marginal place in the mind of
the public as per the lovely short film by Kennth Anger, “Puce Moment” from Scorpio Rising.
Presently I am moving in a state of depression which has again clouded my thinking.
What happened that summer in Rome extends itself in my present circumstances.
It is important for me to know that this project will progress regardless how I feel about personal circumstances.
The work of a young male traveler rooms with a discontent ruined American.
Just because it is painful and disconcerting?
Perhaps I will reemerge with more confidence and that my work will continue.
The entangling work of writing takes up a lot of my time.
It is by writing that a system of mind is formulated.
These writing rituals with intermittent alarms of consciousness going off at the same time.
I thought I knew myself.
I saw a sun flower beauty in the living change of syntax.
Olson’s criteria for a poem is energy transferred from where the poet got it.
This will come about through several ways
the notion from Pounds perfectly controlled kinetics of the thing said
mixed up with some quality of speech and startling juxtapositions
darkening regions of terror and a heretofore kept secret thus far developing in the
theme of a crumbling tower.
Intermittent alarms of consciousness waking us and the neighbors in the morning.
Something nameless rotates caffeine enjambments of nervous system.