Monday, January 9, 2017

8 January 2017

So it is that the transmission of truths among men depends entirely on the state of their feelings. We divide like worms, to each section a strong emotion, anxiously seeking a hole in the ground. Cuttlefish display outrageous yellows and reds, as on a raffled 70” screen, but no one knows if they feel these colors, or even see them. I cannot see beyond my skull, nor hear beyond the shama thrush's riff this morning in the cold. To be is to act, yet not to see effect. Flat affect is a smudge of dirt on a notebook page, light absent substance. James carries a notebook for each island, pages and pages of dirt squares. My former student stops me on the street to say she saw a thrush on the ground beneath a tree. There was no story, just impress on her eye and ear. I went into detox for my addiction to narrative and came out a better woman, one more alert to the interrupter's work. For this class, you're required to subscribe to his twitter feed. Read them from the bottom up.

--8 January 2017

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