Circular. Somehow quite circular the faces have changed. Society has come around again to being as it is and only the people have changed their faces. There is a newsletter. There is an opportunity for it to be a newsletter. It is as it was. Eight years before this was it was before the same again. Do you remember. It was right then for what it was, and simple. Simple becoming knowledge if it is open It could be so better so it could. The mistakes or eight years ago and the same. Nothing has changed except the subject and the object. The content and the faces. That is how it can be. Nothing so simple is anymore. I manage you manage he she or it manages very well by itself thank you very much. This is how Trevor's mind comes to show itself briefly and so I might visit and that might be very interesting and the mesh might catch the wind Which dangerous. Spider wires knit the sky together. Who will be there? How will it be. Questions beg answers beg investigation beg forgiveness. Falling and watching myself fall away from me. I that am I watch I that am seen to be. That is how there are spaces opening between myself and they're all falling. Trip and fall. Day trip and fall. Falling outwards falling away. Parting returning going around again and watching going around again. In the open where the wind never blows everything is smiling and being what is easiest to be just then can. Together and closed who is to know how it will be. A piece of Joan joins a piece of Irene to a piece of Roy who seduces Yvonne into an opinion she doesn't even notice to influence Trevor with and it all continues further round the circle. Together they can be closed and it can be different. Visit trip fall.
And so much of it is wooden. Grey wood blue skies. Today it feels like it must be spring by now. Winter comes after spring today it does. Autumn was last week and it was warm and wet. Today it is clear. The sun is shining. The bark of the trees has become noticeable again. Today it feels like spring. It felt like autumn. It continued. It felt like spring. It is not all as it is usually. The cold wind sends the jackdaws to roost happily under the eaves. The cold wind is warm often. It is all still to come. Pan and Tara and sometimes even dry Jia get wet and smell like summer. Leaves have fallen from the privet and smell faintly. It must be coming to be. It must be That is to come.
There are people and parrots and they all die anyway. If you are in hospital it would happen two. People will bring grapes. I suppose grapes are grapes and that is what they are for. Young people grow old and life has to be acted on if it is to be interesting. If it is watched to be allowed and controlled watched happening somehow it doesn't. The vaults of the banks of England are watched over a day and night by detail by a video camera. It watches. It does not care. Life can be like that. It can be imprisoned in it all. It is working. It is lasting. In it being all reliable and in good taste. It can all be imprisoning. It watches but it does not care. Reliability comes between the life and the leaving of it. Wellington boots that never leak. Double glazed windows. Electric blankets. Iron bars. Cocktail bars. Alcohol free lager. Going swimming in the European wine lake bottle by bottle cheek by jowl shoes by Gucci. Singing dancing singing standing the merry merry pipes of Pan. Dancing round with shining steamers barbed wire bunting Spinning round hemming in the sprung a steel circle. Watching from the middle as it all goes past laughing but smiling. Wave hello in leaving merry streamers moor me to oblivion. The safest safe in all of certainty does not care a jot. Not a fig nor a diamond. I look at me look at this this is it it is me. The safe door closes the clang of irrelevance. Here I am slam. Out in the field the lonely cow whistles among the dinner plates. Dance to the tune through bunting and streamers. Dance to the lightness of footfalls by cowpats. Watch through to windows the cathode rays con trick and sigh. Out in the Meadows the dancing boy slips. Watch now the revelry. Give me socks with holes in and toes and apples with maggots and uncut rubies and broken decanters. Sing to me badly out in the barley. Itching and scratching in fields full of poppies. Hang up the paintings to bleach in the sunlight. Trace out the patterns of damp on the ceiling. Video policy cold tapes of insurance. Eyes that don't see but record until later. Diabetic camera blood on the retina. Bloodstained recordings replayed in anonymity. A 60 year old has a heart transplant which is entirely compatible. The new one doesn't work either. A new spool of tape snaps into the camera the unseeing eye not careless nor care less. So give me the glue that washes out in the rain, I have to mend a broken species layer by layer lower and lower. Build back down to where the wild things are still real. Nothing so nasty as uncaring video. Give me the warmth of emotional destruction. Give me the hope in total revulsion. Keep for yourself the screw topped soda siphon I'll take a rain check. Delivered in a bucket. For 80 years she never broke a rule. She never broke into song. She broke her leg only while it was convenient. She waited 80 years to be told she was dead all along.
If I have to be generalised generalise all the other foot soldiers too. Being alone is no point without company. Lieutenant Kernelate the rest of the nuts. Scatter my ashes in a world without dusters. If I am to be a stain on a work surface let it be a stubborn unshiftable stain. Jif cuts cleaning time in half so much for the afterlife.
Eighty years is such a long time. Even the M25 CAN'T avoid its destination for that long. Midlife resurfacing. I'm off to have a nervous tarmac. Time is so very confusing so often it starts at the end first. Dora rules rules rule Dora. I suppose all the pieces will fit together and make something new even if it is all closed. It will be just the same. Thank heavens for toy dolls that wet themselves.
Things that are the same again and again enclose and shelter. Things that are not at all the same expose and open. Learning is about not knowing because it isn't the same. Teaching is about knowing that the same things are. Learning is seeing changing and destroying bare to start. Stand on the mountain top while the eagles pick your bones clean again. Pure learn clean bones sound. Teach mud to sink into. This is what it is to be most important wrong. Sometimes teach to wrong must be to escape. The processes is learning, teaching is just payment to allow. Teaching is the passive learn. All in all again. How would a grain of sand be in a committee meeting. Why how else could he be! Naturally all the answers are what they are. So perhaps the only danger is on the inside.
If in doubt close your eyes, there is so much more to see it that way. If in doubt look away. People walk across the Turkish countryside digging out snowdrop bulbs to sell to Woolworths to package in plastic envelopes with colour pictures. Prepackaged destructiveness. Sachets of conservation. It is strange to see destruction dressed in the body of the preserved object of that conservation. All along it was about the interactions being confused, not the objects. No objects, no interaction. No interaction, no life. No conservation. Some people believe they can save money and the individuals. These same people would happily donate the same sum of money they had saved to a faceless conservation project if they didn't have to care themselves. They sell themselves empty. They want to give away their right to believe anything that isn't fatuously stupid. Please please please let me elect somebody they say. Let me defer to some authority. The light is so very uncompromising I may even end up casting a shadow.
The world is happening to you. How do you find it. Were you run over this week. What would the difference have been?
Literature is only words you know. Words but next to each other. Words in strings. Patterns of words. It is not magic only words. Words but next to each other. The words have to be everything if they are to be that. It really is the hardest thing in the world. It really all has to be because everything less is like edited highlights of a football match. All meaningless elation a sort of unstoppable orgasm and nothing is like that. Even nothing that is closest.
I met a man for whom the things that are simple are simple and nothing else is possible. Perhaps I'm wrong. I met a man who was sold it frustrated him. I met a man who was so old nothing happened in him except that it made him smile as it didn't happen in him. And so now it is time to look away.
I met a man who had not yet finished with supporting himself. The past was still the present. Never never never let me go he hoped. This is how he supports other people on hope. Hope that he doesn't crash nobody else has any right to. Crash crash pop goes the weasel. In ancient cinematography a long dead figure who is happy now dances. This is that dance here again. Cold and lifeless joy and hope. Monochrome repetition in a new place. This is a pattern of light and movement in scratches of technology. This is training and technology. The dance of being supported. I met this man but only see him now. This is the dance. The short white dress, the waving arms the too short too fat legs to be right. This is how the past is when it is still there in the present. Of course it is the hurt he uses now, the pain is there and used. It is what it is. The conviction is very strong but it is not yet understanding. Understanding is to grow it cannot be built. So this is the past remaining. Emotional Stonehenge. Dancing patterns. Reflections of truth. Three weeks ago I first decided I had met this man and today I did and was right again. That is just how it was again. Three weeks ago there were two people who were interesting and that was all. I met this man and this was one of them. I have for a long time spoken to the other and I think I'm right there too. Again and again. That is not that it is nothing in anybody else who is. This is just that it is nothing in me. The decision is old and is proving itself today more. For a long time there was no vision of pain in that face for me and now it is me, pictures hold on to the past today and so does dancing in light when it is now. There is so much here it must look away. Confidence must look away as the cinematographic dance proceeds unchecked to its conclusion. Miles and miles of nitrate based film is slowly returning the present to the present for the fearful eyes today. This is one of the ways it comes to be that destruction is the only real building. Suddenly up snap the shutters and the dancers continue. There is a lot here being used still of the past but it will grow away.