exchanges

slow walk through the already existing, towards -- shift the present ever so slightly to the next thing

all that tangled talk: this we have already said, yes? again and again but of course it is not just ours to say that is the point that the tangle makes nonsense for others too.

arriving back in the full volume after some time, some distance: it is interesting. interesting being a word that holds the place of the complex as well as the mundane, interesting to avoid speaking badly in case you are overheard. 

Makes me think of tangles as knowing: an ability to tangle one’s body with one’s body (or with another body) is a kind of knowing. Tangling thoughts together, to think new thoughts and find out old ones is a knowing. Tangling words together to make them do these new and old ideas in different ways is a kind of knowing. Tangling life into making, art and living and the people who do it with us, is a kind of knowing. Tangling possible and probable and unreasonable is a kind of knowing. Tangling the romanticism of abstract wandering with the material facts of asymmetrical experiences of the world, is a kind of knowing that I worry I forget when I go tangling.

It frays, an unwinding that is not the same as undoing or untangling. Fraying is a kind of entropy, a disintegration. & so then it looses itself from itself. Sometimes, this makes it no longer a problem (if the tangle was a problem but perhaps it was a solution or a map or an understanding) because in the fragments the whole that got done up with itself isn’t there to make clear what it was that could have been otherwise.

What is the difference between defining the tangle and defining what is tangled in with the tangle? What makes the tangle, what is tangle, what is a tangle?

Time as a tangle, makes me think of the things that happen in both directions. So that they have always already happened, happening all over the already happened. Yes, dates. That get woven in with the fact of the future days that fall on the same day. Which is a nice expression for it, as if things tumble down onto days that weren’t expecting them.

The order gets tangled and so I am not sure where in the conversation I am, what the order of the things said should be. And it isn’t the order so much as me, I get tangled thinking about tangles and also tangled in with the back and forth of conversations on the side, feeling my feelings get caught on an inattentiveness that doesn’t necessarily matter and so therefore does. And that is maybe something, a point to be made about what distance does to meaning as something slips out of its intended place. Is one way that new things are made. And I have been obsessed with the making of knowledge, lately. Who gets to ask for new ideas and when they are good, they are very good and when they are bad they are horrid,

I wonder about this as a way of making too, the way works keep circling back onto themselves and get pulled one through the other If this is to do with the same thinning between things that causes them to catch across distance. When distance is time and also space. And so then there is a tangle because things sometimes refuse the order they have happened in. Or try to find new orders, as if that wouldn’t pull hard on the already occurred arrangements of everything else.