#distillations

ethyl 4-aminobenzoate (benzocaine) by esterification

why do i run from it these days?

not knowing the exact place and reason i lost the need for soft or extreme self-reflection. replacing that instead, letting go to the process of part by part, day by day, small by small, chancing, wayfinding. ( earlier this year describing the process as an auto-ethnography but now thinking maybe not labor the drift of living.)

could this be wanting death unknowingly?

working through, still, this unconsciously held desire to be quasi-invisible or visible in the important ways. looking for ways to concretize a command: go blind already! the world is too full of eyes!

if that is true, i resist it by smallness.

to situate, build,

a microcosm that is small but potent & efficient. condensing. like to say only things that matter while understanding the problems with such rigid way of being alive. like many days down this habit of silence not feeling the very human feeling of making mistakes, or failing? oh well.

on the flip, good side, i like the idea of not saying too much, it’s a world full of noise already. i like the activity of not being superfluous cause it helps with mental exercises- condensation as a way to rewire my cognitive maldapatation to focus. distilling to strengthen my attention muscles. so maybe in someways this is what this is for me.

[a meditation]

okay, pleasure prints ahead—-

there is nothing more to say in defence of a good song when it wakes you up from sleep.

                                       [awaken my cold capacities]

luminous strays gathered from anne carson while i think within parenthesis:

(i). What is it that love dares the self to do? she will answer: Love dares the self to leave itself behind, to enter into poverty.” (thinking about love dismantling in meaning; so much i need another word to exactly capture the vision i mean when i refer with the word love. oh well again, blessed be the mysteries of love.)

(ii). My personal poetry is a failure.

I do not want to be a person.

I want to be unbearable.

Lover to lover, the greenness of love.

— stanzas, sexes, seductions.

(iii). It is when you are asking about something that you realize you yourself have survived it, and so you must carry it, or fashion it into a thing that carries itself. ( poetry as that fashioning; poems as objects from that alchemy)

stand-alone stray: the type of lo-fi energy i’m on right here /

photo context but also a big yes:

a speculation: digital footprints like our comments on social media platforms becoming an archive for personality archetype studies.

never leaving without a LOL:

‘score’ stray:

Revolutionaries are people who need to run around in circles. Revolution is a cycle of toppling and replacing, of killing God and building a Church, as Camus says. It is nothing if not intense.

—excerpt, editorial e-flux journal issue, no.87

Here are some of my favorite lines of poetry, made with some of my other favorite lines of poetry: Stevens wrote that // For a poem to be true, it must “come from an Ever.” / If you don’t fathom that, then you should not be reading this. These lines are intended to forbid, which is a less cherished and equally indispensable impulse as that of invitation. Ever is not a place; to fathom means to measure what cannot be measured.

—excerpt, essay on joy, sumita chakraborty

final note & privation prayers—

some years take to you back to beginnings.

it is possible that torture can be lessened.

i hope i can try better, i hope there are many mild days

i hope stability is more than a dream.