1. The languages of flux. Of uncertainty in which the 'I' (eye) constantly changes. For the self is "an indefinite series of identities and transformations."
...3. Languages which contradict themselves.
4. The languages of this material body: laughter, silence, screaming.
...7. Language that announces itself as insufficient.
8. ...the languages of intensity. Since the body's, our, end isn't transcendence but excrement, the life of the body exists as pure intensity. The sexual and emotive languages.
...10. Language that forgets itself.
My ideas end in a void. There is no end - an end is something. No more nouning in that unplace.
I have been stricken of late with the utter unknowability of. The reach of the space beyond reach is unspeakable - quantum physical. The inability of the/my brain to even think about - much less write about - unbeing - dying, being born -
Why try? Afterall. Why not be one who writes after all without a disbelief of after or of all?
How can I write about death and loss if I cannot examine it within myself - the thing (unthing) that slips always out of one's vision. Glimpses and then gone.
I did not get over Kelsey's death - I learned not to look for it so hard.
I forgot. Incorporated.
That is what we do.
danzare con la tue morte: to dance with your death - to choose: the symbolic or the invisible.
This is (will be) a Thesis. I cannot, unfortunately, compose an invisible text of unknowing - (to dance alone). Must, instead, choose stand-ins. In (-its) stead. Embody the abstraction: give symbolic form. Create a language first...
To speak on death I cannot 'face' it.
To speak to death I must face it - give face.
To speak to the mask of death. Dance with Death's doppelgänger.
Arghhhhhh
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