Friday, May 31, 2002

Wiped Out

. . . wiped out a month . . . four months . . . most of the past . . . because if it can't be (re)stored / (re)collected / (re)lived / (re) searched / (re)membered. . . it may be gone . . . if it goes where does it go . . . needing to begin . . . needing to end . . . will be missed . . .
"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better. " - Samuel Beckett (via archipelago)
. . . lots of reasons . . . started the experiment under the influence of theater & the act defies preservation . . . the appearance remains . . . the guts (soul) removed . . . the empty space . . .

Friday, May 24, 2002


"Unless" by Carol Shields:
""little chips of grammar (mostly adverbs or prepositions) that are hard to define, since they are abstractions of location or relative position, words like therefore, else, other, also, thereof, theretofore, instead, otherwise, despite, already and not yet." Yet without these "odd pieces of language" to "cement" together the more colorful, momentous nouns and verbs, we can't "form a coherent narrative."

context weblog:

"The organisers search for the phenomenon's artistic potential. What are actually computer viruses? Who creates them and why? What sort of world is hiding behind these everyday phenomena? "
Even in a Moonscape of Tragedy, Beauty Is in the Eye:

"But Mr. Meyerowitz may have been the only photographer who admitted to looking for beauty. "Anytime I found a person who seemed remarkable to me, I photographed him." One of the most consistent sights at ground zero was the firefighters in their yellow jackets raking the land "like shepherds in a field." One day Mr. Meyerowitz watched a fireman nicknamed Toolie who was just ending his shift but could not stop working. "He picked up a rake," Mr. Meyerowitz said, and began working again. He just wanted to find something. He explained to Mr. Meyerowitz, "We're gardeners in the garden of the dead." "

Thursday, May 23, 2002


Look, Look
don't squint
the radiant dust darkens to gray the sky
the dry skin cracks and bleeds
the stranger whispers endlessly repeating again & again in the cycles of time

we are told
back then
lest we forget
dust in the sky
dust in the eye
don't squint against the prayer & blasphemy

who was it that died coughing