Distribution Automatique

Monday, June 30


Things on a certain
tiny scale can come
alive in the viscous
boundary between
two larger realities.
These small things
grow, seeds in
specks of earth or
water, to become
living things in a
world of their own.


Michael asks about
toys to take home.



"staulk yourself
to sleep"

"probably smoked and
knew there was no
insides to things"

"the head is a

a great prose
section on doubt-
as something that
destroys but that's

I have a large
dog I taught
to keep still

"there seemed to be
an endless stream of


The god of bad luck
tends to get sleepy.
This is why it's best
to keep quiet about
good luck. As
soon as the old creep
gets wind that any luck
is happening at all,
he starts to
feel obliged to work
and wakes up.


The antithesis of a
truth also has
some truth. A truth
does not function like
a fact but like a force.

The antithesis of
a truth is
another truth, is not
an untruth but
someone else's truth.
Tht truth is not a
realm but some part
of any realm that can
exist and is the essential
measure of any realm
that continues to exist.


Bring toys to lend
children for Michael
and 207

(Before 2/20 reading)

Also reading to myself-
When I'm reading I'm
saying only to others-
not to me- I'm no longer
listening to me

Hence being excited
by an insatiable love
of gold to disturb
the sacred remains of
thy progenitor


Ms A-
rel with father?
Faulty identification
Chronic sense of guilt

dynamics of the
"pathological" liars and
"white" liars


The artist spends
a lifetime
preparing a


The Portable Museum
The Dialectics of
MIT Press


It was a
moment when I
ran into the
works of------

3rd Symphony
Roy Harris



Do you need to be alone
in order to write,
or to write in order to be
alone? Similarly, is it
necessary to write about
writing in order to write?
These things I
think about in face of the
most subtle physical
beauty imaginable- the
light sprawls of gulls, the
gray-white specks they
appear to be
in the
now dark and cloudy,
now hot bright Noon. A
sailboat is tipped sideways
dead still in the sand,
a familiar touch.
It is hard for two
people to love and still
forego the temptation to
manage and guide
each other. A person
can resent this, while
still appearing
to benefit from the
attempt on the part of
another person to help
them. It takes
courage to say anything,
still more to discreetly
hold it in. The tide
is out and the sand bed
has small squiggly rivulets of
water around its edges
and then a long one
which meanders all the
way to the bay to the
right.The beach
grasses bend in the
wind. A crow squawks
If two people try to
love and remain
there can be painful struggles.
These can come perhaps from the
two people
being tempted to overly
influence each other.
This is natural, and
sometimes stormy, the way
this partly sunny
weather can gradually
become slightly stormy
weather. In people
these struggles
feel unnatural
when they occur between
two people who are
othewise still in love,
in some dimension of
their beings. Now the
beach grass is more
still although I feel
a slight wind.


She appears on her
bicycle to look at the
gulls. She calls out to
me, making
sounds -"I
wonder where the sharks
are?" At least two
perhaps three dozen
gulls standing still in
the wet sand. Once
in awhile one squawks
and breaks away, flying
off before you can see it
start to move. Now,
the gulls are still in
the same spot, although
Toni is walking in the mud
nearby them. In front of
her, a quarter mile of green,
rolling marsh grass
up to the slightly hilly
surrounding line of trees.
Yes, the gulls are
spreading out, but are
staying there, although
Toni is walking around
among them. A few gulls
take off. I can hear
the voices of people
talking half a mile
away, a few small specks
move in the far distance.


When in doubt- read.


How exhausting
conflict is. Must
take it to its
origin and "kill
the germs."

More time alone.

Of course there is
a hurried quality if
I'm not giving myself
enough time to do it.

The story is what
us really happening-
inside and out.

Now the tide is in.
Voices across the
inlet. Silvery
dark clouds. A few birds
in the distance over where
the people's voices are.

See it through what
has changed. A
slight wind and the
staulks of beach grass
sway only little. The
slightest bit of what
is happening is just
as real as a great
amount. But we live
on great amounts-
so these small bits
are "noticings."

The wind feels good-
it touches me, bathes

It's so easy to
stay with what's real.
What makes it so

Everything is important
(thinking of "noticings.")
But to know how
much is enough is
all important. As
Blake says, "Enough or
too much."

transformation of conflict
into energy.

Relationship between
magic and power.

things coming into
existence because
of misunderstandings.

Of course- the artist
uses conflict like
a sailor uses a sail in
a stormy wind, or
a slack one.