in
the actual situation we will have to
act upon this
I
Cannot Sustain any Elongated Linear
Thought. I Write by the Flint, the Twitch, the Fail: in
Short Rages, and Expound Not, and with the Neurotic Limp I always Got. For several Years, I’ve been Contemplating
Writing an Essay about Boxing and Intimacy and how it Correlates to the Historical Implications of the Chicago
Alderman. I Collect Notes, I Parasitic the Fault, and I Move Forward in[to] the Out-of-View. And whatever
Conspires Against Me, Continues its
Conspiracy From Me. My Method here, goes like this: Whatever I’m Obsessing about, which comes in Waves of
Seasonal Repetitions, gets Shoveled-In
through Gritted Teeth, Heart Palpitations and a General Awareness of Bodily
Unrest. To Constrain the Diction, to Constrain the Rhythm, is to Constrain the Thought, Itself. And there is a Good-Fucking-Chance, that Whatever I Write, will Come Back, rearing
its Mulish Snout and Smack Me right
Across the Face with its Incomprehensible moot, its General Disdain for the
Ground. So, if I am Seen as out of
Control, if I am Seen as a Bit ‘out of it’, if I am Seen to be Swerving through the Lanes and Heading-Through the Barricade of
Stability, than what is Seen, is most likely, Right-On.
