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at Goodwill looking for sheets. went to get icecream with Boyfriend. inviting people to my 9999 party

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all violence carries with it a second violence, a ghost or a border, an event horizon, a stirring unease, a creeping awareness that one is dreaming and has dreamt everything that that one can see or hear or touch or remember, and has dreamed this dream before. it is the violence of the solipsistic, of the numinal, the violence of the perpetual inadequacy of language, the despair of a tongue which cannot exhaust it's charge. for the contents of any given act of violence to be related, believed in, understood,--whether across ten thousand years of recorded history or across the immediately-mediating quantum leaps of thought and feeling which are the very stuff one's own conscious soul,--sometime more than language, aongside *and* against language must be employed.

i pray to every angel who has ever fallen from a cosmic plan unacceptable even in is perfection, both to guide my pen in the selection of these always already inadequate words, and also to impart with them that mute stuff shared alike by doxa, skepticism, and above all troubled dreams, which make a more comprehensive understanding possible.

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January

February

Marx

April

May

Hextember

Quintilis

Sebastuary

October Octember Octuary

November

December

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