Short Lecture On Nothing (naming names I called you names)

Nothing happens all the time and I’m angry------------------------->Anger is not the opposite of love, it is the curve of it. Like how I am angry because I am so loving. Anything anything the beginning of anything, how happens and is happening this anything anytime. The choice of things happening is nothing to be angry about------>It is yes of course exactly like this that is if I say it is. Exactly----------------->This brings us back to nothing. I wish I could say I remember last year. But I remember nothing as it happened, it never really happened one way, or two, and that way that I remember it is nothing, it’s mine. I may change sides, I may look less stupid, I may smile or frown more, depending on the day I decide to remember and how I remember it. This is fact. Did if they or well enough they said I did I’ll remember it that way differently. A picture will remember for me but I won’t even remember the picture I look so different in it. There are so many bites of photos-------------------------->To talk about photography is to be boring, like talking about math. By using words we’re just talking about words. And the photo laughs at us, nestled in the next room looking in the mirror. The photograph has nothing to say, so it poses. It doesn’t even know a thousand words. It just poses and means and is mean about it. You could alter it with a name, but it’s like if you named your german dog “Fritz” that doesn’t make him Fritz Lang--------------------->He’s still just a dog with a bed and a bowl and a name, or sound, that it comes to. Not that he does anything better or worse for it. I am the only me I know of, no others share my name. While this makes me unique it makes me uniquely un-unique. I share the same first name with many others, my middle name is my fathers as is my last name. The three separately are nothing, together they provide a serial that makes me another person, just easier to find when searching archives. I often wish my name was Grover Benjamin Coma. If you could name yourself, what would it be----------------------------------->If the opposite of love is indifference, then by not calling me something, anything at all, does that hurt more or less. Does that unspoken nothing linger in the room as if you had spoke-------> And yet, we re-name ourselves everyday, as we re-name our memory, our dreams, our talk. This I add with which what I wish to add. A terrycloth monster. One never wins the favor of another by killing it. It is all they know how to do and go to bed and dream of marionberries. Another dream punches them and they go about lifting the sheets and smelling shit. The life of a named thing-------------------------->This is named---------------------------->But it is like what you name a photograph, by describing what is pictured in it, by doing the job of the photograph for it. To sneeze is to say “sneeze” with abstract sound but we all know what you’re talking about------------------------------------------>Do well in the meantime not with what will mean but what meaning means meant to you begged out a little bit at a time and given the best description you can make of it, there’s no image too nothing but nothing itself. If I describe nothing, I’m describing something very real, since it’s named and by being named must be something. My body is in fright and I call it fright but it’s got other names surely that are more clinical. To take an interest in something is to love it------------------------>There is not a doubt so call it doubt and see where that gets you. Hysterical taxing of the body as a charge against nature it’s nature’s own little joke, you little punchline you. I could never believe, as she says, that I could not happily deceive you-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->The way she stands, crosses the room, and stands again is a flag against waving she’s not waving she’s drowning you. She’s sitting you down for a little chat about protein and fungus and fugues. She’s damning you, but nicely--------------------->To name it is to own it, so we name everything we can get our hands on----------------------------------->And things are always on their way, in a way and in a way we’re all pleasant bus and train rides away from someplace else we need and/or want to go. This place is both safe and not safe because it is this world. I never classify anywhere here as really unsafe, as that’s a body here that is unsafe to live in. Not anywhere outside. If, for instance, someone were to stab me on the street, it’s not him, or the street or the knife that is unsafe. It’s my body’s ability to bleed----------------------------------->And, as he says, if I were to hold my severed head in my hands, would it be my “I am being held by my body” or “I am holding my head”-------------------->It is here and a color and I liked it that color enough to call it red---------------------------------------------->(This is a paraphrase from a picture with words)--------------->The body is narcissistic by nature. It wants to be the most glowing thing in a room. It strives to be astringent to the mind and weaken its resolve. Out now, by the outside held inward as if it were a secret it’s so not a secret----------> And the emotion now looking back backwards at you and that’s got no name, like if we called everybody “people” when we saw them on the street and said hello: “Hello People, how are you. Is your people okay. Okay, that’s great. Good seeing you People!”--------------------->And, yes, sometimes things are just how they are and that’s only because we call them that way. I can take a shit on the floor and say “I wrote a novel”. I can cut my hair and say “I cut my toenails”. Or, likewise, I can say “I have a hurt and it hurts like crazy” when someone said I looked a little pouty---------->How do you explain a dream that doesn’t make sense to anyone. Do you dream it without words. Do you name it as you dream it and then forget the words by morning, there were never any words there to begin with---------------->It is like this, I suppose: I never know what date they say when they say the word they mean as date---------------->You can pack up a strangeness too neatly and this expression can be picked up at a later date and maneuvered into something else, something more human than this body is capable of and yet is always subjective and this body, as a body does, and is, a failure. The body as inevitable weakness, as a solid sack of potatoes always growing their doom. A body like yours and mine and theirs. A body named as a body, and in being so, being damned to die.

Take a picture. No need to name it.

It’ll last longer.