(0) This is About what “it” is fucking
About
(1) Today, I Begin Recording Baby’s first Autistic Steps
(2) To Conceive of this
Movement further: I am, at the Point,
where Visibility and Collapsing, are Becoming both Intolerable Notions and the Allusion, to a Proposition itself, is
just another Kind of fucking Absence
(3)
There will Come a Day, when the Body’s Volition will be the Repetition of an Offering of Demolition
(4)
“She was standing in our Bedroom and Swearing at Me while getting all Emotional
over her Donut”
(5)
A Coupling is a Series of Frozen Recognitions
(6)
The Answer: it was this City descending into the late Autumn Shade
(7)
The Question: How to let it feel more
Precisely
(8)
“Absolutely, Mercilessly, Sadly, Finally…”
(9)
To Project this Literally: as much,
as (it), may (it) be, the Tense of
the Room the Moment she Leaves
(10) Listen up Bucko:
I am the One in Charge of the Descriptive
Discharge
(11) -------------àpress—(in)—hereß-----------------
(12) I Want you, to Tell me, how it Feels, to be Buried, under
the Figural Displeasure, of the
Person, that Begins, with the Signature: “Tends
to Reduce”
(13) Outside of our Window, do you Notice how the
Horizon resembles a Grave beneath this Morning’s Rain—[?]
(14) At the First Step, You Encountered: a
Disaster, itself: “So to Speak…”
(15) “I was still Holding Her, but now, I Began to
Shift, just so, so that my Right Hand
moved sore (-ily) to the Back of her Waist, or rather, her Lumbar, so that I
could lead us into a Walk; it’s a “Don’t
You Ever Remember” Movement away from that Moment before, until We enter at the End of this
Phrase, where I would Arch her right
Back, pulling Her, as if Apart, with Me, so that We would Begin, to Slip
together, enough-so, so to Make this
Movement a Matter of Erasing, in a Moment, and then Resuscitating, in a Moment: her Balance against Mine. And
Thus: from on (in) through, there Erupts that Precious, though aggressively Insistent
Nudge-in-the-Mind------à“Remember now, how we used
to have so much Fun” translating to “Not
a Care in this City” and back now then, Again:
we Sling together, in the Present Tense, tumbling-into,
something Fast, something Odd. And this
Stops and Starts, repetitively through Her Hesitations and then Obliging Starts
and it Becomes that Matter of Rediscovering, how Perfectly we Work together, as
Then, as Again: that little Dance we would Enact of Slipping over each
Other’s Steps, the Side-by-Side Swipes and little Phraseologies of Movements, both Stuttered and Butterly: And it was in this way, that I would Attempt to
Communicate to Her, from my Body in-through-to
Hers, how Immediate, how Pronounced and Striking, were our Bodies when Dealt
this Deal of Moving together, connected, as Now, as Always” –Boris Izsus
(16) That December: Our Little
Boy was found Lying, Dead, in the Snow
(17) To be Absorbed into the Thuggerdly Work
(18) To Produce, has always, been a Matter of a Natural Stake of Existence
(19) It is only then, when I can Show that I’ve
Understood your Reasoning: when I can Act (out) in the Sense, of it being-your-Sense-in, i.e. when I can Ravage, when I can Parasitic myself upon,
when I can Mistranslate and utterly Deform the original Intention,
into so many Personal, Internal and Diverse Acts, so to Diminish your Stamp by
my own fucking stamp
(20) This is no longer About “being About” or even “The Subject” in the
Classical Sense, but Rather: this is About,
Me being, on the Toilet and reading the Sports Section of the Chicago Sun
Times, on a Sunday Morning, Softly.