Alan Davies 

 

S. Howe says that poetry is redemption from pessimism. 

i felt perma stoned all day yesterday and i suspect it's the allergies given that i slept 9 hours the night before.

Last night I had a dream that myene and I were sharing a huge room, there was a sliding wooden door in between us. a buffer if you will. we were both in our respective beds when I swung it open (the wooden door). my cat, basket ventured on her side of the room. 

Every 8 months or so I have a dream where myene makes a guest appearance. I wonder what my analyst will make of this dream. 

Maybe I dreamt of her last night because Katie annoyed me yesterday. She demands a lot of attention and gets prideful when she doesn't get it. I hope she didn't take me sending her that agnes martin essay on pride and failure the wrong way...

When we wake up in the morning we are inspired to do some certain thing and we do do it. The difficulty lies in the fact that it may turn out well or it may not turn out well. If it turns out well we have a tendency to think that we have successfully followed our inspiration and if it does not turn out well we have a tendency to think that we have lost our inspiration. But that is not true. There is successful work and work that fails but all of it is inspired

"The function of art work is the stimulation of sensibilities, the renewal of memories of moments of perfection."

During my walk home I called Brian and for the 4th time I told him I can't see him. I've been consistently flaking on our plans and he doesn't deserve it but I don't deserve this pressure either. He let slip: "I fell in love with you so fast." 

That pissesd me off...the comment felt manipulative and I ignored him via text.

I'm going to manifest a dream instead. 

polymathic foray into the elemental connectedness of all things

 “Books are weird. You just sit on the couch in your apartment and feel things - these unreasonably deep, cavernous things - and then you look up and it’s the same stupid world. Nothing’s changed, not even you.”

http://www.artandpopularculture.com/Celestial_Emporium_of_Benevolent_Knowledge

borges the analytical language of john wilkins pdf

baader–Meinhof phenomenon

When things are fine. Gabriella talked about the nuisance of being fine when coworkers ask you how you're doing. They always want something north of just fine. 

I started tretinoin a couple of weeks ago in an effort to stay as young as I claim, forever. I keep picking at my face but at least i'm wearing sunblock. Graduated with a masters degree last week. 

did some things that felt like feats. did some other things that felt like misses. 

When I feel myself growing sterner and hardening is when I know I have to stop. 

sentient vaudeville act. 

I feel like a fraud for wanting simplicity but getting bored of it when I have it. Objet petit a ad infinitum. 

Complexity is not the problem, ambiguity is. Simplicity does not solve ambiguity. Only clarity can do that. 

I found a framed picture of Freud at the Big Reuse. The other side of it is a picture of a gorgeous mallard.

There's always a mallard or a malady waiting for us on the other side. 

“What you forget, living here, is that just because you have stopped sinking doesn't mean you're not still underwater.”

― Amy Hempel, Reasons to Live

I made out with a coworker in a tulip garden inside of Pratt's campus. It was past midnight and the security guard stared at us until we left. The next day he says he cannot kiss anymore and it's no love lost– don't tell me we can't do things as if I care. 

In Taoism we are taught that losses are gains.

We talked on the phone for an hour and a half on Monday. A has me contemplating the feeling of a pull from the wind.

every street in Clinton Hill feels libidinously evergreen. 

I can't remember the last time I flew a kite.

Because I've never had rituals or traditions growing up, small tactile symbols and psychic pilgrimages entice me. It's the way we pay adieu and ode to the things we love that matters most (to me).

I don't want anything from the people who have currently decided to love me. Maybe I want to watch 24 Frames by Abbas Kiarostami, be solemn and quiet for Harold Budd, mull over impossible scenarios, improv on noon's eaves.