Date: Sat, 24 Jan 1998 13:59:45 -0800
Subject: Re: lasso parabilis ovis


The habitat of a Nomos narrows and does not, is depleted and isn't. 
It's continual interruption and revision, like the 'pre' of Ponge, and
is  everywhere, or more properly anywhere, if only we become less
interested in what others imagine they provide than in continual
supplement.  
Significantly, this is a 'middle way,' a delicate fondling which can at
best only deny even as it betrays distinctions.

Listening to one's breath or watching one's dreams not from the outside,
but along that periphery, one allows the strange visitation of one's
nomos, daemon.  Recognition becomes, tainting the edges of a sovereignty
that continually replenishes itself through becoming, and touched by the
heat of slightest per/pre-ception, dries, crumbles, and falls away.

Is Hegel's terrain not always contemporaneous with 'gadgetry' we are
ineluctably never 'without;' not always 'behind' our every move, and is
not movement itself inevitably a kind of desertification?  With every
'glance' or touch, even the suggestion of a nomos is 'emptied.'

The edges of distraction themselves harden into concern, but are
simultaneously cooled if not regenerated by breezes of unexpected
desire  generated by the slightest attention given to unlimited
emptiness, shadow, or night; yes, a "wanting [or willingness] to
forget", and necessarily an act of passion [suffering, anguish (of
recognition?].  We forget to relieve our passion/existence, and to
identify it which  consigns it to death.

Suffering designates, and designation suffers and splinters, which
itself alone allows that fractious infiltration of darkness and
forgetting necessary to any moment of ease: unconsciousness.

How do you know you "long to become the unpresentable other"?  When do
you?  

I sense writing as a variety of 'finishing' facing becoming; generating
desire and change through 'aggitation straying' over limits where
'a-more' hits with the 'full force' of its pre-presence; a nothingness
impossible to 'bear' down upon.  Passion contradicts communication while
communication betrays passion by designating, recognizing, or using it.

Acknowledging chaos 
to deny it with a nod,

Don Socha