but this hyperbolic quasi-hypnotic beeping is beside the point.
the point is that i need to return to my thesis today, having received the latest round of revisions from the professor who unwittingly inspired the project itself. years have passed since then, and it's odd to think about all the tiny conversations and offhand comments and spurious questions we ask during the course of any given day.
what karmas are sown without our knowing?
November 7, 1999 – January 18, 2000
my yin and i had dinner at a friend's home last night, or at least dinner at the home of a friendly acquaintance and her husband. it was a nice meal, good food, pleasant conversation – two hours sped by like minutes.
we talked about distractions, perception, and paradox; two dogs, one black cat, and one talking bird ate their dinners in silence. i like to think of it as a metaphysical pick-up game, with four humans on one side and four animals on the other.
who is the bearer of wisdom, at whose expense is it borne?
June 10, 2001 – October 1, 2001
i woke this morning to the rain and the clouds and pesky thoughts of my thesis arguing with my mantra. no resolution was reached, and the sun rose unimpeded. i know it's there, i cannot see it. what is the basis of my knowledge? what is the experience of my belief? the pull of gravity is undeniable, yet unspeakable without abstraction.
this is the double-bind of language.
words are frail objects, tiny fragments of our self that are both the source and obfuscator of meaning. they create experience, they veil experience – they are the flawed, fractured artifacts of an Imaginary wHoleness. they are the best thing we have...
what karmas are sewn without our knowing?
September 14 – September 27, 2007
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