Cogitational Independence
The topics under intense surveillance may be freely talked about, with zero proficiency in talking about them when I am honest to the extreme of my inability to talk about them, the absurdum ist realisticum, plays a role here, I use that famous Tertullian quote with the word absurd in it here.
I won't ever go into some things here, for it is just too personal, but in vague terms I wish to make it as clear as possible that the saintly topic I feel drawn to, is an edifice a million miles above where I cogitate upon them.
This is meaning here that I've fallen so far below the sort of standards usual for people to think about them, let alone believe them.
But I handle these kinds of material, with unclean hands I blaspheme it by touching upon it. My intention with it all feels at times deadly, and sinister.
I wish to use words in a novel Sense, that what could be conveyed would be absolutely surprising, there is that hope I hold out on, that with the delirium force of unnaturalness, a cumulative trajectory would land the words into paradise, the realm where symbolic language meets the reality of physics.
And with that I think I ought to lie down a bit, and dream about hanging around a bakery all day long,and then going to posh Mozart performances in the evening, which is a memory incantation of Eric Rohmer's Bakery Girl of Monceau and My Night at Maud's.
I won't ever go into some things here, for it is just too personal, but in vague terms I wish to make it as clear as possible that the saintly topic I feel drawn to, is an edifice a million miles above where I cogitate upon them.
This is meaning here that I've fallen so far below the sort of standards usual for people to think about them, let alone believe them.
But I handle these kinds of material, with unclean hands I blaspheme it by touching upon it. My intention with it all feels at times deadly, and sinister.
I wish to use words in a novel Sense, that what could be conveyed would be absolutely surprising, there is that hope I hold out on, that with the delirium force of unnaturalness, a cumulative trajectory would land the words into paradise, the realm where symbolic language meets the reality of physics.
And with that I think I ought to lie down a bit, and dream about hanging around a bakery all day long,and then going to posh Mozart performances in the evening, which is a memory incantation of Eric Rohmer's Bakery Girl of Monceau and My Night at Maud's.
46-50, MNew