Friday, September 25, 2009


One route took me through the mall. It was either the mall or the parking lot. Either way the landscape at 8 am fumed, trees spindling out of concrete, bags collecting in the budless branches, a trail of somber brake lights. What is private is fenced, usually concrete, divisive lines thick as speed bumps. Freedom is usually mulitple choice. What is absurd is precisely what people think isn't. This is what Beckett taught me. How? Think of the moment when your focus adjusts to being 13. The awareness that what you inhabit is not voluntary. Think again of formal feeling. A formal feeling comes means many different thinks. (Things, but some typos are more insistant.)

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