« August 2006 | Main | October 2006 »

September 12, 2006

"[reality]"

I used to wish that I could argue math was neither logical nor intrinsically empirical. Now, I doubt that I could even argue the definition of "empirical", or of anything else at all. I wanted to prove that numbers are not fact but contract. 1+2=3, because you said so and I had to agree. Maybe this feeling is because sequence (or at least accumulation) is hierarchal. And the symbols: definitions defining only the idea of definition; Otherwise empty. 1,2,3 defining only each other. And again, only because I said.

3. Red light. I was on my bike balanced on one tip toe and one arm posted. The other hand held the coffee. Centinela’s sidewalk; oh my god. I had kept most of the coffee. I remembered how my dad taught me, when I was little, to ride and hold a cup: by not slowing down, me, not willing to sacrifice the juice. Back to the toe. Angela said she couldn’t ride a bike because she doesn’t like her feet not able to touch the ground. Did I need to be on toe? No,…half-toe. Half-toe: I remembered a dance warm-up I did every day for a Summer. In this moment of no-routine, I thought of the imaginary universes we agree to for a time. I thought: people have said that I work in an imaginary world. A construction. There are infinite possible worlds/constructions. But, its less about the worlds than about the belief: doubt suspended. If a world is pretend, then there must be a real, not just a series of equally theoretical "possible worlds". But, from the ball of my toe, having steped outside, from doubt I have learned to see. That doubt is doubt. and belief is real, if only for a minute. Green light.

2. 9-11 Thinking through my mind that I don’t think I have anyone not forgiven but myself and…hmm, maybe no grudge against any act…except for kind-of against everyone and everything. . . because I often find myself afraid. 9-11 doesn't bring up issues of forgiveness, but I did have a question of explaination. smith wears his crimson robes by choice. dharma often seems like such a practical magic, moving from effect to cause but also like a deeper magic that words and logic can't touch. but, the question stood: if, Mahayana Buddhism doesn’t believe in collective karma, was it then the karma of each individual who died? Physical plane: yes, there is collective karma—you enter into social contract and may die for the sins of the group. “physical plane”=there is no "physical plane": division. maybe it is both: there is no collective karma and no individual karma. Because, this is not a collection of individuals. What would make me even question the particulars of the particulars who died? Seperation---as though anyThing belongs to anyOne. In Mahayana language, I think I could say it this way: past lives are infinite. Because of that we have been everything to everyone an infinite amount of times and they have been everything to us an infinite amount of times. So. When what goes around comes around that has been going and coming for infinity…what does it matter what face you are wearing or what angle you are standing at that makes it appear to come or go?

1. "I am calling you not as a lover and not as a friend" , she said. "Then who are you calling me as?"
If I don’t think too hard, by my count right now, there are three women who sometimes I wonder the story: did I smother them out of my life. The energy between us, certainly karmic, "my" neediness reflected, this time, in "my" particular pond. Two out of the three [I] got to talk to this week after no talking for a long time. And out of pasts too tangled to ever sort out, found that the greatest thing you could ever do for a friend is not be there with them. [I] was there, but [I] wasn’t there. The history may be in the energy, but the reaction in the personality. [I] love [you] deeper than [this bullshit] enough to be here for [you] and just be here now.
"its like, remember how you told me that sometimes you..." "no. I'm trying not to be here. but I hear you."
I often feel I need to muster up a self so I have something to offer you.

0. Emma Goldman was an anarchist. Emma Goldman talked about free-love, communism and autonomy. Emma Goldman married a "woman's doctor" and said stuff about –him- unlocking the magic of her body, and –him- teaching her things she could never have known. How irresponsible! I judged her. I collapsed anarchy with feminism, and collapsed feminism back into my own judgement. Maybe those weren’t her values and it was wrong for me to make her wrong. Or maybe they were her values and wrong was exactly what she needed. Maybe the more beautifully and perfectly we construct our world, the more we crave it coming crashing down. Maybe that’s the only way we could know its real. Or maybe wrong was just really sexy. Or maybe a person can't be a theory. or maybe if you don’t get the paradox, you don’t get it at all…

Prime. It has been said that my arguments are semantic, and there is a sense in which that is my point. But. I remember a time when words are not cages. Maybe logic can't defeat logic, but I can speak to your negative space. Find a narrow way through you and errode at the edges. Carve out a place in you that I can sit.