October!!

• Finally read Cookie Mueller's collected stories,, that final letter it ends on made me cry, from Gordon Stevenson:
  "All we really need is bread, water, love, and work that we enjoy and are good at, and an undying faith in and love of ourselves, our freedom, and our dignity. All that stuff is practically free, so how come it's so hard to get—and how come all these assholes and “professionals,” friends and foes, family and complete strangers are always trying to convince us to follow their dumb rules, give up work in order to be a client of theirs, give up our freedom and dignity to increase their power and control?...I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW that somewhere there is paradise and although I think it's really far away, I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW I'm gonna get there, and when I do, you're gonna be one of the first people I'll send a postcard to with complete description of, and map for locating … Courage, bread, and roses, Gordon
• asemic writing -- could graffiti fit into this category
• there is no equalizer, no equalizing event. ants get into our bathroom. A buys us a drain-stopper for the bigger bodies that will climb in anyways.
• Kiss on the cheek // Bodies that climb in anyways
• today i'm running on 5 hours of sleep, and s & i just had the most surreal experience with this dog we said we'd try to look after. we gave up about 5 hours in, and brought him back to his house -- his owner is away for an indefinite period of time. i've been thinking about m and all the different animals they would petsit for. this man's house felt like a movie set, so specific that it seems like fiction. why is that. did media that depicts old single men's homes influence his decisions? or is that media just portraying something real & universal? obviously i'm oversimpifying and obviously this is inane but i'm so tired and want to share with you. the house was full of dolls, puppets, one of those monkeys with cymbals, a marilyn monroe statue in her white dress with her cleavage really big. how can that be real? it's like what i think reality is is marilyn monroe the person, but what reality actually is is marilyn monroe the statue, you know? the dog got out from under the fence and i thought i was going to have a full meltdown, his little body lost in the dark on our busy road, this old man's fears come true. we got him back and dropped him off, and i feel like my head and heart are picked over. i made curry today and the dog sat in my lap while i ate; i took a couple selfies with us positioned like this and thought of myself as someone who does something kind for a neighnor they've never met. a man at the hardware store told me the types of gloves he wore while working in an industrial freezer for hours at a time. i didn't buy what he suggested cause my job is not that intense. penny wants to go outside but i can't imagine letting another animal out into the night right now. i'm full of a very specific kind of fear i don't feel very often, it's sort of mixed with this perverse sense of gratitude. s & i hugged for a long time before she left about 20 minutes ago.
• "It will serve to show how articulated language comes into being. I let the vowels fool around. I let the vowels quite simply occur, as a cat miaows. Words emerge, shoulders of words, legs, arms, hands of words. Au, oi, uh. One shouldn't let too many words out. A line of poetry is a chance to get id of all the filth that clings to this accursed language, as if put there by stockbrokers' hands, hands worn smooth by coins. I want the word where it ends and begins. Dada is the heart of words. Each thing has its word, but the word has become a thing by itself. Why shouldn't I find it? Why can't a tree be called Pluplusch, and Pluplubasch when it has been raining? The word, the word, the word outside your domain, your stuffiness, this laughable impotence, your stupendous smug-ness, outside all the parrotry of your self-evident limitedness. The word, gentlemen, is a public concern of the first importance." - Hugo Ball's Dada Manifesto
• "The language of God had no need of human language to make itself understood. Our much-praised psychology does not go that far. Better the sunken, groaning muteness of fish. The language of God has time, a great deal of time, and peace, a great deal of peace. That is how it differs from the language of men. Its words are above sound and script. Its letters flicker in the curves of fate that suddenly cut through our consciousness with a flood of light.
  The divine language has no need of human approval. It sows its signs and waits. Everything human is only an occasion for it. Its law of operation is: always say the same. ... The darkness of this language forgets all parentheses. Its bold accent cannot be comprehended. When it seizes man, it becomes storm against its will, and often a whip of the one affected by it, excess of experience, a sea of tears, or a flash of lightning and thunder.
  From the breath of divine language comes the raiment of the cherubim on the silken curtain before the tabernacle. In its syntax heaven and earth intertwine. Its measure extends through death and birth. Its reflection is fire and light; its stammers are miracles. ..." - Hugo Ball's Byzantinisches Christentum
• Anybody know if there's an English translation of that full text? I've been skimming his diaries, found this portion translated and explicated by whoever, but I want the whole text...
• HOW TO WRITE IN TANDEM WITH TIME. HOW TO TOUCH THAT. HOW TO BE A PATIENT OF TIME.
• I am by no means obligated by my brain to send all the unsolicited emails I wish to send. This urge of mine seems to be akin to my tendency to stare.
• Some things are latent and at times I am evil.
• Did I say it first to you or to myself?