Some gloaming where projection dances into induction, some place minds like defoliants call home; a library of eulogies to inchoate hearts and tender solipsists

not looking

is the same as looking

like

branches

are the same as roots

(remembering, though, ‘same’nesses in nature as the birth-image of Thesaurus; the nonexistence of all synonymy)

"Every day the urge grows stronger to get hold of an object at very close range by way of its likeness, its reproduction. Unmistakably, reproduction as offered by picture magazines and newsreels differs from the image seen by the unarmed eye. Uniqueness and permanence are as closely linked in the latter as are transitoriness and reproducibility in the former.”

"the unarmed eye" Benjamin.

the armed eye? experience of life through tumblr or something.

I begin to think cleaning - all cleaning (weeding/landscaping included etc) - is pathological: a pageant of denial, a refusal to confront the abyss of being, of what time always insists on; what is, in its depths, the only thing time can Mean

Cleaning as totem not only of domesticity, of stasis of space- but of kinesis of time. The plastic bag's speech on 30 rock is one of the most intelligent things I've ever heard on television.