centering, askewing, protruding

be sure to //breathe//

for the longest time the laterality/internality/introspectivity of not writing, but rather maintaining internal pluralogs, was simply a matter of immediacy. I can think instantly, momentaneuosly. I cannot write so. however, //writing// — no — manifesting the pluralog — yes — is a cosmogenerative process in itself. it is not compelling; it is reassuring in the dangerous sense.

the resulting artifacts are strange. they lack the slimy vaporeous essence of thinking and performing in thought through the mind: they’re //there//. this distinctive exercise in writing will try and experiment with how

the artifacts are. just as menard's quixote, the mutability of sameness will be prodded. What changes when the artifacts are revisited constantly?

are ruins still organic and alive even if they’re not perceived as such?

How high can discarded thoughts pile? what rests in its shadow?