The adult trauma centre. The donkey caravan. Unwanted's here. I am your nurse. I am your open ears. I channel your I underestimated vision. I live your under-recognised fleet. I moan for you and mourn my own  'pure identity'. I chop my golden hair and try to talk like you. I sing as if I couldn't talk atall. Unembellished I listen knowing that when I speak people don't hear. My eyes feel with water as they try to convince me that my conscience is clear. I love you, and I want to be you. My dance is bland in comparison to your loopy love for feet. I'll meet you deer. Even if the forest is open to people 'like me'... (Right of passage people!!) But not everyone else knows how to be the ground. On this day, on everyday, my ghost, my fantom other... Try not to fear. I am on my way to you.

Can you hear me
Can you hear me

each moment is manageable only by the instants you look at me. each little death is the risk i take to make you better, and one more step i take to delete myself and become at one with your longing, i'm not sure about anything else. except. i know what it is to be incapacitated by love. and tough arrogance or lack of brings me closer to the pit of you of me. that place where we are no different. because we both dont know anything about the future s and our pasts mix so that... who becomes who? if i didnt recognise the longing i feel to recuperate your agonies i wouldnt come along looking for you thinking i am somethingyouve never seen nor met before. i know i know you dont know how to trust in what i am saying, so dont. trust your decisions towards me.

Well you burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms
And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
Would keep you unharmed

you blow the life around her
and let her dance in it

I do not think that the other is, I speak to him. He is my partner in the heart of the relation which to say, I have neglected the universal being that he incarnates in order to hold on to the particular being that he is.

who's he?

he describes insomnia in terms of experience of the horror of the Il y a, of the space not empty but filled with darkness, in which consciousness is given over to the night, submerged, depersonalised. In the night the things of the day are reduced to indeterminacy, they 'sweat being'

The sense of the human is not to be measured by presence, not even by self-presence. The meaning of proximity exceeds the limits of ontology, of the human essence, and of the world. It signifies by way of transcendence and the relationship-to-God-in-me (l'a-Dieu-en-moi) which is the putting of myself into question. The face signifies in the fact of summoning, of summoning me. in its nudity or its destitution, in everything that is precarious in questioning, in all the hazards of mortality - to the unresolved alternative between Being and Nothingness, a questioning which, ipso facto, summons me .The Infinite in its absolute difference witholds itself from presence in me; the Infinite does not come to meet me in a contemporaneousness like that in which noesis and noema meet simultaneously together, nor in the way in which the interlocutors responding to one another may meet. The Infinite is not indifferent to me. It is in calling me to other men that transcendence concerns me. In this unique intrigue of transcendence, the non-absence of the Infinite is neither presence, nor re-presentation. Instead, the idea of the Infinite is to be found in my responsibility for the Other.s

'Beyond Intentionality' Levinas

To love her is, in the Spirit of self-control, to allow her a free space of becoming. To love her is to remember that God gives her life and a task in the Spirit. To love her is to cultivate a free space of silence between us so that we might live and work together according to the Spirit's intention. To love her is to acknowledge the freedom of the one who lives and breathes in the Spirit.

says the philosopher, says the psychoanalyst, says the artist, says 'where's the all the music gone', says, has a bad time sleeping, says, feels at home in hospital, says caring nature, says adoptive tendancies - new children, says a new world is supposed to be opening, says there are people everywhere trying to guide me, what to do, says no sleep, no time, no time for un concentration, says its a figure of speech, I wanna dance, says I don't like the way you move your lips, we're done. says your a healer, your a unique personality, you'll drive him crazy, says you've wasted so much time, says time is the essence of squander.

old notes.

these wanderings take you towards the Other, towards others, be they your historical contemporaries, or, in the exploration of the 'I', those others others of the I itself. And within that journey lies another that tells the story of the quest of someone making her way in the dark, with her eyes closed, towards the light, in her joys, her suffering, her condition, her crimes too.

You take great risks along the way, entering territory where you don't know what you'll find.

listens to itself being written and retraces its own steps, that re-inscribes

We are feeding off ancient discourses

cultivated like a piece of land

throws out words like bait

What

As long as a woman is possessed and allows herself to be held, body + texts, the the interior of the old, paternal & capitalist structure that reduces and prostitutes her, and as long as a woman subjects herself to the law which recognises her only as a merchants object, she is forbidden to think, to progress, to produce the extraordinary, the original and the life.

the capacity that one has of being more intelligent than oneself

The unconcious strivings of ordinary life often hinder a person at a time when he ought to show improvement

How do you know action when you are not a man of action? We know action only by action. We can understand science only by science, form by form, meaning by meaning. There is no traveller on this road of action: if we act how can people perceive it and see us on the road? Indeed this action is not fasting and prayer. These are forms of action. Action is inward and deals with meaning.

the other is the main character

You talked about Dura's work as being something that you could hardly recall; a kind of writing full of power that was instantly draining away. And Focault replied, 'yes your right; it's a kind of memory without recollection.' I think then you spoke about loss in writing, that for Duras the loss is never ending, there is always more to lose.

it's about you and your relation to looking at something

To dance is to live. What I want is a school of life. 

Isadora Duncan.

dance a different dance

you almost killed me honey

So live your life my queen, and don't be afraid

you are beautiful and you are alone

I'm going in

de·sert¹/dəˈzərt/

verb abandon (a person, cause, or organization) in a way considered disloyal or treacherous.

des·ert²/ˈdezərt/

noun a dry, barren area of land, especially one covered with sand, that is characteristically desolate, waterless, and without vegetation.

adjective like a desert.

de·sert³/dəˈzərt/

noun a person's worthiness or entitlement to reward or punishment.

Thus the gods fashioned her, delicate and ethereal as the mists of a summer's night and yet plump like a ripened fruit, light as a bird in spite of the fact that she carried a world of craving, light because of the play of forces is unified at the invisible center of a negative relationship in which she related to herself...

Regina and Felice - In repetition of Her

More than me

if i were with you
i would stay here
forever
i would need go nowhere
no mountain
would impress me
no culture
could interest me
more than yours

no touch could taunt me
more than yours
no look could make me at home
more than yours.

and i
i would make a promise
to be, every single mouth in the world

i would learn, every dance that ever existed
so that nothing, nowhere
no corner of the earth
would you find more exotic.

and nothing,

could seduce you to leave



/More than me

every little

If the mountain had gone up her skirt
he had come back down to create a storm -
her body could manage,
and keep the pain within her
for a little longer

live with her and through her
til the physical sensation had passed
and she were light again

she had felt his violence
like a cowhorn riche,
from the beginning

from the way he
spoke

from his every response