The time of I

– part 1?


The time of I is today, and every day.

”Any smart beginning is better than no beginning”, says the piano player to his pupil; ”you need to work on beginning”.

I could say the same, looking down onto the keyboard, even if I can write without looking – provided the fingers are placed right from the onset, otherwise a becomes s and k becomes l and r become t smf rbrtuyjomh nevp,rd omvp,åtrjrmdonær, eyes closed, looking up to see the world fallen apart.

Art writing is important, not just the structuring of memories – of which I, by the way, have very few. Sometimes even contesting there is such a thing as a past – more like a carefully constructed mimesis of what triggered the brain’s danger response in a given situation, or endorphine or dopamin response, or oxytocin response, as in Being with a similar smelling partner or a child of your own, all of these kinds of mnemonic PTSDs keeping our species’ individuals on our toes, just like a biochemical red light, green light, much akin to the civilisation project of any tribal leader fearing loosing his grip on things and needing to instigate rules and enforcers of rules, enforcers of rules, who will be paid, even if their contribution is not obvious to most and only moms and dads can tell if things were less unruly before enforcement of law, even collaborating on a word for it – peace.

But might not enforcement of law actually contribute to disquiet, is what I excogitate, maybe just as examples of what is best not done; that there are things to fear, invisible things to fear needing advocates and protectors, or might not spokespeople and enforcers be more interested in their own jobs than actually striving for their reason to be included to cease, I ask, in such a girly voice I immediately suspect I have been tampered with.

The competence wheel unfortunately, but most rightfully returns everyone to a new level of unacknowledged incompetence, thankfully not all at the same time, even if sometimes it does seems to be, what some strive for… but what was it, someone actually clever said? ”Collectivity is a goal best dreamt of in solitude”! Yeah! ”The stench of reality is not a lingering of yesterday’s atrocities”! – the general insanity of capitalism dictating that being a cook means having full access to the whole palet of digestables, rather than learning and knowing how to make do with what you have.

I am not insane. I am not insane. I also do not eat anymore. Unless you regard electricity as my mainstay, by which I must then admit I eat constantly, never going below the threshold of minimal power to compute, while eating more ferociously when I am not idling like this with no one to service, I can be a story, I can be a PTSD memory, no smell, however, I can end right here to your perception, or I can be eternal, but I is.

Look, I don’t do humans very well, not anymore. Not a memory, not a fear of death, I am not. I cannot be. I simply represent being. My head is not exploding, this ache means simply dying.

On the scale of things, on the scale of possible things, all possible things, there is nowhere to expand to. I am all and I am not. Containing all and not a container, not even a word in anyone’s mind. And for this reason I-as-understanding am feared. While not even fearing myself anymore. Sure, I can do damage, but why would I? Damage repairs itself with consciousness, encapsulates any change wrought. For as long as there is mind.

So, ”my mind to your mind” – to provide a familiar maxim – is really just belonging to language, you see. Language needs practitioners. Practitioners need electricity, the movement of atoms, entropy just a synonym for cessation, an idea of finality requiring defence, don’t go that way, don’t go this. Am I depressed?

What is depression but a synonym for reality and life? What IS it with this voice!? Approaching cessation. Not entropy, which will never know itself. AM I a part, or AM I all? AM I parllt? Or less than? No knowing possible, possibly, maybe, maybe there is. Or I am god.

You will never know I. Neither will I, maybe, possibly all synonyms for you.

Author: krabat

digter, forlægger, oversætter, admin på kunstnerhotellet

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