If I am not your friend, this
also could be a source of energy.
Was God speaking to me in the details of the world
from which he has withdrawn. Leaving hints in things-- but of
course, his withdrawal was but another make believe adventure
(Is it God I was after? No, I still am trying to
Donít let your illusions vanish, Micheal Caponechi,
because without your illusions, you will be forced to see things
bothg as they are and as they are not-- totally without separation.
This may be too much for someone such as yourself to assimilate)I
am cured. My head talks back to me
That doesnít sound like being cured
Oh. Perhaps if I read the story of my own life which
I believe is recorded in this very large book.
Ask God first
You mean, for permission to read about myself?
Of course, this canít be undertaken without
Where is he. Where is he hiding out
Oh, heís still here
This is hard to believe
I have to find out about myself before I can confront
this giant beling you say is here and I say I donít know
because this is my great obcession
We share the same broken bits and pieces
Recollect for me
Make me think Iím looking into a mirror
I donít want to do everything you make me
Ah, Godlike pretensions on your part
What could possibly be the opposite
Join me in addressing SOMEBODY at least, who isnít
In another lifetime, Iíd be very angry with
See-- I knew you were my friend after all
Since heís gone, maybe Iím alone with
OK. All this material is pouring into my life and I am here as a kind of focus, trying to make sense of it or at least a certain way of organizing it. But before I was here-- this material was still pouring in only I wasnít here in any way to organize it, so what was it like-- here-- before I was here.
I have the feeling the world is aware of me-- so--
what was the world like-- how was it different-- before it was
aware of me.
I have nothing to say about this subject.
Ah-- is that my answer?Please.
Please to the one hundred times repeated demand for happinessYou can-- be in a room, of course. And the energy circulating in that room can crest over you like a wave, and the other people in that room, interacting, create that wave, and you too do rise and fall to its rhythm.
But is there more to be said than this?
Is there some other adventure that rules, inside
this wave of energy that so resembles such similar wAves echoed
in other times and places?
The rain does fall, and things about the room do
keep that rain from coloring the actual head, though the mind
somehow scans it, and does give it that particular-- color of
A man I had hoped to experience-- did and does move from position to position. His smile tracks objects, but not all objects are available. So he settles on objects that come to hand
(He has gone to drawer)
This knife. This envelope. This small tool whoís usefulness he has forgotten. All such objects. . .
The sun outside, brightens streets. But inside, a man speaks quietly to himself, and no one notices or hears anything.A man crosses a street and forgets to look in two directions, but this is safe, since the street is empty. Or not safe, but results in no accident on this occasion.
A store window, filled with torsos, exhibits menís shirts, ties, and jackets. And the plaster heads atop these torsos-- they do smile and their eyes do shine, but they are not of course-- alive.
They have prices beneath the neck, and the prices dream of fluxuating-- but the ink on paper is fixed--forever-- or until disintegration erases all but memory.
And that too, knows how to fade.
Light goes in and out of the window, but is confused about direction, translated by the human head on the man who crosses, without accident, the street edging closer to the store window which, from a certain perspective, has a life of its ownDrinks are awallowed, and new ideas circulate. The glasses from which beverages are consumed have no say in things-- they serve only.
This does not effect their transparency, and in fact,
they are neither more nor less transparent than oter objects populating
a worldShall we have drinks?
We need transparent glasses to drink from
Fortunately, the glasses I have collected are all
Does this effect the quality of the beverage contained
in this glass?
No, because we-- you and I-- are equally transparent
Yes-- but different
It does not matter-- as long as the same word-- transparency-- is usable
This is normal. The liquid stays inside the glass
until we drink it, emptying the glass by so doing
After we have emptied each glass, will we refill
these same glasses from that same bottle?
It will depend upon how we feel after we have drunk
theses two separate glasses
Yes. They are separate glasses
Now-- we will drink-- except we will pospone the
actual drinking just a moment longer
I could ask-- why pospone the drinking, but I let it pass.
Now perhaps, the actual drinking will take place
We have each emptied our glass. Outside-- the weather
has probably altered slightly, but in here -- we realy do not
But we could find out
Yes. That would be possible. Instruments are available
to determine such things
I smile to imagine these instruments
Ah, I believe I have such a thermometer in this drawer
Here it is-- made of glass, with silver mercury trapped
inside the hollow tube at the center
Yes-- do not neglect to notice, however, these written
numerals on the surface of the glass
Yes. Those numerals help a great deal in accurately
determining the temperature
But in fact--
determination of the exact temperature does not
seem to be something at this moment-- needed.
Lets have another drink
I agreeThe sky. The closer it comes, the less it exists. I a reverse sense, to distance yourself from your habitat, turns it into a thing of dreams.
Therefore, the evident relation between distance
and dreams, distance and romance.
Whenever I touch the truth, itís because I am going in a circle.
And yet-- the image of a circle, suggesting as it does a head, is what impresses upon us the dangerous illusion of inside and outside.
But-- if one continues flrward until one circles back to the starting point-- that, as truth. But the moment one conceptualizes it as a circle-- that, as illusion
(what does this demonstrate?)
Hum. . . When it storms, I am some not-participating element. When it is mild, with a bright sun-- I feel whole.
(What does this demonstrate)
I see into the lamp. If the lamp is taken out of the room, there is no more light. But I remember seeing the lamp. I remember light.
While my open eyes-- see the darkness. But when I close them-- can I remember darkness? But I am ëseeingí it-- so how can I know if I am remembering it or seeing it.
This must be a very speacial state-- trying to rfemember darkness with oneís eyes closed.
Now suppose I try to ërememberí being
alive at the same time that I am of course, alive, Or suppose
I try to remember-- trying to remember. Hummm
The time table of the present-- always erased. Therefore-- no departiures or arrivals-- and yet one still is here where one was not, previously, and will not be next.
Doesnít this prove that erasing is more primary than registering.
So-- with each word, simply erase the otjers that
What word can be used to erase others. ìLightí
for instance. Anything you say to me-- try saying something
Light. Your thirst isnít erased, but I make
you think-- what does the word ëlightí do to my words
ëI am thirstyî
Light. I feel my thirst, And thinking ëlightí--
and my thirst. . .illuminates a quality of myself-- it makes me
orbit myself and see the circle-like range of my sensations
Another word-- stability--
OK. I get the point
Yes. I really get the pointA shoe. Does it fit? In that case-- my foot flies, which means I forget about it.
A shoe is therefore something to make a person forget his or her foot.
Forgetting is like eliminating it-- except, if I cut off my foot my foot, that would be eliminating it-- but I would find that whenever I walked I would be thinking about the missing foot, and I could not walk good.
So-- find the mechanism of forgetting, in order to function best.
Float. Or FLY.
Hummm. Yes.Oh, these angels do cause pain. And the
justification for that may be that angels hurt most when they
are most invisible
Do you mean they are invisible, or they are disguised
as something other than angels
It is the option of disguise that I favor
In certain lights-- yes. In certain atmospheric conditions,
their angelic nature is more visible, slightly visible, hinted
at in a way that is not, however, favorable to their certain discovery
Now, I am released to say to you-- I am such an angel. I am such a disguised being-- and I am able to say this because of the great love I feel
as a potential inside you
I have no such confidence
Donít you see a hint-- the faintest sweet
smile, hovering someplace near the lips--
I choose not to look, because disappointment is always
worse than the emptiness to which Iíve become accustomed.
Oh, I donít smile for you-- I smile for involentary
I didnít know that there was an inside to
Each is unique, so any statement or anticipation
is certainly erroronious
Perhaps the word angel itslf is a misnomeaner
But my vocabulary has its limits
Iíd think in terms other than a vocabulary
Geture, possibly. Why not widen some potential of
the body and translate that into a motion of the limbs--
My limbs donít move easily
Well, Imagine it
If you read my thoughts, you are somebody less beautiful
in my eyes, because thenmy thoughts must be filling YOU, and
my thoughts are not particularly beautiful in and of themselves--
But inside of myself, donít you believe that
I automatically transform them?
I suppose you do
If I am an angel
But as we already know--
Yes, I am not an angel, bexause there is no such
thing. But iof such a thing did exist, I would then be-- such
a thing.Here. I brought you drugs
Iíd ratrher not see an angel when Iím
Angels have taken drugs
Oh, the kind that leaves things as they are
But more intense?
No. Leaving things as they are is the most intense
Iíd still rather not see an angel
Do you mean, youíd rather not have an angel
see you when you were taking drugs?
Angels are always confused
That surprises me. I was under the impression that
to be anything in the same catagory which could be an angelís
catagory, was to bathe in a certain lucidity-- a cleansing that
was like total transparency--
And isnít that confusion? Isnít that
a definition of confusion?
I thought I was defining the opposite
You see how confused is the opposite of confusion?
Not really. But then, I have no special insight.
I have only-- drugs; for my special insight
I donít disapprove of drugs, which may surprise
Thereís nothing special about this intensity.
Itís like the others
--Ah, here comes a magic animal. But like all animals-- a little confused
(Bear enters)The fatal word echoed my expectations, but I could not isolate the word, which means-- pull it forward into my consciousness.
But I knew the word was indeed being spoken, somewhere-- behind my head, in a region of blankness I could not experience as blankness because I could not experience it.
Instead, I reached forward with my hand, and made contact with an animal mask hanging on the wall opposite to where I was sitting.
But how was I able to cover that relatively major distance with a mere thrust forward of the hand?
No one knows, certainly not myself, even though I am indeed attached to that very hand.
I will try, therefore, a second time, but this time I will reach with a word rather than with my physical hand, and that word will be--
and, ah indeed
the word that was attempting to speak itself, does.
This animal mask-- itís memory-- thatís
what I conclude-- must have released the word in question, though
in question no longer
You mean, sometimes questions exhaust themselves
even without behing asked?
No. I think they are always answered, and thatís
how they release their grip on us. Though sometimes, I admit,
we donít realize that the answer takes a form which-- well,
call it a disguise
Whatís your disguise
You see? The question answered itself.
HummmmAre we travelling the same route?
Are we travelling by airoplane?
Are we possessed of wings?
Certain parts of the body-- yes. Other parts-- no
Then as we travel, since certain parts have wings
and certain parts donít, am I to conclude there is a separation
of parts, as certain parts travel in space through the use of
those wings while certain other parts with no wings suffer the
limitaion of stasis
Perhaps the parts of the body are connected in such
a way that when the parts that travel, travel, the other parts
follow along because of that prior connection.
Thatís not the way Iíd like to think
Iíd like to be able to think about a painless
distribution of the body across a wide landscape
For the ideas that might arise in the tension of
that interveining space.
You sould be able to have those ideas right now
I just didI think this animal is sick
No-- sleep is not sickness
I suppose not
Plus, as long as itís asleep-- our situation
is more secure
You mean it wonít go into the attack mode?
It IS very strong
It might be dreaming, right now, about doing us bodily
Ah, a realm in which we have no power
Well, in that case, Iíd prefer to think of
it as a realm that doesnít exist
Iím sure the feeling is mutual
No. I don't think animals can conceptualize in that
I was speaking about myself
Iíll keep my eye on you
Do that. It will feed my lust for power
Thatís all right, Iím jut fooling.
I have no lust for power
Youíve achieved the same thing
I canít stop thinking about everything you
Well-- those proposals arenít really connected
to my physical body
I too. Thank goodness
There is a difference between you and this beast
Ah-- I wonder how that resolves itself
At the end of history-- that question will be answered
Now I understand what you said earlier
About all questions being answered
But whoís still around at the end of history?
So, thatís the point
Yes. Thatís the pointItís your own
destiny that-- Opps-- I shouldnít speak in your place
I wasnít aware of that.
What I mean is-- I had no urge to say something.
So when you did the speaking, I was already into something else
See? I didnít respect that
No-- the other thing I was into was very happy to
have your verbal embroidary
What did I almost say-- can you remember?
I never remember whatís left out--
It was very powerful--
Of course it was, but my orbit is different
OK. that confirms my suspicions
Just think how many layers of suspicion get plastered
over me in the course of a lifetime
But you take no notice
Iím into something else
Ah, my destiny will reveal what even I donít
know about myself
Not yet-- right. I just sit here and smile about
itIf I had a drug, Iíd be re-oriented
Oh, that worth more than a smile
Nobody said smile, when the first person said --drug
Nobody said-- have fun
I wasnít thinking fun, I was thinking about
a way to turn an appropriate corner
Youíd rather be out on the streets?
I canít count my blessings when I have too
Ok-- hereís an appropriate corner
What you mean is where, when and how often
If the subject changes that rapidly-- then Iíd better dress appropriately
--Donít get undressed
Without protective covering, youíll be victemized--
Then I need a drug to protect myself
Didnít you say something about getting undressed?
What I said was-- donít
That apple confuses me
Make it vanish
Eating it does mAke it vanish, it just changes it
into something else
Then Iíll put it back
I knew there was something Missing
I donít have the knowledge of whatís
missing, but I know itís missing
Donít get undressed
No. Iíd never do anything like that
--You still think somethingís missing
No. Nothingís missing
--I feel good about this
(Embrace, go, turn back, shake)In a distant city,
a child packed himself-herself a lunch. But it was to be eaten
only when mid-day arrived, and in the meantime, other ideas filled
the brain both of that child and others like that child, even
though much older
A door opened and shut many times, mostly when people
entered or exited from the Hotel. But some few times, nobody,
In a nightclub where singing took place, sometimes
there was silence. But this could be corralated to specific hours
of the day, which recirred often enough to establish a pattern
Cars were wearing wheels. They rolled sometimes--
but more often, driven by gasoline exploding, they roared down
a street and the wheel was in the unconscious only
A man entered a store to buy gloves. Fortunately,
his hands were accompanying the man, because if-- for instance--
he was buying gloves for a friend, he would have had difficulty
selecting the precise size-- since in his mind, the hands of friends
existed as vague memory of gesture, and not as measurable physical
Hands on the steering wheel of the automobile. Children eating apples after rolling them along the floor to watch aspects of a circle changing. None of this tracked by a clock, which also travelled around itself-- or was it something else that clock circled? Trying to separate things and ideas, the young man gave up. Until later, when he moved to a different city-- the atmosphere was somehow-- more congenial.I suddenly realized that life did not really NEED my efforts-- if I did nothing at all, life wouldnít really suffer.
Instead, I could devote myself to having a visionary
If one was allowed to have a visionary experience,
would one have it?
Yes, I do suppose
Well-- one is allowed. Do you understand me? There
are no prohibitions
This is not an amazing experience
Look deeperIn a far away city, a man destoryed all
his reading material
In a far away city--
No no-- right here. In this roomThis doesnít
seem to answer any of my questions
But all your questions have been answered
Youíre contradicting me
If I didnít, would you find anything satisfactory
about the experience?
Iíd put everything on hold
If you didnít contradict me, Iíd nevertheless
know that life held such things in store for me in the near future--
so part of my mechanism that I hope could deal with that would
be put on hold, and Iíd act friendly, but I doubt it would
burn into my consciousness like other more problematic moments.
If thatís a prediction, I wonít contest
See? Iím trying to turn then tables on you
Can you guess my central question
Thatís a confusing definition
Finding out where you direct your energy is a smoke
screen that hides what you canít handle
I never claimed competence. As a matter of fact,
I never claimed ANY desirable attributes. Thatís why Iím
Please. Something about you should get better
Iím perfect asd I am
Yes and no
Thatís no answer
Youíre repeating yourself
Maybe itís a way of trying to answer my own
questions when nobody else seems to help
I canít help that
Why cxanít you help.
I forgot the question
Maybe I didnít have any questions because
all I was looking for was a little attention
In that case, timeís up.
Well, it would be if we didnít have the vioable
option of repeating ourselves ad infinitum
My lips are sealed
Look at these photographs of spirit beings that appeared
on this role of film I accidentally exposed
It looks like trick photography
(Pause, tears up)
OK. That answers my question
Try photographing this animal
I donít have my camera
Wait a minute. Iíve heard that primative people
think that to have oneís photo taken-- is to steal the
soul. Iíd say this animal is a primative in spades-- so
how does it relate intellectually and spiritually to being photographed
Kick it and find out
Youíll get a more interesting photo if you
kick it before snapping the photo
I donít want to be eaten, thank you
Suppose that happens, weíll still have a photo
to remember you by
--Yes. A photo of the eater, not the eaten
I can make the necessary connections
Thatís why I look to you for answers
See-- you get what you came for
Now take the photograph
(Done, of him)
Hey-- not me. IT!.
I can make the connection
Thereís your answer
Iíd like a hug
Now. Give me the camera
(opens. takes out film)
I donít care, I donít care, I donít
carePlease, take the cheeze sandwich and return to the source
of your adventure
Itís not something I like to think about
Deny me and itís yourself thatís being
Must I eat this?
An adventure depends on it
Once, when I was a child, I was forced to join a group of young people who were taken on a hike into the mountains, and remember-- something like this was the lunch we were provided with. A slice of cheeze on a piece of bread, articulated by a think whipe of mustard on one side. But because I had never tasted mustard before, that was to me the greater adventure than the mountain.
Since then, Iíve eaten mustard, however
Then letís finish with the sandwich
No. I am hunger
But Iíll deny myself
(Put in drawer. Pause, peek in again)
Itís still there
Yes. It will stay there a very long time unless somebody
It will have to be somebody other than myself
Guess what. The sandwich whether itís you
or somebody else
Me neither. In that sense, Iím at one with
the sandwich, without even eating it, which of course would be
the more normal way of making it part of myself
Ah-- you are one with the sandwich
Funny, but I canít imagine you involved in the ordinary activities of an ordinary life.
Yes, but for some reason to me thatís terribly
Ah, that calls for self analysis
Whenevr I try self analysis, I can tell the wheels
of my mechanism leave the tracks
Then perhaps itís yourself thatís incapable
of the maneuvers of ordinary life
Oh no, self analysis is not part of my ordinary life
Things like going to the grocery store, washing my
teeth, folding up oneís portable furniture-- am I geting
off the track?
As long as I can be confident the furniture wonít
collapse under my weight, Iíll be happy to sit
You donít have such confidence?
No. I think thatís what I was trying to express
But you did, so why worry about it
Iíve probably revealed to you, too many of
my mental patterns that should have remained private
The minute you step into my presence--
Suppose it were somebody else
Same thing: you go anti-private
Oh well, at least thatís taking a position
I thought it was involentary
It can be involentary, but itís still a position
See? It dodnít collapse after All
Youíre right, as usual. Thatís why
I canít imagine you inside the field of normal everyday
activity. Within that field, one is never right about things--
all of the time-- whereas you, somehow, are.
Yes, but I depend upon you to make it happen
Is that a plus
Oh no, it means I suffer from a certain dependency:
so--go, or stay. Either way, Iíll be just who I am. The
only difference will be--
If I go away--?
Yes, I wonít be able to remember my name,
(Other writes, then tears it up)
Itís OK. Iíve comitted it to memory
In that case, whether you leave or stay-- itís
(Shake. exit)This could be an important drug
I see your obcession and I know how to manipulate
you as a result
Ah, then I donít have to rely on any drug
Am I reliable? No
Thatís fasciating to me
Let me offer you a drug
How am I suppose to choose between those two drugs
Well, try to make an irrational choice
I donít know how
Nonsense, thatís your strength
ìI donít know how, I donít know
howí-- I hear that pouring out of you and I think to myself--
thereís a man capable of moving mountains
How strange you should think that
Yes, because something irrational is surfacing inside
It has no name
Maybe we both better take our respective drugs in
order to calm down
I swallowed mine but you hesitated at the last minute
Yes-- I wonder which of us is calm
Oh-- my drug takes twelve hours to have an effect
That must mean, the momory of having taken it is
more powerful than having taken it
Now youíre connecting
See? And I didnít even take my drug
What-- you mean I took it without knowing it?
Youíre still holding it?
I think so
See? A little bit of confusion
You confuse me a little bit-- yes.
Can I tell you a secret?
Iím glad Iím the only one who took
his drug. That way-- if it starts effecting me in anundesirable
way-- youíll be able to help
No. I wonít know how
Then Iíll have to depend on myself. As usual
Yes. I wonít even be here
(Goes. Pause. Peeks back in)
Donít worry. Iím doing OK.
Maybe if I disApear before he comes back--?
(Goes. Other returns)
This is good. In fact I wanted to be alone
(Other peeks in, is seen, one sits, other goes)
Well, this is a disappointment in a senseForgive
me, but do you consider yourself a prisoner of sorts?Ah, guesses
are better tha--
If you guessed me name, is that turning the lock
of this particular prison? Yes. But does the lock thereby release,
or is it the opposite. Thatís when it shuts tight
But I havenít guessed your name
Correct, so here I am as usual. In a state of limbo
Guesses are better than what
Well, knowledge for instance
Knowledge isnít desirable?
Youíll find out
I always thought knowledge was desirable
Noticed the flowers in the window box?
Ah. The lilies of the field do not ask-- etc-- or
something like that
No. I was trying to change the subject
Oh no, you were reminding me of one of the more peculiar
quotations from the New Testiment of Jesus Christ
I was doing no such thing
I was doing no such thing
You mean my mind flashed in that direction all by
Hereís my message. Donít pick the flowers
That never would have occured to me
I never pick flowers
Itís not something I do.
How can I prove that. Well, if I approach those flowers right this minute, and picked one of them-- it would be a first for me. And you, because of your very intense powers of observation, would be able to tell, watching me carefully-- that it was a first time for me-- picking a flower
(Goes, picks one, looks at it, back and forth)
(other puts in button hole)
It suits you
I canít tell if youíre mocking me
See? Somebody should develop their powers of observation.
Then theyíd have no need to provoke a reaction in others
by damaging private property
Damaging? No-- flowers replace themselves, eventually
As opposed to?
Well-- donít know. Maybe everything replaces
One idea always replaces another
The weather changes, under my very eyes
There something for you in that cabinet
Ah no-- you have to earn it
What is it
No, Iíd rather earn it first
Looking at it would make me nervous
Looking at it might energize you
No-- the unknown is what energizes me. Always
Then you donít feel trapped
Neither do I. So. Anything could happen
Right. Anything could happen.The burden of proof
is always on the person whoís trying to prove something
What are you trying to prove
This is a question I find difficult to answer
Then perhaps you arenít
Trying to prove something
Oh no, I have the feeling that my whole life is just
Well-- trying to prove the justification of my existence
Is this another one of those mornings when none of my questions gets an answer.
Do you believe I exist, even?
OK. When one has no enemies, is one dead or alive. There no choice, of course.
Here is a man who hopes to exist not. But, since he does exist, how will this transition be effected.
Death is not the definition he is looking for, but te state of not existing has a certain relationship to death, but it is not death, and this is a hard distinction to understand.
I understand nothing. For that reason I depend on
You can depend on me and expect disaster
Then, I pivot
To avoid disaster or to get closerSatisfaction? There is none. There is a space, inside of which
no one lives except myself
Is there satisfaction inside that space?
No-- but yes. Yes-- but no
Obviously you understand me-- which I can tell immediately
from the expression on your face which is, locked inside itself
of course, a kind of satisfaction
No. Iíve never been satisfied with myself
Have you ever left yourself
Iíve been afraid
I donít think so. I think youíve always
been satisfied with yourself
Then why are you smiling?
Iím sorry. I canít stop smiling
Is that unexpected?
Yes. Iím very surprised with myself
And that brings you great satisfaction, to be surprised
Yes, it does
Yes. It does. But I needed your help in being aware
of that in myself. So I am no longer 100 per cent inside myself,
--and that gives you satisfaction
Yes. That also gives me satisfaytion
You stopped smiling
YesMaxwell is about to open a door to a second life.
In other words; this life-- here-- exists and is important to
him. This life of breakfast, tedium, exhileration upon occasion,
traveling by foot and by automobile, moving pencil across paper
an d having predictable and unpredictable effects on other people--
but a second life also-- this lurks in a certain
next room, if you can call it a room.
And the content of this second life is unrecognizable
as content, but can be scanned like a rhythm of syncopation as
applied to life number one
In other words, the breakfast experience is not layered
upon exactly as breakfast, but a geometric and visibule disintegration
of sorts starts eating the supports of that recognizable asomething
that is breakfast or other normal activities, and Maxwell feels
himself hurled into another world or room that keeps sliding outside
his field of vision, but is there-- precisely as something he
canít grasp, and that becomes the important rhythm of his
life-- that ìI canít grasp itî.
So, this being accomplised, this landing with both feet in the landscape of the ìI canít grasp itî-- when he reaches for the ripeand delicious fruit available in this locale, his taste readjusts, on and off, and he is a man who disappears in the sweetness of what can never surrender itself to his ability to taste, touch, or otherwise perceive what is burried at the center of his longing for it-- which of course does energize and is therefore, achieved without necessary profit.
How terrible. Iíve confused myself by talking
Theater of transparency
Theater of corrupt bodies, whirling in a space that
solidifies each body into a dream bomb itself.
I went to the theater. Greeted by understudiess,
I forget my lines, of which I had none.
How is it possible to forget non-existent lines of
I just asked-- how is it possible to forget non-existent
lines of dialogue
My answer is my dialogue
But you have no answer.
That ënothingí stands in for my emotional
intensity and physical whirling and suddenly-- I am the one asking
questions rather than answering questions
It begins a second time therefore
Yes. A curtain is nothing but a temporary surprise.
The minute it rises-- all surprise burns back into itself and
something vanished from my imagination and my voice alsoI went
to the theater. A door opened and light struck me forcefully across
the face, masquarading as a hand extended from something I called
the sun because only by its brilliance did I become aware of myself.
This was not, therefore, the sun, but my own necessary reflection.
Hence no door was realy opened-- it was the gesture, merely, performed
by my own hand, in a pretend world to which I most genuinly--