Suppose you didn’t believe that you really did exist.

Suppose you believed that you didn’t really exist.

Holding on to yourself as your body starts to shake, you imagine the following.

You walk down the sunny boulevard in your new polka dot dress., with the skirt that flares out, and holding a small leather pocket book which you clutch to the side of your body even though you are smiling a faint smile.

And in the crowd occupying a café along that wide boulevard, you catch the eye of an appealing someone—and you think to yourself as you stop, smiling, your back to the sun—this is the one who will certify my existence.

And you stand there, smiling faintly, with the sun behind you, making your hair frizz like a golden halo, and the crowd on the boulevard is moving past, in all directions at one, but you are not moving, and the eyes of that man are upon you, and slowly, very slowly like honey dripping from a spoon into a cup of frozen tea, your physical self dissolves, and disappears like a slow fade, in front of his fascinated eyes and deep consciousness.

And the actual disappearance of your physical body—it could happen! As if it were melting into the world of sunlight behind you. It could happen!

And then—would you exist, finally? Or would it be necessary to keep telling the stories of your life inside your lifetime—even if you didn’t exist, would those stories exist and then—who would it be that was existing?

Pretend you were alone in a room, and suddenly, spontaneously, your body caught fire, and within seconds, all of your body was consumes by flame and turned to ash, within a few seconds—all but a left foot in a clean red shoe, untouched.

It could happen—it has happened before to a few bodies—that pure fire.

And if it should happen to you, what stories would remain—untouched like the left foot and the red shoe?

Is that why your body shakes and the stories go “knock knock knock—can I come out please?”

Do I still exist?

Suppose you were in bed and began shaking. The whole body—shaking.

Does that mean you exist or you do not exist.

Find out please!

Ask yourself an important story that has no importance because it really did happen—

So does this mean you exist or you do not exist, and what is the importance?

Ask yourself if you believe in this story more than you believe in other stories you could not tell.

Ask yourself if you believe you exist more at these moments, when your whole body is shaking, more than at those other moments when your story is being told.

Inside which of those times are you existing and is that really important?

Remember—if you disappear by fire—or if you disappear by time, slowly making you melt into nothingness against the sunlight—

or if you disappear into your own story which you are telling to stop the body from shaking--

remember—you will never exist more than now, right now,

--so which of those options is the option you chose by letting the world that is not you make that important choice—

for you alone.

Suppose it was the case that you were surrounded by people and by a world in which the depth and intricacy and solidness of the world and your fellow human beings was replaced by a world in which human beings were all—you know thin somehow, with no enfolded depth, with nothing but a surface-- even if that surface seemed clever and quick about the ways of the world but had no—you know—depth.

But suppose all this mean was that the scene of the action were elsewhere, no longer in human beings as such, but—you know, elsewhere—though human beings, the new thin kind, still participated in that action that was elsewhere, like some fluid, like there is spinal fluid, or atmospheric fluid between people—and that’s where all the action was taking place, not inside these now thin human beings but permiating them rather, as if they were permiated by this fluid --so they could just float-- and be buffetted by this ‘elsewhere’ of this life force that was operating in some new way on the surface of these new people with no depth on the inside

Suppose it was like this, really like this with people—here and now.P

Magic? Magic is no longer necessay—I tell you this and what happens? You hold your head and smile

Here, there is nothing but the celebration of things. Dare to be exhaused

If I am exhausted, how can there be celebration

Exhausted—this is great

Treading wateer. I do it. That. In order to swim backwards

Life: stolen from me

Making such demands that I am forced to turn into the son of a bitch I am now, so I can

Go with the flow

Which is shit, fuck, son of a bitch.

Right. We have been cheated

My life has been stolen from me

Here it comes, the space factory

Manufacturing more space, inside things

This perfect body, deepening space


Empty space, reproducing itself

Inside itself

But simultaniously

Such emptiness absorbing

Each different emptiness

You receive this orange

Which, until eaten


Don’t eat this orange

Fruit factory

An entire planet

Fruit factory

You are the space angel

Space deepens

What it depends upon,

The brain, minus

A simple

Shift of focus

Why space empties

The unapproachable fact

This surface

Is dead

This manipulation of a surface

Eats all surrounding space

The anaonamous number

Multiples into deep space

Protect your eyes—

Things hurt

Space voids

Are the solid unimaginables

The space which compresses

Is pure

The space which multiplies

Is impenetrable and like fire

This is access

To my other self

Thank you

Why not revolve


Nothing stable

Brief, bried

Slowlhy moving

Into the space

Made available

By other space

The heart

The great heart

Gripped by space

In an of itself nothinh



I fly in deliberate

Reproductive frenzy

Empty space—

Recreating itself automatoically

Producing the same


The emptiness

Of an idea

Covering the whole world

Of the mind

Emptiness, full of

More and more


Space has furniture

Disolving through distance

This table

All directions at once

Wind, with no

Physical manifestation

Of that wind

Space space space


By the genius mind

Three kills

To each reserection


A solid inside

Something even more dense

Real space

Space folding on

It’s empty self

More emptiness

Inside more space

The diamond of space

Compressed into multiple depths


Space inside

The trajectory of each mind.

Empty, empty

People who talk continually about—

--Oh please, please, please!


People who talk continualy about their inner life—

Oh Please, don’t talk about your inner life.


I am like a flat surface, a pancake

You are not like a pancake

Yes. In these times, we are all like pancakes, spresad thin, no depth but approaching eaxh of us, the wide horizons of life itself

Oh please


Sometimes, human beings are given to expressing their philosophy of life,


On rare occasions the depth of things produces sunlight, banal and beautiful at the same time.


Occasionally, a path followed diligently, looses it’s appeal

Sometimes the bottom falls out of life

Sometimes, you and me—

--This is not interesting. Things happening are not interesting. Being very tired is notinteresting, but being very tired and faling asleep, this is interesting. Being ready to fall asleep and ling down and doing it—or letting it happen—this is interesting

Falling asleep is interesting—dreaming is not interesting

Make sure to open any doors that promise hidden treasure

I am a man who has seen everything

Here I am. Overflowing and delerious

Of course, when the heart breaks, everything breaks.

The entire city seems to be opening from the inside, and there is a circular motion, headed, so it would seem, towards unavoidable catastrophy

Here I am, ready to take my stand. Not against reality, but deep inside reality. Invisible, therefore, but fed – in a way that other people are not fed. God speaks to me. This is because I have depths, constructed as parts of myself fold over oter parts of myself. And if I didn’t have to speak language—I could tell you the truth about everything

This café would be an unusual place for truth to suddenly appear.

Why? Why not this café?

I don;’t belong here. I don’t belong in a world where people hve speech patterns like idiots

No, we don’t speak like this becase we are idiots—we can speak normaly.

What the hell—


We choose to speak this way because it produces a more intense mental resonance

I encourage adventure by losing consciousness

Here comes another catastrophy.

It sometimes happens that a man with no desire to leave his usual neighborhood, finds himself in an unusual environment. Where am I he says. Without leaving his old neighborhood. Becuaes—his speed is sometimes faster than the world’s speed

Let me skim the cream off the top of this situation, Off the top of—well, any situation really.

And how do you skim the cream off the top of this situation?

Well, I take some little detail—one or two little details that appeal to me—and these details—that’s what I validate about the situation

Hat about the details you don’t validate

I left them go

OK. In this situation, what are those one or two little details

No, no, I never talk about them. I let them fuzz inside of me—but they are potent

Skimming the details seems like it would have to be a conscious thing. A willed and focused activity

I like it here. The sex and the violence are good here

What platent am I currently visiting

You being one of the few people who might understand this--

The darkness falls

The basic

Taking place that takes place

Having lost all belief in a better world, setting off, therefore, in search of the invisible

They expected something interesting to happen, and if they missed it somehow

Life went on, but—unendurable

Until the next interesting thing started happening

Lost in space

Driven crazy by forces that

Seduced others with

The promise of happiness

Look, here’s a person unting the knot

Using his body to mirror that deep entanglement

Be happy about your state of confusion. Do it again

You’re missing the point, you’re trying so hard you’re missing the point

There is a twist in things. From te very first moment, there is a twist

Thinking mean,s going wrong. But you have to think, so you have to go wrong, because…

You see things, but you can’t see everything, so you have to go wrong, because. . .

What should I do with this life. I have it. But..

You think I’m crazy, but I’m only HALF crazy


This -------- will have to stand in for that magic object I could easily call my revelatory encounter. But wait a minute. If I went out into the streets, would I be even more likely to encounter something that could genuinly change my life?

I do think so


Catastrophy is just around the corner, but you will never see it, and therefore you will be happy, even though you will sometimes feel like crying, because you’re deepest wishes will never be gratified. And you will accept that. And therefore catastrophy is just around the corner.

Don’t you get it?

You exist inside a special kind of space, where depth is just one more paper thin surface.

Space, space, invisible space

It’s because of the space you don’t see,

Curled up inside the space you do see.

Invisible space

Suppose you were waiting in a café for a beloved someone,

To walk down the street in your direction

And the sunlight was so bright

You said o yourself if I look into that light

That light will blind me.

Thak god, thank god,

so blinded, you felt inside-- on fire

And the beloved for whom you waited appeared ,stepping down from a bus as the door opened

And the beloved appoeared, transformed

in the shape of the child she was in years past

carrying a little red suitcase that suited such a child which was the true shape of the beloved as she

sat with you now at the café table

ordering refreshement suitable for the occasion

smiling back into the sunlight

and deciding to open the red suitcase and finding that somebody

had packed the very same dress that both you and the beloved hoped agaoinst hope hoped she would be wearing

such a beloved one

as she the beloved

came walking toward you, down the wide boulevard

your eyes meeting like an electric shock

Wearing a dress --much too large for a little child sitting beside you

--While that beloved was wearing that dress

and disappearing under your very eyes

into space and time which was some different space and time

to which you believed heretofore, that you had no entry

though you too, you too

did exist, in fact, inside that different space and time

and you understood at last, that you did exist always

Inside that different space and time

You did, you did

You really did

Fire fire fire

Buring up

Into the best fire

The real fire

The fire that burns everything

Fire Fire

Space, space, disolving everything from the inside, making it the outside, pure--

To dosappear could mean, to become totally transparent. Where she, you, it, was—now: the whole wortld. The whole world