Monday, March 29, 2010

eIncipient Crisis

Someone I know only marginally but whose opinion I respect a great deal told me that they liked LA today in such a way that it seemed that they really saw what I was trying to do, whatever that is. These are the sorts of unexpected hazards one runs into when one tries to communicate non-communication. I am flummoxed. I would be lying if I said the compliment didn't please me, but I would be false to my mandate of isolation if I did. Well, maybe not. Is it possible for me to accept someone liking and understanding my words when their purpose is meaningless? Probably not exactly. But author is not a saint and authors, even authors of meaningless texts get a charge out of sharing their work. This raises a question which I am having a very hard time articulating AS OPPOSED TO THE GRACE WITH WHICH YOU HAVE ARTICULATED ALL OTHER QUESTIONS. LA is, of course, a cockeyed quest for pixelly love masquerading as a cockeyed quest for meaninglessness. Using what I remember of high school algebra, if you cross out the cockeyed quest in both sentences, reducing to lowest terms, you get love=meaninglessness. This was not remotely what I had in mind when I started LA.(FIND HIS HIGSCHOOL MATH TEACHER AND KILL HIM) If anything, I would have expected to end on a note like the only real thing in the world is love and I have blown it by wasting all my time on shit like this. But there is something tremulously true about love=meaninglessness. Or maybe it works better as meaninglessness=love.(OR MAYBE IT WORKS BETTER AS CANTALOUPES EQUALS TRUCKS) One of the clauses may have been gramatically negative.WHA? This is all a complexity or ridiculous and erroneous misreading of language much too deep to analyze fully in one post.YES, LET'S GO THROUGH THIS BULLSHIT 560 TIMES There is a faint chance I will come back to it tomorrow but it is more than likely that I will be distracted by something like a large piece of dust on the window sill.EVEN A SMALL PIECE WOULD BE A GREAT IMPROVEMENT But that tells you I write in a room with windows. I have to be careful about blowing my cover. THE AUTHOR DOES NOT THAT IT'S NOT REALLY A WINDOW BUT A TOM D'OEIL OR HOWEVER YOU SPELL IT OF WEST 17th STREET And it is suddenly obvious to me that the only place this can all lead is to madness.lEAD TO MADNESS/ WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU STARTED? But that is to imply that it started from somewhere else and that madness has a beginning and an end. Infinite madness. LA will not die until it has used every pixel and letter in the universe. And even then it won't be dead. It will just be silent.AND EVERY ATHEIST IN THE UNIVERSE WILL DROP DOWN TO THEIR KNEES AND THANK THE LORD.

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