My Summer of the Dérive, or Spending Money I Don’t Have

A work of art = A bloc of sensations, c'est à dire a compound of percepts and affects

I may as yet be a very indeterminate person. I am comfortable with the contradiction and contingency that materialize me. "Sensation refers only to its material." To hold that the heart and mind talk to each other requires the presupposition that each individually exists—the space between them a legible distance upon which marks may alight. Land is some thing upon which we stand. I am my material, unfortunately. 

I think the desire called mine to transcend myself is juvenile in the sense that I had this desire when I was younger than I am now. Read me all you want; you'll never see exactly what I see. I have these fantasies of being a bizarre, brilliant outsider, notorious for being exactly what she is; and of being chosen. When someone chooses me it's like some light streams into myself. I hate myself the least. 

Three showerflies (an invented term I won't explain) made avant-garde compositions on the wall to my left. I noticed each time I looked at them and doubly noticed my analyst's probing eyes follow my darting ones. I sat in the chair again today. What did they hear? "I need to remember how to act, and be in public." There is an image of myself, and a decidedly not-image of myself. I am meant to uphold both. Ann won't tell me how to prepare—only I can do that. 

Drowsily she regards you. Everything throbbing with sleep and its availability. "What are your fantasies?" He may as well have asked you. I want to be someone who cooks dinner for others. I fell asleep for a moment there. 

Yeast turf

Your gem

I fell asleep in the face of my own life again. 

East Broadway Ann

"Albertine came from nowhere, and is very modern in that way: she flutters, comes and goes, from her absence of attachments she derives the instability and the unpredictable quality which give her her power of freedom." Jacques Dubois, For Albertine: Proust and the Sense of the Social.

1.

The Young-Girl is fascinating in the manner of all things that exhibit a closing-in-on-themselves, a mechanical self-sufficiency to the observer, like the insect, the infant, the automaton, or Foucault's pendulum.

The Young-Girl wants to be desired without love or loved without desire. There is no threat, in either case, to her unhappiness. The Young-Girl has love stories.

It is enough to recall what she classifies as "adventure" to get a good idea of just how much the Young-Girl fears the possible.

2.

Femininity = infantilism of women

Masculinity = infantilism of men

3. 

"I'll scream if you come any closer."

I'm no subject, I'm just stuck.

4. 

It's 1941, it's 1944
I'm in Dimes Square. I'm in Bergen-Belsen.

Sty medication dripping down your sweat-soaked shoulders 

Your drenchable body of work

You drip

I hire you. No more sensations of 

So

I write so I can read my writing

I write so I can look back at myself

I write to look after myself

Friends to lovers to friends

A traveler in my mind grimacing beneath the weight of a brain-filled skull. "To be treasured," I think.

June poem

The work that I am can be so cornered. All readymades and unformalised these hands. Too much this language. More questions mash and sizzle like summer's waiting looks. I've only ever seen you wear long pants. I'm longing to wait for you forever. What do I have to do for relief? Dancing is about not dancing. Language is about everything it surrounds. Feeling is for everything disconnected from me. Connection is disconnection. My shoes are my favorite. You are my shoes. I found on a website everything I could ever hope to love. Nothing surrounding me is wasted.

Fourteen

Fourteen years ago I found myself longing along rolling fourteen times long

I was so fourteen for you longly rolling down and up

Fourteen arms sweep around and toward I used my time unwisely at fourteen 

I was always forging and falling, falling and floundering and forking

I was so many fourteen ways
Fortune eluded me in those days
No but for real. When I was fourteen I had two arms I had nothing
I had nothing and two arms
Told to me two ways told to see too
Told to me free
No you just fourteen ways to stand up and fourteen ways to use my arms and legs
Fourteen ways to fall

Fourteen ways to feel  
I felt fourteen one time
I felt fourteen one times

I felt fourteen that one time as I grabbed for something fourteen years old

Something of fourteen untold for now is fourteen yet
Fourteen ways to travel across seeing
Fourteen ways to hold my foot in my hand
Fourteen ways to serve.
Fourteen and fourteen is
To put my hands together and move my legs is fourteen
Fourteen ways to move my arms and legs without moving my upper thighs
Fourteen ways to balance on