“One man, he to justify” For my doings and wrongdoings, one comes to justify. For the last synthesis, I do and undo myself, knot and unravel myself. To deconstruct and construct, to undo and undo further, but each knot is a different knot, each revelation a new revelation, each illusion another illusion, and this and Continue reading

All arguments take an ontological assumption, such as that of realism or relativism. The realist clams that there is an objective, physical world that is independent of our knowledge, perception, and values; a picture. We must, then form or align our picture with that of the real world. But doing so requires a series of Continue reading

Wish it was last friday at Montreal. I’ve had so much to learn and experience in the past few days. J. left, an emptiness resides. But i know it’ll be ok. Even though one can’t know anything really, but I am certain of this knowledge; i know that I do not know. Proof of another Continue reading

Quebec City. Stone walls and stone streets. Stoned people, no sun but mud water under the bridge, Continue reading

The black spots of a banana, suns that devour sex… Continue reading

I sneezed. A slug came out. One more week… What would I do after a week. To worry and instantiate my concerns? But the here and now is the only moment of which I’m a subject; I have no escape. One is confined by the linearity of time–or rather, the lack of. The instantiation of Continue reading

In “North Haven ” by Elizabeth Bishop, she elegizes her friend, Robert Lowell, as she observes the nature scenes in Maine. Here, she notes the occurrence of death in the repetitive beginnings and endings of seasonal changes. Bishop uses these images of death to parallel the passing of Lowell, eventually reconciling–or “revising” –her loss.  First, Continue reading

The slugs on the street explode If i think it, do i not have it. Continue reading

Done my last final exam. Content. Some what at east. Could’ve been worse, could’ve been better. As it always is… one more essay to go. Two days to finish reading Whitman’s 1855 Leaves of Grass. It takes a lot of stagnation for productive work. Like Murakami, I believe in a tremendous talent for working hard Continue reading

A and B will never meet. Hegel. The synthesis of shadows. I is… another? image? an echo of ephemeral glow, warm and tender in the night No one really meets anyone the constant reduction of micro detail to detail to the picture to the detail and the picture and… the picture is at last, complete. Continue reading