lying. (clams)

well, she just came out with an album called—

no.



i think that i may have broken through at the edge of nothingness—

no.



my friend,
i am no poet.



i guess...

well...

without giving up any of the razor vision that leads to sadness, hopelessness, and panic, i am beginning to hope. and since the wolf-crying boy has no villagers left to listen to his story, he tells the world. hello. it is not hope for any particular thing, it is only hope for its own sake. i have spent years waiting for the freedom that comes from total renunciation of desire, hope, ambition... how does eliot (again with the eliot) put it? "to get to the place where you blah blah, you must go by the way in which you are not blah blah..."? please forgive the inaccuracy of the quotation; i am on the road and that book is not with me.

these are all lies: i have not tasted the freedom to desire by giving up my desire.
these are all lies: i have not found the liberation of movement by giving up the possibility of movement.
these are all lies: my hope fades with the setting sun. darkness fills the sky, and like my scarcely human ancestors, i grow afraid once more.

THESE are all lies:
my four year journey into nothingness may in fact be more than running in circles with the red queen. the long emptiness does yield some understanding, some liberation. standing in the center, i open my eyes at last and see that the place where all the roads have ended is also the place where all the roads begin.