this sort of uhm hm like annoyance like fatigue but butt with humans i guess like if i could only hm body be the only body then maybe ... I run out of access to knowledge quickly. It all, most, became responsibility, a lot of them came under my wing. The uniqueness of this particular relationship is that for the first time in my life love is intertwined with a reciprocation of responsibility and a deep knowledge of the ways of the world. Which comes from interest. And passion. And here I don't idolise. It's further frustrating to note that who failed to receive sufficient parenting will forever loop in self-parenting while longing for being parented. And you want to then also become a parent to someone else? Haha. Stifled. This would be the word, definitely an 'S' right now. Looking at my life from behind a glass. (Hearing someone learn a language is like hearing a toddler speak.) Ok but. What is happening? Summer is over, the cold makes my bones shiver. I lie suspended in inaction. I'm reading a lot. I tap into other people's subjectivities to distract my own thoughts. There is a little bit of 'terrible feeling' inside of me. I'm telling myself that the only way to stop thinking is to fill up the brackets in my paper agenda, to make sure there isn't too much open space. I tried it this month, and look where it brought me. The adjectives: powerful eternal (something between unexpected and surprising) A lot of the S has to do with femininity. It was brought about by baby thoughts, then Rachel Zucker, then Scaffolding and these hunted paintings on Elkin's covers. It's the uneasiness related to being oneself, or the inability to accept the fact that I am made of others, that I am not a man in a sense because I was not raised to be the centre, but the scaffolding. It takes so long to arrive in the self. And the switches, the unpredictability of the mood. I thought that wow to make a human would be to further dissolve oneself, or maybe to divide oneself? I think hearing about this possibility maybe me annoyed in the very sense of the word that is pointed at not having arrived somewhere, there, where this person is arriving there steadily but i have more interest, more passion (questionable). I just feel so preoccupied with relation, with other people, to make space for them, to imagine them, does it come from summer? The adjectives: also, overpowering warm comfortable funny ambitious performing child-like grounded clear loud smart And again, it's an S. A sissy. The inside is becoming, I can't take your words like that, they slide. I see them, I see the women daily, they come in and they smell of various things, they are amazing. Deeply impressive. Why? They are always strange in my eyes and I'm a sissy, looking them in the eyes with my small tits and uncertain conviction. I am here (?) but really, because they always seem more here. And stronger, like they can handle everything, even when they're gentle, they are sharp, it'd be so easy to draw their features on the page. I guess, you know, with all the history and the fragility of the gender, how can they continue existing like that? And how is it that in some twisted way, I too could potentially, miraculously be like them? Women are never weak in my eyes. The adjectives: something about the way you're geared to respond - responsive? accommodating? you drill the other. you may be soft but your softness is heavy and it has a defined shape and so I have to fit into the shape to experience the softness. not-poetic direct We mostly speak with our bodies. I never remember our conversations, I mostly remember the slight crevice that forms in the left corner of your lips, when you smile just slightly, it's nothing funny, it's just the pleasure of being together, there. I love the way you have flipped it. Like, I could be the dad, the 'm' in my life is potent. I really care about indirectness. Change is good. Great reads on the 'I'. The list of task accumulates and you're chasing this space where something new could grow. Seeding is not for winter. It's late, it's 11 am. There is nobody around. There is a future, ah, you're already in it, damn it. There is messages, there is lists. I enjoy the warmth of my sweater. I can really see myself over there. But between there and here there is such deep crevice. It's almost as if I need to go down in order to climb back up. Or build a bridge. I am not good at this shit. And, you know, Dionne is a she, I mean she's not but in description yes. And it's fine. Is this about an agenda? They look like peanuts but they are tomatoes. So, imagine the what if, what? I'd keep a studio. It's where my books would be and crayons. I'd read here and write and draw. Thoughts could continue here, I could leave them for the night and return to them in the morning. The most violent things is the rupture of thought. Crime is good in the morning. 'of age' if that can be an adjective assuming My head whirls and drinking coffee late again. It's the third time a cup hits the floor and it spills its contents. I don't want to carry negative space. I don't want to carry this, jesus, i am me, you are you. Browsing is a satisfying mood. (kieszeń to kieszeń) The oil melts in your mouth and travels up the cheeks: the flavour of freedom is incomperable.

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