I think in language. To not think in language is almost impossible: to think in symbols, colors, light, but possible. Deep into a meditation session, at one point many layers of thought crash at once. I feel them like an imagined stress. They are there only because of reasons that may not be apparent. The conditioned reactive mind has a name. I am becoming aware of this mind. The layers of discovery become more and more time consuming to peel off. I focus on my breathing. I that I believe to be I tries not to think. At some point, there is no attempt at anything. Ideas, good or bad, attach themselves or at least attempt to. Narratives upon narratives falling and crashing into, unto space that had previously been at peace. I used to think I was these narratives. When there is silence of mind, afterward, I imagine perhaps this is the peace of god that is often talked about in certain circles. Perhaps it is merely more mind reaching for the forefront of a newfound terrain, one that has always already been unrecognized until now. And then, still later, returns the chaos that I had tried to escape: the endless noise forcibly writing narratives to consume Time.

 

note to self, write on language

what it is it is it is

i will speak in the language of thought form

i’m sweating like david foster wallace

lose your ego.  taxi driver’s are bad asses. compassion is the World’s rarest resource. when the pope & the virgin mary are listening to the Beatles, how can life be wrong? literature captures the vertical dimension of Time. limits language, language limits. all literature all Everything. writing all unprintable all Everything.

– hunter s. keexzus

architecture Is religion. tell me pussy ain’t addictive.  this fucking frog is melting. rapport is Everything. sometimes literature isn’t about saying the right thing poetically. milton writes at the gates of Eden.  this is black surrealism.

literature is an endless discussion / language is an escape from the real, / send all, everyone, / my biggest fear is understanding Everything, / real good literature is in the veins, / we re-enter one another’s consciousness, / there’s is no plan B, / everyone quotes

  • language is not time,
  • experience Being & Awareness beyond psychological time & thought form
  • perhaps no thought form will ever be free
  • language is not the speaker
  • allow language to disintegrate
  • we only communicate in  fragments

Language is a bride into the incomprehensible. 

 

literature is not happening, perhaps literature does not exist 

i felt literature was the cure, and then i learned literature was god

then i learned that god did not exist, that language was the box

god is not language, i can hear what has not become

everywhere is sound 

Some thing not static,

un-godlike, moving,

shifting, mutating,

transcendent & then not, e  v  e  r  y  t  h  i  n  g _ from all angles improved

t h e m i n d l o v e s i t s o w n i n t e r p r e t a t a t i o n s

Deeper into the text, unfolding, unearthing, something more than previously understood,

_ hopefully_

The mind mines treasures though language

 

Ideology is a box with holes for the self to breathe

Ideology sometimes amplifies all aspects of the real

I would want language to gravitate toward the real, beyond the real

Transition from ideologies like vehicles until none are needed

to shift & speak by one’s own will to

 

 

 

there is language in time, language make believe d to suture ideas in time, sometimes compassion becomes stillness, the mind believes its own creations, the want to explain what i believe to perceive beyond what i understand, literature is ancient, dinosaurs never instagram ed the asteroid that hit them, 

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