an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

. . .


Recognizable? Almost, then, able.


Depression-for-no-reason raising its question: what do you have to do with this? Oh yes there is winter and more work to do than the ocean and a call for more sleep than the ocean and dryness now--worst of all that--but there is also: what about you, what you did and didn't do? That's the question that keeps some of us in bed. What I did to bring you around again. I hadn't noticed before, all those accusations. It takes enormous self-reliance--sign and no signifier, or sign and any signifier you choose--to keep responding to it.


Like tossing Kleenex into the Grand Canyon, a friend said.


"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


live flowers