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Monday, September 11, 2017

According to this rather lovely essay in the New Yorker by Nadja Spiegelman, one of the items waiting to be claimed in the more than two hundred year old Bureau of Found Objects in Paris, is a red pouch containing three shards of concrete found in an abandoned suitcase shortly after 9/11 along with the bright-orange vest of an N.Y.C. transit employee.

Week 2

in many ways this is the opposite of art school. there my cynicism was allowed full reign and its fullest possible expression encouraged. mind you, i remain very sceptical.

in spiritual care 1, this week i am in a different seat, at a 90 degree angle to the lecturer, where i can look out of the window and see the huge cranes busying themselves building a new building for the university, the planes coming in to land at schiphol - and the clouds.

i would pay good money for a seat like that in hermeneutics. they should put in a few couches like the ones in the library.

Here is a partially useful article about the problem of living in the present’ by Kieran Setiya in the Stone in the New York Times. link

Now online, 'Stolen Property', part three of @johklab's postfiction series, Moederland.https://t.co/stJ1kuBALi pic.twitter.com/ME2I0Z2JAq

— Tincture Journal (@TinctureJournal) September 10, 2017

Friday, June 16, 2017

It’s a good question.

Lying awake last night from 3am, neither trying to sleep nor trying not to sleep. Sleep doesn’t come. At various points there are visions/semi-dreams. There is a cat - pixellated, black and orange, your favourite - she wants a pat and she gets one. She rolls for me. I think: this is what incessant and obsessive befriending and patting cats in the street enables: They come and visit you in visions/semi-dreams.

I am no bigger than a grain of sand - perhaps not even that big.

How many atoms in a grain of sand?
100 million million million.
There is still a long way to go.

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