(no subject)

You know those moments when some phrase in thought involves the world or some large swatch of it, and you look at your dusty cartoon version of geography, some monstrous misaverage of thing and symbol, and realize it won't do, and kick a wall open to let in your memories of the vast past vast world, and these won't quite fuse together enough to do either, so you paint up an MGI landscape, mine are usually on a steep Northern Hemisphere phone commercial curve, and concentrate all kinds of lights and topographies into it, generally some repetition of a few objects like mailboxes and black trees but at least you're trying, and little incidents of representative uniqueness are concocted and magnify themselves into great spirit movies over the land, and these often resemble people in old photographs but not black and white or implausibly colored ones, so usually they're from the early '80s, of things like a child huddled over a tricycle trying to fix its wheel but not knowing much about fixing so maybe she just spins it or rubs grass on it, or of two short overweight people nodding at each other over a fence and one is holding a baby lamb, or a grassy pebbly slope with some broken glass and a lot of fresh-looking tennis balls across it because it's right past the fence of a court--not shown--and the overgrowth hides from searchers where the balls went, or whatever, and then you realize none of that will do either and you try to fill your imagination with great numbers of things and people and make them different as possible but the more you change them the more you forget to keep different and soon they're all picking their noses or having elbow fights or tearing up memos in perfect Zeigfeldian synchronicity and you wonder if your mind is just a tiny overmirrored Chinese restaurant and you drift into the dark indefinable colors toward the edge of your phone ad horizon and the rest falls away in your sidemind and you go elsewhere entirely or polish off the cartoon and pin it back into place and resume your phrase or rather your mismemory of the phrase and go on from there?

(no subject)

Defensive line-up in case of suicidal thoughts:

Remember/make up how much better you are than other people.
Remind yourself pain is just a signal and now just a moment.
Do ten push-ups, walk around the block, drink a V8.
Watch a movie that makes you cry or nearly. Maybe not one about suicide.
Drive out of town in a new direction until a small adventure is had.
Call a parent. Talk about what they're doing.
Go to a park at night in a little-policed area, get naked, run, yell.
Get drunk and read the really good parts of Paradise Lost.
Talk to a random stranger at a bar. Make it about them so they'll go longer.
Do that one thing you swore not to do again. But just the once.

(no subject)

!Pinter!

(no subject)

I've lost my favorite part of Proust, and am wondering if I dreamed it into existence, like the memory of getting my divorced, now dead grandparents to meet again. He can't sleep, or is drifting into and out of sleep, his bedroom has an odd shape, the shadows do something on the ceiling. There's a comprehending, one of those five-page paragraph buildups that gets something exactly right about life, in that way Proust mastered and few others have ever even tried, the world's drawn in around you tighter sentence by sentence until you feel like a single movement of yours would send domino waves of slight fascinating change out into all of it so pervasively that it would knock back into you from behind within moments. My favorite part and I remember nothing about it.