the subterfuge of memory

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parasols: automatic writing

parasols:

I remember rolling over with a particular thought in my head last night, reaching for a pen, paper, whatever was nearby. Awake now, I even know what and why and which piece it pertained to, which I do not usually remember when I write things out half-awake in the dark, hoping that they look like…

I just really love this.

Oct 25 2010

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About me

Love, then, screams in my own throat; I am the Jesuve, the filthy parody of the torrid and blinding sun.

-Georges Bataille