I feel like I've been doing this too much (again). Talking too much, ranting about stuff I don't really feel anymore, or that which was just a gut ammo, or shit I am only pretending I know enough about. I chalk it all up to sudden onset hormone increases and six months without a date.

This is a hard world for those who refuse to hook up (anymore) with anyone in the same school program. I'm rethinking my ethical web, and trying to find a wisdom somewhere, anywhere, that makes things a little less rigid. Sigh.

But I finally stopped yapping to myself about NS and what she said last meeting, and read the article she gave me. It was amazing (although i wonder a bit about the nostalgia for something that never was, even by his own form of fiction) and I think NS is great all over again. I'm just a jackass who rubs against any challenge people give me because I've got a monstrous ego and a twenty foot internal Berlin Wall erected around the blast zone of my intellectual/writerly space. I really need a friend around me who says, "derrrrrrr, j, what the fuck?" Where are you?

So, here are some exerpts from the great article, "on character," by heriberto yépez:

when i write a character it must feel to me as if composed of bubble gum. a character is not a stable thing. a plasma. characters should always melt.

jealousy makes the other recognizable, 'predictable,' imaginable. jealousy draws a 'truth' soon to be discovered, a property we can have thanks to a mental map, a system of control on the body of the other. // i write fiction while i hear music so i don't forget that this is what 'characters' became, but not how they structurally must be. in the past, characters at least in one form of discourse were plasmatic, even invisible, ghostly, not solid; in fact, characters had no other architecture than that of mystical music.

time to look at what we've done as writers serving optimistic politics. making the reader a co-producer, we declared we were empowering him or her. the truth was that everything became work, even leisure, play or silence. in our era even 'words work' (barren watten). workaholism. writing as the metaphysical shop window was proof that language was also labour, everything was working - well. the reader as co-producer means him/er as slave. we (writers and readers) made the 'reader' believe s|he had to be active too, because if s|he was not s|he was 'passive.' that myth. even working when he dreams or reads. that's why i like books that don't work.

we cannot change. we are already everything. changing would mean turning into something different. (and would mean producing). 'changing' is simply a very complex way to die. a pseudo-category created in order to not accept that 'transforming' / 'changing' / 'producing' are those skills which aim to attack or wound us. 'changing' means killing some of us inside or outside. even my training in psychotherapy teaches me this: we must murder some of what/who we are. healthy is adequate murder. and my mexican culture reinforces this also: the most important thing is to know we must die. storytelling for me is writing about how we commit suicide or participate in homicide both in life and in history. not how a story unfolds or how a character develops, but how death happens all the time. for me the page is war.

'autobiography.' we should read this term the other way around, and say something like this: writing is always auto_bio_graphical. never writing on me. but: graphos (text) constructing bios (life) that appears as auto (on itself). autobiography: language writing on itself and thus becoming 'alive.'

that seems like a good stopping point for here and a good starting point for elsewhere... i'm off to cajole myself into revision, or adequate murder, as it were.