well.

so.

i have finished. something. here. a degree, true, but a part.

as i am refraining from determining the next move in general, i will refrain here, and just talk a little about.

*

this is the neverending book i just finished. along the contours of random available topographies, it tells the tiny story of a rapunzel, how she shaved her remaining memories after all the easy ones were clipped by lovers. how she wrapped the remnants into a map that led her everywhere and then home and then everywhere. very roundy etc and hopeful i think.




















































I still haven't mastered even this somewhat childhood form, really. because while i was pleased with the image and annoyed by the text in the last one, in this one i revel in the text and think the image is missing something. which has to do with the dynamic between static and mobile, as one side manifests one and the opposite the other. & i haven't found the appropriate conjoining yet. not yet. but, okay.

*

i finished this. i finished a bounding. it is unfinished. i have learned.

overall, the box is rock-on chancity, and the main book is... an exploration of the syntax. the syntax of vision and story, as it goes for me. and as yet, it is incomplete. i've already received a few helpful observations from one adviser (Amy England) who is lovely and startles me and thinks about. her observations jived with my own instincts, which were divided in this case between packing everything in and creating a conglomerate whole from a fragmented incomplete. that is, she noticed where my book was trying to include too much just because for me everything was cognitively (but maybe not emotively) linked, but really, life needs its partitions even when you don't want to provide them and by default throw everything together and call it extra-spicy stew. 4 habaneros instead of 1.

an interesting discussion about cleverness and sincerity and formal experimentation and divisive determinations occurred in my oulipo class today, perhaps solely to mark the date for me (ha!), and i was content to listen and think about it all. sometimes with chagrin, sometimes with question.

overall, i am amazed and pleased with myself, but note the need to focus more on the writing and its capacity to match if not flow beyond vision, just for a partial solitary while. after it all, i'm longing for the pleasure of new language and story, just for. yeah. because when i fool around with compilation and interlacing for so long, i realize how much words and the voices fall towards call me to relearn them and pay them loverly attent. jealous lovers and all that.

[this music mix of my sister really is incredible the more i listen to it, really... "oh why oh why can't i... some day i wish upon... oooooo -ooooo- ooo -oooo- ooouhhhuhahahhhhhahahhuh"]

so, while i am proud. and i am proud. (i am wearing my sassy undies every day these days just to walk secretively my proudly ways, and not because i'm intending to find a cutenice girl [i've metaphorically shaved my head, actually. and not even little shavings dare to sprout]. but because i want to be wearing cute undies while finishing this thing i have been so invested in, as learning, as finishing, as contradictory motions towards whatever is next.

which i actually think is going to be something really good, if not in job, then at least in me finding a world available beyond the fronts.) and while i am proud, it carries its humility, as in: one day, i hope i really actually truly find myself good at this, this what i am doing.

anyhow. here's the box, and its contents:





a few pages from the longer book:











and from there, the world i.e. what's next. what's really next.