Ways of not traveling

March 22, 2011

The writing is going.

The writing is gone.

The writing is not going.

The writing is not here.

*

I feel so clean right now, sitting here at my desk at the office with a sense of being bathed—a passivity, the opposite of what I do to myself. But there is the “doing to oneself.” Both active and passive.

*

I wrote the above this morning, when I had just settled into my seat at the office. Now the feeling is different. The eyes are dry, the limbs are stiff, the neck and back are bent.

This is my day. These are my days.

*

The more I try, the more I fail. The more I fail, the more I don’t try.

*

Meanwhile, a focus on feet: absolution, humility, travel, Jesus, fetish, servitude, cleansings—all repeated, all ritualized, all a single comment on inhabiting touch and intimacy.

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