Hamlets Some thoughts on the "old" edition of Arden's Hamlet edited by Harold Jenkins and first published in 1982:
Anyone seriously interested in “Hamlet” as theater, Shakespeare as a writer, or editorial approaches to the extant texts of this play of most revered canonical importance should have a copy of this “old” Arden edition edited by Harold Jenkins. The text, foremost, should be valued for what it is: an artfully rendered conflation of extant material that is well-crafted and supported by thorough scholarship --- the most ideal editorial treatment of “Hamlet” that provides a play that is closer to what we think about when we think about “Hamlet” than the individual quarto and folio versions. It’s also worth having around because it could be the last significant conflation effort for a while, as trends in textual scholarship now lean toward presenting “unadulterated” variant texts together within a sophisticated context that recognizes textual matters, sociopolitical perspectives, and also issues of theatre and performance (although, for instance, the new two-volume Arden Hamlet stresses the importance of the second quarto while relegating the first quarto and the folio to a more obscure, skinny supplementary volume --- and they also pass off modernized spelling and punctuation as a totally necessary feature of “convenience” instead of an editorial interference similar to what they decided against by not creating another conflated edition). I think it has everything included, except the dubious Horatio/“Gertred” scene from the “bad quarto” (although that can probably be found somewhere in the notes, I forget), whereas the current Pelican “Hamlet” excludes such great lines as “I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space” and the primary volume of the new Arden effort actually allows Hamlet the following line in Act III Scene II, “I will come by and by. Leave me, friends. I will. Say so. ‘By and by’ is easily said,” which robs the play of a great exchange between Hamlet and Polonius and barely makes sense. While the new Arden introduction probably covers topics of interest for a less specialized readership, and while there is something punishing about getting through Jenkins’ 159 page introduction that deals almost exclusively with arid textual concerns such as dating, the smallest variations between the quarto and folio versions, and even distinctions that can be made between compositors working during the original printing process --- the almost comically overenthusiastic editorial guidance and annotations (the footnotes usually take up the most of every page and are supplemented by even more in-depth longer notes in the back) provides a wealth of insight for a reader interested in investigating the play to such an extent (and doing it with the use of one volume, the first purpose of which is to provide the text of the play itself). Though the primary volume of the new Arden edition that replaced Jenkins’ work is probably also a valuable contribution to both Shakespeare studies and a helpful tool for a more general audience (I’ll get around to reading it, but I started with its unloved, appended volume featuring the “bad quarto”), there are innumerable reasons why this is my preferred version for reference and pleasure.
Big Show Read Reccently: The Guermantes Way by Marcel Proust and translated by Mark Treharne, Partial List of People to Bleach by Gary Lutz, Close to Home by Joshua Furst, Writings on Glass edited by Richard Kostelanetz
Pink Melon Joy Read recently: In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower by Marcel Proust and translated by James Grieve, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? by Edward Albee, Shakespeare and Youth Culture by Jennifer Hulbert, Kevin J. Wetmore, Jr., and Robert L. York, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead by Tom Stoppard
White Dog Variation My mother is telling there the house it is fine white dog. Say white dog in the grass please if you can’t tell. The deck under shine if you can’t tell. My father isn’t speaking and the bottle is empty and the tree fell down when it died and the yard has no tree now. Now what does a boy say when the sky cries. Now what does the girl say when the swing set swings in the sun shine white dog. My little change my sky and my mom and the please the tree fell and shut up the white dog. Now tell a little and the parking lot said and a drink if you please do you mean that. My father isn’t driving he’s got a chair and the window if you tell it won’t be pleasing this lot a lot. Now white dog said come here so the boy went there and the tree fell down in the yard when it died and the girl cried. Please tell the mother where the road is it’s a white dog. What are parts my heart the long way when we went and there was nothing there when we arrived and the sky changed color we knew. That white dog has had it so I said so there where is the white dog. Now the land is made of something different and my mom said she’s driving. When the move is made the cupboard will be bare so there and she’s driving said the white dog. How fine is telling how when there was house and full of consideration of joy with sounds. That is the ghost, it’s the white dog. Come consider leaving he loved it he called then. Then now when as ever that’s moving he’s gone it’s a white dog. When the tree fell it’s a white dog. The boy sees when he’s blind he has time so he walks into the river. Say what you mean with numbers said the white dog. I never have the time my little change said to me I said go see that’s it it’s a white dog. When that difference that closed eyes while standing familiar in the matter of the color we saw last year. Why not a white dog. What’s wrong with a little white dog. It’s going to be a white dog. One day you’ll see said the white dog.
Current Music:Beethoven - String Quartet No. 16 in F Major, Op. 135 I. Allegretto
The Dog is Dead the Dog was White I will and having been aware the car I will the house let’s go shopping let’s go having and I will and having been aware let’s go shopping let’s stay. My dad sits on the chair I will he sold the chair and go the house I will the window let’s say that we sold the chair I will my dad sits all day long and I will and edible items are considerable and moving I will let’s go shopping we have all day my dad sits all day long and let’s stay I will and having been aware the car my mom drives away I will the house let’s stay. Anybody with he said and left anybody I will this tree and the dog said I will and my dad sits on the chair I will he sold the chair and go the house I will let’s stay my dad sold the chair he said I will he sold the chair I will and left anybody my mom let’s go having and I will. That fell apart and the tree fell I will the window and edible items are considerable I will and that man is on television. That man is on television I will and that car that house I will the house let’s go shopping and I will my mom drives away and moving let’s go shopping. The dog is dead he was white all right. I will my mom drives away and I will the house let’s stay and anybody with he said I will this tree and the dog let’s go shopping I will let’s stay all day long I will. My dad sits on the chair he sold the chair I will the window my dad sits in the chair all day long I will the window he said he sold the house. My mom drives away they said they sold the house I will let’s stay all day long anybody with I will. That fell apart and my dad sits all day long and the dog is dead I will and the tree fell l will and let’s go shopping with he said I will. Edible items are considerable and I will that man is on television my dad sits all day long and I will let’s go shopping let’s stay I will and having been aware the window let’s go I will and my mom. Anybody with he said and left and he said he sold the house my dad sits all day long and cries the dog is dead he was white I will he said. The dog said I will all right the window my dad sits on the chair he sold the chair let’s go shopping I will. He sold the house. The dog is dead let’s go shopping and left anybody my mom drives away and moving let’s go shopping that man is on television. I will he said he sold the chair I will he sold the house the dog is dead the dog was white he’s right.
Explanation Flames Just Read: Introducing Foucault by Chris Horrocks and Zoran Jevtic
Having lost track of all the times I’ve held salons that I don’t remember because I was black-out drunk, I stumble across the neighborhood with my roommates to attend an obligatory gathering hosted by the girls who live together yet are rarely thought of individually, instead as a unit, and once there I lock myself in one of the bedrooms with a bottle of liquor I stole from the shelf, and I sit in the darkness and drink the whole bottle, then run into the living room, where the guests are gathered, and throw an open 40 ounce bottle of malt liquor on the floor screaming that I will never apologize, knowing that I am always inexplicably invited back, and even more grotesquely, I always do come back. I expect that once I ran out of the apartment, the hostesses sat there for a moment in silence, but then agreed that that wasn’t nearly the worst thing I’ve ever done to them. I return to my home which has fallen apart, or is at least mostly covered in empty beer bottles, so much so that it is hard to walk or even move without hearing the clank of glass. Listen to this, a friend says, it’s something that Beethoven wrote when he was close to death. The summer subletters have moved in and they listen to rock and roll so loud it’s hard for me to hear classical music anymore because their speakers are far superior. The summer subletters are from Connecticut and they seem to multiply every day and they smoke marihuana, something entirely unheard of in my circles, and the night they moved in I was watching a documentary on Philip Glass and they accidentally fed the cat their drugs, and the next day the cat was taken away from us, and I had to walk across town with a milk crate in which I planned to contain it when I had retrieved it, and causality is not necessary, anyway. We are going to go to a free Animal Collective concert at the seaport, they told me. So come, they said, and I did. One of their girlfriends passed out in the crowd and it looked like she was on heroin but she said she just had low blood pressure, but I’m not a doctor, I’m just a kid rushing through a crowd of hipsters who all strongly resemble each other, on my way to buy a giant, overpriced soda for the poor girl who is sprawled out on the pavement. I handed her the cup of soda and looked at the stage. There were giant screens on either side of the stage upon which images of the crowd and the performers were projected. On the screen I saw a kid from school I liked for the day. He has got to be straight, I thought. Nearly everyone from my school who had remained in Brooklyn over the summer was at this Animal Collective show; it must have been required. This band, I said, should play some instruments. I watched Panda Bear paw at some esoteric switchboard I didn’t understand to produce prerecorded noise and I was sort of sad. I found the boy I liked, the straight one, after the show; he was with a group of kids from school I used to be friends with before my alcoholism spiraled out of control, when I was still tolerable. We are going to a party, the kids said. I am walking home across the Brooklyn Bridge, I said. Oh, the kids said, well goodbye then. I walked home across the Brooklyn Bridge with one of my friends from Connecticut. The next night I was terribly drunk and I met him at Ground Zero at four in the morning. Why was an ensemble from Michigan or somewhere performing Steve Reich’s Music for 18 Musicians on Ground Zero at four in the morning, is what I wanted to know. The building was hard to find; I had to walk over the construction sight where the new Freedom Tower is being erected by way of a makeshift metal overpass that seemed very industrial, and the building where the concert took place was new, a mall that had yet to open, and it was right on the edge of Ground Zero, hidden behind scaffolding and serious, governmental fencing. I met my friend and I said, This is unlikely. As the musicians played, the sun rose. My friend said, I have to go to Connecticut tomorrow to go to court for possession of marihuana. I followed him outside and he smoked pot in front of Ground Zero and then we wandered into the financial district, ate breakfast, and took the subway back to Brooklyn. I attend a meeting of my Proust reading group and we discuss the second volume of In Search of Lost Time and I listen and speak until I am too drunk to keep my eyes open, then I run away without saying goodbye to anyone, and flee to my apartment to eat fried chicken and watch a documentary on Meredith Monk. One of my roommates comes home, bringing with him a group of kids, including a girl I suddenly want to try and fuck for some reason, but who won’t even look at me, and then I dance to Kate Bush but people tell me to stop, and then my roommate goes to bed, and then I go to bed, but all the other kids, strangers mostly, stay up well into the night, and I find them all passed out on the floor the next morning when I wake up to go to work. I want to set everything on fire.
And. Just Read: Blood on the Dining-Room Floor by Gertrude Stein and Mythologies by Roland Barthes, translated by Annette Laver
An original text to be performed during a wedding in Rochester, New York in early June.
Everybody will one day understand why we are here. Welcome to America. It was love. Could it be love? It could be. Love is like that. The first problem that must be addressed is what love is and what love is is a tree and please. What love is is American and we are and what love is is a white dog and so we are too and there is a table so let’s table it, please. Love is a table that’s known, that’s known, and we are flown, and we, royally, are together, we understand, together we understand that a white dog where it is is where we are this is American and sometimes there is love. In the world when there are two people there are so often two people in the world when there is love what it is is two people and when there is that there is the white dog and the world goes around and around and it is like that when we have it in America. Welcome to America. When two people want to be together we don’t have to be in America. That is the situation and then there is a glow and what the glow is is what we know since we are we and he is he and she and there it is like that, that glow, and we together, we royally, will be, and so there, he and she will be, and so there, that white dog, there it is like it was and it will be like that, so there. That white dog is American and we are in America and we are all doves, so I said it. When one is one and one is one then all have been counted together and welcome to the glow and we are. Love is like that. Love is like America and that is a white dog and when the dawn comes and when I make it mine I sing and when I do that that makes me cry and so there. And there that is American. When one is there there is a white dog and the glow will know and we will take the glow, royally we will take it together. And you will be there with me, will you? This is the start of it and there is that cloud that white dog. This is what there is to be made and we’ll make it we already have and it isn’t words it’s we, royally, we are writing and this is that and this is a white dog and it has nothing to do with the word never. It will never ever be except when around this between and there it is when it shouldn’t be it is around there. This is the time and this is when we pay attention. In America when two people are together we pay attention. This the two he and she will be and there the white dog will understand how that came to be and then will laugh and sing. When one will turn to the other one will say I found you there and the other will say I found you there in love and it will be that way, so there. When it is said so we will say so there. Then a white dog will be there and when we are asked what love is we will say what love is is a tree and please. And a white dog is then there and there is a tree and please, so there. This is the situation and this is the time, so there, we are there. This is the time for the world around and here we are around, so there. This is the time, so there, and there we are, there is a white dog, it could be, if we please, and a tree, and please, so there. And when the glow is known so there. And the plane will land. And noise will be made. This is a time with noise and a wedding and the white dog barks, so there, and you will go on, so go on, so there. And, so there. And this is the time when this is it, and we will yell, we know the white dog, and where we are is important, and where we are is in love, so there, and love means trees and please, so there. This is the most important moment of the next four moments. This is the bark of the white dog. And sometimes America is in love. And sometimes we are in love in America, and sometimes outside, and when it comes to be, we are we, and together in the glow we are there, so there.
Birth Just Read: Swann's Way by Marcel Proust translated by Lydia Davis
I FOUND YOU THERE in the womb. Lasting ages birth is resulting. Why does this happen. The shape of the words you’ll know will be solutions. All wrapped up in the lonely warmth now there is a change. When the light grows everybody knows. To crawl towards history, can you feel responsibility? Or are we all busy. This is the biggest day and there is danger. I found you there in the struggle. This is the last thing we won’t remember. There is a specific balance as you make your way towards the what where then you’ll be made. There is the easy way you may not come out right. Rightly, she used herself as a container through time and the reflections of flesh are statements restated. Some were lost softly. I found you there when. What was before is ending this is the way. There is the tumbling in several directions. Well what is remembered is that after the door of light comes more and ribbons, exposure. Hopelessly there is a will for hopelessly there is a will to carry on we say on until over and back you must climb and tumble out in the cold light perpetual reason for finding you there again.
Current Music:polaris - ashamed of the story I told
The Book of America Do I go out do I do I go out the door I do do I do I go out the door I do. And counting the fabulous conclusions have I seen I have it was what I thought do I go out the door I do do I go out I do. What have you seen, was it something worth it was it it was I hope it was was it. Where were you when we won were you there you were I think you were were you you were I know I do I do go out the door do you I know I do I know you too I do I do go out do you I do do you do you I do too. Who is that black man walking down the street I meet do you I meet you too do I go out I do who is that black man walking down the street do I go out I do do you do I go out I do do you go out I do you too who is that black man walking down the street I meet I do do you I do and counting fabulous conclusions how can I vote this coat I wear I do my choice do I go out I do do you I want where you were do I go out I do do you I value too I do the door go out the door I do you know I do too do you who is that black man walking down the street I meet I do too do you who do I vote for I do do you I do do I go out the door I do was it something worth it it was I hope it was who is that black man walking down the street and counting the fabulous conclusions I do do you have you seen, was it something worth it was it it was I do do you I do go out the door and I vote more do you I do who is that black man walking down the street. Who is that black man walking down the street I meet I have seen I have it was what I thought I know I do do you I do do you go out the door I do I do do I I do how can I vote this coat I wear who is that black man walking down the street I do do I do you I do. I meet how can I vote this coat I do do you I do I do go out the door it’s true, value, this choice I do who is that black man walking down the street I meet do you I do. I value too I do I vote this choice this coat I do do you I do it too.
The Bottom of the Ocean a Short Fictional Tale Pencil drove me to the airport and the left rearview mirror fell off but it had been duct taped on anyway and the glass was so broken you couldn’t see anything in it but then one of the tires came loose and fell off too and we saw it roll away from the vehicle and disappear between a giant truck attached to another giant truck carrying mutant pickles upstate and a white mini-van with newspaper over the windows. “You’re driving with three tires right now,” I told Pencil. We were both on a lot of speed. We drove on. “This car drives fine with three tires,” Pencil said. “The fourth tire is sort of a luxury item.” We could hear the engine rattling around under the hood; we knew the engine wasn’t attached to anything anymore and just bounced around in there making noises. “I hope this doesn’t impair our chances at a clean break,” I said. Pencil was going to be my get-away driver. Walking into the airport was just a symbolic gesture. I hadn’t slept in a week, I was experiencing severe amphetamine psychosis, I looked unkempt and volatile, I had no form of identification on me whatever, I was not sure whether I had actually reserved a plane ticket, and I was carrying a suitcase full of prescription medication that didn’t belong to me, cheap gin, and subversive French literature; I knew I wasn’t getting on a plane.
“We’ll be fine,” Pencil told me. “We’ll use the rocket boosters and leave everyone in the dust.” I thought that was a fine idea and it comforted me.
The airport was a sophisticated confinement center only accessible by way of a Byzantine channel of overpasses and underpasses that were esoterically designated through a system of numbers and letters. “What number do I drive into? What letter?” Pencil asked. “I’m not sure,” I said. “What airline are you flying on?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “Well,” Pencil said, “this way looks inviting.” We drove up a ramp marked with a letter I forget and parked on the sidewalk; I fell out of the car, already crying. “Five minutes,” Pencil screamed.
I dragged my fat suitcase inside; it was a monster, it was probably a bomb, it was over-packed and held together with black duct tape and sandpaper. I saw a notice telling me irregular sized luggage would be subject to an extra charge. I saw another notice telling me that liquids were only allowed through security if they were placed in opaque plastic bags. I didn’t want to deal with that so I pulled out all the nips of vodka I was carrying in my coat and drank them while I was waiting in line. There was a jolly red-faced family of tourists in front of me, obviously returning to Nebraska from their retarded abortion of a weekend vacation in the city. Once I was walking through Times Square and I heard a tourist wife say to her tourist husband, “This is crazy! You call this a vacation?” She meant that city life was too fast for her and it wasn’t relaxing for her at all to stand in the vortex of all evil, Times Square, as people ran in every direction screaming and pissing in the streets. I almost took pity on her but then I kicked her in the face. You can do anything in Times Square; it’s really crowded. “Welcome to New York, you stupid cunt,” I yelled at her, and ran into the subway before her embarrassed husband could event react.
The tourist family was calmly trying to obtain tickets for the flight to Nebraska when suddenly they were carried away by armed military officials and thrown on the ground and ravaged by trained dogs while questions were screamed at them in different languages from loudspeakers. “Next?” the woman at the desk called. I fell down and pretended to have a grand mal seizure. “Next!” the woman called. A pair of nuns stepped over me and approached the desk. When this happened I saw the underpants of one of the nuns. I saw the purple veins cascading down her inner thighs. I rolled out of line, trying to hold onto my suitcase as I writhed in false agony on the floor, and slowly crawled out the door.
Pencil was waiting for me in the car. When I jumped in he hit the rocket boosters and we sailed out of there at mach three or something. “Did you even get your ticket?” he asked me. “There was some stupid misunderstanding,” I told him. “The airline apologized and presented me with a gift basket but I gave it to a black person in a wheelchair and then some journalist took a picture; look for me in the Post tomorrow!”
We did more speed in the car because Pencil had invented a way to crush up and blow pills while driving using the plastic wrapper from a pack of cigarettes and a ballpoint pen.
“How are you going to get out of this interminable mess? I mean this city?” Pencil asked me. “Looks like I’m going to have to train hop,” I sighed. Train hopping takes forever and is not glamorous like flying first class is, which is what I was going to do before I fucked everything up by being a drug addicted fuck-up. “That’s romantic,” he said. “The fuck you know?” I asked. “You just read about it in some stupid book about a guy who jacks off all the time and rides around on the back of a train kissing transient farm workers for bread or something.”
Yes, I sure had a negative attitude, but once I jumped into the boxcar of my first train headed westward, I was swept up in the freedom of movement and I embraced the expansive rural beauty of the land I traveled through, and sure it was hard, but I grew from the hardship, and along the way I met friends I’ll never forget, friends who stayed up late with me in the animal wilderness as we waited for our next train, laughing around a campfire as we cooked cans of beans for supper, friends who told me the stories of their lives, and inspired me, and really gave me a sense of perspective, and we may not have had everything we wanted from the world, but we were with each other, and most of all there was nobody telling us what to do, we were free, really free, and it was the first time in my life I realized I was capable of feeling like that, like I didn’t owe anyone anything, and the world still held some semblance of possibility for passionate minds and wandering spirits, and I felt as if I was experiencing the last gasp of the greatness of the old American existence, and it was beautiful, and in the end, when I was sitting in a boxcar with Stinky Pete and Twister, nearing my final destination, a tear rolled down my eye because I finally understood what it was to be alive, and then at the station we were all arrested and I spent three weeks in jail before my parents finally bailed me out, but then I had to work at my dad’s golf course to pay him back for covering my court expenses, and the trial went on and on, and in the end I was sentenced to a month in jail followed by years of probation, and my lawyer told me how to skip town, but I was so lazy I just decided to kill myself, so one night I filled my coat pockets with rocks and I dove into the cold unforgiving lake behind my parents’ house, and there I died.
When I finally made it back to the city, everything had changed. A giant computer that lived in the gymnasium of a public school in Queens had been elected mayor and there were talks of some sort of machine revolt and also Pencil was dead. “What the fuck?” I asked. Pencil shrugged. He had done so much speed his heart exploded and I was jealous. His speed horde had already been picked over by the cops who dragged away his body and the mice in his apartment. The mice were depraved; they tore through walls, they craved human flesh. I decided I needed a change.
Pencil and I walked over the Brooklyn Bridge in the rain and sat down in the stink of the river on the shore by the seaport. “We’re growing up, you know,” I told him. “We can’t fuck around like this forever, especially not in this political climate.” “It might change when the computer robots take over,” Pencil suggested. “For better or for worse, do you think?” I asked. Pencil shrugged. “It only gets worse,” he said.
“We’re practically adults now, I think,” I said. “What does that mean?” Pencil asked. “Um,” I said. We were silent as we watched a ferry plow away from the shore towards Staten Island; it suddenly blew up and debris flew everywhere, hitting the water and sinking. “There’s that,” Pencil said. “Out of all the people we admire,” I said, “I don’t think any of them were as fucked up as us at this age. Perhaps Rimbuad is the exception, but look what happened to him: he became a douchebag or a zeppelin or something boring.” Pencil shrugged.
I said, “We have a responsibility to ourselves, I think. I just don’t know what about.” We yawned together. We jumped into Pencil’s car. “I found this time travel device in the garbage outside of my apartment,” he told me and pointed to a mess of wires connected to a digital interface. “I haven’t tried it out yet because I’ve been sad.” I said, “People have all these expectations for tourism and time travel, like you have to be just in the right mood to do it, and you have to do really specific things or it won’t work out right and you’ll go home feeling like it was ruined. You know what? It shouldn’t be that way. I want to go to Belgium and be depressed as hell. I want to go to Haiti and get sick and almost die and then fall in love and get murdered. Let’s fucking go back in time, man.” So we did. We saw the Parisian unrest during May ’68, passed out in a drinking game with Guy Debord, we checked out Caligula and thought he was boring and his name was stupid, we witnessed the birth of Christ and then fast-forwarded to the death of Christ, and also Saint Peter’s death, which was more entertaining because they crucified him upside-down, and somehow we ended up out of gas during the Franco-Prussian War and had to sail home on a frigate while working as kitchen boys.
“If you could be anyone who ever lived,” asked Pencil, “who would you be?” “Not Proust,” I said. “Are you sure?” he asked. “No,” I said. I coughed up blood. “I’d like to be...” the moldy old sea chef began, but we ignored him; he kept on talking but we weren’t listening we were just skinning potatoes. “I’d like to be the captain of this frigate so I wouldn’t have to work,” I said, talking over the chef. “I’d sit in my cabin all day overcome with monomania.” “Monomania about what?” asked Pencil. I couldn’t decide. The ship sank. We didn’t survive.
“This kind of stuff happens all the time,” I said. “We get so self-involved we forget whatever is bothering us from week to week isn’t important because our lives don’t mean anything in any sort of reasonable context.” Pencil said, “Yeah.” We might have as well been at the bottom of the ocean. We were.
“I hate you,” Mustard says. He pulls his high school cock out of Basic’s ass and he says that, “I hate you.” Mustard says, “I fucking hate you!” and unravels some toilet paper from the loose roll on the bed and wipes his cock with it. Basic, naked, legs still spread, looks up at Mustard; Basic pouts. “You’re a fucking faggot,” says Mustard. “You’re a stupid queer and I’m never doing this again, ever.” “Do you really mean that?” asks Basic. “Yes,” Mustard says. “Never again. And I’m going to shoot up the school. I mean it.” Basic considers this. “Can I be your accomplice?” he asks. “No!” answers Mustard. “You have to be one of the victims. I’m going to shoot you in the fucking spine, faggot. I’m going to stick a rifle up your ass and pull the trigger!” Basic says, “Oh,” and frowns. Mustard grows up to be the president of the United States and Basic becomes a librarian.
Current Music:Philip Glass - part nine (from music in twelve parts)
What is Remembered Just Read: Breakfast of Champions (reread) by Kurt Vonnegut
I do not have a driver’s license. I remember before I was the age of a child who is expected to obtain a driver’s license, when I still expected to obtain a driver’s license, I entertained the fantasy that I would own and drive a Wonder Bread truck when the time came. I remember standing with my mother in the garage of the blacksmith who lived and worked down the road from my early childhood home and I remember the blacksmith telling us that owning a Wonder Bread truck was not an unreasonable fantasy. The blacksmith said that every year in town there is an auction of old bread trucks and I could buy one for pretty cheap. Many years before that incident, when my family still lived in the house down the road from the town blacksmith, I was in love with a girl named Bridget, who was the blacksmith’s daughter. I remember once I was on the toilet and my father called for me and I said “Just a minute!” and then was amazed because I thought that just then I sounded exactly like the older sister of Bridget, the blacksmith’s daughter. In town every year in the winter there was an event called the Ice Castle Extravaganza. This event was held by the park on the lake. A long time before I was born when the lake froze the ice would be cut into blocks and removed from the lake and shipped all over. When the Ice Castle Extravaganza was invented, only a little while before I was born, the ice of the lake would again be cut up into blocks and a giant castle would be built in the snow on the shore. Local prisoners would come in on a bus and do the cutting and the removing of the ice and they would pile the blocks on top of each other according to the year’s architectural plan. I remember my father had a framed picture of the very first ice castle hanging in our house. Once I broke the glass of the picture frame but I don’t remember how. My father was one of the original creators of the Ice Castle Extravaganza. He invented the acronym ICE which stood for Ice Castle Extravaganza and was used to advertise the event. I do not know why he created this event but I know he did it with his neighbor from across the street who owned a farm. One year when I was in elementary school, the blacksmith built a large metal dragon that could breathe fire and it was perched at the top of the ice castle. One year I climbed up on the ice castle and sat there and a camera incidentally recorded me doing this and I was featured in a clip that evening on the local news. I remember once watching my father on television as I sat in a motel room. My father owned a motel at the time and I did not know it but he was very close to going through with divorcing from my mother for some reason. It was because of this trouble that my father was living in one of the rooms of his motel for a while and I would sometimes visit him there. I would collect cigarette butts from the gravel parking lot with a stick that had a nail at the end of it and when I collected enough cigarette butts, my father would give me change to buy a root beer from the vending machine. My father was on television because his latest project was meeting with different boards and explaining why he believed two local school districts should merge. He made speeches to boards that were broadcast on local channels during this time. I would watch my father and I would also watch the television show Green Acres on a new station called TV Land. I remember I didn’t know that my mother and father almost divorced during this time until my father mentioned it many years later when I was in high school during a counseling session between the three of us during the week I spent institutionalized after trying to kill myself. I remember the nurse who gave me my medication in that mental hospital was very fond of me and she told me about the column she wrote for the local newspaper about medicine. I remember this was around the time I realized I was never going to drive.
Lines in the air are there are there lines in the air please care are there lines in the air are there no fair lines in the air lines in the air right there are there are there lines in the air please care are there please care lines in the air are there lines in the air please care are there please care are there are there no fair are there lines in the air please care right there lines in the air are there are there no fair lines in the air lines in the air please care are there no fair right there lines in the air right there please care are there right there no fair lines in the air are there lines in the air are there please care are there lines in the air are there no fair are there are there lines in the air please care right there are there right there are there lines in the air no fair are there right there are there lines in the air are there lines in the air right there please care are there no fair are there no fair lines in the air please care lines in the air are there no fair lines in the air please care are there right there no fair lines in the air are there no fair are there lines in the air lines in the air are there lines in the air right there are there right there are there are there no fair lines in the air please care are there right there lines in the air please care are there please care are there are there right there lines in the air no fair lines in the air are there are there no fair lines in the air right there are there no fair lines in the air please care are there are there please care are there no fair lines in the air please care lines in the air are there lines in the air no fair no fair right there are there are there right there lines in the air right there please care are there no fair are there right there lines in the air are there lines in the air please care lines in the air are there please care are there no fair lines in the air please care are there are there right there are there lines in the air right there lines in the air are there lines in the air please care please care are there please care no fair are there lines in the air are there no fair lines in the air right there are there right there are there are there lines in the air right there are there.
Current Music:Philip Glass - part eight (from music in twelve parts)
“We cannot retrace out steps, going forward may be the same as going backward...I was a martyr all my life not to what I won but to what was done.” - Gertrude Stein
How to write is breaking through to something and giving shape to the indefinable or complicating simplicity by considering a latent but denied abstraction. As a writer I am standing in a wintry expanse and before and behind me I can see my footsteps in the snow. As a writer I am considering this problem of direction and I am working toward the conclusion that the options I at first recognize could be irrelevant or misleading. I am not stuck I am figuring it out. That is the cause I will die for, the consideration, the grasping through ethereal space for the pure idea, and what I create is not a victory, it is what is done.
I write because I am compelled to write because I am in love with language and ideas. The word can communicate so much depending on my treatment of it and the word can be appreciated in so many ways. It is a weapon. It is an aesthetic unit. It is the way to express a situation. What excites me is the discovery. Reaching for an idea, considering it in different contexts, applying it to situations, watching as a character is defined by an idea or as an idea is defined by a character. I want to lean into an idea to realize it is not a simple unbroken sphere but a gnarled rhizome with more surface area in its totality than I could ever understand. I write for growth.
I believe in control. I believe that even if a text chooses to destroy itself, the reader should understand that I am in complete control, that I have considered my text closely, on the level of the individual word and its relationship to the words before and after, and on the level of craft, meaning the execution of formal elements according to a solid structure, and on the level of the notional elements that come alive in imaginary space outside of the text but are informed by the text. The traditional elements of fiction including character, setting, conflict, time and space, et cetera have been less important to me. When I am not using these elements I should not and try not to claim to be writing fiction. I am mainly interested in writing two things: that which cannot reasonably be defined as fiction and fiction. The former could conceivably find a comfortable residence under the label of prose poetry, but I prefer not to speculate on that matter. The latter has a name and is part of something and when I do decide to write what is called fiction, I now realize I can attempt to write strong fiction by acknowledging the medium’s dependence on certain elements and trying to use them to create an entire experience in which the ideas I am trying to understand through my writing may thrive. I want to be radical with usage and with form, to violate expectations by writing from a position removed from normality, but I also want to be able to always realize when it benefits my intentions to avoid being willfully wrongheaded about my use of elements of the craft that are at my disposal to create something full that says something resonant about human experience.
I believe that words can be new again. I want to thoroughly understand the shapes of them and the sounds. I want to cut the word open and crawl inside of it. I want to know how this obsession with language can be used to really speak. I have very little interest in banality. If the movement of a hand to the handle of a car door cannot be expressed in the glorious deconstruction and reconstruction of words, if the monotony of a series of instants cannot be seen through an abstract wrestling with signification or a flood of repetition and variation, it is best to subtract such examples from the text. If understanding those aforementioned examples in the ways just described does not benefit the text, it is also best to subtract them. I want to know how to be precise. Even awkwardness must operate precisely.
It is difficult to name many living writers who produce work that informs my understanding of how to write and why. For a time I could list at least twice as many mostly American songwriters than living writers that influenced my own process. Music is the closest thing I know to love. Now it is not the songwriters but the composers who most inspire me. I owe a deep debt to the music of Philip Glass and recently Steve Reich. The way that these men treat sound helped me solve many problems of expression and pushed me towards the edge of what I was comfortable exploring with words and then over that edge. When I think of living writers that I have extensive knowledge of who create the kind of material that amazes me, I think first of Gary Lutz, the grammarian who learned how to make every sentence hurt, who strips away gender and identity and other signifiers and leaves the reader with an uncomfortable but holy kernel of being. I think of Thomas Pynchon who is a madman who, like Burroughs, saturates his situations with absurdity and horror and then makes us realize our astonished reaction is better left reserved for a response to the conditions that he is satirizing. While it is possible for me to write endlessly on the impact such writers as Burroughs and Melville have had on the shaping of my principles, historically, it must be said, that my goddess is Gertrude Stein. When Gertrude Stein came into my life, she at once cursed me forevermore and made it all right to keep living. She created her own paradigm in which to express a new century and the principles of her work have so deeply informed my own direction as a writer that even every thought in my head now borders on plagiarism. Yet Stein did not write novels, she wrote compositions and portraits. I do not wish to always mirror in my work the certain restrictions that were the consequence of her unsurpassed innovation. If I manage to live long enough and if I sustain the dedication to my art that I today feel, I wish I could one day remove myself from her shadow, but always be thankful for her ecstatic rupture in the fabric of not only literature but space-time itself. Gertrude Stein is a wormhole.
Writing is where I am going. Moving backwards or forwards may be the same. I cannot retrace my steps. Writing is the movement, the means, the message. What writing will bring I will only discover if I surrender to my own doom. There is no other way because another way is not the same and if I am tempted to ever break the promise that I have made to my art, that is the most obvious path to personal failure. I have lived this life for two decades now and for me that is a while and for some time now I have known that what propels me through time is my constant failure and it is because I know this I have lost all faith in myself as a human being, but I have not yet lost faith in myself as a writer. I do not yet despair in that way because although I have tried and although I have then always failed at many different things, I sometimes wonder if I was ever as dedicated to, or at least dependant upon, any aspect of this life I lead as much as I strive to be to the written word and the possibilities of it. When I consider it I think, if I try to ignore that I am making very broad connections, that perhaps I can vaguely understand a believer’s fascination for and commitment to God. I want to make a church out of the alphabet. And then I want to set it on fire. And build it again but larger. That’s why I’m going to keep going. Life and death, probably. Why not go. I am. I am going in this life, life is strife, this long life towards, going towards my demise. Most of all it can be said I am going to a birthday party. This is exciting.
Still Life with Movement So we go on well how well we do it. This morning being the finest example I have of. When there could be you then know me my tree. Fire wants in having said hey so we go on but we just don’t. Where light has fragmented that much so what. When in heaven count on it to be how well that could if there wasn’t what was understood but there is no hoping that that will improve. Any time is time. This consideration is what keeps me alive. The repetition of simple thoughts could be you when you know what to do. I’m not attention hasn’t been served as we go on go far from on but on. When I was born I said no there you go. There is a face in the dark in the morning what goes away is what we thought we could use later. In trace regarding. Formal warns that when we were young there was wire. I’m just a sad little boy anyway leaving no traces for. If on the branch you said to me I love you I’d punch the tree hard. This is well we go I mean on we go so let’s go on I mean it. If I stay the same this funny ward where might. In the morning the sun goes up. Coming from that end where there once was something that was of. You just can’t treat me like a little tooth my Ruth. So we walk away from yet receiving I am meaning. Hey there roar you pierce like what I once thought was. When all is together my body is breaking in half take that. When all is so we go on climbing the rope can’t wait. If this is the time then when. If this is nice well we do it. I’m not going to forgive the car that gave. Take my hand and I. Well we do it still. Unless you said undress I stood in the doorway. This is what is considered through glass when we have it together. Maybe if I stopped what. Having things in system was wife to the weary. Don’t attach that latch my dear I drop what I am holding. When I scold a marigold I run outside with it. This morning that warning doesn’t drink how is that when I know the intelligence. For there to be light this morning for there so we go on well how then time was when we were. I’m going to be fine after all that car said. The sky was once something that strange but now the road where we left it lays undeniably. I’m not far from there can. Don’t disgrace that pace comply with tiny water redeemable stamps you should have any other time. I’m going when my bus is busted my lust is trusted. No sale for shore so we go on how well and well we do it. Across what we made on top of it. I’m a tailor for tiresome whomsoever. I’m moving in that direction towards. You do not see me inch away so we go on well how sad. That that wear. Packages and packages of what I ordered. In the dark the morning so we well might we do it. Never could there be this line without the thought that the bark would be meaningful. What if the cry doesn’t come?
Current Music:philip glass - part five (from music in twelve parts)
Lacks I was lately standing where that was but there was nothing for me to see so I went home. There are all these things so defined in the way she said it that I can’t stand for so I’ll go if that goes on. All the way until there is no more, that way that I am falling can be likened to the way that he did that then but different. Where there is lightness there is not rightness and then the beginning is in question again. If we pretend that there is something that is, then we have to conclude that we will never be able to reach what we want. Conversely, if we say what we mean then there is nothing left for us to wonder about. When it becomes more clear it becomes less sincere. When I have what was there then I am no longer anywhere where that was anyway. When leaving we lead the way. There that is the lost part where I was looking but no longer is it where I thought. In case she goes we may know so that learning is the difference when it is raised to that point. In the absence of what I was wishing for there could be a better way to be destroyed. When that lacks for that which was wanted, that which was worn when he saw what was there is what there is left for us. When one can say what was then there is a chance for wondering when there could be anything there for us to know. If we gave up on the lane that took us to the place where that which we expected was, then we have only to blame the way in which we wanted what we wanted to be. If there is no way for me to think about it then I will find a new way which will be less wanting than what was wished. When there is that there then there is nothing more than something that I had to begin with that I gave away in a moment of despair. If you find in words the worst way then you have won. What is done is the thing that I brought for myself to prepare myself to climb wherever I needed to be, be it the places in which that would be fine or where my ability falters. When I am at the end of it there is only one thing that I am thinking: where there is what there is nothing but. I am underground where the worst wrongs wander, there where the last things are with it to be it or run.
Current Music:kronos quartet - string quartet #5 (philip glass)
America The Just Read: We Always Treat Women Too Well by Raymond Queneau translated by Barbara Wright
America the whole and I wake up unconcerned America the singer wishes. You have to accept the hunger wholly. Feeler America the one and math. Following bath where washes was too tiring. One in the rain whole particulars America the whole particulars. Misshape the alphabet unconditionally where wearing is wonderful until one the. I’m going to the store in Albuquerque. Have you got any lemons concluded. America the lovely gun sky regarded as if there was fine leverage in the America the yawning. This space ships far until this. Having lost loss in giving this to you please a forgiveness. Listen to the sound of my voice the America the consequences of. You implies white or. Getting worse cost wonder when the wool will be worn in. I’m not the case this caste is over on the bark of this. In this country the laws mean when one is gone that is done. The three retainers were retarded containing. Have come from that place where none America the concluded inside of. Graces for many faces have whenever the lives of a crowd are upside down now row. Your eyes are the color of a newspaper America the reader. Have I sat up on words yet or when wet. Give combinations to carousel carpet lace. This is inside of the other yonder yet wherever. America the is. Oh hell oh hello where do you go. Hard horse what internal wander there America the plus is an. The yet about that the artist. Sneeze do fascination with familiar noise and understanding where it went. That patches what was Patrice America the. America the concentration America the. When you are a child I will talk. Beneath the pavement there is America the. Deep woodland band can you see America the. Truth to it he blew it we derive what. America the seeing when it is over America the blind lesson building until to. Pillow control the punch America the and when lunch. America the cut and the. America and the but please and the. America the I will go and America the and the. America the and the please.
Current Music:john cage - sonata II (for prepared piano)
There is an evil orange cumulous cloud named Honeyspot that floats over America and when he is mad he produces lightening bolts that strike and kill passersby below.
II. What is Causality?
Where having once was is no more has where loving there under could be now there projected continuous once was but not nearby out of the old remains of the considerations we have for humiliation redemptive are the when there how but if how why not once was and if where having and you said come tell me and if bark if not bark rotten under not nearby this heart once was that which here and come with solider be the understanding of tough fashion once was and when there could when could not nearby the coil something current foretold where however come we let however once was now was that if it wrong if it be beginning if it wrong however not nearby of consideration what the wrong where way was can there if can there not nearby if was it old make soon moaning remains day told was under existed if without.
III. What Adults Teach Us
The world is a messy chest. Any kid who stares at you too long knows what you keep in the space under your skin under your bones around your blood. If you are an artist and you run out of paint use blood. Experience is no longer existence; nothing is valid unless it is a representation removed at least once from the source. The world is a cage. America is a fallacy it is a construction of esoteric inaccuracies predicated on the misunderstanding of human nature, if you are an optimist, or America is the complicated but honest expression of the furious engine that powers the rotten collective spirit of the modern man, if you are a pessimist. If you are in the age of late capitalism that implies that you have already experienced your apex and are on the decline and before you are totally destroyed you probably should take as many others down with you as you can. The number one movie in America is Garfield: A Tail of Two Kitties.
IV. Why Bad Things Happen 2
Rachel would not put out on our second date so I punched her.
V. How Do You Express the Unnamable Feelings You Experience When You Hear of Some Incident That Happened Far Away From You but Irrevocably Affected Many People in an Indescribably Negative Way and That Surely Has Far-Reaching Implications About the Society You Live In, Just Like Many Other Terrible Things That Happen to Other People Every Day?
These are the, uh, days I wore⎯what? What? Or, uh, if you but no I know that, uh, having being I have, uh, thoughts, deeply concerning the concerns that⎯what? If once again I could, uh, there is that one thing which, think about, I, uh, mean do just think about because, uh, these days with what well at least, gosh, to say it in the or with numbers⎯? What⎯? For these are the, uh, days these days however if we think about it from, uh, deliberately trying to, but if I could put it another way, or uh, to say it with music, I guess, that, there, well if the hunger is, knowing is the, and then there is, that, uh, about several if there is a difference when, uh, a difference removal, I or, uh, to put it better, to, uh, to put it better again, there is and always has been, uh, something that which when, that which when knowing is the difference, and if that is all I have to go off of, I mean if that is all, uh, I’m going to be told the difference, well, gosh, uh, and to further elucidate that claim, and to forward no not quite. It has to do with⎯what? Uh, and if wait⎯what? And to further follow down, I mean, uh, just down, down there somewhere there is something, I wonder, or could it be gone where, wait⎯what? This I know initially the information that was given there could not be since that is going to be discussed at some, uh, length and perhaps in practical and perhaps if we are interested and, wait⎯what? These are, uh, I think, wait, the days.
VI. Movies Ideas About School Violence
• Jeff takes a dare from Rich to invite the most awkward girl at school to the senior prom and to turn her into suitable date material. Jeff, always up for a challenge, takes the bet. Rich picks the nerdy Justine to be the girl Jeff has to reform. At first Justine doesn’t trust Jeff, but eventually she realizes this may be the opportunity of a lifetime to live her dream of being the girlfriend of the most popular guy at school. With the help of the cheerleading team, Justine is given a complete makeover, and when she attends the senior prom with Jeff, she looks like a new girl. At the prom Rich laughs at Justine and tells her about the bet. Justine, furious, confronts Jeff and tells him there is more to life than good looks and being popular. She refuses to go up on stage when she is chosen as the prom queen and Jeff is chosen as the prom king. Suddenly, Nicholas, the kid with bad posture and a fascination for racecar driving and deer hunting that everybody at school has been calling a fucking weird ass faggot every day for four years, enters the gymnasium with a hunting rifle. He fatally injures seven people including the beloved English teacher Mrs. Chestwood, before turning the gun on himself.
• Laura Wholehouse, a determined teacher working at an inner-city school in Brooklyn, decides to take the troubled student Harold under her wing. Harold has a record of getting into fights and is failing every class he’s in, but once Ms. Wholehouse catches him playing internet chess in the computer lab. She thinks up a plan to motivate Harold to behave better and learn the rewards of education by nurturing his interest in the game of chess. She soon learns he is very talented at chess and he has a surprisingly analytical mind. Ms. Wholehouse enters Harold in a city-wide school chess championship, even though he isn’t eligible because of his grades, but four days before the big game Harold is gunned down by police during a robbery of a corner store that his no-good friends had talked him into participating in. Two employees of the corner store are also killed.
VII. What Are Children?
Children are octagons out in the rain complaining. For there to be children there has to be a way to eventually destroy children. Children are fire but made of ice. The hearts of children are small and weak but have value. Children are the future of the internet. If it wasn’t for children we would not be able to have so much war. Children are abject and dunderheaded stumblers and the only ones who can appreciate beauty but also the only ones who can understand the loss of beauty. With children things are easy except when easy is expected to mean anything. Children are like smaller versions of adults and that is why children are so cruel sometimes. Understanding children means cutting open your chest with a box cutter and asking a friend to describe what he sees in there. Children will do anything an adult says if it is said in iambic pentameter while drowning in the lake behind my house.
VIII. Why Bad Things Happen 3
A man woke up in the hospital and the doctor told him he was blind and he had lost his right leg. The man could think of nothing but a giant spider he had once seen in the desert of Iraq because it was the size of a small dog.
IX. Movies Ideas About School Violence 2
• Sarah is a troubled but gifted writing major at a prestigious university but her work is criticized by all of her peers for being too unusual. Only her writing professor, Walter Rudd (an alcoholic who hasn’t published a successful novel in ten years, just waiting for a young, dedicated student to inspire him in his work), realizes the potential that Sarah has as a writer. Walter plans to invite Sarah to accompany him on a long trip to visit his estranged son, which would surely result in much bonding over the discussion of the craft of writing, and would end with Sarah finally realizing her own talent, but before he can extend his invitation, the troubled girl stabs her entire family to death before cutting her own throat open.
• Ben and his girlfriend Minnie are two kids growing up in rural New York. They make big plans to escape to the big city after they graduate junior college. Ben wants to be an architect and dreams of seeing all the buildings in the city that he admires. Minnie dreams of being an actress and just knows she can make it in the Big Apple. One day, while the two lovers are hanging out in the student lounge of their junior college, they see a report on TV that a high school student on a nearby Native American reservation brought a gun to school and killed several of his classmates and the principle before exchanging fire with police that arrived on the scene and eventually taking his own life. Next, Ben goes to his American History class and Minnie practices lines for her roll in the school’s production of Death of a Salesman.
X. What We Learn From Tragedy
Bank robbery is a crime. A girl is very special on her birthday. Anything can be made into an entertainment. Blood is a commodity when it comes out right. The river is too deep to cross. Beyond sadness there is a reaction only made up of questions that can eat away at the soul for decades. It is not nice to take something from somebody without asking and sometimes it makes the news. Polar bears are going to go extinct. Flowers that are watered with tears are different. That rock is the one he stood on when it happened. A scream in the street will echo for miles at night. Violence is something that can conceivably happen anytime, like fire. When one begins to tumble that’s it. It’s not about what the words mean it’s about the words. There are those who feel more comfortable living in jail than outside jail and there are those who do not feel this way and there are those who can’t tell the difference. It makes it better if you say it in a soothing voice. Wearing your seatbelt significantly decreases your chances of receiving a ticket for not wearing your seatbelt in the state of New York. If all the Arabs in the world died America would win. Long ago the atomic bomb stopped listening to the government and it now demands to be sung show tunes twenty-four hours a day by a Catholic boy’s choir or else it will explode and kill us all.
Current Music:philip glass - night train (from Einstein on the Beach)
I found you there. I found you there. I found you there finally. I found you there in church. I found you there finally. I found you there. I found you there in my arms. I found you there with numbers. I found you there. I found you there at the mall. I found you there. I found you there at the mall. I found you there in my arms. I found you there in my arms. I found you there at church. I found you there telling. I found you there in love. I found you there in love. I found you there in the car. I found you there in love. I found you there in love. I found you there finally. I found you there in love. I found you there at the mall. I found you there. I found you there learning. I found you there at the door. I found you there in church. I found you there. I found you there learning. I found you there in the dark. I found you there. I found you there. I found you there in my arms. I found you there. I found you there building. I found you there finally. I found you there in my arms. I found you there at the car. I found you there in my arms. I found you there at the car. I found you there in my arms. I found you there. I found you there. I found you there building. I found you there in situations. I found you there. I found you there building. I found you there in church. I found you there in my arms. I found you there at the door. I found you there with numbers. I found you there finally. I found you there in my arms. I found you there. I found you there at the car. I found you there at the car. I found you there on the rug. I found you there building. I found you there in the dark. I found you there at the car. I found you there in the car. I found you there telling. I found you there. I found you there in church. I found you there in situations. I found you there on the rug. I found you there on the rug. I found you there at the mall. I found you there. I found you there on the rug. I found you there at the mall. I found you there in love. I found you there in my arms. I found you there. I found you there at the door. I found you there. I found you there in the rain. I found you there in my arms. I found you there in my arms. I found you there at the mall. I found you there learning. I found you there. I found you there learning. I found you there in situations. I found you there learning. I found you there in my arms. I found you there at the mall. I found you there at the mall. I found you there in my arms. I found you there at the mall. I found you there in my arms. I found you there at the mall. I found you there in my arms, I found you there at the mall. I found you there in the dark. I found you there at the mall. I found you there in my arms. I found you there at the mall. I found you there in situations. I found you there learning. I found you there in the rain. I found you there. I found you there in the rain. I found you there. I found you there. I found you there at the car. I found you there on the rug. I found you there at the car. I found you there in the car. I found you there on the rug. I found you there at church. I found you there in my arms. I found you there learning. I found you there in the dark. I found you there telling. I found you there. I found you there finally. I found you there telling. I found you there in the rain. I found you there finally. I found you there learning. I found you there. I found you there in the rain. I found you there on the rug. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there. I found you there. I found you there at church. I found you there telling. I found you there at church. I found you there caring. I found you there. I found you there caring. I found you there in my arms. I found you there in love. I found you there in love. I found you there finally. I found you there with numbers. I found you there learning. I found you there with numbers. I found you there learning. I found you there with numbers. I found you there. I found you there learning. I found you there in the rain. I found you there in love. I found you there at the door. I found you there at the mall. I found you there with numbers. I found you there in church. I found you there. I found you there in my arms. I found you there in my arms. I found you there in the dark. I found you there telling. I found you there at the car. I found you there learning. I found you there on the rug. I found you there on the rug. I found you there building. I found you there on the rug. I found you there. I found you there on the rug. I found you there in my arms. I found you there. I found you there telling. I found you there in love. I found you there in the dark. I found you there caring. I found you there at the car. I found you there in situations. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there in the car. I found you there in the dark. I found you there in my arms. I found you there in the car. I found you there finally. I found you there telling. I found you there in the car. I found you there with numbers. I found you there at the door. I found you there learning. I found you there at the mall. I found you there learning. I found you there at church. I found you there at church. I found you there in my arms. I found you there learning. I found you there at church. I found you there in the dark. I found you there in my arms. I found you there with numbers. I found you there in love. I found you there at the car. I found you there in the car. I found you there in love. I found you there caring. I found you there at the door. I found you there in the rain. I found you there in the car. I found you there. I found you there in my arms. I found you there. I found you there in my arms. I found you there finally. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there. I found you there in the dictionary. I found you there. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there in love. I found you there in love. I found you there in the dictionary. I found you there in love. I found you there in the dictionary. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there in love. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there in love. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there. I found you there in the dictionary. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there in the dictionary. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there in love. I found you there in the dictionary. I found you there in the dictionary. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there in love. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there in love. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there in love. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there. I found you there in the dictionary. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there. I found you there in the dictionary. I found you there in love. I found you there on the mountain. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there in love. I found you there. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there. I found you there in love. I found you there. I found you there in the alphabet. I found you there in love. I found you there in love. I found you there finally. I found you there.
This concludes the “I Found You There” compositions.
