Cinema uses your life, not vice versa: that sentence in my notes. To be absolutely within your own creation: that as well. From Marker's film on Tarkovsky? One house – rooms opening onto one another. And: the greats leave us with our freedom. Notes written scrawlwise across the page: continuity of writing – doesn't just double up life. And then – rather pompous – difficulty even reaching a blank page. And underlined: even reaching it. Then in big letters: RINGLETS.
Difficulty of beginning again, even though that 'again' will make no difference to the surface of writing. In what book did I read: months may lie between these sentences? Think of Red Thread(s) and the days and weeks of silence that surrounds each plateau of posts (and the way you have to scroll down the page to find a new post). Is that what you miss when you read blogs through readers (Bloglines, etc.): the space in which nothing begins? But here (at this blog), there is a continuity of writing, a continuity from one block of words to another that can never be interrupted.
A lack of capacity for facial recognition: more notes. People are avoiding us: I made a post out of that … RINGLETS: next to the words, Idiot Messiah (there are all kinds of Messiahs, W. and I learnt at a conference …) Stalker – sounds appear and then vanish. Silence – sometimes called 'atmosphere' or 'room tone'. And then: poetic realism. Poetic or symbolic montage.
Regarding sequencing: if I do not look here for awhile, wch tends to be the case — but if I use this as a notebook, transcribing things here as I might write in project-oriented notebooks — the red notebook, the blue and orange books; the green one for dialogues… I discover a process of drafting [draughting] at work; moods and breezes dictate a general climate or tone. One item suprisingly connects to its lost predecessor. Another gesture might echo across lines months from now. Somethings lost in the flurries and mists.
To proceed with doubt as a general rule,
Lars Iyer's Blog 