Notes from old notebooks II: From Los límites del lenguaje MTY

maybe lost friendships
         maybe what was never was. it never was. it is for a while but there is no was. It was lost; it was remade. it was a new it is a new/before there was new, there was not. maybe friends lost the is, maybe there was an is then that was no more what isn't was—it's true I came too and didn't advise. I don't care because it is over. what was isn't anymore if it ever was.

The writer who would be ridiculous is not sthg to care. Care? b/c it is the glass crashing and the laughter can't put it back together.

---------   UVILOV
4 yrs later, they say the garage is gone. 4 yrs later, the tree is still there. 4 yrs later the trip we took is a memory. 4 yrs later i anger quickly, nerves frayed, tired of a happy face. 4 yrs later, enthused. 4 yrs later, colors surround. 4 yrs later, a yearning for future. Choose the slide—urge the uptake. Caress nostalgia—what was

an accident in the middle—what was a travel ad? What were those beaches flying by yet frozen in a photo of sand and sex. You had it right all along. This is an improvisation, writing this is improv but you don't see it in real time—or is your time more real than mine. Oh we were happy for a moment, yet weighted down at the same time by the force of the fall. There's never another city to turn to. The helicopter fell in the

middle of the park—tiny lights of cars in rows trapped by traffic, trafficked by traps. It was a song—a melancholy one. A great poet once said, don't write when yr sad or angry—write when upenergy uptakes you. Then we'd never write. We are all the us who we've been over the plains—the flat plains of clouds out the window after we burst above the line. Why are there no

checkpoints in the clouds? Marketers in San José are working on a plan to sell us bottled clouds—rainy days in tins like X-mas cookies. How much would we pay for the feelings again? We've said for years we should write down our dreams. She said in her milpa she'd always have two journals, one for dreams and one for life. How to keep the two separate? Her question was in between the

two—in the linkages. The difference is a pause—an alternate possibility, an escape into a deeper recess, an image exploded in the rear view mirror. I don't believe in stream-of-consciousness. How to improvise a memory in its absence? How to piece together a story from photos? For dinner we had Japanese at the place on the corner; it wasn't nearly as pricey as we'd expected. the day after

a riot exploded at the same corner. We stayed upstairs and watched the hordes, not afraid just uninvolved, which happens so often. La distancia entre el aquí y el allá es el espacio que atravesamos para estar juntos—para verse frente a frente y no querer tropezar. El sonido me duele; es demasiado fuerte y me preocupan mis oídos. What was there to connect us? Turn your head / make a lock /

lock this make. Ponle candado al carro. Ponle tus zapatos que está mojado fuera. No hubo lo que pensábamos. No había lo que buscábamos. Igual y aquí todo sigue. Lo que hay en las noticias no concuerda con la experiencia vivida—o ¿será al revés? No transitamos el mismo mundo que antes—ese mundo ya pasó.

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